Manifestations. Resolutions. Revolutions.
Self-care. Skincare. Haircare.
Body positivity. Heroin chic. Copywriting robots.
Dry January. Dry vaginas. Dry skin. (This is what I’m served. Any questions?)
Hitting pause. Menopause. Pausing for effect.
Meghan. Harry. Kevin motherfucking McCarthy.
Barrel jeans. Wide-leg jeans. Straight-leg jeans.
Work anxiety. Life anxiety. Separation anxiety.
Glazed doughnuts. Bleached eyebrows. Bixies.
No makeup makeup. Dopamine dressing. Dance workouts.
TikTok, ya don’t stop. Like, ever. Please make it stop.
I mean…
Wake me when it’s 2024.
I left 2022 behind with a bit of hesitation. My beloved dog passed, and I wasn’t ready to move on. Did a new year mean wiping the slate clean even if I still am grieving? It depends on whether you believe the hype around the new year, new you algorithm. I’ve long since abandoned such lines of thought.
Too much pressure to perform. We truly need to stop trying so damn hard and try a little less. It’s all just too intense. I entered the year wanting to be quiet and enjoy the warm fuzz of possibility without the bright and loud Lichtenstein pop of A BRAND NEW YEAR! Shh. Keep it down, would you?
My husband and I found ourselves in the California desert as the new year approached. First, a stop in Joshua Tree, and then a week in Palm Springs. As a water sign, I feared a holiday without an ocean, but man. I love both of the above places. Pure magic. Joshua Tree is a Gram Parsons-inspired walk on the moon, while Palm Springs is all ring a ding ding and midcentury. Both float my boat. I rang in 2023 with laughs and tears and surrounded by a gaggle of gay men in well-cut sequin blazers sipping perfectly (and I mean perfectly) chilled martinis and eating lobster thermidor while enjoying the piano version of “Mack The Knife.” I’ll leave you there. Take me back.
On a style note, taking stock of a new year is always fun. But the confusing array of micro trends is whiplash worthy. One thing I do know, it’s all about those 90s. And hey, heroin chic is back. Thanks, Ozempic. On a more serious note, can we please stop making body type something trend-worthy? Obscene and unhelpful.
Also, on a style/consumer tip, I feel a big rich backlash is happening. Think White Lotus meets Triangle of Sadness, and ya, I think Fleishman has a problem, and it’s entitlement. Because of the vulgarity of our endless need for consumption of all forms, I finally want to have (and spend) less. I am out of room and also out of reasons why I don’t have a crash pad in the aforementioned desert or at the shore.
But if you must shop. (because sometimes we must),here are a few items worth considering.
A wide leg jean. It’s time. These are cool.
A heavy-hitting serum. I discovered this serum at Violet Grey in LA as my skin craved something thick and rich. This botanical serum is great for winter dryness. love.
A drugstore find. If you don’t own this. foundation or this concealer, who are you? Such greatness for a great price.
A robe. This one. In stretch jersey leopard print Norma Kamali and on major sale. Perfect over a bathing suit or to wear between Zoom calls for a bit of midday meow.
A new book. Intrigued by this book. I have not read it, but it seems right up my rock biopic-loving alley. I read this Gary Janetti book on vacation, and oh, boy. He’s a stitch. So witty and clever. Delicious.
So the big takeaway this opening month of 2023? Chill. Pause. Wear a robe. You get it. Warm and fuzzy is my love language this month. See ya, alpha/hustle energy. Do not disturb. There’s always February. XO
Oh that trip sounds like the best way to stave off the pressure to reinvent oneself in the new year. I’m all in to the wide leg denim, the skin care oil and that robe HELLO!
Get a dog. I know, I know, your hubby isn't ready....over rule him already