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Long Island Chronicles : am I gigi hadid?

Long Island Chronicles : am I gigi hadid?

To a certain group of people (basic white girls), September means one thing and one thing only… pumpkin spice lattes. Lol jk, I meant to say fashion. September is widely known as fashion month thanks to the back to back to back to back fashion weeks in New York, London, Milan and Paris. If your name starts with Gigi and ends with Hadid, this means September is the month in which you get flown from country to country to be ogled at and walk in the most well known designers shows. For the lowly intern on a brand that has partnerships with designers in the beauty sector, it’s pretty much the same experience as Gigi’s except literally nothing close to anything she does, ever. The only similarity would be both breathing in New York City.

My team was very aware of my fantastical view of New York fashion week, and in the least cynical way foreshadowed the complete disdain for the week that would most surely develop deep within my soul. “Me? No, this is where I belong,” I thought to myself after seeing the first untouched cheese platter backstage at my first show. Safe to say I was proved wrong and my lovely bosses were right, as always.

Amidst blacking out with exhaustion the entire week via work shit my mom couldn’t even pretend to care about, here’s what I learned working NYFW :

  1. Backstage at a fashion show is not nearly as cool as one would assume. It’s crowded, awkward and warm – three areas of life I generally avoid at all costs.
  2. The people watching. The people watching is UNREAL. Especially in the age of internet fame, where YouTube vloggers sit front row showing up like a Kardahsian minus the attention or paparazzi
  3. Fashion shows are really fucking cool but will start 45 mins late at the least and it’s all over in about ten minutes
  4. If you have any sort of anger toward people being on their phone too much (like myself) you WILL want to shank most people surrounding you. No one watched the show with their eyeballs but rather on their screens. It’s sad considering how beautiful the shows are and it just doesn’t resignate the same way in an insta video
  5. Kylie Jenner looks like a walking selfie in real life, models legitimately snack on ice cubes and there are a lot more important things happening on this Earth than any of these points I’ve made. #true

Fashion week was always something that I looked forward to. Fashion is my first love and scrolling through photos of all my girl crushes in one show while stuffing my face with the Flaming Hot Cheetos was always a highlight. Fashion week is the picture of glamour, of fame. Front row? Yes fucking please. I would have killed to be involved… and then I was. There were some moments I’ll never forget and I felt seriously lucky for the experience but.. let’s just say I’ll take my bed and Instagram stalking the people involved with NYFW over actually being there any day of the week.

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Should we be mad at Jimmy Fallon?

Should we be mad at Jimmy Fallon?

There are two certainties that I am willing to wager we can all agree upon.. Jimmy Fallon is wonderful, Donald Trump is not.

Jimmy Fallon is where audiences go to watch things that are unassumingly comical, simple and giggle provoking. He’s never been one to incite much thought or conversation with his material, which was perfectly okay with the majority of America until quite recently. Jimmy Fallon is not the host we turn to when craving a thoughtful, yet witty, politically charged monologue that delivers both comedic relief and modern day fact. That would be more of a Jon Stewart (I Miss You) or John Oliver (I Love You). We count on these two men to speak to current events while providing some laughs, and we count on Fallon to distract us from those current events and only provide laughs.

Donald Trump is – yes, we must say the words – the Republican nominee for the President of the United States. He has a 50/50 chance of becoming the leader of the free world, inhabitant of the oval office and commander in chief. After you let that sink in and buy your one way ticket to whatever country is furthest away, please also remember that Trump is quite late to the politics game. He didn’t get to where he is because he worked in his community, raised in the rankings or won votes from people who truly thought he could do well for the citizens he represented. Donald Trump is a rich, old man who never had to fear failure in his life ventures since he always had a way to bail. He’s dipped his toes in many different pools; from construction to coaching has-been celebrities in the boardroom. He’s done a lot, and after what I’m assuming was a quick flip of the coin, he decided Washington DC was the next stop on his ‘things to do in which I have zero creditability or experience to do’ list.

After considering all of these points (subconsciously called my own thoughts facts, learning to control myself), it’s simple to see why we shouldn’t be mad at good ol’ Fallon. Fallon is not serious, Trump is not serious. Jimmy Fallon interviewed the red-headed man as he would any other guest he has on his show, with light heartedness and an overall lack of seriousness. Trump answered with his usual responses, filled with buzzwords such as ‘taxes’ and ‘hamburgers’. The interview as a whole was quite surface level, never diving too deep into actual political stances or opinion.

There’s a reason I didn’t tune in to watch the interview live, opting to rather YouTube it a few nights later while half paying attention – I wasn’t expecting much. I wasn’t expecting Fallon to hit Trump with intelligent discourse and a round of serious questions. I got exactly what I thought I would out of the interview. And while I think we all could have done without the awkward hair handling at the end, the interview was nothing short of predictable fluff we expect from the boyish late night host.

This is why we can’t be mad at Fallon. He was true to himself while interviewing someone whom I’m sure the network was very keen on having on the show (ratings). Jimmy Fallon is an entertainer who just so happens to perform on a medium where real people are involved. While I’m sure he is a great, charismatic real life human, his late night persona is part of the act. Trump was just another guest on his couch who needed to fill a time slot.

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long island chronicles : week out wine VMA review

long island chronicles : week out wine VMA review

So, this past weekend, a very special, precious moment in time happened. I’m not talking about world peace or the disappearance of Donald Trump, – which may or may not be mutually exclusive – I’m talking about the VMA’s.

The MTV Video Music Awards are, in my opinion, the trashiest of all award shows. So, not surprisingly, it also happens to be my favorite for this exact reason. From the outfits to the performances to the acceptance speeches to the ALWAYS loyal moment of time dedicated to my man Kanye, MTV knows how to put on a fucking show.

This year, we saw Ariana Grande awkwardly conducting what is my own personal hell, also referred to as ‘Soul Cycle.’ We saw Beyonce fucking kill it, but like, what else is new? And we saw Britney Spears try to follow Queen B with a performance reminiscent of myself after too many vodka Diet Cokes at 3AM in the bar with a juke box – eyes low, dance moves like the inflatable guy outside of car dealerships (S/O Chance), singing the wrong words to a song that I willingly chose to play.

I could easily write an entire think piece on Kanye, from his not acceptance speech to his music video that made me feel very odd feelings, but alas, I will not. I could write an essay on Rihanna snubbing Drake on stage in front of millions after he fought through the NYC traffic in the back of a cozy Uber, but I shall refrain.

What I want to talk about here, and probably could have gotten to a while ago but was too distracted by my own summary of the fantastical night, is Alicia Keys. A talented, award winning woman who sings like an angel surrounded by harps, decided to do something that many people decided to focus on rather than the plethora of other things that actually warranted said attention.

Alicia didn’t wear a stitch of makeup to the event. She didn’t contour or highlight, and she certainly didn’t bother with whatever the fuck ‘strobing’ is supposed to be. She showed up to the red carpet fresh faced and natural, sans the artificial materials women of Hollywood are fully expected to utilize when attending an event of any sort. And by event, I mean that the public throws a fit when they go to Whole Foods to pick up fresh produce without any mascara on.

I, for one, fucking hate makeup. But because I wasn’t blessed with skin as smooth as the underbelly of a new born puppy, I must utilize it. I have adult acne and I-work-too-fucking-much under eye circles, so I throw on some concealer and mascara most days.

I must admit, the use of makeup is definitely for myself. I choose to cover most of my face with creamy, flesh colored liquids because without it I feel less professional, less serious, and less like people are listening to what I’m saying but more like they staring at the planet that chose to rent the property on my chin.

While I choose to believe that the only thing other people notice are the imperfections of my face, sometimes I get a grip and realize if I’m not always done up, other people don’t fucking care. Human beings are too consumed with themselves (myself CLEARLY included) to notice my skin tone is uneven.

I’m not Alicia Keys, believe it or not, and I am certainly not walking the red carpet, so the occasional lack of coverage on my mug goes mostly unnoticed. But when it comes to the members of Hollywood, it isn’t an option to go unnoticed.

Some people rewarded Alica’s bravery, while others condemned her. Whichever opinion was chosen, the world made her bare face the center of the news. While the men of Hollywood can show up on the red carpet looking like they literally just finished a game of Fifa on the couch after smoking a blunt with friends, a woman with no makeup was a spectacle.

Why is it that this beautiful woman who looks immensely better than the general population without make up was being scrutinized for choosing to show her face? I wondered to myself while drinking Chardonnay about it.

Why is it that other humans feel they have every right to decide who should wear makeup and when? I wondered to myself while smoking a bowl about it.

Whether the news was positive or negative, the fact that Alicia Keys not wearing makeup to an event was news of any sort is the real issue. Alicia Keys is an award winning, opinion having, educated, giving, smart and fucking awesome individual who should not be judged on her lack of fake lashes.

Hollywood, you are insane. I love you to death and deeply appreciate all that you have to offer to me and my easily entertained mind, but god damn you are a hell hole of fiery judgment. And humankind, let us relish in the fact that we are warming our planet to impeding doom and allowed a racist bigot to be a political party nominee (had to get my liberal agenda in here somewhere, no?), rather than expend our energy on a freckled face of a celebrity.

All of this is just another main reason I’ll never be famous, really. Because, you know, fame is knocking at my door and I’m just playing hard to get.

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Long Island chronicles : addicted to housewives

Long Island chronicles : addicted to housewives

No have shame in my reality TV game

I have a confession to make.. I fucking love reality television. Rich women fighting like zoo animals? Love my housewives. A family who started with a sex tape who now can vouch for millions? Can’t deny the kardashains. Seven strangers drinking 24/7 while reaching for fame? Real world yassss.

There’s something about reality television that makes me watch, and by no means is it deep story lines and impeccable insight. It’s the brainless, cheap entertainment it offers me after a long day of work. It’s the simple conversations that keep me entertained, but require zero effort of understanding – something very necessary during a nasty hangover.

Non-believers (authors note: just accidentally wrote beliebers here) have many hostile feelings towards realty television show watchers. “How could you watch that TRASH Olivia,” direct quote from my father.

For some reason, my love for meaningless reality television seriously reflects on my intelligence. Don’t get me wrong, i can understand why. The ability to watch these shows has got to mean No ones homes upstairs. But quite the opposite, actually. Too much going on upstairs. We’re so consumed at every moment by mentions and tweets and texts and emails that getting an hour of solace during my reality television is something to look forward to…most days.

I consider myself quite well spoken, an avid reader and withhold an ok vocabulary – but I also rather enjoy watching strangers I’ve never met be rich on television. Sue me.

this is Not to say I don’t enjoy other television programs, some of which require A bit more brain power. I love my GOT.. might need the wiki page open the entire time I watch but I do okay. I’ll watch a documentary about things that actually matter (read: penguins). And sometimes… I even watch the news.

If you’re a hater, think of the last time someone you were with was watching a realty tv show. You might have complained, kicking and a screaming the whole time.. But I bet you still watched. There’s something to be said about the appeal watching other humans, not famous nor deserving of fame, live their lives in front of a camera. Maybe it’s the ability to relate or maybe it’s the sheer disbelief in their actions, but it’s something.

Point is, every once in a while, we need a brain break. Some workout, I watch reality TV. They may have better biceps, but I can recite every housewife, new and old, from the entire franchise that’s been existence for over a decade.

Now THATS impressive.

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is it too late to keep hating you?

is it too late to keep hating you?

When the name Justin bieber comes up I feel as if the human mind goes to one of two places… Yes please and no fucking thank you. He is definitely an acquired taste, one I am yet to be exposed to. I tend to lean more towards the no fucking thank you side of things, with admittedly no particular reason. Maybe it’s his too skinny stature or his incredibly unsatisfying blue steel look (Zoolander called, he wants his face back) but something about the young man just doesn’t do it for me.

On the other hand, his sometimes counterpart other times Instagram hater Selena Gomez always did it for me. Her sweet demeanor surrounded by her hot bod was something that kept my attention, and her affinity for being In a relationship with the biebs always had me feeling like a protective older sister who wanted to console her during the bad times.

That being said, my feelings were seriously tested this past week. Justin was on his regular insta grind, new hats new places new bitches. And Selena was NOT having it. Finally, she pulled an Olivia after a few too many glasses (read: bottles) of wine and decided it was time to COMMENT.

That’s right, Selena commented on the biebs insta along with hundreds of thousands of other 14 year olds. Some magical little human found the exchange among the trash heap and cue, the Internet.

The interest soared and suddenly every scorn ex girlfriend related to the most followed person on Instagram. Selena was one of us. A bitter, jealous ex girlfriend who thought “fuck this I deserve my words to be heard!” Hint hint: never worth it.

Everywhere we turned Justin was claiming his departure from Instagram. Some were like noooo I was like ehhhhh but all were like I can’t wait to seeeee. And then. It happened.

Justin.

Deleted.

His Instagram.

The pigs have flown and hell hath frozen over. The man the myth the legend disappeared from the world of photos about as fast as his voice changed – and we all know prepubescent, usher endorsed biebs was the ONLY biebs any of us really needed.

No more almost dick pics or Taylor swift disses (sigh).

Let us hope this isn’t forever and one day soon I can still not follow Justin but stalk him every once in a while to feel better about myself.

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recreational drugs with the obamas

recreational drugs with the obamas

So, we all know Barack Obama is like not a regular president, he’s a cool president. Regardless of his politics or ability to run the free world, you gotta admit he’s cool. He laughs at babies and makes funny videos and acts like a human being – a refreshing sight for a government employee in this day and age. Our #1 lady, Michelle, is also pretty chill too. Besides the whole “encouraging working out” thing (sorry can’t get on board), she shares similar qualities to Barack. Relaxed, personable and fucking killed it on Carpool Karaoke.

Naturally, two cool humans are bound to create some sweet offspring. Enter – malia and Natasha Obama. two girls who have been in the spotlight of planet earth for almost a decade. While Katie Holmes made being the “first daughter” look fucking awesome with her classic cinematic achievement, “First Daughter”, you have to admit.. It’s gotta be miserable.

Picture yourself in your teenage years, awkward and confused and choosing to edit selfies with large size text that says “live, laugh, love.” I sure don’t have to imagine it, the memories are quite vivid. For those who were lucky enough to sit on the sidelines of life’s awkward years… Whatever. But imagine those years as American Royalty. Maybe before the digital age it wasn’t too bad, without a camera lens waiting around every dark corner. But in today’s world, there’s no end to the documentation.

Now, to say I feel bad for Malia and Natasha would be a lie. They have opportunities the majority of us wouldnt even know existed, they’ve met some of the worlds most influential people and they get to chill with Barack (I really like him as a person, ok). But I came across something today that made me feel deeply for 18 year old Malia.

Malia was enjoying the tunes and dancing the day away at Lollapalooza – remember not feeling bad for them? Yeah. Anyways, she chose to engage in an activity that 99% of late teens do – smoke. It’s hard to tell whether it was the ganja or the cancer, but she was at a music festival and she done did it. A moment so insignificant to the a average human was made to be a matter of national concern thanks to creepy people video taping Malia without her knowledge and/or consent.

Because of her standing in society this moment was shared umpteen times on the World Wide Web. People fought, analyzed and argued over the matter, garnering attention in no time at all. People attacked so vehemently that full articles defending her choice were penned. Malia was seen taking a quick hit on screens all over the world in the matter of moments.

When does it end? When does it become not okay to videotape another human and then sell it to the highest bidder?

I’m not naive to the fact that I’m being naive, thinking it’ll ever end. We’re obsessed with the vision of the unattainable, obsessed with looking at someone who is supposed to be untouchable have the same dirty habits we do. I participate more than most in the stalking of the famous, but this really struck me. It was uncomfortable to watch a young woman enjoying herself while a stranger videotapes her unknowingly with every intention of using it to their own advantage.

Malia and Natasha, I feel for you girls. Oh, and can I come hang?

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