The 4th Day (Yea, I take the weekends off) of LCF

Good Morning Darlings,

Today I present to you on the day before my 25th birthday, the guilty side of LCF...The day of guilty pleasures.

FOOD

There are so many foods in the guilty pleasures category that I could mention. I love trashy food. From my father, I have an undeniable love for filet-o-fish from McDonalds. From my mother, diet coke and york peppermint patties. But the guilty pleasure that is truly mine is derived from my father's mother, my Bubby. In the Fox family, there is a time honoured tradition of snacking in front of the refrigerator. This is obviously because the calories don't count when you eat standing up, or while contemplating what to eat next. Our favoured thing to much on is...Deli Sliced white American. Just peel a slice off the pile while you are figuring out what to cook for dinner, or serve at your next party. This is the stuff serious family traditions are made of. To me, there is nothing better than a few slices of American cheese and an "orange scott" (orange juice and seltzer, named for my father who introduced this combination to me at a young age) (along with American cheese, our family has a weird obsession {which also seems to be a Jewish thing} with seltzer. I could drink it by the gallon, on ice with lemon. Sometimes people make fun of me for ordering it when we go out.) 

But here's my dirty little secret. I go one step further than American Cheese. 

"My name is Lyndsey and I am in love with processed american singles. in a plastic wrapper."

Listen, before you start judging me, I will have you know that one of the things that I most admire about myself is my ability to love all cheeses. There are days that I crave the most pungent, expensive cheese that I can get my hands on. But, there are other days when all I want to do is take three slices of plastic wrapped cheese out of the refrigerator, grab an apple, sit in front of the television and alternate bites of apple with bites of cheese. I love the ritual of peeling back the wrapper. I love the salty, distinct flavour. It never changes. I do not condone starting to eat these foul, plastic things...but if you have already begun your love affair with them, please by all means, ENJOY.

FASHION

You are all probably thinking...Oh I know exactly what Lyndsey's fashion guilty pleasure is...sequins. 

WRONG. I love sequins and shoulder pads and plastic earrings and I see nothing wrong with it. In fact, I have no guilty pleasures when it comes to fashion because I love everything and I have no apologies for anything that I wear. If I was wearing dunderwear (denim-underwear, you know the really really short shorts that noone short of a real housewife of Miami should be wearing), I would apologize. But I don't.  I pride myself in wearing only what  I want to wear when  I want to wear it. If I want to wear my chefs coat over a tutu skirt, I'm gonna do it and I'm gonna love it. If  I want to show up to brunch in torn up yoga pants and a hoodie with bed hair, I'm gonna embrace it and it's going to be amazing. I won't even apologize for leaving the house sans makeup. You know why? Because I am fabulous. You are fabulous. We are all fabulous. Fashion is not something that we should use to hide behind, but rather something that we should manipulate in order to make a more exciting version of ourselves, no matter what "look" we are going for. 

In my last year of college, I read a lot about the Shah's reign in Iran in the early 80s. The women went from being able to wear whatever they pleased to having to wear a hijab and burka whenever they were out in public in a very short period of time. It seemed to me that taking away their right to wear what they wanted also took away their right to be who they wanted. I think it would be quite an adjustment for the older women who were so used to expressing themselves through their wardrobe. Obviously the lack of freedom of wardrobe was the least of the Iranian's worries during that time period, but it did serve as a mirror for all of the other vicious and arbitrary decisions of the Shah.

We are lucky as American women to have the freedom to express ourselves the way we see fit. We are allowed to hang with the boys in our power suits, wear a chain mail dress (if we so desire) in public, walk around in men's clothing (Thanks, Diane) or take our clothes off in order to pay for college or support a family. 

It reminds me of one of my favourite song lyrics of all time, by none other than the most womanly woman out there, Ani. 

i wish they could see us now
in leather bras and rubber shorts
like some ridiculous new team uniform
for some ridiculous new sport
quick someone call the girl police
and file a report

So I guess what I mean to say is that fashion is all about loving who you are. There are no guilty pleasures in fashion, only pleasures*.

*Except for crocs and pajama jeans. Those are unforgivable sins. 

VICE

I often sit back and imagine how things were before there was cable and internet and I find myself thinking "Wow, I would get so much done if I didn't have endless amounts of mindless reading and 500 channels to keep me company all the time." I imagine a world where my writing would be much better, my painting more focused, and my organization top notch. I imagine a world where keeping up with the joneses is something for people who have nothing better to do. I imagine a world where I am a creative soul sitting in a man's shirt with a cigarette in one hand, a paintbrush in the other and a penchant for all things avant garde. (This is also pretty much what my mother prayed for every night that she was pregnant with me.) 

But, this is not that age. And I am constantly surrounded by pop culture. And unfortunately,

"My name is Lyndsey and I am addicted to the Real Housewives Franchise."

I have this man to blame for A. Stealing my dream job and B. Bringing this CRAPOLA into my life.

 

Andy Cohen may have the 411, but he also gets my 10P-11P hour every night. Mr. Cohen, your awful exploitation of women with too much plastic surgery and (I never thought it was possible) too many pairs of Louboutins makes me sick to my stomach and incredibly excited at the same time. This is a sensation that I have no desire to get rid of at any point in the near future. Sometimes I can sit and watch an episode and I am so mesmerized by the sheer blondeness of some of these women. I am not talking about the "dumb" factor, I am talking about how amazingly blonde their hair is. I had no idea hair like that existed outside of the playboy mansion. Hair like that is a full time job. The maintenance of the colour alone probably takes 6 hours a week. Not to mention travel time to and from the salon in your Rover for blowdrys and makeup applications. Really the show should be called "My Life is So Hard in Orange County." 

I love all of the franchises except Atlanta and DC (did anyone watch it?). All of the women bring something a little different to the table. But seriously, New York, New Jersey, Beverly Hills, Orange County, Miami...it's like a rainbow of sparkles and velour comes through my television every night. A nice break from reality, sure...but I think I will start watching it with a paintbrush in my hand and a glass of pernot in the other.

xoxo

LCF