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your essential guide to the best new tv, movies, music, and more! AUG/SEPT 2010





46 KEEPING UP WITH JONES Parks and Recreation’s Rashida Jones is the best brunch buddy evs. By Lisa Butterworth

52 THE BUST FALL PREVIEW We uncover the upcoming season’s best girl-friendly movies, TV shows, and music so you don’t have to. By Jenni Miller, Erin DeJesus, and Kelly McClure

62 THE FAT FRIEND A curvy girl kicks some tired cultural hang-ups to the curb once and for all. By Marissa Audia-Raymo

68 REALITY BITES Reflections on the raw deal women are handed in their quest for reality-TV fame, from a lady who lived it. By Ann Hirsch

72 LESSON LEARNED Why teaching English abroad is no picnic for broads. By Jessica Olien

76 NUIT BLANCHE Styles that look even better the morning after, modeled by R&B princess Cassie. Photographed by Danielle St. Laurent, styling by Galadriel Masterson

85 FALL FOR IT Our four fave style bloggers reveal 66 FORTY-TWO CANDLES “Oh, my God, I love you,

their must-have fashion picks for the season.


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Regulars 6 8

Editor’s Letter Dear BUST

11 Broadcast True Blood’s Rutina Wesley makes pulses pound; self-defense for teens; the world’s oldest working showgirl bids the stage adieu; and more. 12 She-bonics Chloë Sevigny, Marion Cotillard, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Christina Hendricks get their kicks. By Whitney Dwire 16 Pop Quiz The world mourns Lena Horne. By Emily Rems 20 Hot Dates Have an August and September to remember. By Libby Zay


25 Real Life Give your wrists a lift with friendship bracelets; résumé tips sure to get your ass hired; brag-worthy sleeping bags; and more. 26 Old School Maga’s Seal Rock crab sandwich. By Xylia Buros 31 Buy or DIY Tricked-out shades are all the rage. By Callie Watts 35 Looks An artist with style for miles; trim your own bangs; get wrapped up in the latest headscarf trends; and more. 36 BUST Test Kitchen Our interns primp their cares away with body cream, surf mist, and bug spray. 38 Page O’ Shit Give your wardrobe a tweak with some geek chic. By Stephanie J


Columns 14 Pop Tart What is the deal with Justin Bieber? By Wendy McClure 15 Museum of Femoribilia How the humble typewriter helped hard-working lasses into the office. By Lynn Peril 22 News From a Broad When it comes to cleavage in advertising, size does matter. By Kara Buller 30 Eat Me Lotsa pasta! By Chef Rossi 34 Mother Superior Pondering how much allowance Mama should allow. By Ayun Halliday 44 Around the World in 80 Girls Honolulu, HI, is the place to be. By Jessica Machado 115 X Games Gynecologist’s Orders. By Deb Amlen The BUST Guide 91 Music Reviews; plus Chrissie Hynde! 96 Movies The Countdown to Zero turns Cairo Time into Life During Wartime. 97 Books Reviews; plus Amber Tamblyn’s Poetry Corner! 110 BUSTshop 116 The Last Laugh The dog days of Tammy Pierce. By Esther Pearl Watson



103 Sex Files An excerpt from Kristen Schaal’s new Sexy Book of Sexy Sex; and more. 106 Questions for the Queen Dr. Carol Queen knows what you did last summer. 108 One-Handed Read Skin Deep. By Betty McQueen




what to expect when you’re expecting to be entertained RECENTLY, I HEARD about something called the Bechdel test. Named for a 1985 panel in a comic by Alison Bechdel, the Bechdel test is a way to evaluate the presence of women in movies. To pass, a film must have at least two female characters who have at least one conversation with each other about something other than men. It sounds simple enough, yet it’s surprising how many films fail the test (the vast majority of them don’t make it). But while movies and TV shows that are more inclusive remain few and far between, we’ve managed to seek them out for you in this, our second-annual Fall Preview Issue. We’ve sifted through piles of FAIL so you don’t have to, bringing you our picks for the best in upcoming movies and TV shows, as well as our most-wanted music releases. I can’t promise they all pass the Bechdel test, but they do all pass the BUST test: they’re by, for, or about women, and are actually worth your time. In addition to a fresh batch of entertainment offerings, fall brings with it those infamous September issues from the other lady mags. In a nod to them, this issue includes a fall-fashion forecast as well, but in a non-barfy way. For us, fashion is more about leading than following, more about standing out than fitting in, and more about creative expression than conforming repression. That’s why we asked some of our favorite fashion bloggers—those style-obsessed gals who take pictures of their amazing everyday outfits and post them on their sites—to share with us their best looks for fall. And in another fashion story, R&B singer Cassie models some cute clothes that will look great when you go out at night and even better the next day. Consider it “what to wear on your walk of shame.” (And for the record, we don’t think staying out all night is shameful.) Of course, that’s not all we’ve got for you in this issue. We’ve been jonesing to have Rashida Jones in BUST for quite a while now and are so happy that we got to hang with her. After reading our story I think you’ll find, as I did, that Ms. Jones is even cooler than you thought. We’ve also got three features that tell the tales of women overcoming a raw deal: in one, a trip abroad to teach English turns out to be nothing to write home about; in another, a reality TV contestant faces a harsh reality; and finaly, an overweight woman, tired of being mistreated by her friends because of her size, discovers that it’s all over when the fat lady thinks. All that plus True Blood’s Rutina Wesley on how she keeps it real, Chrissie Hynde on her latest music project, and Justin Long on working with his boo, Drew. Not to mention plenty of ideas to keep you warm come chillier days, such as how to make a friendship bracelet (aw), how to cook up some luscious pasta (yum), how to trim your own bangs (yesss), and how to polish your résumé (zoinks!). At least two women? Check. Talking with each other? Check. About something besides men? Check check check! In other words, this issue passes the Bechdel test with flying colors. Check it out.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Debbie Stoller CREATIVE DIRECTOR Laurie Henzel MANAGING EDITOR Emily Rems SENIOR EDITOR Lisa Butterworth SENIOR DESIGNER Erin Wengrovius CUSTOMER SERVICE + CRAFTY LADY Callie Watts BOOKS EDITOR Priya Jain ASSOCIATE MUSIC EDITOR Kelly McClure CONTRIBUTING EDITOR Molly Simms PUBLISHERS Laurie Henzel & Debbie Stoller DIRECTOR OF ADVERTISING + MARKETING Emily Andrews, 212.675.1707 x112, SALES AND MARKETING MANAGER Susan Juvet, 212.675.1707 x104, BOOKKEEPER Amy Moore, EDITORIAL INTERNS: Jules Abraham, Alison Berry, Krista Ciminera, Catie Colliton, Susan Engberg, Nicole Finkbiner, Brittany Jerlat, Nissa Lipowicz ART INTERN: Kaelah Thompson WEB INTERN: Lisa Kirchner VIDEO INTERN: Vanessa Rees MARKETING INTERN: Sophie Johnson FOR SUBSCRIPTIONS Please email or call 866.220.6010 FOR BOOBTIQUE ORDERS Please email MEMBER OF THE MAGAZINE PUBLISHERS OF AMERICA

WWW.BUST.COM ©2010 BUST, Inc. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the permission of the publisher. The articles and advertising appearing within this publication reflect the opinions and attitudes of their respective authors and not necessarily those of the publisher or editors. Canada Post: Publications Mail Agreement #40612608 Canada returns to be sent to Bleuchip International, P.O. Box 25542, London, ON N6C 6B2


Debbie BUST Magazine is printed on recycled paper. 6 / BUST // AUG/SEPT




I was so moved by the “Quiet Riot” article you ran about the riot grrrl movement. Coming from the Midwest, the Rust Beltt riot grrrls here were raised in a place where following the ruless was a mandate. But riot grrrl gave us something to look toward as we headed out of the factory towns in search of something ething differdiffer ent. In my case, I stuck out my thumb and hit the road in 1994 to check out the West Coast. We had the energy of these founding women at our backs, and it is with that in mind that I send out a colossal thank-you to the women of Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, L7, Sleater-Kinney, and all the other bold women who roared into the ’90s and infused us Midwestern girls with a choice other than becoming passive cultural consumers. Heather Meyer Boothby, Waynesville, MO

In your Dec/Jan ’10 issue, you published the very informative article “It’s Your Life,” about “handling life’s major milestones with a DIY frame of mind,” and I wanted to sincerely thank you for this piece. My husband and I planned our wedding last July with a DIY frame of mind, and it was fantastic. Then in March, I gave birth to our daughter, Magdalena Louis, who, after only two days of precious life, died in our arms of a rare heart defect. Because of your article, my husband and I gained the knowledge and strength to take our daughter’s body to her final resting place, in Albuquerque, NM. She is buried there, near family. Without this article, we wouldn’t have known that next-of-kin have rights to their loved ones’ remains. We have comfort knowing that what we did for our little Maggie was the right choice. Thank you sincerely, Marie Rose Chugg Frietze, Davis, CA

I just had to say thank you for two articles you had in your last issue. First was the one about clothing geared toward women bikers (“Pedal Pushers”). I’m a frequent cyclist myself and will definitely be ordering those pants with the gusset seam. The other story was the “Dressed for Success” piece [about creating a new wardrobe on one dollar a day]. What a great idea! Both of the ladies featured in these articles are really inspiring. Erika-Louise Moat, Endicott, NY If I wore a hat, I’d tip it to Phoebe Magee for her outstanding interview with Tilda Swinton in your June/July issue. It’s difficult to capture the essence of someone with the spirited energy of this actress. Yet through the exchanges of writer and actress, a portrait of Swinton emerges as a soul free of cliché while rooted in truthful relationships. Kudos! Brava, Tilda Swinton! Connie Burak, Middlebury, CT

I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your article in the Feb/Mar ’10 issue on sexy lingerie for bodacious bodies (“Oh! You Pretty Things”). I have an incredibly hard time finding attractive bras that are big enough for my body, and Dirty Dolls is amazing. Thank you for the introduction! Courtney Robinson via email Like many BUST ladies, I fall behind on my crafting from time to time, but I’ve finally finished the headphones quilt you had in the Feb/Mar ’08 issue. I’ve sent along a photo as proof. Looks great! Thanks, BUST! Meg Whitton, Barrie, ON, Canada

OOPS, WE DID IT AGAIN In the photo of Jill Scott in the story “Women Who Rock” (June/July ’10), the belt she’s wearing is from Re/Dress NYC.

Get it off your chest! Send feedback to: Letters, BUST Magazine, 18 West 27th street, 9th Floor, New York, NY 10001. Email: Include your name, city, state, and email address. Letters may be edited for length and clarity.



Deb Amlen is a humorist and crossword-puzzle constructor whose work has been featured in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, and other respectable, mainstream publications she tells her parents about when she calls to borrow money. She is also part of the outlaw posse that writes The Onion/A.V. Club crossword puzzles and the creator of the rulebreaking “X Games” crossword puzzle for BUST. Her first book, It’s Not PMS, It’s You (Sterling), is a hilarious, take-no-prisoners reconnaissance mission into the minds of men. She lives in New Jersey with her family and her Extremely Spunky Border Terrier, Jade. Mikki Halpin, who interviewed Molly Ringwald for this issue, writes about culture, pop culture, and politics. She is at work on her fourth book, Chicklib: The Illustrated Story of Feminism, with artist Megan Kelso. A Brooklyn, NY, resident, she is active in feminist and community issues and has two cats. So far. She can be found on the Web at Galadriel Masterson, who styled the “Nuit Blanche” fashion story, began her career 15 years ago after realizing that her favorite pastime while being grounded as a teen (making outfits, locked in her room) was an actual profession. Her ties to this shoot’s model, Cassie, go way back: Masterson styled a 15-yearold Cassie’s first-ever photo shoot for Delia*s. These days Masterson vacillates between editorial and commercial work. When not on a shoot, she loves tabloids, Brooklyn, vegan cooking for friends, pugs, chakra healers, and her lesbian lover. Mike Perry, who illustrated the styleblogger fashion story “Fall For It,” works in Brooklyn making books, magazines, newspapers, clothing, drawings, paintings, and illustrations, and he teaches whenever possible. His first book, Hand Job (Princeton Architectural Press), hit bookshelves in 2006. His second, Over & Over, was released in fall 2008. He is currently working on two new books. Apple, The New York Times, Dwell magazine, Target, Urban Outfitters, eMusic, and Nike are among his clients, and his art has been shown around the world, including a recent solo show in Minneapolis. See more of his work at 10 / BUST // AUG/SEPT



southern comfort TRUE BLOOD’S RUTINA WESLEY LIGHTS UP OUR SUNDAYS JUST BECAUSE THE citizens of True Blood’s fictional Bon Temps, Louisiana, include vampires, shape shifters, mind readers, and ancient demons, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be realistic. At least that’s actress Rutina Wesley’s explanation for why her character, Tara Thornton, morphed from a Caucasian woman in the Sookie Stackhouse novels into the tough but vulnerable African-American she plays on the wildly successful supernatural HBO series based on those books. »


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“It’s nice that you have a bunch of different people running around interacting with each other,” says Wesley of HBO’s decision to make the cast of True Blood as racially diverse as the actual Louisiana. “It makes for a better series, and it’s just more real. Which, for me is great, because I have a job.” Unlike her tough-talking foulmouthed character, who spent most of True Blood’s second season partying naked in the woods while under the influence of an evil pleasure demon, Wesley is a happily married Las Vegas native with a demeanor that is centered and down-to-earth, even bordering on sensible. “There was a lot of stuff where I was like, ‘Oh, my gosh, another orgy?’” she says. “My grandmother has True Blood parties where the whole family gets together and watches it. So I was like, ‘OK, you can’t watch Episode Three.’ But she doesn’t care. She would just say, ‘I’m watchin’ my baby.’ It’s weird but also great to have that support.” Wesley previously distinguished herself on Broadway in the Sam Mendes– directed The Vertical Hour and starred



in the step-dancing flick How She Move. And now as Tara, the classically trained Julliard alum is bringing a vulnerability and a complexity to True Blood you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a raunchy HBO drama. “When I first got the script, I saw through the defenses. I saw there was something more to this girl,” says Wesley. “I think it’s nice that the series has allowed Tara to chip away at the rock on the outside, and we can see these petals of a flower coming through. And it’s just great to have an African-American character on TV like this that has such an incredible journey. And not just another stereotype of an angry black woman.” As we talk about this time being a breakout moment in her career, Wesley radiates gratitude, repeatedly bringing up the support she’s been receiving from her friends and family. “It’s overwhelming for me, still, being a part of this big huge thing that is True Blood,” she says. “It’s like I’m living in a fantasy. I can’t believe it. I’m on TV! Millions of people are watching me! Oh, my God!” [EMILY MCCOMBS]


Rutina Wesley dares to go barefoot


“I was out to dinner with three strong, capable, intelligent young women the other night, and all they could talk about was men. I was like, ‘If you don’t change the topic in the next five minutes, I’m leaving.’ My life is not going to revolve around any guy.” Chloë Sevigny in Elle: Travel Edition

“My mother [Janet Leigh] was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. There are moments when I remember her beauty, unadorned, unposed, not in the same artificial places like a set or a photo call but rather captured outdoors in nature, where she took my breath away. When those moments surface, I miss her the most.” Jamie Lee Curtis in More “The men who look, they really look. It doesn’t insult us. It doesn’t faze us, really. It’s just, well, it’s a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn’t it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we’re attracted to.” Christina Hendricks in Esquire 12 / BUST // AUG/SEPT


“[As a child] I was sad. I was full of energy, but that question of ‘Why am I here?’ came too soon. It was so frustrating that I started to hate myself. I crawled into a black shell. I was very lonely. I think I was a little weird.” Marion Cotillard in AnOther

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the boy in the bieber bubble WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT JUSTIN OMG, YOU GUYS. What is the deal with Justin Bieber???!! Oops, sorry. This is Miley Cyrus!!! I’m typing this on my BlackBerry and I forgot I’m not on Twitter anymore and you can’t see who I am. Hey, y’all! What up? Let me just apologize again about that

You probably think I’m just jealous of his success. And maybe I am. Though I’m pretty sure that if I wanted to be the hot topic on Twitter like he is, all I’d have to do is wear something “inappropriate” or get caught drinking one of those hard lemonades. (By the way, I also apologize

Remember how in middle school there was always that boy who was really short but all the girls loved him because he could pop and lock? Justin Bieber is that kid. Vanity Fair photo. That was a while ago now, but I’m still really sorry. Anyway, can we talk about this Bieber kid and how he’s everywhere? Unless you live in a cave or are in lockdown rehab, you’ve no doubt seen him by now, singing with that prepubescent voice and sporting his backward haircut all over YouTube. He’s 16, he’s got a number one album, and he’s even been sort of adopted by Usher. He’s more famous than I am now. It’s crazy, y’all! 14 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

for my pole-dancing thing last year!) There’s something different about how he’s famous. I think it’s different because he’s a boy. I know, he’s not the only famous teen guy these days. But unlike my homeboys from Disney, Bieber isn’t just some cute, dimpled, family-friendlymedia delivery system blathering “stay in school.” No, I think he might be more real than that. (Speaking of real, you know that camera-phone pic where you could see my bra? I apologize, for reals!)

But back to Bieber: remember how in middle school there was always that boy who was really short but all the girls loved him because he could pop and lock? Justin Bieber is that kid, except the whole world is his school cafeteria, and he sits at the cool table with Usher and Ludacris. Funny how a 16-year-old boy can be BFFs with rappers but I can’t sing a duet with Bret Michaels without folks wringing their hands over how pervy it seems. (But just in case that turns out to have something to do with Bret’s brain hemorrhage, I’m really sorry!) Just the other day, I was talking with Jamie Lynn Spears (who apologizes for getting knocked up), and she was all, “Miley, it just doesn’t seem fair that Justin Bieber’s fame seems so kooky and fun when it’s always been so much pressure for us.” And she’s right. Everyone thinks it’s cute that he’s so huge because he’s just a kid. But even before I was his age, I was expected to be a role model. You never get to just be a kid when you’re a famous teenage girl. You’re always getting more stuff wrong: the wrong clothes, the wrong dance moves, the wrong “assets” that get you in trouble, but you’re still expected to have it all. So yeah, it bugs me that Bieber gets described as “just like a cool little brother,” to Usher and Taylor Swift (I apologize for not being Taylor Swift!) when I’ve spent half my career being treated like the whole world’s slutty, wayward daughter. But I guess I wish him luck just the same. Maybe one day, everyone will stop worrying about my virginity and I’ll get to play big sister to some aspiring teen pop star. If I do, maybe I’ll tell her to cut her hair short, learn to swagger, and pass as a boy so she can become the next Justin Bieber instead of the next Miley Cyrus. Bet she’ll have a lot more fun that way and won’t have to apologize for anything. OK, y’all, I’d better put the BlackBerry away before my daddy catches me and accuses me of “sexting.” Peace out! ILLUSTRATED BY JESSE LEFKOWITZ




THE NEXT TIME you’re pounding away at your keyboard at work, pause for a moment to appreciate how the lowly typewriter—for better or worse—helped bring women into the office. The frontispiece of The Story of the Typewriter (1923) is a sepiatoned composite photo showing Christopher Latham Sholes seated at a table with the writing machine he invented, while a line of smiling women in Grecian tunics march behind him. »


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broadcast girl” blaze through 57 words a minute in a Boston showroom. Sales were also helped by the fact that there was no early consensus about what gender should operate this new technology. A Remington ad from December 1875 touted the machine as a holiday gift “for a boy or girl,” then expounded on its utility to women. “No invention has opened for women so broad and easy an avenue to profitable and suitable employment as the ‘Type-Writer,’” it proclaimed, “and it merits the careful consideration of all persons interested in the subject of work for women.” By the turn of the 20th century, the association between woman and machine was so complete that the term typewriter could mean either the physical object or the woman who operated it, and the “pretty typewriter” had become a stock character. The author of an 1894 guide to the sights of New York City did his best to

defend their reputations: “On few subjects have more jokes been made, and ill-natured slurs cast, than on the ‘pretty typewriter,’” he wrote. “It is doubtless true that some unprincipled adventuresses, and some weak and silly girls, have entered this occupation. But the overwhelming majority of the women who operate typewriting machines are modest, industrious, and worthy of all encouragement.” It was also true that a woman typist could be paid less than a man; this combined with the amount of paperwork engendered by the rise of big business and the shortage of male office workers in the wake of World War I helped bring women into the office at a rapid rate. By 1920, 90 percent of clerical workers classified as typists were women. A decade later, the majority of all American office workers were women. And the business world has never looked back.

1. Lena Mary Calhoun Horne was born on June 30, 1917, in what city? a. Memphis, TN b. Los Angeles, CA c. Brooklyn, NY d. London, U.K.

6. How many times was Lena married? a. 1 b. 2 c. 3 d. 4

2. While Lena was being was born, her father was trying to make enough money to pay the hospital bill by doing what? a. playing cards b. playing dice c. shooting pool d. betting on horses


3. Lena quit school at 14 and got her first stage job at 16 singing and dancing at what famous club for black performers? a. The Royal Peacock b. The Uptown Theatre c. The Fox Theatre d. The Cotton Club

[BY EMILY REMS] WHEN SHOWBIZ LEGEND Lena Horne died this May, at age 92, the world lost a true trailblazer. A gorgeous jazz starlet and civil-rights activist who sang, danced, and acted her way into a major movie contract at a time when women of color were routinely relegated to supporting, servant roles, she had an ability to command respect in a segregated world and opened doors for everyone who came after her. Think you’re a true Lena lover? Then take the quiz!

4. In 1943, Lena became the first black actor to sign a long-term Hollywood contract. But MGM was afraid she would pass as white, so makeup artist Max Factor created a product line for her called _______. a. Dark Egyptian b. African Queen c. Lena’s Look d. Beautiful Bronze 5. Lena scored a major radio hit in 1943 with her title song to what film, which became her signature? a. The Duke Is Tops b. Panama Hattie c. Stormy Weather d. Cabin in the Sky

7. By the mid 1940s, Lena was the highest-paid black actor in America. But in the ’50s, she was blacklisted in Hollywood as a suspected Communist because of her friendship with what politicized actor? a. Paul Robeson b. Burgess Meredith c. Zero Mostel d. Larry Parks 8. Lena plunged into a deep depression in 1971, triggered by the death that year of _____. a. her father b. her son c. her husband d. all of the above 9. Lena announced her retirement in 1980, but the next year she starred on Broadway in the onewoman show Lena Horne: The Lady and Her Music, which ran for more than ___ performances. a. 100 b. 200 c. 300 d. 400 10. Complete the following Lena quote: “Always be smarter than the people who ____ you.” a. write about b. criticize c. hire d. date


“Emancipation” reads the opposite page, over a statement from the inventor: “I feel that I have done something for the women who have always had to work so hard,” he writes. “This will enable them more easily to earn a living.” That women had recently won the right to vote might be a better example of emancipation, and that Sholes was by various reckonings either the 52nd, 76th, or 112th inventor of a typing machine are mere quibbles of history. The picture shows how the union of woman and typewriter, just 50 years after its invention, already had been cast into mythology. Gunmaker E. Remington and Sons brought Sholes’ typewriter to market in 1874. Priced at $125, it was expensive and could type only in capital letters. Remington hired cute young women to demonstrate its machines, a strategy that hooked Mark Twain, who bought a Model 1 Remington that year after watching a “type

Answer Key: 1. c, 2. a, 3. d, 4. a, 5. c, 6. b, 7. a, 8. d, 9. c, 10. c 16 / BUST // AUG/SEPT




TALKING TO JUSTIN Long is like hanging out with the movie-star version of your favorite high school boyfriend, even on a morning when he has admittedly underslept and is weary from an early photo shoot. The in-demand 32-year-old actor has been busy promoting his next film, Going the Distance, in which he costars with his real-life girlfriend, Drew Barrymore. And though the pair plays a couple trying to work out the logistics of their long-distance relationship, Long will be the first to tell you he’s not usually a fan of romantic comedies. “We’re all so flawed, and love is so flawed, and rarely is it polished and easy and glossy the way most romantic comedies make it out to be,” he says. “I don’t think any movie is capable of coming close to the highs and lows and pain and bliss of a real relationship.” »


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nice threads ZIMBABWEAN MOTHERS TURN THEIR NEEDLEWORK SKILLS INTO A BETTER LIFE IN ZIMBABWE, MOTHERS who care for their disabled children are choosing to live in social isolation. Because of a massive stigma related to local beliefs that the disabled are born evil and are capable of spreading that evil to all who come in contact with them, families of handicapped children in the region are often forced to either abandon them or face banishment from their communities. “People think that maybe you are a witch or that you practice witchcraft through that child,” says Mai Clara, a parent who chose to raise her disabled child. 18 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

Hey girl hey!

When I relay to Long a choice quote attributed to him by a recent New York magazine blog in which the actor alludes to his enthusiasm for performing cunnilingus, he’s freaked out, to say the least. “I can’t wait to get that call from my mom!” he groans. “Oh, God. I was talking about the difference between myself and this character that I played in this staged reading that is very misogynistic... which I think is a selfish way to be. Oh, great. My relatives Google me! They do that shit! It’s a problem.” Later, after a good laugh, he decides, “I guess there are worse things you could say about me.” [JENNI MILLER]

Grappling with poverty, abandonment by family, and the trials of finding work while caring for special-needs kids, Clara and 13 other women in similar circumstances formed their own community in 1998 in the Zimbabwean neighborhood of Harare. They called it Batsiranai, which translates to “helping each other.” And though these mothers initially came together for emotional support, they soon began sewing and embroidering handicrafts in order to generate income. Over time, they taught other mothers of disabled kids these skills, and now Batsiranai is 100 women strong, providing its community with food, job training, schooling for the children, and housing. The determination of these women brought them to the attention of Americans Lynn Poole, who is now their business mentor in Zimbabwe, and Janis Stoner, currently their fund-raiser in the U.S. Both now work as volunteers, spreading the word by teaching others how to sell Batsiranai crafts in their own homes, Tupperware party– style. “They are the kind of grass-roots group I want to make sure flourishes,” says Stoner. “They are working to support themselves.” Luckily, once Batsiranai’s handiwork gets into the hands of volunteer vendors, they quite ably sell themselves. The line includes beautifully crafted dolls, handbags, yoga bags, and housewares of such high quality that they’ve been picked up by retailers like Ten Thousand Villages and Global Exchange. And every sale makes it possible for Batsiranai to help more of the over 600 mothers of disabled children waiting to join the group. “These women stretch the money so far,” says Stoner. “They really live the motto of helping each other.” To buy their goods online, make a donation, or find out how to host your own Batsiranai shopping party, visit www.batsiranai. com. [RACHEL YOUNG]


Any reservations he might have had about the genre, however, seem to have been overshadowed by the allure of working on this project with Barrymore. “You have a built-in closeness and ease and connection and rapport and all the things that are essential to an onscreen relationship,” he says of their collaboration. “I found it just effortless. It was a lot of fun.” Before being snapped up as Hollywood’s boy next door du jour, Long became instantly recognizable as the human personification of an Apple computer in the famous “Get a Mac” commercial campaign. Since then, he’s played a number of hilariously unlikely characters, including a gay-porn star in Zack and Miri Make a Porno and a bad-influence big brother in Youth in Revolt. He’s also the star of one of the hottest viral videos to make the rounds in support of gay marriage. In the satire “Overturn Prop 8, Make Homosexuals Marry,” Long and actor Mike White play Devin and Glenn, a couple who meet at a gay-pride parade, get married, and find their marital bliss marred by the everyday domestic issues straight couples face. “It’s shocking that this basic freedom is being denied to people because of their sexual identities,” Long says. “It’s just so Stone Age. It’s horrifying.” He’s also horrified by what pops up about him on the Internet.

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broadcast Dallas Jessup and her self-defense students in Portland, OR

hot dates THINGS TO SEE, PEOPLE TO DO August 6 – 7 BLOGHER ’10 BlogHer, the world’s largest conference for women in social media, will be held this year in N.Y.C. Founded five years ago by three media-savvy women who asked, “Where are all the women bloggers?” BlogHer’s site directs over 20 million visitors each month to their lovely lady links, and its gatherings are renowned for bringing this diverse community together. Check out for an agenda and a list of speakers.

fire starter DALLAS JESSUP TEACHES YOUNG WOMEN HOW TO STAND UP TO ATTACKERS DALLAS JESSUP WAS a 13-year-old Portland, OR, high school freshman in 2004 when she first saw the surveillance video on the news of 11-yearold Carlie Brucia being abducted from a Florida car wash. As subsequent reports of the girl’s rape and murder rolled in, Jessup, though still a kid herself, was inspired to act. A black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a student of Filipino street fighting, she realized she possessed a certain set of skills that could protect other young girls from the same fate. So she created Just Yell Fire, a free 45-minute video, downloadable through her Web site, that teaches young women ages 11 through 19 a set of easily learned martial-arts skills that can be used to escape sexual assault and other forms of attack. The film, which also includes a Dating Bill of Rights, informs viewers that it is their right to be safe, and that it is in their power to defend themselves. “It’s not only self-defense; it’s self-empowerment,” says Jessup. “Every girl can do enough to get herself out of a tough situation if she knows what to do.” In the five years since the Just Yell Fire video made its debut, its lifesaving strategies have been downloaded over a million times by girls in more than 45 countries—sparking what Jessup calls a “million-girl revolution.” For those without Internet access, a free DVD of the course can be mailed anywhere in the world. “Girls are fighting back,” she says proudly. “Even in places not known for standing up and defending girls’ rights.” Now 18 and a Vanderbilt University freshman, Jessup has testified before Congress to promote self-defense education and is working on a new film for college-age women, training a team of Just Yell Fire educators, and teaching self-defense in India where the risk of abduction for sex trafficking is especially high. “I love what I do,” Jessup says of her crusade. “But if Just Yell Fire ends because there’s no more rape or abduction in the world, I would be completely happy not having this job. Until then, whatever way is best for girls everywhere is the route I will take.” Just Yell Fire can be downloaded at Or write to Just Yell Fire, P.O. Box 5647, Vancouver, WA 98668 for a free DVD. [PHOEBE MAGEE] 20 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

August 22 GOTOPLESS From breastfeeding to sunbathing, GoTopless is leading the campaign for women’s freedom to be shirtless in public places where men already have that right. The group organizes annual equality protests that “expose the ‘cover-up’ for what it is” in states where women are legally allowed to go bare. California, Florida, Texas, and Ohio are just a few—but if you live elsewhere, GoTopless also has a petition on its site. For more information, expose yourself to Through September 6 GEORGIA O’KEEFE AND THE FARAWAY: NATURE AND IMAGE The National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame in Fort Worth, TX, the only institution dedicated to honoring women of the West, is hosting a groundbreaking exhibition on artist Georgia O’Keefe this fall. Her connection to the ideals of the West—“rugged individuality, fierce courage, and a quest for the untamed”—will be showcased through her paintings, sketches, personal photographs, and even her camping gear. Saddle up and visit for a sneak peek. Through September 24 SEDUCTIVE SUBVERSION: WOMEN POP ARTISTS, 1958 – 1968 This first major exhibition dedicated to female pop artists is debuting at the Sheldon Museum of Art at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln. Featuring paintings and sculptures by artists including Vija Celmins, Rosalyn Drexler, Niki de Saint Phalle, Marisol, and Faith Ringgold, this show includes many works that are receiving their first showing in 40 years. Can’t make it to Nebraska? The exhibition’s next stop is the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Pop on over to www.sheldonartgallery. org for more details. [COMPILED BY LIBBY ZAY]

take a bow DOROTHY DALE KLOSS, THE WORLD’S OLDEST WORKING SHOWGIRL, FINALLY RETIRES FIVE DAYS A week, Dorothy Dale Kloss would put on her makeup, strap on her tap shoes, and hit the stage. With her killer legs, magnetic charm, and legendary tap skills, she slayed her audience at the Palm Springs Follies every night. This is no small feat, but on top of it all, Kloss is 86 years old. That made her not only the oldest-ever member of the Follies—a variety show celebrating the music, dance, and comedy of the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s, performed by a cast “old enough to have lived it”—but it also earned her The Guinness Book of World Records title Oldest Working Showgirl in the World, until she finally retired in May. And though her Follies gig included demanding costume changes, complicated dance routines, endless rehearsals, audience meet-and-greets, and a full flight of stairs separating the dressing room from the stage, she completed her final season PHOTOGRAPHED BY MARK DAVIDSON

without ever slowing down. “Age is not something I think about,” Kloss says. “It’s not about how old you are, it’s about what you do with it.” Born and raised on the North Side of Chicago, Kloss began dancing at age 3 and was teaching tap classes by 13. One of her students, in fact, was little “Bobby” Fosse, who, at the tender age of 10, was learning shuffle steps and ball changes under her tutelage. Was he born to be a star? “If he was, I didn’t notice,” she says, laughing. “But he was a sweet kid, a real fast learner.” In the early 1940s, after watching the Muriel Abbott dancers—an all-female troupe known for their aerials and flips— Kloss marched home to her mother and announced, “I want to do that too.” But it was expensive to take classes with Miss Abbott. Nonetheless, her mother, a wid-

ow with three kids, saved all summer so Kloss could start in September. “I had only three months to ‘make it or break it,’” she recalls, “so I made it!” After Kloss won a tap contest at age 15, Abbott booked her at Chicago’s famous Empire Room to perform as a soloist. One year later, she embarked on an international tour, and during the war, she toured with the USO. “It was a great time for entertainment,” Kloss says. “Everyone really needed it.” In the decades that followed, Kloss raised a family, was diagnosed with and made a full recovery from colon cancer, and joined the Palm Springs Follies at age 70. So what’s her secret for all that limitless vitality? Cold showers? Jumping jacks? Vaseline? “You know, a little vodka never hurts,” she jokes. “No, but really, if you love what you do, you can do it as long as you want.” [JENNY GOTTSTEIN] // BUST BUST / / 21 21 //


a tale of two skivvies NETWORKS THROW PLUS-SIZED ADS A CURVEBALL BOTH ABC AND Fox recently refused to air a commercial promoting plus-sizedwomen’s retailer Lane Bryant’s lingerie line, Cacique. The ad stars a busty size-16 model lounging at home in a variety of braand-panty sets. Sitting at her vanity in her full-coverage red bra, she checks her cell, sees the calendar reminder “Meet Dan for lunch,” giggles, then puts on her black trench coat and heads out the door. Yes, it’s a saucy story line, but what’s ABC and Fox’s beef? “Too much cleavage,” according to


ON SECOND THOUGHT, DON’T CALL YOUR MOTHER TODAY… Women’s enjoyment of parents and kids on the skids

In a widely reported speech, Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi, a senior Iranian cleric, warned that women who wear revealing clothing and behave promiscuously are to blame for earthquakes. “Many women who do not dress modestly...lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity, and spread adultery in society, which consequently in-

You might want to pop a Paxil before reading this one. As reported in The New York Times, the authors of Wellbeing: The Five Essential Elements—a summary of Gallup surveys on quality of life—have revealed that women find their parents and children unpleasant to be around significantly more than men do. While 7 percent of men disliked being around their parents and 10.2 percent described hanging out with their kids as unpleasant, 27 percent of women felt similarly about their parents and 17.7 percent felt that way about the kiddies. Are we bristling after too many comments from Mom and Dad about child rearing, appearance, or marriage? Or am I just thinking about my last trip home? The authors suggest some of this disparity can be accounted for by the activities women are typically engaged in with parents and children—all work and no play. But maybe the truth is more up front than that. As one commenter on the NYT site explained, “You haven’t met my parents.”

Both ABC and Fox refused to air a commerical promoting plus-sized lingerie. What’s their beef? “Too much cleavage.” Lane Bryant. ABC and Fox wanted multiple changes made to the ad, and Lane Bryant argues there’s a double standard at work, since Victoria’s Secret ads featuring size-two model Miranda Kerr wearing a push up bra ran during American Idol for a month. So what are the networks’ real motives? That doesn’t really matter now, considering the ruckus has driven over two million viewers to check the ad out on YouTube—for free. 22 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

This blame game caught the eye of Purdue University student Jen McCreight, who jokingly responded on Facebook with something called Boobquake, encouraging women everywhere to show off some cleave on April 26 in an effort to make the earth shake. Boobquake did in fact coincide with some seismic activity—a 6.5-magnitude quake hit Taiwan that morning—but it made more waves on the Internet. The Facebook event had over 210,000 attendees, and there were over 300 Boobquakerelated videos on YouTube. Feminist scholar Golbarg Bashi then responded by calling for a Brainquake, encouraging women to show off their résumés and honors en masse. Making connections between female anatomy and disaster is nothing new. According to ancient Jewish custom, gals need to stay away from making wine and bread while menstruating, lest the bread not rise or the wine not ferment. So that’s why my banana loaf didn’t turn out right!

creases earthquakes,” he said. Weeks later, another official reiterated the connection between loose women and loose tectonic plates, recommending good Muslim behavior as a way of fending off such natural disasters. Under Iranian law, women must cover their hair and their whole bodies below the neck. And unfortunately for gals who bare arms despite the ban, Tehran, the nation’s capital, sits on several fault lines.


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MAKE DIY FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS FOR ALL YOUR BESTIES I WAS RECENTLY given a friendship bracelet for the first time in about 20 years. Not only did it look awesome on my wrist, but wearing it also brought back a flood of crafting-atsummer-camp memories. I decided it was high time to relive my glory days as a master friendship bracelet–maker, ’cause these threaded accessories are easy to create, the materials are crazy-cheap, and they’re totally portable crafting-wise. But the best part is handing them out to all your homies. All you need to start knotting is embroidery floss in four colors. »


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string that was originally farthest left (purple) to make

1. Cut a piece from each floss that is twice your arm

2 forward knots on the string to its right (orange). Now

length. Gather the 4 pieces and fold in half, tying a

the string that was originally farthest left (purple) is

knot about 4" from the doubled end. Tape the end of

the third string from the left. Use it to make 2 forward

your bracelet to a surface.

knots on the string to its right (red). The string that was


2. To make your bracelet symmetrical, split the colors

originally farthest left (purple) should now be the fourth

1. Repeat step 1 from above, then arrange the strings

in half so the set on the left mirrors the set on the

string from the left (between the 2 red strings).

in any order (they do not need to be symmetrical).

right. The following instructions are specific to the color choices shown here, so make a note of how your

the bracelet.

2. Take the far left string and make a forward knot on fig. 3

colors correspond to these: fig. 1

ting the end of each). Cut the doubled strings at the other end, and braid those the same way to finish off

the string to its right. 3. Use the same string to make a second backward knot.

purple strings on the far left

This will return the strings to their original position. Now

and far right, 2 blue strings on

take the string second farthest to the left and make a for-

the inside of the purple strings,

ward knot and backward knot on the string to its right.

then 2 orange strings, and 2 red

Repeat this step with each string across the row.

strings in the middle (fig. 1).

4. Once you have completed the row, take the far

3. Friendship bracelets are primarily made by two

4. Take the far right string (purple) and make a back-

right string and make a backward knot with the string

knots, the forward knot and the backward knot. For the

ward knot over the string to the left of it (blue). A

to its left. Then use the same string to make a forward

“V” bracelet, start with a forward knot: Take the far left

backward knot is basically the same as a forward knot,

knot. Continue this step with each string moving left

but the “4” shape is reversed (fig. 3). Repeat to make

across the row (fig. 4).

string (purple) and make a “4” shape over the string to the right of it (blue). Wrap the purple string under the

a second knot. The string that was originally farthest

blue string, pulling the tail through the “4” shape (fig. 2) fig. 2

right (purple) is now second farthest right. Use it to

fig. 4

make 2 backward knots on the string to its left (orange). Now it should be the third string from the right. Use it to make 2 backward knots on the string to its left (red). The strings that were originally on the farthest left (purple) and farthest right (purple) should be next to each other in the middle. Knot them together with either 2 forward knots or 2 backward knots. Your

5. Continue knotting rows, repeating steps 3 and 4. Re-

and sliding the knot up until it’s taut against your main

first row is complete!

member, working left to right tie a forward knot first, then

knot. Repeat to make a second knot. The string that

5. Repeat steps 3 and 4 until you’ve reached your

a backward knot. Working right to left, tie a backward

was originally farthest left (purple) should now be

desired length, then tie the loose strings in a knot.

knot first, then a forward knot. When you’ve reached your

to the right of the farthest left string (blue). Use the

Split the threads in half and make two braids (knot-

desired length, finish off as before. [MEREDITH JENKS]


maga’s seal rock crab sandwich MY GRANDMOTHER JANE Caroline Bennett, nicknamed Maga (my toddler self’s interpretation of grandma), exuded classic Pacific Northwest style, welcoming dinner guests with martinis and pearls one day and driving wind-torn fishing boats the next. Raised in San Francisco during the Depression, Maga became one helluva cook, taking responsibility for family meals at the age of 12 when her beloved father died and her mother went to work. Riding the cable car downtown, she’d pick produce from the greengrocer and Dungeness crab for 10 cents a piece at Fisherman’s Wharf. In the 1980s and ’90s, she lived in Seal Rock, a coastal town in Oregon where she’d go crabbing every summer. After long mornings helping Maga haul crab pots from the rocky waters during family visits, curling up on a deck chair overlooking the Pacific Ocean with one of her amazing crab sandwiches was a handsome reward. To make the dish, mix 2 cups of cooked Dungeness crab (bay shrimp, canned tuna, or even diced baked tofu are good substitutes) with 1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce, 1⁄2 tsp. Dijon mustard, 3 chopped green onions, and enough mayo to bind. Broil an English muffin cut side up. When the muffin’s nice and toasty, spread the crab mixture on top of each slice, cover with sharp cheddar cheese, and place under the broiler until the cheese is melted. Salt and pepper to taste. Great for lunch and dinner— serve with a frosty ale or a good, full-bodied white wine to reap maximum benefit—it also makes a delicious brunch; just add a poached egg before covering with cheese. [XYLIA BUROS] 26 / BUST / AUG/SEPT



good on paper PUT YOUR RÉSUMÉ THROUGH REHAB AND KISS UNEMPLOYMENT GOOD-BYE TOUGH TIMES GOT you pounding the pavement for a job? Then your résumé’s got to be spot-on, since it will probably be one of hundreds the hiring managers receive. If you’re like most job seekers out there, your CV’s in dire need of a makeover. As a certified professional résumé writer and former recruiting manager, I know that a well-written résumé is key to securing the coveted face-to-face interview. Here are a few tips of the trade. PROOFREAD. You don’t want your résumé to end up in The Folder—the place where recruiters keep bad résumés, to be mocked by colleagues, friends, and the family dentist. Typos are a surefire way to get there. Read your résumé. Read it again. Seriously, read it one more time. Then have a friend read it. Even the smallest typo can knock you out of the running.


KEEP IT SHORT AND SWEET. Your résumé is a marketing piece, not an extensive recap of your job descriptions. Focus on what matters for the job opening. Aim for one page, definitely no longer than two. TRASH THE OBJECTIVE. No one cares that you “want a job with growth opportunities where your professional and academic background will be of value.” Switch it up with a summary of qualifications, a short paragraph detailing the skills you have that are most relevant to the job. This moves the focus from what you want to what you bring. It may be a subtle difference, but it’s a powerful statement about your priorities. Be sure to tailor the summary for each job opening; recruiters hate junk mail as much as you do. You have only a few seconds to capture their attention; make them count. GET SOME ACTION. Focus on what you’ve achieved, and explain how you did it using action-oriented language. Scrap the more passive “responsible for” and start with an action like “streamlined operations” to add impact. But don’t overdo it. You want to sell real accomplishments, not try to make Shinola out of, well, you know. You are good. You can do this job. Believe it and sell it. A résumé isn’t a job application—it’s like an advertisement for your awesomeness. [ANGIE ROSS, WWW.RESUMEREMAKE.COM]



1. The SEXY HOTNESS SLEEPING BAG ($149, was made to bang in! Featuring extra wiggle room for romping, it’s designed so you can zip multiple bags together. It’s even lined with images from the Kama Sutra if you need some inspiration. Just be sure to connect them before you hit the sauce—it’s a bit confusing, and the zippers tend to stick. The thin material is better suited for summer slumbering, but at least you won’t overheat while you’re gettin’ nasty. Sadly, the connecting zipper doesn’t extend to the feet, so no playing footsie once you’ve doubled up. The hood snaps over the shoulders to form arm holes, and two pockets on the outside can hold all your essentials. 2. The SELK’BAG 3G ($149, is a superthick, water-resistant sleep suit that will keep you toasty on winter camping trips (but burn you up during summer sleepovers). The hands of the suit zip all the way around, keeping digits safe from the elements, and the reinforced feet allow you to stroll around without catching cold. Be sure to consult the sizing chart so you get the right fit. Despite its bulk, it still packs down into a convenient carrying bag, excellent for adventuring. 3. Inspired by the scene in The Empire Strikes Back in which Han Solo saves Luke Skywalker from freezing by putting him inside a dead tauntaun, the TAUNTAUN SLEEPING BAG ($99.99, is the best bet for adult children. However, since this superfluffy sleeper isn’t waterproof, comes without a case, and has a lot of volume when folded, it’s not ideal for travel or outdoor use. But what it lacks in functionality, it makes up for with cute comfortableness, making it the perfect bag for crashing at a friend’s pad. [CALLIE WATTS AND LORI FORTY WEAVER] // BUST / 27

real life


2 5

31 6

4 7

blah blah blah




FREQUENT FLEA-MARKET trips and DIY tweaks to mass-produced home goods give Rachel Denbow’s two-bedroom home— which the 29-year-old crafter shares with her hubby and two kids— an eclectic, vintage-looking vibe. “I gravitate toward bargains that need a little TLC,” says Denbow, who makes Craigslist scores and big-brand buys her own by spray-painting, reupholstering, and repurposing. As for the colorful touches? “I tend to just buy things that make me happy. If it’s not pretty, then I don’t want it in my house,” she says, laughing. [LISA BUTTERWORTH]

1. A similar Ashley G print hangs in Denbow’s living room ($20, 2. Hand-sewn fabric panels cover craft-supply clutter in the studio. 3. A pillow made by Denbow sits on a reupholstered thrift score next to a pink Modernica chair. 4. Denbow designed this hanging chalkboard bubble ($28, 5. A thermos collection adds character, a clipboard makes for cheap and easy art display, and a wire basket turns yarn into an eye-catching decoration. 6. “In the kitchen I stick with three colors, so no matter what style the pieces, new or vintage, they all go together,” says Denbow. 7. Twine and clothespins turn alphabet cards by artist Jenn Ski ( into wall décor. 8. Denbow made curtains from an Urban Outfitters bedspread and spray-painted a lamp from Kmart. 9. A ’70s globe adds old-school charm ($45,

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real life


This pesto's the best-o


Pasta Puttanesca The night my waiter, without even a hint of laughter, explained that pasta puttanesca meant “pasta of the whores,” I knew I was going to love it. He went on to say it was aptly named because in the ’50s, the Italian women of the night would make this dish with the staples typical of an Italian cupboard at the time. Traditional puttanesca calls for anchovies, but this lady is not a fan of funky little fish, so I swap them for canned tuna. Sauté a heaping plop of garlic in olive oil, add a can of tuna and the oil it came in, a pinch of red pepper flakes, a heaping handful of calamata (black) olives, pitted and sliced, a few plops of capers, a 16-oz. can of tomatoes that you have lovingly crushed just a little with your hands, salt and pepper to taste, and a good pinch of dry oregano. Cook the whole shebang for about 20 minutes over medium heat. Meanwhile, boil a pound 30 / BUST / AUG/SEPT

of spaghetti. Then toss it with your sauce and serve. Garnish with a ton of grated Parmesan and some chopped parsley.

Presto Pesto Tortellini Make a pesto by pureeing a handful each of baby arugula, fresh basil, and grated Parmesan with half a handful of pine nuts, a few cloves of garlic, a dash of lemon juice, and about a coffee-cupful of olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste. Boil a package of frozen cheese tortellini, chill under cold water, toss in your pesto, and serve at room temperature.

Perfect Penne For this fabulous picnic pasta, slice 12 plum tomatoes and toss them in a plop of garlic, enough olive oil to lightly coat, and a couple of big pinches of dry oregano (or thyme and salt), then bake at 250 degrees for 1½ – 2 hours or until tomatoes look brown and dry. Slice a zucchini and a yellow squash into half moons, then toss in olive oil, salt, and pepper, and roast at 350 degrees until brown, about 20 minutes. Boil a package of penne, cool it in cold water, then drain and toss in olive oil. Add oven-dried tomatoes and any remaining juices, the roasted vegetables, a handful of chopped fresh basil, salt and pepper to taste, and you’re good to go. PHOTOGRAPHED BY SARAH ANNE WARD


SOMETIMES WE GET that deep inner craving; a longing inside our solar plexus that nothing—not sex, not vodka, not chocolate, not even reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer—will satiate. We simply must have a huge bowl of pasta! ’Cause really, biscuits, what’s life without a little starch? Here are some delicious ways to get your fix.



the eyes have it STOP SUN DAMAGE WITH THESE DIY EMBELLISHED STUNNERS WANT YOUR PEEPERS to be poppin’? It doesn’t take much to turn store-bought sunnies into custom-made shades. Transforming your frames is so fast and easy, you don’t need to worry about missing out on the sunshine while you craft— you’ll have ’em done in the blink of an eye. »


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real life




Turn your humdrum frames into bloomin’ beauties with just two simple steps. Start with a pair of Wayfarers (we used white, but any solid color will do). Using fine-tipped paint markers (available at art-supply stores) in bright, eye-catching colors, draw small flowers all over the frame around the lenses and along the sides. Let dry. Use a paintbrush to seal the frames with a coat of Mod Podge.


CHAIN ATTRACTION Who needs a glasses case? Hang your hater blockers around your neck, and start throwing shade. Grab a pair of sunglasses with a frame that has a wide, flat top. Use E6000 glue to secure the middle of a 1½-yard length of flat chain across the top of the glasses frame. Let dry. Secure the ends of the chain together with a matching jump link. Squeeze the link together with needlenose pliers. [CALLIE WATTS]


eye candy THESE CHAINS AND SUNGLASSES ARE AS SWEET AS MOLASSES 4. 1. CHAIN SMOKING Why stash your glasses in your bag when you can rock them around your neck for easy accessibility and added sass? ($40, 2. BRIGHT EYES Shield your peepers under spiked lenses with neon pink sides. ($36,


3. TRANSPARENT TRAP You’ll be hooked on these frames ’cause they go with everything! Plus, you can see clearly now, the glare is gone. ($14, 6. 4. HEART OF GLASS These black beauties would make Joan Jett drool. ($12.71, 5. THE BRAIDED BUNCH Let your glasses have some hang time with this Miami Beach–inspired accessory. ($35, 6. SHADES OF GLORY In a race for the best glasses of the summer these tortoise-shell frames from RetroSuperFuture totally win. ($153,



7. SEE YOU IN YOUR FLIP-SIDES Rock the Gaga look with these convertible glasses. Each lens pops up individually so you can switch from left to right to both (below), depending on how you wanna roll. ($12.99, [CALLIE WATTS]




allowance to buy more.” Milo was too despairing to register his friend’s advice, but my curiosity was piqued. We’ve made several stabs at putting the kids on a system of chores and rewards, but it always devolves into a chicken-and-egg-type situation, wherein it’s difficult to tell which came first, the

If I’ve been lax about putting my kids on the payroll, at least I’ve imparted my love of stoop sales. cessation of domestic responsibilities or the failure to pay up. “Your parents give you an allowance?” I asked. “Yeah,” our visitor shrugged, returning to the pirates. “Twenty bucks.” “You mean, like, a month?” I responded, knowing I’d feel stupid whatever the reply. “Twenty bucks a week,” he clarified, grinning like the cat that swallowed the Nerf-stuffed canary. Twenty bucks a week! When I was his age, the going rate was 50 cents! Or so I assume, since that’s what I got, provided

for-one special that not so coincidentally coincided with Milo’s long-delayed entry into the realm of Nerf gun ownership. And now I will buy the damn thing more bullets, because…I don’t know, the cat’s never going to ante up, and I can’t stand to see Milo’s grandparents’ Christmas money going toward replacement parts. Also, despite my rock-hard ability to withstand every compelling reason that we should purchase a Nintendo Wii, I’m a big softie (who once devoted a column to how she’d never let her little boy own a toy gun).


UNLIKE HIS THRIFTY sister, Milo has a long list of things he’d like me to buy him. Topping the charts these days are Nerf guns. Milo is wild for them, as are his pals and our pet cat, who sees the orange foam bullets as his culinary due—a hard but valuable lesson about the importance of putting our toys away. Milo’s pretty conscientious about securing these dainties following solo exercises, but visiting troops are rarely so thorough, and in the heat of battle, it’s hard to keep track. Forget that bitchy Mother Courage type who hangs around camp, forbidding computer use and dishing up lame grub. The minute the combatants abandon maneuvers for the comparatively pacifist pleasures of the plastic pirate ship, she’s on the couch with a magazine and a cappuccino. No way can she be relied on to crawl around, retrieving shells. Inevitably, though, someone gets up to go to the bathroom. A grisly discovery is made. A scream splits the air. The cat shoots under the bed, his work done. “What’s the big deal?” the buddy who was present and partially responsible for the latest atrocity asked. “Just use your

I made my bed, loaded the dishwasher, and stayed within the confines of expected behavior. My young Nerf friend was a bit cagey as to whether he actually performed the one chore (bed making) his parents required. He talked like a big spender, too. I was a little saver, depositing my weekly take in a FisherPrice dollhouse chair, the circular depression of which seemed made for quarters in addition to those peglike Fisher-Price butts. It took at least one lunar cycle for the coins to breach seat level, at which point I transferred them to a puppyshaped bank I periodically dumped out over the shag carpet to tally up my net worth. I was pretty impressed when it hit the teens. Still, when all is said and done, the thing that really taught me the value of a buck was going to garage sales with my grandparents. Discovering a still viable Spirograph for cheaper than a pack of gum was a revelation that ruined me for paying full price from there on out. If I’ve been inexcusably lax about putting my kids on the payroll, at least I’ve imparted my love of stoop sales, The Salvation Army, and waiting around for prices to be slashed. In fact, the ammo box lined with Nerf bullets we presented our catless, 20-bucks-a-week pal for his ninth birthday was purchased as part of a two-


debra rapoport REFLEXOLOGIST/VISUAL ARTIST NEW YORK, NY How would you describe your style? Very eclectic. I dress the way I make art—playing with layers, color, texture, and pattern. I like to throw things off a bit, wear unexpected color combinations. A good part of my art is work that embellishes the body: oversized jewelry, headgear, body coverings or armor made out of non-traditional and mixed materials. Tell us about this outfit. I made the capelet myself. It’s metallic fabric embellished with various things from my collections: zippers, candles wrapped with thread, tarnished vintage silver tinsel trim, and cellophane envelopes. The purple top was $3, from a thrift store. The skirt is also from a thrift store, part of a $20 grab bag. It really cost practically nothing—my man friend filled the bag with clothes for himself, and I shoved in that skirt. [laughs] The aqua shoes are from Shoegasm [in N.Y.C.]; they cost $130. The stockings are from either Loehmann’s or Filene’s Basement. I can’t remember what they cost, but I know I bought them on sale. Are you a bargain shopper? I believe frugality is fun! I never shop unless there’s a sale. It’s not about being a tightwad; it’s about “how can you turn [shopping] into a fun challenge?” Care to share any sage style advice? Personal style, as a form of self-expression, is a major part of the healing process. If one is stuck, I believe one has to make major visceral, even radical changes. Change the color of your lipstick, get a new hairstyle, try some purple shoes! Tune in to yourself and find things that work for you and help you out of your rut. Getting dressed is not a mindless act but rather a conscious, joyous one. [TRICIA ROYAL]


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a cut above


Start with clean, product-free, dry hair. Never cut your bangs wet. Take a comb and part your hair the way you plan on wearing it. Then comb a layer of hair that reaches from the outer edge of one eyebrow to the outer edge of the other forward over your face. For wispy bangs, keep the layer near your hairline; for dense bangs, start the layer closer to the top of your head. Tie the rest of your hair back.


From this point forward, trim with your scissors pointed vertically. This will make your bangs look less severe and leaves room for error. Let your hair lay flat against your forehead, then start by snipping in between your eyebrows using only the tips of your scissors. Take just a little bit off with each cut until you’ve reached your desired length (take a step back every three to four snips to assess).


If the hair covering your face is very long, begin snipping as straight as possible, from one side to the other, cutting no more than ½-inch at a time. Snip slowly and steadily—you can always cut more, but you can’t put it back! Stop when your bangs just cover your eyes.


Use this same technique to trim the sides of your bangs, beginning from the outer edges and snipping your way in. Use the center point as a length marker for the hair above your eyes—this trick will keep your bangs even. Stop snipping when your bangs have reached the top of your eyebrow arches. Brush or comb them out, and style as you please.


test kitchen

HEEL THYSELF The first time I ever laid eyes on a pair of Fluevogs was the same day I got my first DeeeLite cassette tape. Yes, cassette tape—it was 1990, for chrissakes! On the cover of Global Clique, Lady Miss Kier sports an iconic pair of Munsters: a perfect mix of ’60s psychedelia and ’90s club. Little did I know the designer, John Fluevog, had been making sassy shoes since 1970 and would continue to do so for decades to come. For Fluevog’s 40th anniversary, those amazing Munsters are making a comeback. Just in time to rule 20-dime. [LISA BUTTERWORTH]


Uptown Soap Co. Anju Pear Body Cream, $12,


This cream followed my favorite freshness formula: clean and light. The delicious scent is spot-on, though it’s a tad strong. I mixed in a little unscented lotion to get my ideal subtlety, and the combo was beautiful!

I absolutely loved the creamy texture and delicious pear scent of this lotion. I wanted to slather it on all day. I can’t say it cured my chronically dry hands, but at least it didn’t leave them feeling greasy or sticky.

FX Special Effects Surf Mist Styling Spray, $5.99, available at drugstores


Even though the coast is only a 30-minute bike ride from where I live, I’ll definitely be using Surf Mist this summer. It gave my locks that fuzzedout beach feeling and contains coconut oil, which smells delicious and is great for hair!

You can’t bottle sexy beach hair. You can, however, bottle salt water, which is essentially what this styling spray was. It made me look like I was in desperate need of conditioner. Next time, I’ll opt for the real thing.

This spray definitely fulfilled its promise to give my locks that “wild, beachy” look. However, because I have thick, short hair, it added a bit too much volume for my taste. I also hate how sea salt makes my locks feel.

Badger Anti-Bug Shake & Spray, $12,

KRISTA This lotion is light and soft, and while the pear scent is overwhelming at first, it mellows out after a few minutes. Although I don’t enjoy eating pears, I certainly don’t mind smelling like one.

Although I’m skeptical of most bug sprays, I did feel less buggy when I used this one. I liked the rosemary and peppermint scent, and even though it’s made with soybean and castor oils, it wasn’t greasy at all.

For the first few minutes after spritzing on this product, I felt like I’d come to the campsite dressed as a citronella candle, but no fear! The scent faded, and so did the number of itchy bites I usually get after a good outdoor frolic.

Considering you have to shield your eyes and mouth when applying most bug sprays, I didn’t mind that this one left me smelling like a human citronella candle. More important, it proved to be quite effective over in Mosquitoville, NJ.



THOUGH IT SEEMS intimidating, cutting your own bangs is actually really easy, so save yourself a trip to the salon and tackle a trim yourself. All you need is a careful hand, a pair of sharp scissors, and these simple steps. [SUSAN JUVET]

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FASHIONISTA Sonia Tay shows off her green side




DON’T BE SURPRISED if wearing one of Snoozer Loser’s gauzy blouses, mod-looking mini dresses, or soft, slouchy scarves makes you feel pretty special. With the amount of attention designer Sonia Tay gives each of her pieces—the native New Yorker mixes her own fabric dyes and hand-prints her designs at a commune upstate—a little bit of that love is bound to rub off on the wearer. “I don’t want to outsource that kind of creative work,” says Tay. “I feel like it needs to be really close to my heart so that the line will always be original.” The 27-year-old travels far and wide to snag overstock fabric from the ’60s and ’70s, giving each collection an authentic vintage vibe with an eco-conscious sensibility—not to mention refreshing affordability (pieces start at $68, www.snoozerloser. com). “My mom always told me, ‘If you’re gonna do something, do it well,’” says Tay, with a laugh. Mission accomplished. [LISA BUTTERWORTH]







wrap this way THREE HOT HEAD SCARF LOOKS [BY CALLIE WATTS] TURBANS AREN'T JUST for genies anymore. Grab your favorite scarf and use one of the methods shown below to glam up any outfit, or as a quickfix for a bad hair day. Twist one up and you'll be a wrap star.









248 BROOME ST. NYC 10002 212-674-8383 check out our blog to ямБnd out about the shoot, our models and our fave vegan bakery Babycakes

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COVER GIRL Make a bibliophile smile by rocking a shirt that pays tribute to a beautiful out-of-print book cover ($28,

A BLOOM OF ONE’S OWN Any outfit will flourish with the addition of this exquisitely hand-embroidered felt brooch ($17.50,

WORKING ON MY WRITE MOVES Start flippin’ some script with this calligraphy starter kit. It comes with everything you need for perfect penmanship: Japanese nibs, penholders, sumi ink, two card-and-envelope sets, and an instruction book ($45, www.


THE GOLD STANDARD Illustrator Jackie Bos’ I Heart the Golden Girls ’zine is 12 pages of drawings with a hand-sewn spine honoring Miami’s hottest retirees. Plus it comes with a postcard featuring Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, or Sophia. Why not give it to your bestie? We already know what the card attached would say ($10,



Take the stress off your shoulders and your conscience—these perfectly slouched rucksacks are made from recycled cotton canvas. So fill ’em up, and feel good about it ($28 each,

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Paradise City: Honolulu, HI

Get baked at Leonard's

Marvelous malasadas



CONTRARY TO EVERY surf movie and sitcom family’s experience, life in Hawaii is not a never-ending luau. Sure, the palm trees sway and the temperature’s permanently set at 82 degrees, but the islands have much more to offer than hula dancing and oversized coconut drinks. In Honolulu, a metropolis on Oahu of nearly a million people, a cultural hybrid is emerging. The city’s tropical beauty and ethnic diversity are intertwined with hints of West Coast urbanism and cute Japanese pop—MCs rhyme over reggae horns and jazz percussion, art reflects the balance of water landscapes and street graffiti, and fashionistas pair gold-lamé leggings with plumerias behind their ears. An artistic edge is alive on the islands, elevated by the easygoing pace, sunny smiles, and genuine aloha spirit that make paradise so inviting. The day doesn’t begin in Honolulu until you’ve inhaled your first whiff of Kona coffee, so start your morning at Bogart’s Café (3045 Monsarrat Ave.), a popular spot for dawn patrollers who surf the breaks at the base of the volcanic crater Diamond Head. Not only does the low-key joint serve its brew hot, iced, or sweetened with condensed milk, but it also whips up hearty breakfasts made with fresh local produce, like spinach scrambles on whole-grain bagels, and açaí bowls topped with granola, bananas, and berries. Once caffeinated and fueled, a trip out to the country—otherwise known as the North Shore—

is in order. At Laniakea Beach on the northwest side of Oahu, take a dip in the crystal blue waters, swim with green Honu sea turtles, and spread out on the sand, where you’re not likely to see another towel within a hundred yards of your own. Adventurous types should head a few miles north to jump off the 30-plus-foot rock in Waimea Bay. If that leaves you confident to conquer the ocean, go straight to Girls Who Surf (1020 Auahi St.), where a patient female surf crew gives lessons at reasonable rates and even offers classes in the latest throwback water craze, stand-up paddle surfing. After all that activity, you’ll surely be famished, and if there’s one thing all islanders appreciate, it’s a generous helping of affordable food. Plate lunch—usually comprised of a protein, rice, and macaroni salad—is the staple meal in Hawaii and comes in a variety of forms, from greasy drive-in plates to more gourmet versions like the ones at Diamond Head Market and Grill (3158 Monsarrat Ave.). There they serve large portions of local favorites like char sui pork, grilled wasabi ahi, and teri beef steak, with brown rice or a green salad. After such heavy-duty “grinding” (eating) as the locals say, why not do a little shopping while you let your meal settle? Head to Fighting Eel (47 N. Hotel St.), a boutique owned by Rona and Lan, two local fashion designers who make colorful, flatPHOTOGRAPHED BY CASSY SONG

Fighting Eel's frocks

Waiola's treats are cool as ice

Drinks flow at thirtyninehotel

A view of fantasy island

Mu'umu'u Heaven hits the fashion spot

Life's a beach at Lanaikea

How much is that Campesinos! in the window?

Sip a cup of Kona at Bogart's Café

tering dresses that are as comfy as they are cute. Maybe you’ll come away with an openbacked mini dress to wear out on the town. ’Cause once the sun sets, the city’s dark, mischievous side seeps out from the corners of Chinatown, and you’ll want to be ready. On revamped Hotel Street—known for its formerly seedy reputation—you’ll find a bevy of bars and lounges. Stop into thirtyninehotel (39 N. Hotel St.), where DJs play anything from New Order to the Roots to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or spend a leisurely evening on the minimalist patio furniture of its upstairs garden. At Manifest (32 N. Hotel St.), which masquerades as a coffee shop during the day before turning into a dance party at night, the crowd is a little dressier (fewer “slippahs,” aka flip-flops, and more platform wedges) but never pretentious, so go ahead and sip a Mandarin blossom cocktail under the lavender-lit glass ceiling. When you wake up the next morning starved for a booze-soaking breakfast, make your way to Boots & Kimo’s Homestyle Kitchen (151 Hekili St.) in the beachy suburb of Kailua for amazing banana pancakes smothered in homemade macadamia-nut syrup or enormous omelets with names like the Pakalolo and Maui Wowie. (Island legend has it

that these scrumptious dishes used to contain a not-so-secret, good vibe–inducing herb.) While in Kailua, stop at local boutique Mu’umu’u Heaven (767 Kailua Rd.). Not your grandma’s or Homer Simpson’s muumuu store, the shop features the owner/designer’s adorable, one-of-a-kind skirts, halters, and maxi dresses reconstructed from vintage muumuu prints. Accessorize at Olive Boutique (43 Kihapai St.), which offers jewelry crafted by local and mainland artisans who incorporate gold and leather with seashells, turquoise, and precious stones to make delicate pieces with an island-hipsterish flair. On your way back into town, take the long route via Kalanianaole Highway, and roll through Sandy Beach to check out the good-lookin’ boys body-surfing the breaks. Once you’ve returned to the city, indulge in some traditional Hawaiian grub like poi—a somewhat intimidating gooey purple mixture made from taro root—at Ono Hawaiian Foods (726 Kapahulu Blvd.), then finish off your lunch at Leonard’s Bakery (933 Kapahulu Blvd.) with malasadas, sugared Portuguese donuts served straight out of the fryer. Or satisfy your sweet tooth at Waiola Bakery & Shave Ice II (3113 Mokihana St.). Not to be confused with a snow

cone, Waiola’s shave ice is fine enough to dissolve immediately in your mouth and is often served with a treat at the bottom of the bowl— a scoop of ice cream or a mound of sweet Japanese mochi balls or azuki beans. For an evening of live music, skip the ukulele standards and cover bands that overrun Waikiki and instead check out Anna Bannana’s (2440 S. Beretania St.), a grungy watering hole where local and mainland punk, ska, reggae, hip-hop, and metal bands have been taking the stage for more than 40 years. Then do like the boozed-up locals and head to one of Honolulu’s many casual, home-style karaoke bars—mom-and-pop dives that are often decorated with porcelain Japanese “good luck” cats and where the bartenders sing right alongside you. 9th Avenue Rock House (3435 Waialae Ave.) specializes in hard-to-find ’80s and ’90s favorites, including a vast selection of Bowie and Pixies singles, as well as an extensive hair-metal catalog. Hopefully, you’ll have spent enough time by the water that you’ll leave Honolulu with the sound of the ocean in your ears rather than the off-key voice of some drunk guy belting out “The Piña Colada Song.” But either way, one thing’s guaranteed: you’ll have an amazing time in our sunsoaked city, whether you get lei’d or not. // BUST / 45

Keeping up with Jones Don’t let her sterling Hollywood pedigree fool you. Actress, graphic-novelist, and burgeoning screenwriter Rashida Jones is a breed apart from the Hiltons and Kardashians she grew up with. Here, the Parks and Recreation star talks about her parents, Paris, and her plans for a future that just keeps getting brighter BY LISA BUTTERWORTH • PHOTOGRAPHED BY EMILY SHUR


LIND DATE. WHAT do you think? Should I go on one?” Actress Rashida Jones is on her BlackBerry, flipping through emails, one of which has prompted her to ask this question. “I have to, right?” she exclaims. “It’s not like I have time to meet anyone!” As far as her busy schedule goes, she certainly has a point. Her BUST cover shoot and interview are consuming her Sunday, and she spent the night before at Meltdown Comics, an enormous comic-book shop in Hollywood, doing a signing for the new graphic novel she just wrote (more on that later). Tomorrow, she’ll be back on the set of Parks and Recreation, the Amy Poehler–led TV comedy she stars in, and the following week she’ll be off in the wilds


of Canada, shooting her upcoming film The Big Year with Jack Black and Owen Wilson. “That’s a pretty good excuse if it doesn’t go well, right? ‘Oh, sorry I didn’t get back to you, I was in the Yukon,’” she jokes, breaking into a wide grin. “‘No service in the Yukon!’” On one hand, it’s hard to imagine the drop-dead gorgeous 34-year-old on an awkward first date, but on the other hand, it isn’t. ’Cause here’s the thing about Rashida Jones: not only is she dynamic, grounded, and instantly likable, but she’s also just as real as the characters she plays. As Dunder-Mifflin employee Karen Filippelli on The Office, Paul Rudd’s fiancée Zooey in the bromance I Love You, Man, and nurse Ann Perkins on Parks and Recre-

ation, Jones is a refreshing dose of authenticity on both television and the silver screen. In a sea of caricatures and female stereotypes, she lands roles that feel genuine. The women she plays are smart and witty, with just enough goofy to bring them down to earth. Actually, they are a lot like her. “There are people who are brilliant at interpreting characters, and that’s not really my forte,” she says. “The thing that I’m the best at is being me, but it is really hard to find those parts.” Jones has an easy affability about her, and her enthusiasm is contagious, whether she’s talking excitedly about working with director David Fincher on the upcoming Facebook movie The Social Network (“He is a badass!”) or recalling



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the wonders of bacon, which the current vegetarian dubs “the good fuck” of meat. From the moment we meet before the photo shoot—at a French café minutes from her west L.A. home—she exudes an energetic warmth and openness, as if we’re already friends; when she suggests we split the French toast in addition to what we’re ordering so we don’t have to decide between sweet and savory, I almost forget that we aren’t. I wait until the server takes our order before handing her the issue of BUST featuring She & Him on the cover. After telling me how great she thinks Zooey Deschanel is—a good sentiment to have, since she’ll be playing her lesbian lover in the upcoming comedy My Idiot Brother—she puts her hand on the cover and says, “I love this magazine.” In fact, she tells me, it was her Parks and Rec co-star and two-

the CIA—in other words, someone girls can look up to. “I try to connect it directly to what I see as the problem with role models today. Which is that the young women who little girls see now in the press don’t have jobs. Their job is to be famous, whether it’s leaving the house without underwear or having a meltdown at a gas station or leaving a club because they got into a huge fight with their boyfriend,” she says between bites of tofu scramble. “I understand that this kind of salaciousness is why people have always been attracted to public figures. But the fundamental problem is that these celebrities don’t have anything that they love. They’re not famous because they’re passionate about something. And I think that’s really dangerous for an entire generation of little girls who are looking up to them.”

was like, ‘Why is that happening? Why does anybody care?’ She was like a human Barbie doll,” says Jones, gesticulating with a piece of toast. “To be honest, I feel like she may have more control over her public image than people think. She always looks exactly the way she wants to look. She’s always holding exactly the guy’s hand that she wants to be holding. She has a plan. And I like that sense of empowerment, but I still think the message—which is ‘run around the world with a cute dog and designer purses and just be awesome’—is really bad.” With Frenemy of the State, Jones takes the idea of a famous, shallow socialite and adds layers of intellect, independence, and intrigue while thrusting her into life-threatening situations. “I’m very new to this world,” she says of her foray into comics. That may be, but

“The problem with role models today is that the young women who little girls see now in the press don’t have jobs. Their job is to be famous, whether it’s leaving the house without underwear or having a meltdown at a gas station.” time BUST cover girl Amy Poehler who introduced it to her. “Amy’s a perfect model for this magazine,” Jones says. “She’s a quiet feminist, in action, in living. But it’s also an active, conscious pursuit for her. She’s kind of a hero but has total humility about it.” It’s interesting that Jones would describe Poehler this way, because the same thing could be said about her. She’s not just boosting the visibility of wellrounded women in pop culture by portraying them on camera, but with the aforementioned graphic novel she created, Jones is also making her mark in an industry nearly devoid of women writers. Fed up with the lack of decent role models for young women, Jones created and co-wrote Frenemy of the State, a comic centered on the character Ariana Von Holmberg, a young heiress who becomes a brainy, ass-kicking member of

The comic lampoons the vapidity of celebrity culture, and if it seems like Ariana bears a striking similarity to Paris Hilton, well, that’s no mistake. “I have this fantasy that maybe Paris Hilton has a secret intellectual life,” Jones says with a skeptical squint. “Like, when she goes home, she journals and is like, ‘Day 804: my anthropological study is going as planned. Everybody’s bought into the persona. Step 10…’ as if she has control and is doing this sort of experiment. That’s probably not true, though.” Perhaps the rise of fame for fame’s sake is particularly irksome to Jones because she’s witnessed its unfortunate flourish firsthand: the Los Angeles native used to ride the school bus with Paris and Nikki Hilton and the Kardashian sisters, who epitomize the phenomenon that gets her so riled up. “I remember when I first saw Paris [get famous] I

Jones has at least one famous fan. “Matt Groening came to the signing last night,” she says, wide-eyed. “I almost had a panic attack.” It’s funny to imagine Jones getting flustered autographing a comic for the Simpsons creator, especially considering her star-studded upbringing. Though she’s the complete opposite of her tabloid-fodder former busmates, she still had a Hollywood adolescence. Her father is legendary music mogul Quincy Jones, who’s best known for producing Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Her mother is the stunningly beautiful actress Peggy Lipton, from the late-’60s series The Mod Squad and more recently from David Lynch’s cult-classic show Twin Peaks. With parents like these, visits from Steven Spielberg, getting nipped by Michael Jackson’s chimp Bubbles at Neverland Ranch, and having LL Cool J // BUST / 49

perform at your 16th-birthday party are totally normal adolescent experiences. Which makes Jones’ grounded attitude even more impressive. “People assume that I came to success in a really easy way, and it’s not true,” she says. “I wasn’t handed everything.” The African-American genes on her dad’s side and Eastern European roots on her mother’s are what give Jones her remarkable looks: flawless olive skin, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and sparkling hazel eyes. But being biracial hasn’t always been easy for her. She’s been told she’s too black for Caucasian roles and too white for African-American roles. In 1994, she even sent an open letter to Tupac Shakur lambasting him for ranting against Quincy Jones in an interview for marrying a white woman. These days, however, she can’t resist cracking a joke about her background. Snacking at the photo shoot, she holds

she’s quick to say, “I didn’t! I still don’t!” Voted Most Likely to Succeed in high school, she went to Harvard, from which she graduated with a degree in philosophy and comparative religion. “I’ve tried to quit acting several times,” she says. “There were lulls where I couldn’t get a part. And I wasn’t bummed. I was actually OK with it and thought it was time to go back to school, maybe for public policy or law. I still might.” But there aren’t any lulls now. With a television show and three movies in the works, that career in law will just have to wait. Especially when her current job is so damn fun. “Everybody’s so happy to be there,” she says of the cast of Parks and Recreation. “Everybody wants the show to be good and to make each other laugh. With maybe the exception of Aziz [Ansari], who cracks himself up so much that he can’t get a take.” Though playing the sweet and practical Ann will bring

to get mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from him. Then Rip Torn got fired, so I had to do all of that lovely sex play again with Robert Loggia.” When I ask if that was when she wanted to quit acting, she laughs. “That was one of the many times,” she replies. “I was like, ‘When do I get to kiss cute guys? When do I not get mouthed on by senior citizens? When does that happen?’” When I suggest that perhaps her time has come, since the season finale of Parks and Recreation had her locking lips with ’80s heartthrob Rob Lowe, she slams a hand down on the table and exclaims, “Oh, my God, are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?” to emphasize her appreciation of such good fortune. “I made my sister come to set that day,” she says. “I was like, ‘You need to be there.’ That’s a completion of childhood right there.” Still, simply being in front of the

up a cream-filled sandwich cookie that’s chocolate on one side and vanilla on the other. “Look! It’s like me! Except it’s white on the inside. I’m definitely black on the inside,” she says resolutely, before popping it in her mouth. Though her parents split when Jones was 10, the breakup was amicable, and she’s incredibly close with both of them (as well as with her sister, whom she says is her best friend, and with her five half-siblings). “Both my parents have always been unconditionally supportive of me in whatever I wanted to do. It almost makes me want to cry,” she says, glancing up as her eyes briefly well with tears. “But they really have. And I know that’s not true for everybody.” Whatever it was Jones wanted to do, it hasn’t always been acting. When I ask how she knew that being in front of a camera was the right path for her, 50 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

Jones back into households on a weekly basis when the show starts up again mid-season, it was her role as Karen on The Office that introduced her into the pop-culture consciousness, albeit not in the most positive light. Jones joined the show as the other woman, a romantic hurdle between office almost-lovebirds Jim and Pam, but she’s one of the few actresses who could tackle that role with enough wit and vulnerability to win over even die-hard Pam fans. While it makes perfect sense that Jones has found her niche playing the likable, relatable gal, it hasn’t always been that way. “My first job was on this pilot Second Opinion, and I played a crackhead who shoved drugs up her hum-hmm,” she says, arching her eyebrows and miming a stuffing motion. “Then my character had the drugs taken out by Rip Torn, had a seizure, and had

camera isn’t enough for Jones. These days, the actress and graphic novelist can also add screenwriter to her résumé. Her writing partner is friend and fellow actor Will McCormack. Together, they’re tackling their third script, and a screen adaptation of Frenemy of the State is on deck. “One day, Will and I sat down and said, ‘Let’s just write every day until we’re done with a screenplay, and if it sucks, we won’t show it to anybody.’ Along the way, we discovered that we’re actually pretty good at dialogue and storytelling,” she says with inspiring effusiveness. “All of a sudden, I have this new career. It’s so weird and so crazy and so awesome!” As great as she is on-screen, Jones is exactly the kind of gal we need working behind the scenes, writing strong roles for women and infusing the industry with her own brand of feminism—some-


“My first job was on this pilot Second Opinion, and I played a crackhead who shoved drugs up her hum-hmm.”

thing she says she’s been thinking about a lot lately. “We’ve come so far. We can do everything, and we can do everything well. We can nurture and be independent and be working moms and have jobs. We can freeze our eggs, be gay, adopt. There are so many options, and because we’ve survived and flourished, we’ve kind of left guys in the dust a little bit, which is definitely their fault. They haven’t grown in the same way we have. I feel like now it’s our responsibility to let them have a place in our lives, because the way things are, they don’t know how to fit in.” In a nutshell, she’s described one of the major problems contemporary feminists

face: the problem of “having it all” and having to juggle relationships now that the rules have changed. “It used to be, ‘I don’t need a man,’” she says. “And now it’s like, ‘I don’t need a man, but I’d like one, and let me find a way to integrate that into the rest of my life. Feminism now is a little more feminine, so let’s reclaim it,” she says. “It’s beautiful to be feminine. It’s great to be feminine.” But for Jones, being feminine isn’t mutually exclusive with getting shit done. At the photo shoot, even as her hair is being coiffed and her eyes made up, she’s taking care of business. McCormack, her writing partner, drops by

the shoot, and as the makeup artist lines her lids, the two bounce ideas off each other about where a chunk of dialogue should be set. She lights up as they chat, and then her phone rings. Although she’s graciously ignored every other call so far, this time she answers. “Hi, Dad!” she says excitedly, before telling him that she’s in the middle of a photo shoot and will call him back. “Aww, he’s so cute. He said, ‘I miss you, I love you, enjoy your life,’” she says, impersonating his voice. “And he meant it!” Quincy Jones, if you’re reading this, you have nothing to worry about. Your daughter has clearly taken your advice to heart. B // BUST / 51

A roundup of the best BUST-approved bets coming at you this season at the movie theater, on the boob tube, and at your record shop



HEARTBREAKER (L’ARNACOEUR) Directed by Pascal Chaumeil September 10 (IFC Films)


GOING THE DISTANCE Directed by Nanette Burstein August 27 (Warner Brothers) American Teen director Nanette Burstein helms this rom-com for audiences who love a story with brains and heart. In it, on-again, off-again real-life couple Justin Long and Drew Barrymore play a pair trying their hand at longdistance love after what was meant to be a casual fling turns

into something more intense. It’s been entirely too long since we’ve seen the adorable Barrymore on screen, and she’s sure to bring the girly radness we all know and love. Plus, we get a peek at the real-life chemistry of Long and Barrymore, and who doesn’t want to see that?

In this sunny French flick, dreamy Romain Duris plays Alex, a professional heartbreaker who’s hired by concerned friends and family to break up couplings that are bad for the women involved, whether they know it or not. After copious research and some hilarious scheming, Alex, his sister Mélanie (Julie Ferrier), and her husband (François Damiens) inspire each woman to dump her scummy boyfriend and pick up a new lease on life. But their latest assignment looks impossible: Juliette (Vanessa Paradis, aka Mrs. Depp, above) is successful, gorgeous, and happy with her husband-to-be. Cracking the case is only the beginning in this charming romantic comedy where the gorgeous locations are bested only by the hotness of its stars. Both guys and dolls will have a soft spot for Heartbreaker.

EASY A Directed by Will Gluck September 17 (Screen Gems) Emma Stone shows off her comedy chops here as troublemaker Olive in this teenage sex saga. After a little white lie about losing her virginity sweeps her high school, Olive finds that she can use her newfound “slut” status to help out guys who also want to pretend to lose their V card, for a small fee. As drama inevitably ensues, she ditches her normal clothes for bustiers adorned with a giant red A, in homage to Hester Prynne. Stone delivers perfect comedic timing here, giving this film a bigger bite than most teen-sex farces. Smart writing and a great supporting cast, including Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson as Olive’s unconventional parents, make this film an easy A+. // BUST / 53

MOVIES SECRETARIAT Directed by Randall Wallace October 8

YOU AGAIN Directed by Andy Fickman September 24 (Touchstone/Disney) Family weddings are the worst, am I right? And this one is about to get a whole lot uglier than a bridesmaid’s dress for Marni (Kristen Bell), because her brother is marrying the girl who tormented her in high school. As it turns out, the rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, because the bride’s aunt (Sigourney Weaver) used to be just as mean to Marni’s mom (Jamie Lee Curtis) when

they were in school! Weaver’s famous for creating some of the most formidable female characters in film, including Ripley in the Alien movies, so it will be awesome to see her go head-to-head with legendary scream queen Curtis. Girly high jinks and motherdaughter bonding tie it all together, and everyone’s fave octogenarian, Betty White, puts in an appearance as well.

This feel-good family film has lots of things we love: horses (OMG, ponies!), a strong female lead who brazenly busts down the doors of an old boy’s club, and John Malkovich in crazy outfits. Diane Lane stars as Penny Chenery, a housewife who makes it her mission to turn around the fortunes of her father’s farm, staking her hopes and cash on a thoroughbred named Secretariat and legendary jockey and trainer Lucien Laurin (Malkovich). Despite the odds, Secretariat goes on to win the prestigious Triple Crown in this true story. “Secretariat is not afraid,” Chenery says, “and neither am I.” But you don’t have to be a horse-lovin’ gal to appreciate this femme-friendly tale—just be ready to root for a woman who bets the farm and wins.

TAMARA DREWE Directed by Stephen Frears October 8 (Sony Pictures Classics) Gemma Arterton is quickly gaining traction as Hollywood’s next up-and-coming woman to watch, first with the title role in The Disappearance of Alice Creed and now in Tamara Drewe, a comedy based on the graphic novel by Posy Simmonds. When Tamara returns to her sleepy hometown, she’s a beautiful, successful writer who makes waves among the townies, especially with residents of the writer’s retreat across the way. Welsh dreamboat Luke Evans costars as Tamara’s ex, and Dominic Cooper plays her rock-star beau in this Stephen Frears–directed romp. Judging from the comics originally published in The Guardian on which Tamara Drewe is based, this flick will offer lots of great youthful rebellion as Drewe takes on the uppity inhabitants of her cloistered little village. 54 / BUST // AUG/SEPT


(Walt Disney Pictures)


BURLESQUE Directed by Steven Antin November 24


(Screen Gems)

THE GIRL WHO KICKED THE HORNET’S NEST Directed by Daniel Alfredson October 15 (Music Box Films) Subversive hacker, ass-kicking feminist, and vengeful genius Lisbeth Salander is back in the third movie adaptation from the late Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy. It’s taken a while for these slick Swedish movies to come to U.S. shores, and we’re champing at the bit to find out how the adventures of Salander and her investigative partner, Mikael Blomkvist, come to a head. At the time of this writing, the buzz is that Carey Mulligan will take over as Lisbeth in the David Fincher–directed American remake, but it might be impossible to top the Swedish version’s Noomi Rapace, who transformed herself from head to toe to become Salander. Before hitting the cinema, read the amazing books. Then you’ll be more than ready to revisit this pulse-pounding world of journalists and hackers who fight sex trafficking, government conspiracies, and a stacked system with all they’ve got.

Christina Aguilera has been hard at work practicing her pasty twirls for her role as Ali, a young naïf turned L.A. neo-burlesque star in this hotly anticipated musical. With Cher as the lounge owner, Kristen Bell as a fellow dancer, Alan Cumming as the MC, Twilight hunk Cam Gigandet as a bartender and Ali’s loverman, and Stanley Tucci as the stage manager, this could be totally frigging awesome…or the next Showgirls. Either way, we’ll be there on opening night with bells on. Even if it’s not the most accurate portrayal of the modern burlesque revival, this is shaping up to be the season’s perfect movie to sneak into with your best girlfriends and maybe some flasks of your favorite adult beverage.

NIGHT CATCHES US Directed by Tanya Hamilton November (Magnolia Pictures) Writer/director Tanya Hamilton’s first feature-length film skillfully tells the story of Marcus (Anthony Mackie) and Patricia (Kerry Washington, above right), two former Black Panthers whose lives have taken very different paths. Set during the ongoing racial turmoil of 1976, the film follows Marcus as he returns to his old neighborhood in Philly for his father’s funeral and stirs up old wounds for Patricia, now a politically active lawyer. Mackie (The Hurt Locker) is smoldering, and Washington (Ray), whose character is torn between her past and her future, is nothing short of fantastic. Hamilton utilizes documentary footage

and photos of the real Panthers to help illustrate her tale, but you don’t have to be up on your poli sci to be mesmerized by this intense drama.

THE TEMPEST Directed by Julie Taymor December (Touchstone Pictures) Writer/director Julie Taymor’s highly anticipated adaptation of The Tempest has been in limbo for a while due to studio snafus, but it looks like we’ll all finally be whisked away to Shakespeare’s island this winter. Taymor, who has already successfully tackled adapting Shakespeare for the screen with Titus, throws a curve ball into old Will’s Tempest by turning the lead into a woman and casting Dame Helen Mirren as the magical Prospera. The rest of the cast is equally spellbinding, with Ben Whishaw, Djimon Hounsou, Russell Brand, and Alan Cumming taking on supporting roles while Felicity Jones costars as Miranda. Early photos look dazzling, and if reports are to be believed, this flick is undoubtedly Oscar bait. // BUST / 55

TELEVISION POV Tuesdays, 10 p.m. Wo Ai Ni (I Love You) Mommy (Airs August 31) Off and Running (Airs September 7) In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee (Airs September 14)

THE BIG C Mondays, 10:30 p.m. Premieres August 16 (Showtime) No, it’s not the C-word you’re thinking of. The latest entry into Showtime’s lineup of smart, original, girl-friendly series stars the effervescent Laura Linney as Cathy, a suburban wife, mother, and teacher who rethinks her approach

to life after a cancer diagnosis. But it’s not all gloom and doom—the dramedy keeps the mood light and hopeful, and Precious’ brilliant Gabourey Sidibe brightens up the screen in a supporting role as one of Cathy’s high school students.

GIRLS WHO LIKE BOYS WHO LIKE BOYS Night and Time TBA Premieres November 2010 (Sundance) An eight-part documentary series inspired by the lighthearted book of the same name, Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys explores the dynamic behind straight girl/gay guy relationships (with Will and Grace clichés nowhere to be found). Sundance’s camera follows four women whose BFFs happen to be gay men, and their stories transcend the bitchy stereotypes to reveal the emotional bonds and sometime conflicts that define true friendship. 56 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

POV, PBS’ acclaimed documentary series, regularly features the work of up-and-coming female filmmakers, and three such directors in this fall’s slate focus their lenses on cultural identity, family, and adoption. Stephanie Wang-Breal’s Wo Ai Ni (I Love You) Mommy follows the story of an eight-year-old Chinese orphan adopted by a Jewish-American family; Avery (below), the protagonist of Nicole Opper’s Off and Running, is the African-American teenage daughter of white Jewish lesbians; and In the Matter of Cha Jung Hee, filmmaker Deann Borshay Liem boldly explores her autobiography, delving into the mystery and deception behind her adoption from Korea in the 1960s.



TELEVISION NIKITA Thursdays 9 p.m. Premieres Fall 2010 (CW) As a millennial remake of the ’90s guilty pleasure La Femme Nikita, the CW’s Nikita borrows heavily from badass chicks like Alias’ Sydney Bristow and Kill Bill’s Beatrix Kiddo. It stars Hong Kong action-film star Maggie Q as the eponymous assassin seeking revenge, but it’s too early to tell if Nikita 2.0 will lean more toward campy fun or full-on female ass-kickery. Either way, we’ll happily re-welcome this gun-toting diva to our TV sets.


LOVE BITES Thursdays 10 p.m. Premieres Fall 2010 (NBC) Ugly Betty’s quick-witted Becki Newton was the most soughtafter talent this pilot season, and Love Bites, an hour-long comedy from Sex and the City’s Cindy Chupack, seems like the perfect showcase for her catty charm. Each episode weaves together three relationshiprelated stories loosely tied to Newton’s character Annie (groaningly dubbed “the last virgin in Virginia”), but the cheeky vignettes also highlight the humor to be found in the worlds of love, dating, and sex.

RUNNING WILDE Tuesdays 9:30 p.m. Premieres Fall 2010 (Fox) Four years may have passed, but we still haven’t quite gotten over the cancellation of Arrested Development. Luckily, AD creator Mitch Hurwitz and BUST’s recent “Man We Love” Will Arnett (aka Mr. Poehler, above right) are reuniting for Running Wilde, a comedy that features Arnett playing to his strengths

as a wealthy, egotistical manchild seeking to impress his former childhood crush (played by Felicity’s Keri Russell). The premise sounds a bit more like a big-screen romantic comedy than a sustainable series, but hey, if we can’t cozy up weekly to Gob Bluth, this has to be the next best thing. // BUST / 57

TELEVISION HARRY'S LAW Night and Time TBA Premieres Mid-Season (NBC)

(ABC) ABC borrows a page from the Bones playbook with its new series Body of Proof, a star turn for Dana Delany (Desperate Housewives, above) as Dr. Megan Hunt, an abrasive neurosurgeon turned crime-solving medical examiner. Thankfully, to shake up the medical mystery meets Law & Order rehash, early previews showcase an intriguing subplot featuring Hunt’s strained relationship with her teenage daughter. Shark’s Jeri Ryan ups the estrogen quotient as an equally strong-willed doctor.

SINGLE LADIES Night and Time TBA Premieres Mid-Season (VH1) It’s about time: After a slew of questionable “reality” dating game shows, VH1 makes its first foray into an all-scripted series, tackling the unfamiliar topic But Single Ladies, written and produced by Queen Latifah, refreshingly examines the Sex and the City lifestyle from an African-American point of view, and the much-missed Stacey Dash (Clueless) steps into the proverbial pumps of the show’s Carrie equivalent. Though its premiere date has been pushed back to midseason, we can’t wait to put a ring on this one. 58 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

RETURNING FAVES After a season that bid farewell to Lost, The New Adventures of Old Christine, and Ugly Betty, this fall we’ll warmly be welcoming back the two best freshmen series from last year: the hilarious-but-heartwarming sitcom Modern Family (ABC) and the singing, dancing fools from Fox’s Glee (especially TV’s best deliverer of the one-liner, Jane Lynch, above). For fans of funny ladies, Tina Fey’s 30 Rock returns on Thursdays (though Amy Poehler’s equally hilarious Parks and Recreation won’t be returning until later in the season). Plus two of TV’s most complex female dramatic characters will also be back—Julianna Margulies will continue to play The Good Wife on CBS with studied grace, while Regina King’s multilayered Southland cop returns to TNT mid-season.


BODY OF PROOF Fridays 9 p.m. Premieres Fall 2010

Fresh off her hilarious guest stint as Michael Scott’s boss on The Office, Oscar-winner Kathy Bates (below) returns to NBC in Harry's Law, a(nother!) legal drama from Boston Legal, The Practice, and Ally McBeal creator David E. Kelley. After Harriet gets fired from her unfulfilling job as a patent attorney, she crosses paths with two men on similar searches for the next phase in their lives. Their solution—starting their own law firm in an old shoe warehouse—is full of Kelley’s signature characters and quirks, but with the fierce Ms. Bates as the female protagonist, we’re confident that her character won’t go the way of (cough) McBeal and company.


LAND OF TALK Cloak and Cipher On Sale August 24 (Saddle Creek)

ARCADE FIRE The Suburbs On Sale August 3 (Merge) Win Butler and Régine Chassagne, the husband-and-wife duo who sing for Arcade Fire, must have the sexiest fights. The way their voices come together in a mix of booming male and sultry female, you can get a sense of the passionate cacophony that may

go on in their home. Chassagne steps up the female energy here by providing vocals and playing drums, keys, and the hurdy-gurdy. That’s right, the hurdy-gurdy. The third release from these beloved Canadian indie rockers, The Suburbs is gonna blow you away.

On Land of Talk’s second release, lead singer/songwriter/ guitarist Elizabeth Powell performs with a grace and sneaky seduction that is heightened by a pinch of sugar provided by Jace Lasek, from Besnard Lakes, who helped out with production for this album. It’s so difficult to describe the mixed bag of sounds that this band throws out there, but melodic and dramatic are two words that keep floating to the top. Canadians are so talented. What’s that all aboot?

JENNY & JOHNNY I’m Having Fun Now On Sale September (Warner Bros.) Easily comparable to Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward’s folky duo She & Him, Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice’s new project, Jenny & Johnny, will definitely appeal to the same kind of fans. Lewis is best known as the frontwoman for indie-rock fave Rilo Kiley, and Johnathan Rice is a Scottish singer/songwriter who served as a member of Lewis’ touring band and helped produce her 2008 release Acid Tongue. This cocktail made of one part country and one part rock ’n’ roll will be perfect for those bittersweet last few weeks of summer and will nicely set the tone for a cozy fall. // BUST / 59


BLONDE REDHEAD Penny Sparkle On Sale September 14 (4AD)

THE VASELINES Sex With an X On Sale September 14 (Sub Pop) There’s a strong possibility that many of your favorite Nirvana songs (“Molly’s Lips,” “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for a Sunbeam,” “Son of a Gun”) weren’t actually Nirvana songs at all. The Vaselines, a staple in the early pop-punk scene, formed in Scotland in 1987 and have had huge success from just a few original songs (such as the ones above) and a couple of reissues. Last year, Sub Pop put out their first two EPs again, along with their full-length Dum Dum in a set called Enter the

Vaselines. That must have gotten the band revved up because now they’re putting some fresh water into the well, with a whole new set of material. Singer/songwriter Frances McKee, who Kurt Cobain named his daughter, Frances Bean, after, is stepping to the mic once again to welcome her next generation of fans. And since we all know that albums from bands we haven’t heard from in a while are usually dicey affairs, I will put an end to your concerns now: Sex With an X is gooooood.

The multilingual rock trio Blonde Redhead sounds like a blend of exotic spices sprinkled over rainslicked New York pavement. And that makes sense, since members Kazu Makino and twin brothers Simone and Amedeo Pace bring a hybrid of English, Japanese, and Italian sexiness to the table for a yummy mix that makes you want to pull on some tight leather pants and strut—not in a John Travolta way but in a “I’m headed out to buy something really expensive” way. Their eighth release, Penny Sparkle, was produced by Van Rivers and the Subliminal Kid (Fever Ray, Massive Attack) and was written and recorded primarily in upstate New York. Lead lady Makino’s vocals are intimidatingly good here. It’s the perfect album to be fancy to.

GLASSER Ring On Sale September 28 (True Panther) Cameron Mesirow, the artist behind the one-woman electro project Glasser, summons up more interplanetary theatrics and homemade (as in GarageBand) tinkering for her first full-length release. Having made a name for herself with a few singles and EPs, Mesirow isn’t nervous about her debut being on the somewhat experimental/artsy tip. She says the idea behind Ring is for it to have no beginning and no end, so it can be listened to at any point without need for order or context. If that’s more thinking than you’ve had to do while reading a CD blurb in a long time, don’t worry. The soothing, ethereal sound of the album will make it all better. 60 / BUST // AUG/SEPT


BELLE AND SEBASTIAN Title TBA On Sale September 28 (Matador)

In a sea of six men, violinist Sarah Martin is the lone female in Belle and Sebastian. But as the band’s ship sets sail for their eighth studio album—their first since 2006—their sound remains undeniably girly. Having gotten their start in Glasgow in 1996, the band has since become synonymous with the term twee, and although they’ve attained limited commercial success, they’ve become a well-established indie brand. Let’s hope these stars continue to make us feel emotional for many years to come.

THE CORIN TUCKER BAND 1,000 Years On Sale October 5

BRAIDS Native Speaker On Sale October

(Kill Rock Stars)


When Sleater-Kinney announced in 2006 that they would be going on an “indefinite hiatus” after 12 years together, many fans of the riot grrrl staple lost their collective shit. The band was led by singer/songwriter/guitarist Corin Tucker, whose voice and lyrics carved a little hole in the hearts of music fans that hasn’t been filled since. But we’ve been waiting, and the wait has paid off. Tucker is set to release her first solo album on Kill Rock Stars, the label that has put out her music for the majority of her career, and to say that it’s highly anticipated would be an understatement. Sara Lund from Unwound and Seth Lorinczi from Golden Bears also make appearances on the album, which Tucker (mother of two) has been referring to as “mom rock.”

As this is being written, Braids is not under the wing of any sort of label. A wager could be made and won, however, that this shoegazing buzz band will be snapped up by the time you read this. The Montreal-based foursome has been singled out as a group to watch by and is led by girl wonder Raphaelle Standell-Preston, who, although tiny and young (the whole band is in their early 20s), packs one hell of a vocal punch that brings to mind a mix of Björk and Kate Bush. I’m sure they’re already sick of their youth and newness being brought up, but hey, it’s impressive how far they’ve come in such a short time.

STEREOLAB Not Music On Sale November 16 (Drag City) Not Music, the 10th studio release by these alterna-pop superstars, marks Stereolab’s first CD on Drag City and promises to deliver more of the same flavor that has kept us craving the band since their start, in the ’90s. Founding member Laetitia Sadier, who handles vocals, keyboards, and guitar, has seen the group through many lineup changes over the years and sounds as good as she ever has. Not Music proves that no matter what topping you put on the sundae, it’ll still be tasty if you use good ice cream. // BUST / 61



One girl’s true tale of getting out from under the weight of a stupid stereotype



T TOOK ME far too long to realize it. It was not at my bachelorette party, where I was left alone in the center of a club with a tiara and a frown. Nor was it the time when my best friend called me for comfort about her poor decisions with men, only to invite everyone else out that night to party. And even when multiple pictures of “the girls” that did not include me started circulating on my friends’ Facebook pages, I didn’t catch on. But when someone I considered a longtime friend walked right past me at my wedding reception to chat up my bridesmaids while mumbling an almost inaudible “congratulations,” I snapped. It finally struck me. I had become the drink-carrying, shoulder-leaning, hair-holding “fat friend.” And I was over it. You probably know someone like me. Or maybe you are me. I was always the one with the “good sense of humor” and the “pretty green eyes,” but inside, I was sure that behind my back I was being referred to with less favorable terms—the kind that have become so pervasive that they are clearly defined on

FATFRIEND: “A girl or guy you keep around to make yourself appear more attractive. They usually have some outstanding quality like humor that makes them worth having around.” DUFF: “Acronym for ‘Designated Ugly Fat Friend.’” GRENADE: “The solitary ugly girl always found with a group of hotties. If the grenade doesn’t get any action, then neither does anyone else. In a sentence, it can be used like this: ‘Come on, man, take one for the team and jump the grenade.’” GRENADELAUNCHER: (This one was popularized by the douchebags on MTV’s Jersey Shore.) “The token ugly friend of the hot girl at a bar who also happens to be morbidly obese.” Call it what you want. I’ve heard ’em all. And beyond these cruel buzzwords lies a whole host of other unclassified but equally hurtful slights, exclusions, and cases of selective friendship that one can encounter as the only girl with size issues in a circle of friends. As a result, I’ve tried everything short of surgery to shrink my body, including strict diet and exercise, a vast array of weight-loss pills, a brief stint with starvation, bronchodilators meant for horses (apparently proven

// BUST / 63

to shed pounds for celebrities), the always-popular laxatives, and a hearty helping of bulimia. But in my unending quest, the only thing I managed to lose was my self-esteem. It was during those dieting days that I first began to realize that the fat-friend complex was more than just a social stereotype. At my thinnest, I was lower in weight than most of my friends, but in my mind, I was grossly overweight and assumed that because my size consumed my thoughts, it must also be the main thing people saw in me. Though I came to understand that the idea of the fat friend was in my head more than on my hips, it was still very difficult to accept that I could shed the stigma without shedding a single pound. It’s no secret that being single can sometimes be tough on a girl’s self-image. And this is especially true if you don’t feel you fit the mold of what eligible ladies are supposed to look like.

Men saw me as the one obstacle between them and my single friend, as if I were a sort of human chastity belt. When I was unattached, I grappled with the nagging feeling that my friends were either inviting me places to make them look better by comparison or were deliberately excluding me so my looks wouldn’t bring down the desirability or coolness of the group. But even after I got married, when my “single” vibe morphed into “don’t bother,” I found that when I was out with friends, men stopped treating me like the grenade and started treating me like a “gatekeeper” (defined by UrbanDictionary as “The fat, ugly, or fat and ugly girl who keeps the pretty girl from ever meeting someone.”) No longer were men fighting over who would “take one for the team” and flirt with me as a way to release my skinny friend into their clutches. Instead, they saw me as the one obstacle between them and my single friend, as if I were a sort of human chastity belt. Men would literally cling to me, sometimes for hours, going on in detail about how beautiful and sweet my friend was and what wonderful things they could offer her. And despite the obvious advantage of a healthy marriage and loving husband, I found it difficult not to sometimes covet the irresistibility of my friends’ effortless charm. Based on the ubiquity of the terms that define the fatfriend phenomenon, I know I’m not alone in these experiences. Women have been made to feel like second-class citizens because of their bodies, often from a very young age. According to Margo Maine, author of Body Wars: Making Peace with Women’s Bodies, 78 percent of 18-year-old girls are unhappy 64 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

with their bodies. And even more shocking is that 42 percent of first- through third-grade girls want to be thinner. As long as the media continues to portray the perfect body as one that is 20 or 30 pounds underweight, girls will grow up with bodyimage problems, and their friends without weight issues will grow up thinking it is OK to treat them like crap. The pages of glossy fashion magazines aren’t the only places in pop culture that help to perpetuate the fat-friend complex. In Hollywood, fat men are funny and fat women are forgettable. How many overweight female celebrities can you think of who aren’t degraded for being overweight? And how many of them get to play the romantic lead? From The Honeymooners to The King of Queens, the overweight guy with the hot wife has been a stock character since television began, while the few plus-sized women even allowed in the studio door rarely enjoy much camera time or career longevity (Roseanne Barr got away with being the lead only by having an equally fat co-star). Gaining a few pounds in showbiz is equivalent to showing up to work naked— you just don’t do it if you want to keep your job. Is it any surprise, then, that for overweight women, being treated like the leading lady rather than a supporting character in their own life stories can feel like an impossible dream? Kellie, a 30-year-old former fat friend, found that sometimes breaking the fat-friend mentality means breaking out of a bad friendship. “Growing up, I always thought that hanging around my skinny friends automatically upped my coolness factor—even when they ditched me at the end of a night out or ‘forgot’ to call me when they were invited to a party,” she says. “And although I often felt like my presence put a giant weight on my skinny friends literally and figuratively, I was so intoxicated by their popularity that I practically smothered myself in denial. It wasn’t until I started a new job and began hanging out with my new co-workers that I realized what I was missing out on all of those nights I spent at home waiting for a call. When my other friends finally did come around, suffice it to say, I already had plans.” Dani, another former fat friend, was so afraid of being cast as the grenade that she chose to isolate herself rather than risk playing that role, and it took a toll on her relationships with other women. “I gained my freshman 15 the summer before I started college, so on top of the nerves of meeting new people in a new place and getting acquainted with college life, I was also faced with a brand-new form of insecurity,” Dani says. “I was always curvy, but the little bit of added weight seemed to be amplified by my much smaller roommates. They would go out all the time to the local clubs and sometimes reluctantly invite me along. When they asked, I could see in their eyes that they were silently pleading for me to say no, so I would always come up with one excuse or another to let them off the hook, until eventually they just stopped asking. After their nights out, they would come home and go on and on about all the different guys who bought them drinks or took their numbers, while I’d just smile politely from behind my books. Since they went out of their way to include

me in their ‘after’ talk, it felt like they were just trying to rub in my face the life I’d never have.” A few weeks into her second semester, however, Dani decided it was time to just let loose. “I was overwhelmed with schoolwork and really needed some girl time,” she recalls, “so I asked my roommates if I could tag along, and to my surprise, they seemed happy to have me there. We went out, I had a great time, and I gave out fake names and phone numbers to different guys all night long. When we got back to the house, one of the girls asked me, ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Dani Downer?!’ So I finally fessed up and explained how I understood that they didn’t want to have to tote around the chubby girl all the time, and their response blew my mind. ‘Are you kidding me?’ my roomie said. ‘We always avoided you because we thought you hated us!’” Years later, Dani and her old college roommates are still good friends who laugh about their early mixup. Over the years, I have learned that being the fat friend or the gatekeeper has little to do with the numbers on the scale or the size of my jeans. It is simply a state of mind— a culmination of environmental fragments and feedback that united to shape my character. And the mindset is as difficult to break as an addiction. By accepting this stereotype, we train our friends and associates to accept our selfimage issues, and ultimately, they end up treating us the way we treat ourselves, for better or for worse. A few years ago, my husband asked me about the awkward moment we shared while scheduling what was to be our first date. When he had originally asked me out, I declined. But then I approached him a few nights later with a skinny coworker in tow and invited him out to a party. He later asked me, “Why did you bring that other chick with you? For a second, I thought you were trying to hook me up with her.” I laughed, but the sad truth was, she was my offering to him. I assumed that in asking me out, he was somehow settling, and she was his opportunity for an out. But as I reflect on what was to come—the beginning of the rest of my life— I am grateful to my husband for reminding me that the fat friend was not who I actually was, but who I thought I was. It wasn’t until my first year of marriage that I truly began to make peace with my body and rid myself of the fat-friend complex, but it certainly wasn’t easy. I learned to surround myself with people who appreciated my good qualities and accepted my bad—weight not being a factor. And those friends from before? Well, it turns out that people can never truly know you for who you are until you know who you are. Some of the best friends I have are the ones who have seen me at my worst and helped me laugh my way out of it. The only regrets I have now are the years and tears I wasted trying to cut myself in half. I now shop for the size that fits me instead of trying to fit into an ideal size. There’s a good chance I’ll never fit into that size two again. But you know what? I’m OK with that. In fact, I almost prefer it. B

Are you falling into the fat-friend trap? If these scenarios sound familiar, you’d better check yourself before you wreck yourself: 1. When dining out with friends, are you ever afraid that if you order something too high in calories, your pals will silently judge you? 2. When shopping with friends, do you avoid dressing rooms so you won’t have to engage in their inevitable “I’m so fat” banter? 3. If you are out at a club and a hot guy approaches you, do you automatically start talking to your skinnier friends? 4. When you are at a crowded event, do you tend to hang around your skinnier friends to make yourself appear skinnier by association? 5. When going out with the girls, do you usually dress to blend into the background rather than to draw attention to yourself? 6. If a group of guys invites your group of girlfriends to a party, do you automatically assume that you were invited only out of obligation? If you answered “yes” to two or more of these questions, there’s a good chance you’re falling into the fat-friend trap. But don’t worry—there is hope for you yet.

Think you’re ready to break out of the fat-friend mentality? Then here are some suggestions to get you started: 1. Look around you for examples of people your size and larger in happy relationships. They’re everywhere, and they’re living proof that love has no weight limit. 2. Stop apologizing. So what if you ate that extra piece of pie or skipped your gym date for the third time this month to go to the movies? Take a deep breath and remember that the only person you are accountable to is you. A true friend won’t care. She’ll be right behind you with an extra fork and a list of show times! 3. Remember that it is not considered modest or humble to insult yourself or talk about your faults to solicit pity. There is a fine line between humility and humiliation, and it isn’t just a couple of letters. People will see you as you see yourself, and if your body language says, “I’m overweight and insecure,” they will probably believe you. 4. When a cute guy approaches you at a club (and he will!) maintain eye contact, turn on the charm, and let him find out more about you—not your friends. 5. Clean house! In the words of singer Kelly Clarkson, you have to pick the weeds, but keep the flowers. If the people in your life continuously keep you down, then its time to move them out and make room for people who make you feel good just the way you are. // BUST / 65

Forty-Two Candles Molly Ringwald, the teen queen of ’80s cinema, tackles the topic of aging gracefully in her new book, Getting the Pretty Back BY MIKKI HALPIN • PHOTOGRAPHY BY EMILY SHUR


IKE A LOT of Gen X’ers, I grew up alongside Molly Ringwald, who first appeared on the small screen as the preteen protofeminist Molly Parker on The Facts of Life in 1979. She went on, of course, to become an ’80s icon, starring in films like Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and The Breakfast Club, and setting fashion trends with her vintage clothes, cute celebrity boyfriends, and signature red hair. Then, just like the rest of us, Molly Ringwald grew up. Our teen idol is now 42, married with three children, shockingly well adjusted, and ready to help her generation age right along with her. Ringwald’s new book, Getting the Pretty Back, is a how-to guide for life after 40, with tips on style, men, motherhood, and food. If you’ve ever wondered what it might be like to have Molly Ringwald as a best friend (and who hasn’t?), this is your chance to find out.


So, does everyone who interviews you say, “Oh, my God, I love you, Molly Ringwald!”? [laughs] I have to say there’s a tremendous amount of goodwill toward me for which I am incredibly grateful. You were obviously extremely famous as a teenager and famous for being a teenager. Did that make it hard to grow up? No, I don’t really feel like it was hard to grow up. I think maybe it was hard for people to see me as a grownup. But my life has soldiered on with or without other people, and I have definitely grown up. I feel like I’ve grown up pretty gracefully, too. There’s a scene in the book where you are in the car with your mom and a friend as a kid. And when your friend

Jenny says she wants to be a nurse, your mom says, “Why not be a doctor?” Then you reveal that Jenny really did grow up to become a doctor, which is so great. As a mother of daughters now yourself, are you making sure they get that message—that being a woman is empowering, not limiting? That’s something we talk a lot about at home, and I learn from my children as well. I bought my six-year-old daughter this lunchbox: it’s pink, and it has little ponies and rainbows and different things on it, and I thought it was really cute, so I got it for her. Then she came home from school and she was like, “Mom, I need a different lunchbox.” I said, “Why?” And she said, “Because that’s a stereotype.” I was like, “What?! What are you talking about?” And she said, “That’s a stereotype. Just because I’m a girl, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I like ponies. Boys can like ponies too, you know.” I just think that’s so cool. That’s not a vocabulary I had when I was growing up, even though I grew up on the heels of the feminist revolution. That’s not something I would have been able to articulate, and she’s able to articulate it at age six. You have a whole chapter in the book on exercise, and it includes one of those charts about how many calories household chores burn up. It says vacuuming burns 157 calories an hour. But c’mon, does Molly Ringwald really vacuum? [laughs] Do I vacuum? Yes, I do. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the household chores I do not mind doing. I’m OK with vacuuming. I’m OK with laundry. Dishes are the one that I really hate. I don’t know why, but I really hate doing dishes. So we divide up the tasks in our household, and I am definitely not the dishwasher.

What do you think about this antiPhotoshopping trend and actresses recently appearing in magazines without makeup and retouching? I think it’s great. I think it would be wonderful to dispel the myth that everyone on the cover of those fashion magazines actually looks like that. There is an incredible pressure on women to look a certain way. You see these images all the time, and it’s always basically just telling you that you don’t look right, you’re not skinny enough, your skin is not perfect enough, and your hair…you know. I feel like the only thing you can do is to embrace your age, and embrace where you’re at, and just be the healthiest and most together that you can be. I look at 40 as the halfway point, the point where you take control. I don’t feel like I look like a teenager anymore. Everyone says, “Oh, you look exactly the same.” But I know I don’t. I can see that I don’t, but I also don’t think that’s a bad thing. I like who I am now, and I love being strong. I took up running this past year. I’ve never been a runner in my entire life. I didn’t even think that I could run, and I discovered at age 41 that I actually can run. So I want to continue that trend and be as great as I can be. Have you ever thought about writing or directing a movie? I noticed the last image in the book is a woman with a camera. That’s definitely something I want to do. I’m sort of working on that now. Can you say anything more about it? Is it about teenagers? Is it set in the ’80s? [laughs] No. It comes from my heart, and it’s very exciting, but no teenagers! B // BUST / 67


The ladies of Rock of Love



From watching reality TV shows to being on one herself, our writer reveals what this kind of programming means for women (Hint: it’s not good)


Frank the Entertainer from A Basement Affair Inset: the writer, Ann Hirsch



The Real World

OR SIX DAYS in September 2009, I lived as a prisoner in a Holiday Inn hotel room near JFK airport in Queens, NY. My meals were brought to me three times a day, and I was escorted from my room to the hotel gym and back once every other day. I didn’t have a key to my room, so I couldn’t leave. The highlight of my week was watching reruns of Full House. No, I wasn’t the victim of a kidnapping. In fact, I had volunteered for this bizarre and unusual situation. I was a finalist for a reality-television show. It had been my secret wish to be on a reality show ever since I was 15. It probably started with the finale of the first season of Survivor in 2000, when I gathered with a group of close girlfriends after school. We all applied tacky tribal face paint and sat on a sofa flanked by tiki torches as the winner of the million-dollar prize was determined. This marked the beginning of my obsession with reality television. It stemmed from my voyeuristic desire to watch “real” people in crazy situations, which I used as a means of comparing myself with them. From then on, reality television became a main channel through which I learned about socially accepted roles for women. I happily consumed stereotypical portrayals of young women as vapid, superficial brats on shows like Rich Girls, My Super Sweet 16, and Laguna Beach, all of which were designed to show the exorbitant wealth and spoiled behavior of the elite Hollywood teen. Shows like America’s Next Top Model, The Real World, and The City hold women to the same low standards, albeit more subtly.

Daisy from Rock of Love

I Love New York

The City

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In a famous episode from the second season of America’s Next Top Model, finalist Shandi, formerly a homely Walgreens clerk, cheats on her loving boyfriend with an Italian man in Milan. She tells her boyfriend of her infidelities on the phone, and he wonders if the glitz and glamour of being a model has enabled her selfish and vain behavior. As a viewer, I had enjoyed watching Shandi’s transformation from ugly duckling to gorgeous model and often desired the same transformation for myself. However, this desire was aptly suppressed upon seeing the negative light in which Shandi was cast. She had become beautiful but also insensitive and superficial in her quest to win the title of America’s Next Top Model. What did I take away from the episode? That women are slaves to their vanity, becoming fame whores in their hunger for attention. And if that weren’t evidence enough, watching MTV’s The Hills certainly drives this point home. One of the show’s stars, Heidi Montag, is seen as a blond bimbo for her media antics, which include a wannabe pop-star career and multiple, cartoonish plastic surgeries. (By contrast, her husband, Spencer, though certainly vilified for his attempts at fame, is often seen as intelligent for his ability to manip-

love of Frank “The Entertainer” Maresca, a reality-show mainstay from I Love New York 2 and I Love Money. From my brief stint on reality TV (I lasted a shocking seven episodes), I can no longer attribute Heidi’s plight to stupidity or materialism. Instead, she simply epitomizes the female fallout of reality TV—a system that can amplify a woman's need to feel desired in order to have a sense of self-worth, while simultaneously shaming her for it. In order to understand this phenomenon from the other side, I first had to be chosen as a reality-show contestant. Aware that I didn’t fit the physical profile for a reality-TV starlet (being my awkward, makeup-illiterate, skinny, Jewish self), I played a horny, overly confident Valley girl in my audition tape and casting interview. It worked—I was offered a spot on A Basement Affair. I met the executive producers of the show only once, before we started filming. They were very friendly and warm and told me how excited they were to meet me. They also told me that our show would take place in Frank’s real house, and that his parents would be there with us. I knew Frank lived in upstate New York, but when I asked them where we were going, they told me Brooklyn. I asked them again, “Frank really lives in Brooklyn and we’re

It is easy to lose your sanity in this situation. I certainly did. I felt pressure to perform like I had in my audition so that the producers would keep me around. ulate the media.) Over the course of Heidi’s time in the limelight, we have witnessed her internalization of what she believes will keep her famous and how it governs her behavior, even to the point of altering her looks to achieve a bizarre version of overfeminization. My transition into womanhood has been about this constant battle between wanting attention and not wanting to seem too desperate for it—to cultivate attention invisibly. Like many young feminists, I had gone from internalizing the stereotypes being perpetuated on reality TV to questioning them. I decided to become an artist, primarily so I could creatively probe what it means to be a woman; I wanted to look at what had become socially ingrained in me and attempt to break out of the stereotypes of femininity. While initially exploring these subjects through painting, sculpture, and video, I found I could more fully engage in these topics through performance work. What better place to do so than on a reality show, one of the most visible ways contemporary stereotypes of women are perpetuated? I envisioned myself as an amateur social scientist, delving into fame-whore production territory like a young Gloria Steinem at the Playboy Club. I wanted to go on reality television as a way to shed my assumptions about attention-seeking fame whores like Heidi. Rather than continuing to shame them as a reality-TV viewer, I wanted to join them. And so last fall, I auditioned for and became a contestant on VH1’s show Frank the Entertainer In a Basement Affair where I was 1 of 15 women competing for the 70 / BUST / AUG/SEPT

going to his actual house?” They enthusiastically responded, “Yes.” Their lie was so convincing, I almost believed Frank’s family had moved. But once I saw the house and realized it was more a set than an authentic living arrangement, I knew the producers could and would easily lie to me. By obscuring their puppetry to even the contestants on the show, they could elicit more genuine reactions. In other words, I couldn’t trust a thing they did or said. Once we were in the house, the women set about getting to know one another, adjusting to the excitement of having a camera crew follow our every move as if we were extremely important. I, on the other hand, spent the first three days on set not eating, not sleeping, and not talking much to anyone; keenly aware of being constantly watched, I couldn’t shake the anxiety of knowing my actions would be seen by millions of television viewers. Without a parent, a friend, or even a trustworthy authority figure nearby, I felt extremely alone. To be a contestant on a reality show, I realized, is to have the ground taken out from under you. You have no one to trust except yourself. It is easy to lose your sanity in this situation. I certainly did. I felt pressure to perform like I had in my audition so that the producers would keep me around. But I became crippled by the realization that the producers had an agenda I had no control over. From the way the show was cut, my internal freak-out was invisible. Thanks to the manipulative power of editing, viewers


simply saw me as shy as opposed to the nervous wreck I was. Although as viewers we think we know what a powerful tool editing is, we are still blind to it. We want to believe in the depictions of the women we see because they are dehumanizing. If we aren’t able to see contestants as real individuals, we’re able to more readily enjoy the humiliation they endure. During these crucial first days, in the midst of my anxiety attacks, I had to come up with a plan as to how I would behave on set. I decided to completely defy what the producers expected of me. Instead of continuing the over-the-top performance of my audition tape, I would be quiet and reserved, forcing them to deal with atypical reality-TV-contestant behavior. I wanted my presence as an outsider to call attention to the trashy and stupid characterizations of the women on these shows. Despite editing that works hard to force these stereotypes, I wanted to encourage women in the The writer, in character spotlight (and at home) to relinquish self-expectations based on these kinds of shows. I also wanted to deny viewers easy judgment of me as a reality-show contestant. I discovered that this behavior was in fact the surest way to become the best sort of fame whore: the kind that garners attention without chasing it. The cameras began to follow me, I was pulled aside for interviews, and I was approached by the story-production team with ideas about how I could gain Frank’s admiration. Getting this attention was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. I felt confident when I had secured it but scared that it would slip away. Even if the attention came at the expense of some of my dignity, the power I felt from it made it seem worthwhile. This occurs in real life too, but it’s magnified tenfold on reality TV. I suddenly understood Heidi’s struggle and the dilemma of many women in her position: getting attention makes us feel powerful, and we will try to fit the unrealistic expectations of others in order to maintain it. My competitive nature set in, and I found myself wanting to be the best fame whore I could be, which meant becoming the “right” mate for Frank (and thus securing more airtime). After more than a week of navigating this game, I snapped out of it. I had tried to defy the producers’ expectations by denying them the behavior I had auditioned with, but they had simply appropriated my new persona into their agenda. To regain control, I decided to reinvent my character. In an act of realityTV suicide, I put a halt to my sweet and “real” behavior and performed an explicit rap in front of Frank and his parents during a crooning challenge. That night, I was eliminated. I drastically broke character to show that I wasn’t one, to show that none of

the women on these shows are. This wasn’t the only realization I came to during my stint as a fame whore. I learned firsthand that reality television exploits women’s desire to be watched. Production companies attract and cast women who want to be in the spotlight and then consequently condemn them for it. To be a woman on reality television is to walk a fine line between appearing genuine and humble (thereby acquiring audience acceptance) versus seeming desperate and attentionhungry and being disregarded as a fame whore. In addition to shaming women for their desire for attention, clever editing allows reality shows to reduce female contestants to degrading stereotypes. You can tune in to any episode of The Bachelor to see this in action. The 14 women I watched on A Basement Affair when it aired were caricatures of the kind, intelligent, and primarily sane women I met on set. Each was slotted into a clichéd role, providing viewers with the ability to instantly understand, and hence judge, them. I was shown as sweet and quirky, automatically placed into the “just friends” category. A sexually empowered contestant became “the slut,” and a woman from Minnesota became “white trash.” Our ingrained stereotypes of women are reinforced by the supposedly genuine character depictions viewers see. Once producers have established these roles, they use the women to create a narrative in which the bachelor must wade through the “wrong” female choices in order to come to the “right” one. They reiterate stereotypes of sexuality and femininity by choosing which qualities to endorse as appealing and which to enforce as being negative. On the first two seasons of VH1’s first “celebreality” dating show, Flavor of Love, with Flavor Flav, good girls Hoopz and Deelishis won over aggressive and loud-mouthed New York. On season two of Rock of Love with Bret Michaels, motherly and stable Ambre triumphed over wild and sexual Daisy. I doubt the celebrity bachelors had much control over who was elected winner. We may dismiss reality TV as trashy entertainment, but it has a greater effect on us than we’d like to admit. Though the women who go on reality shows are very real, what viewers see is anything but. At the mercy of the producers’ manipulative hands, forced stereotypes are perpetuated, and manufactured clichés abound—women are reduced to one-dimensional characters, presented as real people for the world to judge. So next time you tune in to see who gets a rose (or in my case, a key to the basement), keep in mind that the women on the screen are much more than they appear. B // BUST / 71

Lesson Learned Think teaching English abroad is all foreign fun? Our writer reveals the sleazy secrets of her experience with international education BY JESSICA OLIEN • ILLUSTRATED BY SERGIO MEMBRILLAS


ROM DAY ONE, my career as an English teacher abroad was sketchy. On my first night in Bangkok, Allen, one of the school’s head teachers, took me out with some of his “mates” to an outdoor bar teeming with scantily clad Thai women, all of whom he knew by name and would playfully squeeze in the privates each time they passed him. As the night progressed, we moved on to the much less coy Nana Plaza, a building with several floors that resembled a shopping mall—but one that sold nothing but women and alcohol. Beyond my beer glass, girls wearing tall, plastic-heeled shoes with numbers stuck to their bikini straps gyrated limply on revolving platforms made cagelike by a row of stripper poles. Unfortunately, rather than a skeezy exception to the typical nightlife of my fellow, mostly male, teachers, this behavior proved to be the norm. It was a rude awakening—the first indication that being a teacher in Thailand would be nothing like the inspir-


ing cultural experience I had anticipated. In fact, my time abroad among slimy guys who used teaching as a way to fuel their predilections for alcohol and prostitutes was degrading, lonely, and discouraging. When I moved to Thailand after college in 2004 to teach English, I’d hoped and expected to gain insight into another culture. Instead, I was introduced to the dregs of my own. Teaching English in another country is practically billed as charity work by the companies that manage English as a Second Language (ESL) schools. Posters tacked to college bulletin boards show smiling locals with their hands raised, eager to be called on by a confident teacher who is changing the world by setting a positive example and helping her students make a better life for themselves. From my experience in Thailand, though, it seems that for many people, teaching abroad isn’t so much a career as a way to fund an extended, debaucherous holiday. The morning after my first night in Bangkok, Al-

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The teachers were mainly men whose conversations were often based on which bar girls were the best bargain and which students were easy. len took me to the school where I would be teaching. His lightblue shirt flapped in the wind as we rode a narrow speedboat through the trash-clogged, sulfur-smelling waterway I would later take to work each day. When we arrived, I saw that my name had already been put on one of the lockers next to the teachers’ room. Little did I know this would be one of the few modicums of professionalism my position would offer. The school in which I taught was a privately run enterprise that ripped off its teachers and pupils, who were mostly friendly but unmotivated students from a nearby university. It was managed by a middle-aged American man with singed-looking orange hair and a gray complexion, who spent his days smoking cigarettes in front of an oscillating fan in a tiny office. I once saw him burn his 16-year-old girlfriend with the lit tip of a cigarette. The teachers weren’t much better. They were mainly men from Australia, Britain, Canada, and the U.S. in their late 30s and older, with a variety of physical and social maladies, and their conversation was often based on which bar girls were the best bargain and which students were easy. I first saw the building, Union Tower, that I was to call home in the glaring light of midday. It rose ominously on the far side of a roaring highway, wavering in the heat of exhaust fumes. “It’s where all the English teachers live,” Allen explained, as we waited for a break in the cars and motorbikes so we could cross the street. He directed me past a wheezing stray dog and into the lobby, lit by dingy hanging bulbs. Large Kodachrome pictures on the walls depicted a grand piano and a Western woman in a lounge chair by a rooftop pool, her arm stretched out reaching for her margarita—faded fantasies of a place that would very soon fit my personal definition of hell. Instead, there was a pool of 74 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

greenish water, stagnating and malarial on the roof, and no piano in sight. The one thing that redeemed the place was the coffee shop downstairs. If nothing else, I would be caffeinated, I remember thinking. Even this turned out to be a farce, as I found it served nothing resembling an Americano and was in fact an after-hours club catering to bar girls (a commonly used euphemism for prostitutes). The building served as a sort of English-teacher flophouse, filled with mostly middle-aged male English teachers and their conspicuously nonEnglish-speaking Thai girlfriends. The men made it clear that as a Western woman, I was not welcome in their presence. Their conversation was directed only at each other, and when they did address me, their tone was colored with contempt. I was certainly not included in their gatherings by the pool where they would congregate at dusk, wearing sweat-darkened “Welcome to Thailand” T-shirts and drinking beer. There was just one chair on the patio (it was broken and pinched me so badly it drew blood the one time I tried to lie on it), so the men occupied the space around the rooftop’s only table; their distended stomachs and thin calves seemed to lay claim to this area. I officially stopped trying to talk to them when one of them called me a cunt, though the conversation had been pretty limited prior to that as well, but occasionally they looked at me dismissively. The men’s girlfriends sat in a circle several yards away and gossiped about them in Thai. They didn’t get to stand at the table either. These women, most of them picked up in local bars, were what many referred to as “being sponsored” by the foreign men they were staying with—given a place to live and an allowance in return for performing the duties

of a girlfriend. One guy in my building, a pimple-faced New Zealander, bragged that he was helping his girlfriend learn English by teaching her how to prepare his favorite meals for him; she had already mastered the bacon sandwich. Later each evening, when the patio table was filled completely with empty beer bottles, the men would pile into the glass elevator. Drunk and in search of food, they would descend on the dingy restaurant in the lobby where they continued to drink, swear, and eat fried rice. My days soon became indistinguishable from one another. I went to work in the morning and returned to Union Tower every afternoon. It is always hot in Thailand, even more so when you live in a fortress of concrete, so at Union Tower the residents would prop open their apartment doors and hope for a cross breeze. Walking down one of the building’s hallways would reveal flashes of raven-haired women—whose foreign boyfriends were still at work teaching Thai people how to go shopping in English—sitting lethargically, thin legs splayed, watching Thai soap operas. One of these women was Sugar, who became my only friend in the building. Sugar believed she was always on the cusp of a career breakthrough that would grant her financial independence from her English-teaching New Zealander boyfriend. Her last business venture during my stay was a bus company that shuttled those living in Thailand on 30-day tourist visas (as opposed to the legal work permits they should’ve had) to the border in order to renew their stay. Her clients were the ESL teachers already so central to her life. Sometimes she would read to me from her list of passenger names: “John, Michael, Luke, Tim.” She said them reverently, as if envisioning her escape from Thailand with each one, should he ever return to his homeland. But why would he? In Thailand, these men had everything they needed: a steady paycheck, plenty of prostitutes and booze, and often a subservient girlfriend to boot. I found that the obedience they expected from the local women carried over to me as well, making them extremely difficult to work with. Nora Robertson, 35, who taught English in Romania had a similar experience. A male English teacher from New York who she worked with would have nothing to do with American women. “He was raised Catholic and essentially thought that Americans were jaded whores, and he didn’t want to marry one,” she says. And he wasn’t afraid to say so. The American gal with her notion of equality seems unap-

petizing when compared with women who have grown up in a society in which the man is always right. If you’re wondering how the provincial lowlifes I encountered secured a position in the first place, well, it’s easier than you think. If my experience is any indication, getting a job at an ESL school in another country requires no exceptional skill. I’m not the only one who found this to be the case. “I had no trouble whatsoever finding a job,” says Ailee Slater, 25, of her first position teaching English in Prague in 2006. “The basic premise seemed to be, ‘Do you have a face? Do you speak English? OK, you’re hired.’” This is particularly useful if you are a recent college graduate who wants to see some of the world. Unfortunately, it is also an appealing position if you are on the lam, haven’t paid taxes in the past decade, or have a sexual fetish that has been made illegal in developed countries. If you are actually invested in the field of education however, forget about it. I met Valerie Stevens, a woman in her early 20s, at a bar in Bangkok in January. She had just arrived to the frenetic city and was in the midst of doing her teacher training. Earnest, hard-working, and, like me, from Wisconsin, I felt immediate empathy for her. “I started going on interviews, and people would look at me and see a young white woman and instantly say to themselves, ‘The parents would love her.’ Meaning it doesn’t matter what you do, just be here for everyone to see you.” Now, surrounded by mostly male counterparts whose interests lie more in bedding students than teaching them, she has found an approximation of a professional life through her determination. “I want to be taken seriously,” she says. “So I spend extra time researching new materials, games, and phonetic techniques. I even spend extra time at work.” I, too, tried my best to create a respectable position amid despicable circumstances, but no matter what I did, it just wasn’t enough to make teaching abroad tolerable. The bizarre cocktail of degradation and frustration I endured as an English teacher in Thailand left me deeply, chronically lonely. No longer able to stomach the contempt of my peers and my disgust at their behavior, I left the profession. In Thailand, it seems, men are determined, and allowed, to do anything they want under the guise of working in education, and it’s the local women who suffer because of it. But I suppose I got a twisted approximation of the cultural experience that I went for. I learned about the way the world works, and it isn’t pretty. B

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nuit blanche







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behind the scenes WE WORKED WITH stylist Galadriel Masterson and photographer Danielle St. Laurent to develop the vision for “Nuit Blanche” (which translates literally as “white night” in French, aka an all-nighter). The inspiration comes from staying up all night after a great late-summer party and watching the sunrise on the beach, still wearing your frock from the evening before. The story’s mood was inspired by the La Roux tune “Bulletproof” and “Heartbeats” by the Knife and the shoot took place near Fort Tilden beach in Queens, NY. Though the model, Cassie, has style in spades, she’s also got a knack for music. Her first self-titled record came out in 2006, and if you haven’t heard her recent single, “Official Girl,” featuring Lil’ Wayne, get on it now. We caught up with Cassie to find out a little bit more about the 23-year-old R&B singer. Where are you from? I was born and raised in New London, CT, and I now live between N.Y.C. and Los Angeles. My apartment in New York is home base, though.

Top: photographer Danielle St. Laurent. Right: musical inspiration La Roux. Bottom right: Fall 2010 Alexander Wang runway look. Bottom left: Alberto Guzman and Cassie.

When did you get into music? I started playing the piano at age 11 or 12. I wanted to be able to accompany myself while I sang. The first song I sang and played was Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly.” Do you have any upcoming music releases you can tell us about? I am gearing up to have a new single released this fall. What are your favorite late-summer jams? I’m loving “Bulletproof” by La Roux, “Hello Good Morning” by Diddy, and “Fireworks” by Drake, featuring Alicia Keys. Do you dress up a lot, or do you like to keep it casual? I definitely like dressing up on fun occasions or even just for nights out with my girls, but on the regular, I like to mix casual with a little bit of high fashion. I have a shoe addiction, so even if I’m in a Rick Owens tank and J Brand jeans, I like to rock a dope pair of shoes. Who are some of your favorite designers? Recently, I’ve been wearing Alexander Wang.

What’s your dream scenario for your life 10 years from now? Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a family person, so in 10 years I hope to be madly in love with my future husband, surrounded by children. I also dream that in 10 years my career will have flourished and I’ll have a home on the water somewhere. [LAURIE HENZEL]

get cassie’s look Hair stylist Alberto Guzman used Bumble and Bumble Straight, a straightening silicone gel, when he blow-dried Cassie’s hair. Bumble and Bumble Shine gave it a sexy, soft texture. Makeup artist Janeiro used MAC Cosmetics for Cassie’s edgy yet natural look. On her eyes: Red Electric Pigment and Plush Lash Mascara in Brownette. On her skin: Studio Fix Foundation, Fix+ Skin Refresher, and Blush in Margin. On her lips: Spice Lip Pencil and Tinted Lip Conditioner SPF15 in Soothing Beige. 84 / BUST // AUG/SEPT


What are your three essential travel items? Moisturizer, my iPad, and a comfy pair of socks.

FALL FOr iT Our favorite style bloggers share their fashion tips and wish lists for the season’s best looks













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A portion of all proceeds are donated to the ямБght against breast cancer.

the bust guide


BEST COAST Crazy for You (Mexican Summer) As usual, the dudes got it wrong. While the likes of Panda Bear and Arcade Fire were stroking their beards, wondering how to hide their tracks, the ladies went straight for the pop jugular unashamed, and rightly so. Hiding in rooms filled with gloom? Not for them. Turn those Fleetwood Mac and Shop Assistants records up. Turn that reverb up! No, not as high as Times New Viking—just high enough so that thousands of harmonies gloriously spiral out the speakers. There are so many beautifully harmonizing bands out right now, but Best Coast is wonderfully, crazily near the top of the bunch. Main woman Bethany Cosentino is lost in a fuzzy dream of kittens and surf and Beach Boys–standard melodies: the drums thump like every girl’s wish is to be Ronnie Spector; time lingers in a reverie of pop. Standout “Our Deal” floats hazily. “I Want To” yearns for childhood. Once inside, you’ll never want to leave. [EVERETT TRUE]

ISOBEL CAMPBELL & MARK LANEGAN Hawk (Vanguard) Isobel Campbell, formerly of Belle and Sebastian, has teamed up for a third time with Mark Lanegan (Screaming Trees and Queens of the Stone Age) on Hawk, a beautiful collection of Americana/Roots songs. Lanegan is one of the most soulful crooners alive, and his deep, swaggering vocals have always been best when combined with the sweet harmonies of a gentle lady voice to balance his dark side. Since 2006, that particular songbird has been Isobel Campbell, and the pairing of these two does not disappoint. Hawk is a mix of morose and lovesick tunes written mostly by Campbell, with the exception of two Townes Van Zandt covers on which Lanegan is replaced by singer Willy Mason. Besides one messy, instrumental blues jam, the record is haunting and stunning, just like the duo’s other collaborations. In the tradition of Gainsbourg/Birkin or Hazlewood/Sinatra, these two carry the torch for the ideal combination of salty and sweet. You won’t be able to resist going back for more. [LAURIE HENZEL]

M.I.A. /\/\ /\ Y /\ (N.E.E.T./XL/Interscope) HIPSTERS CROWNED MAYA ARULPRAGASAM a queen several years ago, but these days she’s world-famous enough to receive the kind of media scrutiny reserved for drug-addled actresses and pants-free pop tarts. Her politics are starting to look a little rough under the spotlight, but /\/\/\Y/\ is an excellent reminder that M.I.A.’s creativity is the original reason for her celebrity. Her third album is even more difficult to classify than 2007’s Kala—she bounces through more genres in 42 minutes than some artists know exist—but there’s no doubt that some of these tracks will achieve “Paper Planes”-level ubiquity. The first single, “XXXO,” is a full-fledged (and totally successful) attempt at dance-pop, complete with Twitter references and a catchy chorus on which M.I.A. actually sings. The Sleigh Bells– sampling “Meds and Feds” shows that if anyone can resurrect the horror that was rap-rock and somehow make it awesome, M.I.A. is the woman for the job. Then there’s the reggae-inflected “It Takes a Muscle,” a sweet love anthem fit for a late-summer beach drive. But make no mistake; the record isn’t all sunshine and dancehall. Lest we forget who we’re dealing with here, on “Lovealot,” M.I.A. reminds us that “I fight the ones who fight me.” After a few listens to /\/\/\Y/\, it’s clear that any haters still fighting M.I.A.’s genius don’t stand a chance with her in the ring. [ELIZA THOMPSON] // BUST / 91

the guide MUSIC DEAN & BRITTA 13 Most Beautiful: Songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests (Double Features) Andy Warhol, the Velvet Underground, Nico, Edie Sedgwick, and the rest of The Factory gang are held in high regard by those who consider them ground zero for cooler than cool. Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips understand this and are the right choice to produce original music for a selection of Warhol’s 1960s black-and-white filmed screen tests. After presenting this as a multimedia event live for the past year, they’re releasing the songs as a special double CD. The cover tunes they’ve included are appropriate and executed spot-on, like “I’ll Keep It With Mine,” the song Bob Dylan wrote for Nico’s Chelsea Girl album, on which Britta’s clear but detached vocals shine. The second disc contains remixes and alternate mixes by Scott Hardkiss, Sonic Boom (of Spacemen 3), and My Robot Friend. This collection is a must, not only for all Warhol and Velvet aficionados but also for anyone who simply likes great music. If Warhol were alive to hear this album, he’d probably change the name to 15 Most Beautiful, because he’d no doubt add Dean & Britta to the list. [MICHAEL LEVINE]

FRANCIS AND THE LIGHTS It’ll Be Better (Cantora) Francis Farewell Starlite looks like the lovechild of Bob Dylan and Edward Scissorhands, dances like Prince if Prince were just a tad more awkward, sings like Peter Gabriel, and willfully (wisely?) explains none of it. It’ll Be Better, Francis and his band’s latest record, has many well-considered merits. The loose and lovelorn “Darling, It’s Alright” and the sweetly cajoling title track—as well as every other song on the album, actually—come off as the bittersweet closing track of an ’80s movie that never was. Savvy directors take note: given the proper cinematic context, you have at hand not just an imitator but an inheritor of Peter Gabriel’s romantic musical legacy. For those of us tired of musical pranks without humor and tossed-off funk without soul, a 92 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

sincere young man humiliating himself for love à la Lloyd Dobler never goes out of style. As long as the soundtrack is right, that is. [DEVIN VON SCHLOTTERER]

THE JIM JONES REVUE Self-titled (Punk Rock Blues) Just when I’m ready to accept smooth jazz as my personal savior, along comes the self-titled debut from English rock reactionaries the Jim Jones Revue, tempting me in the wilderness. It’s Satan echoing Little Richard (they cover his “Hey Hey Hey Hey”), Elliot Mortimer’s possessed keyboard, Jim Jones’ throaty din—all that’s missing is the sodomy. Sure, it’s derivative. That’s rock ’n’ roll: flogging three-chord workhorses that would have been retired long ago, with the gold watch and pension, by a more caring industry. But when Jerry Lee Lewis’ barrelhouse (“The Meat Man”) greases Little Richard’s pompadour with a slab of Bob Seger–esque bellowing, that’s a primordial brew. God played it on Adam’s rib to rise Eve and ruin Eden. Look, I have a wife and three kids and a job and a mortgage—responsibilities—but I’m not dead yet. [PETER LANDAU]

JUNIP Fields (Mute) There is something about the beginning of “In Every Direction,” the opening track of Junip’s first full-length album, Fields, which makes me want to peel out of a parking lot in a Camaro. Led by Swedish singer/songwriter José González, Junip chalks out a large parcel of land in which to roll around, musically speaking. Most of the songs on Fields ooze from the speakers in a mist of ’70s stank. This is a good thing. The fuzzy guitars and hazy, filtered vocals need only the addition of a pot-smoke-filled room to be instant stoner heaven. “It’s Alright” is almost pervy in its too-coolfor-school seduction, with González crooning, “Curving roads will lead you through the night/It’s alright.” He sings it in a “Hey, baby” sort of way, as though the next thing you’ll feel is his letterman’s jacket falling softly over your shoulders. [KELLY MCCLURE]

THE LOVE LANGUAGE Libraries (Merge) Despite the recent wave of popular indie bands pumping out synth-laden sophomore attempts to either “redefine” themselves or reach a broader audience, the Love Language has thankfully decided to stick with their delightful and organic blend of North Carolina indie rock. With Libraries, the Love Language’s main brain, Stuart McLamb, deftly defies the notion that one-man virtuosos don’t play well with others, by teaming up with engineer/producer BJ Burton. Picking up right where McLamb’s last album’s criminally catchy single “Lalita” left off, “Heart to Tell,” with its Dodos-esque percussion and crunchy but not too crunchy guitar solo, is sure to provide the soundtrack to this summer’s hipster barbecues and kickball matches. And just in case you aren’t in the mood to swoon over the Spector-era ballad “This Blood Is Our Own,” you can always lose yourself in the lazy swagger of “Brittany’s Back” and the almost spaghetti-western beat of “Horophones.” [PETER WENKER]

MAHJONGG The Long Shadow of the Paper Tiger (K) Mahjongg hails from the Windy City and reminds listeners that although Chicago has most recently been known for rap (think Kanye and Common), it has a long history of being a serious dance-music hub. The synth-glazed surface of The Long Shadow glitters like a powdered mirror and does the Midwest proud—it’s dizzying as any funhouse should be in a way that defies expectations. “Miami Knights” rides chilly synth riffs into a cyclotron of skittering beats itching just below the song’s surface, with blissedout cyborg vocals and a neon pulse that sketches out the titular city’s pastel dystopia. “Wardance” pounds as hard as you’d expect it to, a robot assault of irradiated Italo disco that would be at home in a ’70s sci-fi epic. Icy but less so when you’re sweating it out on the dance floor. [TOM FORGET]

MAJOR LAZER Lazers Never Die (Mad Decent) This EP brought me to a special place: a place where I had signed up for a high-impact yoga class instructed by a gang of glow stick–touting Jamaican guys still ridin’ the rave wave. Thom Yorke was on a mat next to mine advising me not to strain my lats, as these tracks are ripe for a dancehall jam-athon. Diplo and Switch, the beatmakers behind Major Lazer, definitely deserve credit for teaming up with ladies who know their way around a mic. Amid the rasta-callouts and smooth, up-tempo dub-step, I did a double take as Miss Banks tore viciously into a verse at quick-fire speed. And I had to admit that I’m still not over my Sri Lankan swagger addiction when M.I.A. let loose all over the rightfully titled opener “Sound of Siren.” When sultry summer nights call for a soundtrack to get the shoulders rollin’, this island-sounding import will certainly fit the bill. [JULIA ABRAHAM]

MATES OF STATE Crushes (The Covers Mixtape) (Mates of State) Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel, the husband-and-wife rockers who make up Mates of State, say the idea behind Crushes was to play some of their favorite songs by other artists as though they had written them. Gardner does this with ease, adding her signature power-pop vocals to hits like Tom Waits’ “Long Way Home,” a song that is made even more deliriously good here, but Hammel tends to change his normal singing voice from song to song as though performing karaoke, rather than putting his own spin on the tracks. This is most noticeable on the band’s version of Mars Volta’s “Son et Lumiere,” where Gardner takes on Volta’s spacey vocal style. If you’re a fan of Mates of State, this running tick in the project takes nothing away from what is, in the end, another fun release. But if you’re checking out the band for the first time, you may want to grab one of their earlier records as well to get a real feel for what they’re made of. [KELLY MCCLURE]

MUSIC NINA NASTASIA Outlaster (Fat Cat) Outlaster, Nina Nastasia’s sixth full-length album, begins on a sleepy, nostalgic note with the single “Cry, Cry, Baby.” Nastasia’s slightly husky voice—initially backed by a simple acoustic guitar and followed by strings—delivers lines like “You and I/We are ideal” with an almost audible sigh, channeling Nick Drake with a touch of Liz Phair and Hope Sandoval thrown in to create quite a blend of optimistic gloom. The rest of the album offers a refreshing mix of soft folk ballads, dramatic orchestrations, and the haunting chant-inducing track “You’re a Holy Man.” Ominous drums back Nastasia’s delicately balanced vocals as stronger melodies swirl around. The title track closes out the album with mournful reeds and tense guitars. Nastasia sounds the most vulnerable here, tying up the kaleidoscope of emotions and sounds she so artfully brought together in each of the 10 tracks. [MELYNDA FULLER]

NEU! NEU! Vinyl Box (Grönland) Not many bands can say they influenced such a varied group of major artists including Stereolab, Sonic Youth, Joy Division, Primal Scream, Radiohead, Wilco, David Bowie— even U2. But there aren’t many bands like NEU!, the brainchild of Michael Rother and the late Klaus Dinger, a German duo who left Kraftwerk to form NEU! in the early ’70s. Despite a limited output—NEU! recorded only three studio albums between 1972 and 1975—the band’s chugging, droning, minimalist grooves and signature motorik drumming created Krautrock and inspired plenty of imitators. The NEU! Vinyl Box includes those albums—dubbed NEU!, NEU! 2, and NEU! 75—the unreleased fourth studio album NEU! ’86 (or NEU! 4, for those keeping score) and a previously unheard live recording of the band in Düsseldorf as well as digital downloads of all of ’em. It’s all the NEU! you’ll ever need. [DYLAN STABLEFORD]

NIKKI & RICH Everything (Reprise) It’s a common bond, or maybe a not-so-well-kept secret, among music snobs that at the end of the day, when all the buzz bands and “what do you mean you haven’t heard of…” singles are put to bed, we all just want something to dance and sing along to. Nikki & Rich’s Everything is refreshing in that it’s not trying to blow any minds, it’s just trying to make you happy. Nikki Leonti is a pastor’s daughter who grew up listening to gospel, and has a strong set of pipes to prove it, and Rich Velonskis is a New York native who has been spinning R&B and hip-hop since before he was old enough to drive. The two have joined to embrace their love of ’60s doo-wop and gospel-inspired lyric belting, which Velonskis does best on “Yellow Brick Road,” a track that’s all rim shots and R&B headshaking the likes of which would send Alicia Keys back to the drawing board. [KELLY MCCLURE]

NOUN Holy Hell (Don Giovanni) Marissa Pasternoster, the screaming female behind the Screaming Females, presents the first official release of her five-year-old solo project, Noun. Originally recorded on her dad’s laptop due to a lack of viable bandmates, Holy Hell maintains her distinct sound while showcasing the softer side of the fierce guitarist. Pasternoster’s wobbly vocals sound like the surprisingly beautiful lovechild of Glenn Danzig and Corin Tucker. Layer this on top of noodley guitar riffs and soft piano and you’ve got Holy Hell’s dark, emotional timber. The opening track, “Black Lamb,” starts off strong and nostalgic; “Wrong Things” is sweetly vulnerable. A subtle ’60s surf sound stands out on “Pearly Gates” and “Holy Hell.” However, it’s “Talk,” with lyrics like, “I can’t wake up in the morning/My soul’s just standing there,” that has a cripplingly haunting sound. After years of stockpiling these musical gems, Pasternoster’s debut is a long time coming. [ERICA VARLESE]


EVERETT TRUE’S FIRST LADIES OF ROCK The best girl bands you’ve never heard of [BY EVERETT TRUE]

LUST-CATS OF THE GUTTERS Denver’s Lust-Cats of the Gutters exhibit broken diamond brilliance. Their music thrashes all over the place—in a nasty, tinny, tuneful, vivid way— recalling such luminaries as the Raincoats, Beat Happening, and the Ramones (they do a mind-bendingly marvelous, minimal cover of “Judy Is a Punk”) as though their paintedred, chipped fingernails were raking across your back. This, you know, is entirely unintentional but genius.

THE SCHOOL Who hasn’t wanted to be in the Ronettes once in their lifetime? And who hasn’t wanted to be Tracey Ullman wanting to be in the Ronettes at least once in their bedroom? (Singing “They Don’t Know,” to be precise.) This Welsh group evokes both, in the best way possible. The main School girl is Liz, formerly of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs–championed band the Loves, and she’s the sort of gal everyone has a crush on.

TRASH KIT Trash Kit creates short, spunky, twirling balls of twine masquerading as songs—pause to drink your coffee and you’ll have missed the entire set. Trash Kit reminds me of Kleenex and Erase Errata, and maybe singer Ros’ former bands Electrelane and Lesbo Pig a little. The band also brings to mind those crazy geckos that run around everywhere at night in Brisbane, Australia. Trash Kit sounds like bafflement. Trash Kit is brilliant.

PIKELET This is the music I like: full of technicolor lighting and keyboards that travel on circular paths, each oscillation bumping gently into the next. From Melbourne—where sole member Evelyn Morris is one of the city’s hidden delights—Pikelet makes music that is looped, warped, and treated with warm, good humor. Melodies counterpoint melodies, and rhythms chug along, satisfied with themselves, in the background.

Think: the Petticoats, the Cramps, the Shaggs Courtney Love factor: 8 Courteney Cox factor: 0

Think: Best Coast, Blondie, Joey Ramone Mary Quant factor: 9 Mary Kay factor: 1

Think: Performing Ferrets, Numbers, Wet Dog Fairytale in the Supermarket: 10 Fairytale of New York: 0

Think: Ill Ease, the Flaming Lips, Metronomy Psychedelic space jam: 8 Seedless raspberry jam: 3 // BUST / 93


what the heart wants LOVE SONGS, THE CHRISSIE HYNDE WAY ONE NIGHT LESS than two years ago, JP Jones, a former boy bander from Wales, approached rock goddess and Pretenders frontwoman Chrissie Hynde at a London party. A short time later, the two were in a hotel room in Cuba, falling in love and writing the bulk of what is now their debut album, Fidelity (the title was inspired by an abundance of pro–Fidel Castro signage). The beautifully intense record is a series of 11 songs that sound more like love letters Hynde and Jones wrote to, for, and about each other. Through deeply personal lyrics, the album tells the tale of their affair, leaving no sore spot untouched. On “Perfect Lover,” Hynde, 58, sings, “I found my perfect lover, but he’s only half my age/He was learning how to stand when I was wearing my first wedding band.” Jones, 32, responds on “Leave Me If You Must”: “I’m jealous of your future, and I’m jealous of your past/In a temporary world where nothing’s meant to last/And I’m just about to sink into a rage of angry lust/So, run a mile, walk away, leave me if you must.” Hynde says she can’t give Jones what he wants—a wife and children. So instead, the two entered into a musical marriage, forming the group JP, Chrissie, and the Fairground Boys, a six-piece band they play with. I caught up with the duo just weeks after they began performing together on the road. Chrissie, you’ve been the leader of the Pretenders for over 30 years. Why did you choose to collaborate with JP on your first non-Pretenders album? He’s the one who said, “I think we could write a good album together.” I was like, “Why would he want to encumber himself with someone who’s kinda at the end of this thing when he’s a new artist?” I didn’t see that as doing a favor for him. This is some of the best work I’ve ever done. Did either of you worry the album was too personal? C.H.: We wrote it so quickly, and it was just a conversation between two people. When we started performing, we did start to wonder if it was too... J.J.: Graphic. C.H.: We’ve played it for some people, and you look over and they’re in tears. We didn’t plan on depressing people. It’s a rock album, it’s supposed to be fun. So, live, it will be fun, though there’s a lot of emotional angst on there. J.J.: We do have fun, but performing just brings it up every time—the circumstance. So, that’s the hard bit. Did you ever think the emotional wear and tear just wasn’t worth it? C.H.: No. This album is addressing the fact that we really get along together, but I’m too old for him; he wants things I can’t provide. But what we can do is have a band. If we weren’t singer/songwriters, we’d probably have no reason to see each other anymore, but we continue to hang out and see each other because we’re in this band. The two of you have very strong voices, both literally and figuratively. Did that make it difficult to collaborate? 94 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

J.J.: Not at all. I never found myself musically until I met Chrissie. She’s the biggest inspiration of my life. She’s the queen of rock. And when we started writing songs together, it was so obvious. C.H.: I fell in love with him, so it’s easy to write songs about someone you’re thinking about all the time and having this correspondence with. He would send me a lyric; I’d look at it and go write a song really, really fast and text the lyrics back. If we get a mix, we play it together, just the two of us. We know what the emotion behind it is. It’s about the music, how it makes us feel. It’s not about getting stuff on the radio. J.J.: But we’re big radio supporters. C.H.: Oh, radio’s everything. But we’re not trying to kneel and suck to the marketplace. If you like it, welcome. If you don’t like it, nudge that dial. Now that you’ve told your love story, what will the next album be about? C.H.: Who knows? Maybe it won’t be as personal. Maybe it won’t be telling this kind of sad story. J.J.: God, I hope not. [SABRINA FORD] PHOTOGRAPHED BY C. TAYLOR CROTHERS

MUSIC THE POSTELLES Self-titled (Astralwerks/Capitol) The Postelles’ eponymous debut bounces along with youthful pep, recounting— in the spiffy brightness of music’s major keys—tales of young rockers in (and out) of love. Hailing from New York City, the four-man band presents fresh, catchy rock, keen on tight, clean instrumentation. The innocent subject matter and streamlined production recall teen sensation pop-rock acts of the ’60s like the Monkees and even early Beatles, yet the distorted guitar and speedy tempo are harbingers of modernity. Co-producer Albert Hammond Jr. (the Strokes) has his fingerprints all over the thing, and in their more raucous moments, the Postelles evoke the loose, N.Y.C. jangle of Is This It. The album, based heavily on percussion and rhythm guitar, becomes slightly repetitive in its throwback sensibilities, yet it’s all catchy fun. The Postelles have innocence, wit, and charm, and rock just hard enough to remain interesting. [KATIE BAIN]

SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS Disconnect From Desire (Vagrant/Ghostly


International) As hinted at with a title culled from Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies list and the mystical sigil adorning the front cover, School of Seven Bells has created a 10-song set awash in shoegazey textures and prominent lyrics that reach beyond the cerebral dream-pop chasm of their 2008 debut, Alpinisms. Their long-awaited second album, Disconnect From Desire, flourishes in guitarist Benjamin Curtis’ pristine production and Claudia and Alejandra Deheza’s invitingly warm vocals, but it’s with a newfound hypnotic energy that the Brooklyn trio comes alive again. From the airy pop beauty of “Windstorm” and the sonic lushness of “Babelonia” to the New Order–like synth drama of “Dust Devil,” School of Seven Bells’ efforts are keenly crafted and much more candid this time out. Their modern and stylish blend is unforgettable, especially on the standout “I L U”; losing yourself inside the sound is absolutely meant to be. [MACKENZIE WILSON]

{heavy rotation} MOUNTAIN MAN Made the Harbor (Partisan/Bella Union) YOU KNOW WHEN you hear a new album so good that 15 seconds into it, you decide it’s your new favorite thing? If Mountain Man’s Made the Harbor didn’t have me with the girl-humming on opening track “Buffalo,” it did with the first verse of the second song, “Animal Tracks,” when the all-girl trio sings: “We’ll drink horse bark root beer/And sit on your back stairs/And I’ll whisper in your hair/In the summer air.” Mountain Man, aka, Molly Erin Sarle, Alexandra SauserMonnig, and Amelia Randall Meath, have made the ultimate soundtrack for porch sitting and backwoods summer adventure. Made up entirely of sparse guitar strummin’ and three-

SLEIGH BELLS Treats (Mom+Pop/N.E.E.T.) The Internet creates buzz bands in a day, and most acts drop off the radar faster than last week’s viral cat video. But that shouldn’t happen with Sleigh Bells, whose infectious debut, Treats, could be the year’s most hard-rocking, noise-tastic release. Frontwoman Alexis Krauss has a bubblegum-sweet voice that can instantly switch to a howl intense enough to peel the neon polish right off her fingernails, a quality that vibes well with her bandmate Derek Miller’s shredding skills. Her banshee-next-door vocals shine on amped-up versions of blog faves “Crown on the Ground” and “A/B Machines,” but the new songs showcase a healthy versatility in her style. Lead single “Tell ’Em” starts off with a guitar riff that sounds like a gun being fired, an insane contrast to Krauss’ deceptively saccharine chants of “cocaine champagne.” If your headphones aren’t blown out after a few listens to Treats, you’re doing it wrong. [ELIZA THOMPSON]

THE SWORD Warp Riders (Kemado) With the devastating losses of pioneering vocalist Ronnie James Dio and legendary illustrator Frank Frazetta, it’s valid to wonder how fantasy metal will possibly cope.

part vocal harmonies (nearly half the album is a cappella), these girls’ sweet, sweet songs are good ol’ American folk. “Babylon” sounds like a sacred choral arrangement, and tracks like “River” and “How’m I Doin” send the imagination skipping toward someone cute wearing cut-offs, and the sweltering banks of the Mississippi. [ELISABETH WILSON]

Fortunately for every lonely stoner with a wizard painted on his or her van, the Sword’s third album, Warp Riders, has arrived to somewhat soothe the ache. A science-fiction concept album complete with all the outer-space fixings, Warp Riders nonetheless manages to avoid the sometimes-intimidating trappings of similarly monolithic albums. In fact, it hews closely to burly ’70s hardrock conventions, never resorting to highbrow prog naval-gazing or unnecessary side trips. Stylistically, it’s more meat and potatoes than mushrooms and acid. But the visceral rush of musclebound rock like the rolling title track and the bludgeoning “Arrows in the Dark” certainly feel like something epic. It’s as direct and effective as, say, a sword cutting the Gordian knot. [TOM FORGET]

TENDER TRAP Dansette Dansette (Slumberland) Say buh-bye to the Tender Trap of yore. Not only have mainstays Amelia Fletcher and Rob Pursey kicked up a spankin’ new girl-group vibe for this third release, but they’ve also added Elizabeth Morris (Allo Darlin’) and Katrina Dixon—all the better for harmonic ba-ba-ba’s and sha-la-la’s. Think Vaselines meets Rondelles meets Velvet Underground; Dansette Dansette is a superb combo of riot grrrl, jangle pop, and straight-up ’60s psych. And though tracks like “Suddenly” and “Girls With Guns” fuzz out with super-

dirty guitars and sugary vocals, Tender Trap ain’t a one-trick pony. “Do You Want a Boyfriend” is nothing but C86era twee, and “2 to the N” mixes it up with a menacing melody and dark whistle solo. Fletcher probably didn’t mean to school all the newcomers (hello, Pains of Being Pure at Heart), but she totally has; Dansette Dansette is Tender Trap’s most honest and amazing album to date. [MOLLIE WELLS]

VARIOUS ARTISTS Be Yourself: A Tribute to Graham Nash’s Songs for Beginners (Grassroots) Be Yourself features up-and-coming (as well as some already known) folk musicians paying tribute to Graham Nash’s first release, Songs for Beginners. Even if you’re not fond of tribute albums or compilations, tracks from Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Port O’Brien with Papercuts, and Robin Pecknold (of Fleet Foxes) make this is a great record for any folk-music fan. The album was put into motion by indie-music promoter Britt Govea in collaboration with Nash’s daughter Nile, who also does a beautiful rendition of “Wounded Bird.” This tribute mirrors the order and song selection of Beginners to a T, with some of the artists staying true to the original arrangements while others offer their own interpretation. Port O’Brien does a fantastic “Military Madness,” and Sleepy Sun offers a take on “Chicago” that makes the whole album worth buying. [AURORA MONTGOMERY] // BUST / 95

the guide MOVIES

CAIRO TIME Written and directed by Ruba Nadda (IFC Films) Helmed by Syrian-Canadian filmmaker Ruba Nadda, Cairo Time stars Patricia Clarkson as Juliette, a fashion-magazine editor and happily married mother who travels to Cairo to meet up with her husband, Mark, a U.N. official, for a vacation. But when Juliette’s plane lands, Mark’s friend and former security officer, Tareq (Alexander Siddig), is there to meet her instead: Mark has been detained in Gaza, leaving her to fend for herself. A bare-headed blonde in a light summer skirt walking alone, she is too independent and curious to stay in the luxurious confines of her hotel room, but too unfamiliar with the city’s customs to maneuver through its bustling streets inconspicuously— men stare, then follow. For a confident middle-aged woman used to certain freedoms, the attention both flatters and threatens—enough that she seeks out Tareq and takes him up on his offer to be her tour guide in her husband’s absence. As it happens, she finds Tareq in the coffee shop he retired from the U.N. to run. And when she is again stared at, Tareq explains that the shop is for men only—although those staring are too polite to say so. Cairo Time is filled with similar portraits of male-female interactions, featuring scenes that are colored by politics, religion, and culture but that are always handled subtly and humanely. 96 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

Countdown to Zero director Lucy Walker

In fact, subtle and humane are words that can be used to describe Nadda’s film as a whole, especially the ways in which her tale unfolds in front of a large and breathtakingly beautiful landscape and yet never ventures far from the two people at its heart. [PHOEBE MAGEE]

COUNTDOWN TO ZERO Written and directed by Lucy Walker (Magnolia Pictures) An estimated 23,000 nuclear weapons exist on this planet. And although schoolchildren no longer practice air-raid drills under their desks in preparation for all out nuclear war, the risk of a nuclear attack, as President Obama tells us, has gone up. In response to these frightening facts, the documentary Countdown to Zero, written and directed by Lucy Walker (creator of the rowdy Amish teenager doc Devil’s Playground), is a timely film about a threat that is not as unlikely as we may prefer to assume. The film is structured around JFK’s address to the United Nations in 1961, in which he asserted that all of humanity lives “under a nuclear sword of Damocles, hanging by the slenderest of threads, capable of being cut at any moment by accident or miscalculation or by madness.” Using stunning archival footage mixed with interviews with Valerie Plame, Tony Blair, and Jimmy Carter (to name a few), Walker explains how easy it may be—and in some cases,

Paul Reubens gives Shirley Henderson the eye in Life During Wartime

has been—for individuals, groups, and nations to steal the materials necessary to create one of these bombs. As one expert says, “it really isn’t rocket science.” Most enraging are stories of incidents that have brought the U.S. inches from accidental nuclear detonation. And while I couldn’t agree more with Walker’s message—get rid of these weapons altogether—I wonder if her story could be more effective and reach a wider audience as a shorter film, accessible on the Internet, rather than as 92 minutes’ worth of talking heads in a theater. Either way, this call to action needs to be heard. It’s an inspiring argument for citizens to get involved in the fight to end this nuclear madness. [ANNA BEAN]

LIFE DURING WARTIME Written and directed by Todd Solondz (IFC Films) Todd Solondz is a master of disaster. Not big-budget, Titanic-style disaster, but the kind of emotional disaster that rips through his characters like a wrecking ball. In 1998, his black comedy Happiness— starring Jane Adams, Lara Flynn Boyle, and Cynthia Stevenson as a trio of twisted sisters—was a magnum opus of internal devastation. And now, more than a decade later, Solondz is continuing the saga of the embattled Jordan girls with Life During Wartime. This time around, he’s recast

the entire story (a trick he also used within the course of a single film with 2004’s Palindromes), reimagining Adams’ vulnerable lost-puppy character Joy with actress Shirley Henderson, replacing Boyle’s brusque wordsmith Helen with Ally Sheedy, and recruiting powerhouse Allison Janney to pick up the role of traumatized homemaker Trish from Cynthia Stevenson. The action takes place 10 years after the end of Happiness, and true to form, nobody is living happily ever after. Joy’s relationship with phone-perv Allen (previously Philip Seymour Hoffman, now Michael K. Williams) is on the rocks, and the ghost of her former love interest Andy (previously Jon Lovitz, now Paul Reubens) is hilariously haunting her. Helen’s new career as a screenwriter has left her both wealthy and warped. And Trish is forced to fess up to her kids that their father (previously Dylan Baker, now Ciarán Hinds), who she said was dead, is actually alive and has been imprisoned all this time for sexually assaulting a young boy. Uniting these threads is the theme of forgiveness and the question of whether it is better to make peace with those who have wronged us or to will ourselves to forget those wrongs ever happened. Of course such questions are unanswerable, but in his inimitable style, Solondz has turned this exercise in asking into something unforgettable. [EMILY REMS]


Break time for Patricia Clarkson in Cairo Time

the guide



FIFTH AVENUE, 5 A.M.: Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and the Dawn of the Modern Woman BY SAM WASSON (HARPER STUDIO) THERE’S ALWAYS BEEN sex in Hollywood, announces author Sam Wasson, but “before Breakfast at Tiffany’s, only the bad girls were having it.” Adapted from Truman Capote’s novel, the Oscar-winning 1961 movie starring Audrey Hepburn as an independent girl about town made being a single woman look fantastic. (Also, the little black Givenchy dresses didn’t hurt.) And in line with the best, engaging contemporary nonfiction, Wasson’s account of the making of this film reads like fiction. Structured chronologically, the story begins with Capote’s relationship with his mother, whose long absences provided early, sideways inspiration for Holly Golightly. It’s a wonder the filmmakers succeeded in transforming Capote’s sex-filled tale—complete with a gay best friend and an unhappy ending—into a movie that sings. Wasson weaves together the many limbs of filmmaking, from the beleaguered screenwriter, triumphant producers, composer, and lyricist to the then-little-known director Blake Edwards, who happens to be the subject of Wasson’s first book, A Splurch in the Kisser. There’s great drama, tension, and conflict in all these arenas, as well as in the on- and off-screen presence of the movie’s gamine star. Hepburn highlights include how she was discovered, vignettes from her fraught marriage, and her dogged pursuit of motherhood. Wasson’s studied, fast-moving tale only gets better as the reader invests in his characters, understanding exactly how, why, and at what cost they devoted their energies to bringing this project to life. [SARAH NORRIS]

THE BEDWETTER: Stories of Courage, Redemption, and Pee By Sarah Silverman (HarperCollins) Sarah Silverman’s memoir does all the things that shouldn’t work: she’s sparse on emotion, prolific with excruciating details, and even explains some of her jokes. Yet somehow, like her comedy, it’s so wrong it’s just right. Silverman paints a cheery enough picture of her New Hampshire upbringing, which then morphs into a 16-pilla-day Xanax habit brought on by teen depression. This, coupled with her titular trouble—bedwetting (which persisted through her late teens)—indicates deeper issues, but she steers clear of discussing her feelings and just sticks to the story. For instance, in describing the death of a sibling, she writes, “My parents’ friends cleaned up any sign of Jeffrey’s existence.” She then describes her sisters and ends the chapter with the story of her first failed joke—whose punch line invokes her dead brother. Not everything works in the book,

though. The section about her Comedy Central show is long-winded, and just when you think you might get a juicy detail on her relationship with Jimmy Kimmel, she goes mum. She still manages many laugh-out-loud moments, such as the setup about her therapist who committed suicide and the elaborate description of a co-worker’s prank involving a toilet, a crap, and a napkin scrawled with the words “I know what you did last summer.” What makes this book so readable is that Silverman no more relies on the tried-and-true memoir formula than she does on the standard tropes of the female comic. That takes serious skill. [LISA KIRCHNER]

BITCH IS THE NEW BLACK: A Memoir By Helena Andrews (HarperCollins) The title of this sardonic essay collection refers to the phrase coined by Tina Fey during a Saturday Night Live monologue defending Hillary Clinton. That Helena

Andrews is black adds a spin to the catchphrase; it resonates with her sense of what it’s like to be boxed into a stereotypical category. She writes of Michelle Obama, “Despite the fact that the most recognizable woman in the United States is black, popular culture still hasn’t moved past the only adjective apparently meant to describe us—‘strong.’” Andrews, a successful political journalist, explores the difficulties of trying to attain success, both professional and personal. As the beneficiaries of the feminist movement and the black civil-rights movement, Andrews and her friends find themselves in a position their mothers and grandmothers had not deemed possible—financially independent, well educated, and professionally successful—but the men have not kept up. In her opening essay, Andrews details a mind-gamey instant-messaging session with an onand-off boyfriend, which leads her into a compelling analysis, replete with country-wide stats, on the complications of looking for a husband. “While our women were snatching up college

degrees and busting up glass ceilings, our men were getting snatched up and busted,” she writes. Although the story of the professional single girl has been written before, Andrews’ combination of personal anecdote and analysis of success and race makes her tales unique. And at the same time, her exploration of gender in America is one surely any woman can relate to. [ADRIENNE URBANSKI]

ELEGIES FOR THE BROKENHEARTED: A Novel By Christie Hodgen (W.W. Norton & Co.) Mary Murphy grows up in a small town in the midst of an economic downturn as the daughter of a reluctant young mother who was impregnated by her alcoholic boyfriend on prom night. Her mother can’t seem to stay married, but she can’t seem to stay single for long either, which leads to a new stepfather every few years. In addition, Mary is surrounded by family members grappling with the demons // BUST / 97

BOOKS of substance abuse and big dreams coupled with little initiative: her mother, her lovable but good-for-nothing Uncle Mike, and, later, her older sister. Withdrawn, laconic, and lacking the hereditary delusions of grandeur, Mary sharply observes all those surrounding her and eventually breaks the cycle. Hodgen’s novel takes the form of a series of five elegies narrated by Mary, which together tell the story of her childhood and young adulthood. That such a young woman would have so many occasions for which to write an elegy, that the story of her life can be told as a series of deaths, testifies to the fact that Mary has grown up with endemic struggle and sadness. And yet, the elegies are not so much laments dedicated to the dead as linked short stories that often ignore their supposed subject, the elegized, for pages, to focus on Mary’s story. Despite that, Hodgen, who peppers the narrative with a hearty dose of believable kitsch and quirk, creates a rich sense of atmosphere—a shared feeling among all her characters of a certain desperation, an anticipatory nostalgia for a future that never arrives— that gives the book an internal cohesion and makes for a satisfying, if somewhat melancholy, read. [EMMA HAMILTON]

THE LAST LIVING SLUT: Born in Iran, Bred Backstage By Roxana Shirazi (Igniter Literary Group) Born in Tehran on the cusp of the Iranian Revolution, Roxana Shirazi is raised in a traditional household, which starts to fall apart when her father abandons the family. At a young age, she begins to feel sexual urges that do not jibe with her mother’s reminders of a woman’s place within Muslim traditions. Popular bands like Guns N’ Roses and Mötley Crüe become an escape from the pressures of war and an erratic home life and are an outlet for the burgeoning desires within (literally—she masturbates to music videos). Her family flees to England when Shirazi is 13, and soon after she leaves her home and abusive stepfather in search of a new family, which she finds in rock ‘n’ roll. Shirazi is a true outsider in the mostly male, Western world of music, 98 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

and yet she manages to stake her claim within its most intimate parts. Through her sexual exploits with bands like Guns N’ Roses, Skid Row, and Velvet Revolver, Shirazi reworks the status of “groupie” to be one of active decisiveness, artfully playing band members against each other and knowing how to get to the most attractive, soughtafter rock stars. Unfortunately, her writing skills are limited, and the descriptions of her exploits become repetitive and mundane. More important, she misses the opportunity to analyze the deeper meaning behind her need for belonging, to connect her rich sex life with her traditional upbringing. (Once she’s in England, there is little reflection upon her life in Tehran.) But while she doesn’t do a great job of showing us the connection, it is obvious it’s there. And all along, Shirazi makes no apologies for her sexual desires. Her unique perspective breathes new life into the otherwise tired genre of rock groupies and backstage decadence. [KRISTA CIMINERA]

LITTLE GIRL BLUE: The Life of Karen Carpenter By Randy L. Schmidt (Chicago Review Press) I thought I could’ve saved Karen Carpenter’s life had we been friends. But after slogging through this biography, I can’t imagine being friends with the woman Randy Schmidt depicts. Carpenter lived a complex life ruled by secrets, familial fear, and obligations, and she died a hideous, early death from complications due to anorexia and bulimia. In Schmidt’s hands, Carpenter’s story becomes a mundane, run-of-the-mill, blame-it-on-the-mother cliché, one in which Karen’s mother is evil, her father is barely mentioned, and her brother, Richard, is loved and revered by the whole family. Schmidt also covers only the most commonly known aspects of her life: the Carpenters’ rise to success, the fact that Karen was a talented drummer, that she was obsessed with looking good, that she had a grueling recording and concert schedule and little time for love. It’s also well known that she had an overbearing mother whom she feared, but Schmidt glosses

it’s a stitch FALL’S MOST WANTED RELEASES FROM NEEDLEWORK SUPERSTARS Most crafters get weak in the knees when they encounter Amy Butler’s brilliantly colorful, mod-printed fabric lines, and there’s nothing that showcases her fabric better than her signature line of bag patterns. Now Butler fans have reason to rejoice, because in Amy Butler’s Style Stitches: 12 Easy Ways to 26 Wonderful Bags! (Chronicle Books), she’s collected 12 (count ’em!) irresistible new bag patterns, from the simple to the more complex. The best part is that every bag here—whether it’s the oversized hobo bag or the packed-with-pockets blossom handbag—is a standout, thanks to Butler’s clever combination of colors and prints. Readers of Alicia Paulson’s blog Posie Gets Cozy know she’s got a magic way with a needle and thread, making creations so lovely you want to marry them. Until that’s legal, you can make your own life a bit cozier by picking up a copy of Embroidery Companion: Classic Designs for Modern Living (Potter Craft). Paulson’s got a nice variety of projects going here, extending well beyond the usual wall hanging. Particularly adorable are the Storybook Pillowcases decorated with sprigs of bright flowers and the supereasy Dot-and-Daisy cafe curtains, which are created with just a few simple stitches on polka-dot fabric (I wanna make ’em right now!). I have to admit that Cath Kidston has me by the balls. Whatever she makes, I want; whatever she’s selling, I’m buying. And for sure, whatever she writes, I read. So it should come as no surprise that I’m all over her new book, Sew! (St. Martin’s Press, coming October), like brown on rice. Kidston’s U.K.based line of lovely flowery bedding, housewares, and accessories is pure crack to anyone who fantasizes about living in an English country cottage, and in Sew!, she shows you how to stitch up projects that are quintessentially Kidston—a cute egg cozy, a clothespin bag, an adorbs elephant-and-bird crib blanket. Trust me—if you don’t already have a baby, you’ll want to have one if only to make the blanket! Help! Cath Kidston, let go! It hurts! Hillary Lang’s line of fabric dolls and animals, Wee Wonderfuls, previously available only as individual patterns from her Web shop, have long threatened to kill us with their cuteness. And now with her new book, Wee Wonderfuls: 24 Dolls to Sew and Love (STC Craft), our lives are in even more danger. Lang offers up not only instructions for toys that girls of all ages can enjoy—like a hip kitty wearing a mod party dress—but also a great section on the basics of making her fabric creations, including stuffing options, sewing techniques, and embroidery stitches. And if you do have a wee, wonderful one in your life, there are a bunch of projects just for kiddos, such as a fabric trolley and a child’s apron with a pocket made for carrying a matching doll. Someone please bring me some oxygen. [DEBBIE STOLLER]


MEATCAKE By Dame Darcy (Fantagraphics) “The juicer was a machine that gave an electric shock and with it came the clanging of the 13 brass bells attached to it.” So begins the reader’s journey into the dark, macabre, neo-Victorian world of Dame Darcy’s Meatcake comics. This compilation of the best stories of the first 10 years of Meatcake, an expanded reprint of the out-of-print hardcover, is an almost voyeuristic peek into the deranged yet ingenious world of the musician/actress/fortune teller/ dollmaker and comics genius. For those unfamiliar with her Meatcake legacy, Darcy’s scraggly drawing style and fairy tale–meets-nightmare slices of life are the perfect escape from the droll hum of reality. Darcy’s eclectic and reoccurring cast includes Effluvia the Mermaid, Igpay the Pig Latin pig, Siamese twin sisters Hindrance and Perfidia, the Wax Wolf, Scampi the Selfish Shellfish, and Friend the Girl. The stories themselves alternate between freak-show folklore and Seinfeld-esque “nothing happens” situations. There are broken hearts, bone-yard gossip, gunshots over hotcakes, zombies, and my personal favorite, “The Juicer and the Cake Walk,” in which everybody in town competes at a cake walk for a little taste of electrocution ecstasy. Meatcake is like the comics incarnation of a Tim Burton film, except instead of a tripped-out Johnny Depp, we have Stregapez, a woman who speaks by dispensing Pez through a bloody hole in her throat. Get the picture? This compilation is full of them. And you’ll savor every languid line and decaying body. [MICHELLE KEHM]

A NIGHT OF LONG KNIVES By Rebecca Cantrell (Forge) In this action-packed mystery novel capturing the terror of Nazi rule in 1930s Germany, journalist Hannah Vogel finds herself in dire straits, to say the least. When the novel (the second in a series) opens, Vogel has been on the run after having kidnapped her adopted son from Nazi Ernst Röhm, who claims to be the boy’s father. While Hannah and the kid, Anton, are traveling from South America to Switzerland, Röhm’s cronies intercept their zeppelin and kidnap and separate them. Luckily for Hannah, the kidnapping takes place right before the Night of Long Knives— when Hitler orders a mass political execution, including of Röhm. Hannah escapes but must now find Anton. Cantrell knows suspense, and in Hannah Vogel she has created a compelling character. The first-person narration draws you right into the action, and pairing that with graphic, visceral descriptions makes this book a hard one to put down. Hannah’s voice flits between that of a reporter—indifferent and cold while stating horrifying facts— and that of a woman surging with empathy, even for her enemies. Through it all, you can feel her intense, unrelenting fear and dread. Beyond Hannah’s closest confidants, the characters are flat, sterile. But instead of taking away from the novel, this seems fitting, emphasizing the chilling dehumanization of the Third Reich. [SUSAN ENGBERG]

AMBER TAMBLYN’S THE ACTRESS AND WRITER PICKS HER FAVE NEW VERSES BY FEMALE VOICES THE POETRY OF Mindy Nettifee is the perfect way to introduce BUST readers to a new movement of female poets, a gang who are truly some of the riskiest truthseeking, bourbon-swigging, stage-owning pen-dominatrices to come along in years. Nettifee’s new collection, Rise of the Trust Fall (Write Bloody), opens with the Henry Miller quote “All growth is a leap in the dark,” which is as descriptive of the magnificent poems inside as the book’s title itself. A raw and intense emotional map of a young woman who uses the weapons of her vulnerability and honesty to fight a war on sincerity, the collection is infused with both humor and humility. In “Acceptance Speech,” Nettifee thanks “My crippling self doubt. My squishy arms, my smaller right breast, misshapen as a Tijuana coin purse. Thank you humiliation, with a special shout to Brad Carlson*”— followed by “(*Brad Carlson, you know what you did).” Whether it’s the heart-wrenching poem “Tremolo” for her father, a gay man with whom she has a complicated relationship, or the vadge-splittingly funny “Ill-Advised Band Names That Also Illustrate My Last Five Breakups,” Rise is the linguistic orgasm we’ve all been waiting for, no clit stims necessary. To get the book, check out tour dates, and more, visit [AMBER TAMBLYN]


over other explanations for Carpenter’s self-destruction, like the decades-old rumors of sibling incest and Carpenter’s tomboy (read: lesbian) tendencies. Although maybe untrue, these rumors deserve some exploration; even false rumors, after all, often lead to a different truth. And in his banal version of the story, Schmidt offers no insight into what caused this tremendously talented and successful woman to starve herself to death. Until that happens, the real story of Karen Carpenter will not have been told. [ELIZABETH ZIFF]

ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK: My Year in a Women’s Prison By Piper Kerman (Spiegel & Grau) Piper Kerman, a Smith-educated, selfdescribed boho, WASPy ex-lesbian, got mixed up with the wrong crowd after college. Enthralled by the flashy lifestyle of her then-girlfriend, Kerman took transatlantic flights to deliver large sums of cash for an African drug lord. Her criminal career didn’t last long, and she quickly turned her life around. Years later, Kerman was relaxing in her pajamas in the West Village apartment she shared with her boy// BUST / 99

the guide

BOOKS friend when she heard her buzzer ring. It was the police—her past had finally caught up with her, and she ended up serving more than a year in a federal penitentiary for a crime she’d committed a decade earlier. Orange Is the New Black offers a fascinating glimpse inside the walls of a women’s prison. The most interesting—and touching—part of the book concerns the bonds Kerman formed in prison with women she never would have met on the outside, let alone befriended. These include “Spanish mamis,” “Eminemlettes,” a post-op transsexual, and tough Brooklyn Italians. After seeing firsthand how drug addiction ravaged the lives of so many of her fellow inmates and their families, the seriousness of her crimes hits Kerman hard. But it is difficult to argue with her stance that the lessons she learned would have come through just as clearly—and the community would have been better served—if she had instead been sentenced to a long stint of community service, working with addicts. [AMANDA CANTRELL]

POOR GIRL GOURMET: Eat in Style on a BareBones Budget By Amy McCoy (Andrews McMeel) The stated purpose of this cookbook is to show people how to cook good meals on a budget, but the title is misleading. Food blogger turned author Amy McCoy, head of the Rhode Island Slow Food Network, advises her readers to buy humanely raised meat and then exhorts them to “always be on the lookout for 99 cents/lb. chicken”— impossible; free-range chicken is never that cheap. The use of the word gourmet in her title is similarly questionable, unless your idea of gourmet involves sprinkling chopped, fried bacon over a can of undrained beans (what happened to slow food?), as in her overly salty recipe for “Quick White Beans With Bacon.” The Veal Stew—in which I subbed beef for veal—was bland and underwhelming, and I’ve found better basic collard greens recipes elsewhere. A few recipes call for herbs, but most are disappointingly devoid of spice or 100 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

seasoning. Additionally, I found McCoy’s prose too chatty and awkwardly self-conscious, with a high TMI factor (in contrast, her writing in the book’s wine section is more polished and poised, revealing a greater level of confidence and expertise). Although she offers recipes for berry preserves and vegetable scrap stock, more informed tips on preparing inexpensive legumes such as lentils, and advice on how best to store fresh produce in order to maximize its lifespan, are lacking from the “basic techniques” section of the book. Not a worthy investment. [RENATE ROBERTSON]

SPENT: Memoirs of a Shopping Addict By Avis Cardella (Little, Brown) If, as Andy Warhol said, “buying is much more American than thinking,” then fashion journalist Avis Cardella is one of the most American women you’ll ever meet. Her memoir Spent chronicles the escalation of her shopping addiction (oniomania, in clinical parlance) from shoplifting Lip Smackers in a Staten Island strip mall as a middle-schooler in the 1970s to five-figure binges at Barneys and Bergdorf’s 20 years later. The barrage of brand names, repeated so often they lose meaning, effectively mimics how for Cardella, it wasn’t about the items at all—her loot often remained untouched, in bags at the bottom of her closet; it was about the high of the buy. Though it’s occasionally hard to muster empathy for her affliction (nods to her “sickening inability to manage her finances” can feel a little woe-isme), Cardella succeeds overall with her riveting exploration of what happens when a woman gets everything she’s ever wanted, only to find it’s never enough. “How can a woman with a closet so full feel so empty inside?” she asks herself. If the “irrational exuberance” of the 1990s, in which the bulk of the book takes place, seems now as dated as fears of Y2K, Cardella’s message is, of course, current: beware the toxic combination of rampant materialism and credit granted promiscuously. Spent powerfully underscores a lesson we’ve all come to painfully understand—the lure of “more” can be a pretty potent drug. [IRIS BLASI]

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sex files



AS FAR AS we’re concerned, writer, actress, and all-around funny lady Kristen Schaal—aka Mel from Flight of the Conchords—can do no wrong. Especially when she’s tackling the ins and outs of sex with her bf, The Daily Show writer Rich Blomquist, in The Sexy Book of Sexy Sex (Chronicle Books). Their new tome includes, among other things, a hilarious history of copulation, an Anne Boleyn/King Henry erotica story (“Medieval Munching”), and the debut of this crime-fighter.

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Q. A.

My boyfriend was abused by his previous partner. She hit him, threatened him with knives when they fought, manipulated him emotionally, and when he tried to leave, attempted suicide. Though our relationship is strong, I can see evidence of this past abuse. He has trust issues and problems with physical intimacy. He has started therapy, but I’m not sure what I can do to be supportive. Are there sources of info you can recommend? Most of what I’ve found is geared toward women who have been abused by men. I’m a Lover, Not a Fighter

Pat Benatar had it right; for some couples, love is a battlefield, and your partner’s experience may not be as rare as it seems. Some academics who study gender and violence are seeing a formerly gender-skewed practice shift with not only more men reporting physical abuse but also more women admitting that they’ve engaged in it. I’ve seen studies indicating that roughly a third of college-age women have expressed violent behavior toward male partners—so your boyfriend is far from alone. Reading Philip W. Cook’s book Abused Men: The Hidden Side of Domestic Violence is a good place to start as you do more research. It’s well-documented and accessible and could offer excellent insight into your boyfriend’s previous relationship as you learn to deal with the aftermath. I also love the compassionate work of Staci Haines, author of Healing Sex: A Mind-Body Approach to Healing Sexual Trauma. While your boyfriend may not have had specifically sexual experiences with his ex’s violent ways, both of you might find this book useful, and I’d particularly recommend it to you, as a partner who seeks to understand and be supportive.

I’m concerned about my marriage because of a problem with sex. I don’t want any! I know my husband thinks it has something to do with him, but I literally have no sex drive whatsoever. I have a four-year-old son, and I work and go to school full-time. We haven’t been alone since 2007, as we don’t live near anyone who can babysit. How can I be a more attentive wife and actually want to have sex? Stuck in Neutral

There are many ways to be attentive even when your sex drive has tanked: don’t hold back on affirmative attention, touch, and sweet nothings. Even though you aren’t crawling all over your spouse, he still wants to hear that you love and value him. (Make sure he is doing the same for you, too.) When your kid goes to sleep at night, offer to hold your husband while he takes matters into his own hands. If you two have had very little contact, this will seem like a hot date indeed. The norm for women’s sexual desire is not ordinarily “all revved up.” That’s common when relationships begin, but if you don’t add desire-boosting elements to your relationship over time, the hot-to-trot feeling can wane, even if you’re young and healthy. Expect to need actual touch (not clitoral at first, either) in order to ignite your sex drive—sensual stroking, even massage. If he does anything that gets a zing out of your poor tired nerves, tell him. And just for you: find a little time every week to pull out the vibrator, read a sexy story, or just take a hot bath and run your hands over your body. With school and work and family responsibilities, I realize you have no time for yourself, but this doesn’t need to be a break of long duration. Ask your husband if he’ll commit to 15 minutes of face time with your kid—just two or three little breaks a week will allow you to go off to the tub and rejuvenate a little. And preschool must be in your young one’s future, right? You are living a very common experience for young parents. Together, you can make it a priority to rekindle your erotic sensibilities. It’s well worth doing—and not just to be an attentive wife.

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Got a sex or relationship question you need answered? Post it at





I GOT MY first tattoo when I was 21, but it wasn’t memorable. I was hung over and determined to keep the drunken promise I’d made to my roommate the night before. So we walked into the shop, I picked a picture from the wall, and that was that. When I turned 30, I got another. After agreeing on a design with the artist, I sat in the chair, which looked unsettlingly like one you’d find at the dentist’s, and he got to work. As the minutes wore on, I became less aware of the shop’s surroundings and increasingly focused on the buzzing, the purposeful pressure of the needle on my burning skin. It was painful, but it was not the pain I remembered. I was back at the shop within a few months, this time to have my shoulders and chest tattooed. Before we got started, I joined the artist outside the shop for a cigarette and some flirty small talk. When I asked which of his tattoos he had done himself, he pointed to several on his left arm. “You’d have to be a little masochistic to tattoo yourself,” I ventured. He exhaled and replied, “When the needle first touches my skin, there’s a shock, but once I get going, I’m hypnotized.” He spoke the last few words dreamily, as if that hypnosis conjured up sweet memories. I was relieved that it was too dark for him to notice my face turning red and hot. My pussy stirred as I recalled the pulse of the needle on my own flesh, and I couldn’t wait to get into that chair. I followed him inside like a puppy on a leash. Once in the little room, I unbuttoned my shirt and stood as still as I could in a tank top and bra, straps down, while he positioned the design on my right shoulder. My impatience was palpable, making it impossible to keep still while he gently laid the paper on my skin. I wondered if he noticed, if he knew why I was so fidgety. When the image was finally in just the 108 / BUST // AUG/SEPT

right place, I sank into the chair, gazed briefly at the ceiling, and closed my eyes. He started high on my right shoulder, and the buzzing of the needle had the same effect on me as the buzzing of a vibrator on my clit. I focused on the pain. I focused on staying still. I focused on my throbbing pussy. I focused on breathing deeply and steadily. I tried not to gasp; I didn’t want him to interpret a sharp intake of breath as a sign that I needed a break. As he worked his way down my chest, moving closer to the swell of my breast, I was aware not only of the biting of the needle but also of the fingers of the artist’s left hand pulling and stretching my skin. Nearly done, he rose from his seat to stand over me, using his whole body to press the instrument deep into my skin. I opened my eyes to see that his face was inches from my body. His hot breath stung my torn flesh. Biting my lip and on the brink of crying out, I laid my hand gently on his shoulder, careful not to make him jump. I brushed his neck lightly with my fingers, hoping such subtle hints would be enough. They were. In one beat, the needle stopped buzzing, his left hand tugged at the top of my shirt and bra, and his tongue found my hard nipple. His teeth grazed my flesh as he reached to put the needle on the counter. He never stopped licking and sucking, even as I heard the squeal and pop of his latex gloves coming off. He knelt on the floor between his chair and mine. His hands freed me from my jeans and slid into my panties. There was no hesitation, no teasing, as he ran two fingers across my clit and into my pussy. The angle

of the chair made me tighter than usual, and I gasped as he pushed his fingers inside me. I arched my back and tightened every muscle in my body, forcing and pulling his fingers deeper. When he couldn’t go any further, I relaxed and moaned, letting my entire body submit to his hands and mouth. As he drove his fingers into me, his tongue moved from my nipple to my neck, careful to avoid the raw skin of my chest and shoulder. He moved up to my ear, used his teeth to tug on my earlobe. His fingers moved deftly but roughly, making me wetter every time he plunged them deeper. He built his slow exploration up to a steady rhythm, and with each thrust, pushed his palm hard against my pubic bone. I lost the ability to quiet myself, and moaned louder each time he worked his way into me. His hand was soaked as my pussy contracted around his fingers. His own breath quickened as I came, and the rush of air over my ear sent ripples down my back that met the wash of ecstasy radiating from my pussy. I arched my back again, forcing myself tighter against him, against his hand, which seemed to hold my entire body with just two fingers. The waves subsided and he slowly eased his hand out of my panties. He raised his head from the crook of my neck and gave my nipple one last flick with his tongue, then went to work licking my juice from his fingers. I grabbed his tattooed forearm with both hands, unable to resist the urge to help him. Our tongues made quick work of his fingers, and he was soon donning a new pair of gloves to begin tattooing my other shoulder.

BUST (ISSN 1089-4713), No. 64, Aug/Sept, 2010. BUST is published bi-monthly in Feb/Mar, Apr/May, June/July, Aug/Sept, Oct/Nov, and Dec/Jan by BUST, Inc. 18 West 27th Street, 9th Floor, New York, NY, 10001. Printed in the U.S.A. Periodicals postage paid at New York, NY, and additional mailing offices. Subscription prices, payable in U.S. funds, are $19.95 for one year (6 issues). Additional postage: In Canada add $10 per year, and in all other foreign countries add $20 per year. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to BUST, P.O. BOX 16775, NORTH HOLLYWOOD, CA, 91615.

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bust PRODUCT SHOWCASE Saint Winehouse Pendant $25 Bird Coin Purse

$15 The Twins Necklace $25 PDF Edition $16.95 My Favorite Wings

$49 Hand Appliqued Bag

$30 Gummybear Necklace

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$165 Modern Fringe

$79 Leather Card Holder

$32 Brave Lepus Print

$15 Glass Necklace

$46 I Heart Tom Selleck Mercury’s Wings

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$10 On The Level $38 First Timers Kit

$28 Gardening Poster $25 Snake Ring Coiled Cherry Blossom

$88 The Swarm Print Orange Tiger Ring Eco Cup Cozy

$18 Organic Eye Shadow

$4.99 Octo Necklace $20 Retro Day Dress $98 Small Sphere Necklace $36 Rectangle Necklace

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gynecologist’s orders 59. Color that doesn’t rhyme with anything 60. Class attendant, presumably 61. Damned, euphemistically 62. Sneeze causers, for some


Across 1. Part one of a famous quote by Mae West 9. Penne and orzo 15. Singer ___ Faithfull 16. Wise-looking 17. Encourage 18. ___ Henzel, BUST co-publisher/ creative director 19. What a rapper might lay down 20. Part two of a famous quote by Mae West


22. Build (on) 23. Annoying 25. A.C. letters 26. Inflamed 27. Sheet music abbr. 30. Precious star Gabourey ___ 33. Bering, e.g.: Abbr. 34. ___ Blucher of Young Frankenstein 35. Photoshop builder? 36. Darjeeling or oolong 37. Freaks and ___, TV show about 1980s life at McKinley High 38. Actor Michael of Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist 39. Paycheck deduction 40. Peanut Butter Cup maker 41. Slow-talking, timid character from the 1980s and ’90s Tracey Ullman Show 42. ___ Lanka 43. Finale 44. They inspired Andy Warhol 47. “Send help!” 50. Part three of a famous quote by Mae West 54. End of a famous quote by Mae West 55. Do a double take 56. Get on again, as a ship

1. Low life? 2. Fingered 3. “Is this good ___?” 4. ’90s music movement ___ grrrl 5. Female assistant ___ Friday 6. Common connector 7. ___ preview 8. Patches up, as a sock 9. Type of crafting clay 10. Stirred from sleep, poetically 11. Turn on a pivot 12. Bad thing to blow 13. Take ___ (try some) 14. ___ the Man, 2006 romantic comedy starring Amanda Bynes 21. It comes from the heart 23. The Beatles’ “Let ___” 24. Recently deceased Golden Girl ___ McClanahan 25. Iconic London clothing store of the 1960s and ’70s 27. Mars, to the Romans 28. Lothario 29. Director Meyer of Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! 30. Testis, slangily 31. It comes to mind 32. Hunky ___ 33. It’s the best medicine, if you follow the quote in this puzzle 34. Network signal 36. Perineum, colloquially 37. X and Y 39. Fooled 40. Stimpy’s TV pal 42. Moe, Larry, or Curly 45. Kitchen gadget 46. Madison Square Garden, e.g. 47. Low-lying wetland 48. Rowed 49. Comedian Wanda ___ 50. Put one’s foot down? 51. Wife of Zeus 52. Distinctive flair 53. Long Duk ___, Gedde Watanabe character in Sixteen Candles 54. Accomplished 57. Fraction of a joule 58. Do some yard work // BUST / 115


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issue 65  

issue 65 Rashida Jones

issue 65  

issue 65 Rashida Jones