NOIZE

MANIFESTO

They wanted to tell a story.

Outside the room, there was chaos.

In the light, they could see nothing, so they went into the darkness.

They were searching for people and streets cast away between concrete and tar, discernable only between vanishing metro cars and public spaces.

Cities are multifaceted.

Skyscrapers show distorted reflections.

Glasses carry frames for our imagination.

We love to watch ourselves; desires burn in the most intimate of public settings.

The essence of beginnings is a blinking street lamp, where unknown figures emerge or disappear.

Every day artifice and nature fight to cast their shadows. If the individual can hide itself from buildings, the sun will still leave, but perhaps the moon will find him.

Sometimes flowers grow in shadows.

They knew visionaries could be found on small negative spaces that are either developed or forgotten, and that catalysts can balance light and dark when they hang the darkness up to dry.

Truth. It sits, waiting to be triggered into our recurring dreams. But all impetus is external.

They wanted to lighten the dark spots on the paper with voices.

The most interesting stories are those not widely told.

ROLL 4

VIEWFINDER

6

FINISH, RELEASE

A continuing spread of photographs documenting New York City.

Photographs by Daniela Lazo-Cedré & Alfred Matérn

A musician’s journey: song to album.

by Austin Weatherly

14

LOVE,__ & AMMUNITION

24

YOUTH FOR SALE

30

SOLD OUT

36

VOICES

A reflection on a crowdfunded Lower East Side gallery.

by Daniela Lazo-Cedré

An interview with an up-and-coming New York-based fashion designer.

by Austin Weatherly

A revelation on conspicuous consumption in New York City.

by Francesca Conlin

An unconventional masthead for an unorthodox publication.

by Molly Goldmeier Layout design by Brooke Marine and Darya Soroko NOIZE

ISSUE 1

5

VIEWFINDER

Photographs by Daniela Lazo-Cedré & Alfred Matérn

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

57

finish, release

Looking up at the terrace, it’s not easy to see Jarrod, but if you listen closely you can hear him.

by Austin Weatherly

It’s an especially windy afternoon. Cigarette butts are skating around the icy terrace floor. Standing starkly against the overcast haze of downtown Manhattan is Jarrod Milton.

He’s braving the cold on the terrace of a friend’s Lower East Side apartment, where he just finished recording his debut album. In this moment, it’s hard to glean exactly how Milton is feeling. He stands silent gazing out at Manhattan’s midtown skyline. Pride and joy already kicked in downstairs, celebratory shots of whiskey handed to all in attendance, but Jarrod ventured to the roof soon after for a moment of reflection. You can faintly hear the newly-finished recordings playing on the one working studio monitors downstairs, and the achievement already seems dated.

Milton approaches the terrace’s edge, “When I stand on a ledge part of me always thinks I can fly, and maybe I can. But even if I do fly I’ve still got to land, and what if I don’t like where I land? That’s just as terrifying as never flying in the first place.” Milton has done his job—he made the music. Now it is up to the public to love it, but what if they don’t? What if it doesn’t land?

What if the overdraft fees, bus tickets, and endless emails may have not all been worth it.

For Milton the next month will be riddled with anxiety and helplessness. The album is slated for post-production, leaving it in the hands of engineers, marketers, and publicists, all working toward the goal of playing the product on the headphones of industry executives.

Milton’s manager climbs the stairs to check on his artist. Jarrod turns slowly at the sound of the door, his face is empty but his head is full. Milton is speechless but his face is asking, “What did I just do?” His manager becons and the two head back down stairs, where the album is still playing. Whiskey is still in rotation and everyone still seems more excited than Jarrod. The engineer turns to Jarrod and proudly says, “You did it,” to which Milton responds, “Yeah, but I haven’t really done it yet.”

After a year of recording, mixing, rerecording and remixing, the album is finally in a place that Milton is proud of. The album, 18, tells the story of a pivotal year of Jarrod’s life.

At 18, Jarrod recorded his first song in a New York University dorm, and since then he has

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

79

committed himself to his art. Though school is still in the picture it is not something that Milton is fixated on. Skipping meals to pay for mixing and mastering, taking greyhound busses across state lines to record, climbing to the far reaches of his family tree squeezing out pennies where he can. Milton no doubt has put the time and effort in. He has thousands of pages in Microsoft word to prove it. Each song is adorned with different fonts and colors to fit the aesthetic, so that the vision is never lost.

After a year of work it seems like the pieces are finally falling into place. He has a steady place to record, a dependable engineer, a stable of willing beat-makers in his corner, and finally, a finished product. But still, doubt persists, there is no way to know how and even if the work will be perceived. The majority of Jarrod’s nerves rest on the “if,” it is one of the few assets over which he has no control. The promotion plan and marketing strategy rest on the shoulders of the handpicked few that surround Jarrod.

The predicament Jarrod has found himself in is not unfamiliar to the scores of undiscovered talent that exhaust themselves trying to translate ambition into success. In today’s music economy it is not easy to rise to the surface. Many never manage to rise from the depths of Internet obscurity. Every success story is used as justification for the journey. Artists look toward the success of others, studying their trajectories with the hope of mimicking their ascension. Jarrod is currently shopping his album, looking for the perfect site to debut his work. The power now resides in the hands of bloggers, carefully curating their pages to the best of their ability. Snaking your way into the blog zeitgeist is no easy

task. So far, the two have not had success finding the perfect site to introduce Jarrod to the world. All the responses have been positive, each starting something along the lines of, “ This is great, but…” What comes after the “but” varies, but the sentiment is the same, “I don’t think you are right for us.”

The album being shopped is titled, 18, the year that inspired the majority of the album’s content. 18 is a collection of familiar moments, moments of teenage

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

911

angst and confusion, from which we are all not too far removed. Songs like “Naked” and “Full Metal Jacket,” display rarely spoken, but often-felt rage towards the fairer sex. Jarrod’s voice cannot shatter glass or bring a grown man to tears.

The strength of his voice is in its honesty. You can hear the nerves in his vocals. When Jarrod climbs his register to his falsetto, it may not be perfect, but like antique porcelain, the cracks and inconsistencies give it value. His imperfect and honest voice are what makes him refreshing, he does not lyrically beat you over the head with stories of his sexual conquests. He instead laments the melancholy of unrequited love and unrealized feelings.

Unlike a lot of the artists that exist outside of the average fan’s iPod, Jarrod’s music has a certain pop sensibility. The songs balance regret and dejection with infectious melody and upbeat production. On songs like “Indigo Rain,” and “Rockstar Pretend,” Jarrod peers into his own dreams, poetically bringing his dreams to life with vivid imagery, over aptly placed snares, synths, and kicks. The chorus of “Rockstar Pretend,” reimagines Curtis Mayfeild’s “Diamond in The Back.” The song is a voyeuristic view from the outside on the life that Jarrod wishes he lived. Lyrics like, “Ice gold wrists, gold Rollies in check, Xanies on the counter fourties in

the back,” paint a vivid picture of a scene Jarrod has only ever experienced from the outside.

Whether Jarrod’s 18 is picked up by the right publication, or if it only exists somewhere in the deep creases of the Internet, he has made something he can be proud of. At only 19 years of age having an album under your belt is not something to be taken lightly. Still, the fulfillment of finishing an album would be best served with commercial and critical success, but those success stories are few and far between. For now Jarrod will be refreshing the same Gmail page, waiting for the email that could change his life, but you can only wait for so long.

Jarrod seems to be trapped out on that Lower East Side terrace. He exists in the intersection of private and public. He can look down and see the public, and they can peer up and catch a glimpse of him, but these interactions seem fleeting. Jarrod is still waiting on some sort of meaningful interaction, something that will last.

For now Jarrod seems reserved to that same terrace, hoping the public will warm the same way the weather has. Though 18 may not be the success that Jarrod hopes, it is far from a failure. 18 represents Jarrod’s step onto the terrace and into the pubic eye. From the terrace he can be seen and heard, even if only by a few. ♦ NOIZE

ISSUE 1

13 11

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

13 15

Space_ Belonging to nobody It belongs to someone.

From you, from the others, from myself.

For myself?

Fleeting, its imposing contingencies are under me.

Silver in its touch; red are its fingertips; black is its body.

It’s farther back than we thought.

It’s farther along that we may ever imagine.

Will you give me some of yours?

I see you hesitating..

by Daniela Lazo-Cedré

ve,__ & ammunition

Down in the Lower East Side, there are still places that work like villages.

On Eldrige Street below Delancey, men and women push large carts and trolleys with boxes of produce or other objects in and out of Chinese businesses. On afternoons, everyone is out scouting produce, fish, and meats at their respective markets. Young children with colorful backpacks are laughing with friends as they attempt to run away from their parents. There are small general stores on every corner; I wouldn’t be surprised if the owners of these stores know everyone on their block.

I am on my way to AMO Studios, an exploratory art space cofounded and run by an old friend, Daniela Lloveras. We both grew up in Puerto Rico, sharing one of the most common names and attending the same middle and high school before moving to New York: for me to pursue writing, and for her, art.

Arriving at number 106, a neon sign with a single, thin red circle greets me on the glass storefront. Inside, everything is either white, wood, or brick. I walk in to find Dani (as we both call each other) working with Kathryn Chadson, another member of the AMO team.

The two were installing the collapsable wooden tables, benches, and bookshelf the group has built themselves. Practical, they are crucial to the purpose and philosophy of their space; these handmade pieces of furniture were being re-arranged in the aftermath of an event for their normal office hours.

AMO was founded in 2011 by six students from Parsons who during their sophomore year felt the common desire to “make weird stuff,” as Dani told me. “But the Fine Arts building at Parsons is so small and so are our New York City apartments,” she added.

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

15 17

AMO Studios is directed by Brooke Taylor, Daniela Lloveras, Ana Maria Benzanilla, Con Huynh, Jono Pisano, and Kathryn Chadason. “We were frustrated with the situation,” Dani said. “There is a huge divide between students and Chelsea, and it’s really hard to cross that bridge. Excluded as we are from it, we thought, we should still be able to show our work somewhere!”

As described on their website, AMO “exists as a creative scaffolding which supports collaboration over competition by supporting an open proposal-based system,” in which anyone may submit for review to the AMO team. If accepted, the space is lent to them for an event or as a studio space, free of charge. The AMO team helps out additionally by providing set-up materials, free graphics, as well as advertising on the AMO website and social networking pages.

Born in 2011, AMO Studios began as a small storefront in Bushwick when a few students decided to share the rent and the space like a studio timeshare. What they found was that many of their friends and classmates were experiencing the same problem; they needed space to create work in a city with no space. So they began lending the space for allotments of time in return for a contribution to the rent.

Once they had made work in their new space, they felt proud, and decided to host an exhibition for their teachers and friends. To their surprise, over a hundred people showed up, and some of the artists began asking if they could host shows and parties. The needs that were suddenly apparent among other young artists got them brainstorming about the possibilities of their space. “AMO formed organically, Kathryn explained to me. “It was really created by a community that needed an access point to a particular budding idea.”

Their reflections echoed those of artists of the past, fed-up with the problems relating to space and money that have always plagued artists in New York City.

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

17 19

There is no place in the United States with a higher concentration of artists, curators, galleries, art organizations and publications. We also can’t forget its status as the U.S. city that most attracts people to its prestigious art museums and their collections, as well as one of the international homes for the high-end art market.

What this creates, nonetheless, is an environment highly vulnerable to competition, making it harder to stand out; large gaps between those well-advanced into their careers and those only beginning; and little wiggle room in a succeed or fail framework.

In response to this situation, since the 1960s and 70s, artists, curators, and others active in art-related fields have been experimenting with the alternative space. Emerging either out of necessity or desire, these spaces have served as studios, performance arenas, exhibition spaces, artist and audience collaboration opportunities, and experimental labs, among other things.

“A circle is what we are — an pen space and y u fill it up.”

Contesting the “white cube” model developed in recent years by those in power, artist-run spaces have typically spurred in favor of avant-garde experimentation not limited by the restrictions of a gallery policy. AMO has put forth their space as one which is open and undefined specifically for the projects that have no other place in the city, including some of the alternative art-only spaces that already exist.

Since its founding, AMO has been an artist-run collective functioning around revolutionizing the idea of the space. To them, space is “elusive, mutable, shrinking, expanding. The experience of a space changes with each viewer, and each experience constitutes a collective memory. Space defines itself through the ac-tions and process of the inhabitants. And the products can be infinite.”

AMO’s six members meet twice a week, where they discuss both the tasks and technicalities for upcoming shows as well as the new proposals they have received. No one person leads the group, but rather the tasks are divided among them based on their talents, turns, or availability. They never choose to work on a project without consulting everyone, and project leaders are assigned based on the person most interested in or most enthusiastic about a particular project. She or he works directly with the candidate(s) for a proposed event or studio “rental” to accommodate their needs.

Their goal is to foster a malleable space for out-of-the-(white)-box projects. They hold interdisciplinary, multi-purpose events while also functioning as a studio. To make sure the space is constantly serving a variety of different needs, the group has created a monthly calendar divided among main categories of… let’s call them “happenings”. Closed every Monday, the rest of the days and nights may be reserved for “crit night,” where artists can bring in their work and get public critiques from anyone who wishes to participate. Or, it may be reserved for an AMO “mini-residency” of up to six days, where artists may “lease” the space for a period of studio time.

In the past, events have included a 24-hour performance by artist IMMA/MESS inside the space, for viewers to come by and watch or stream live online. Another was the #Selfiebration, a workshop led by Rachel Karp and Amy Cakes that explores and celebrates the selfie. The two set up stations around the space for people to come in and take selfies, with tips and a hashtag for the event (#exploreyourSELFIE) for the participators to see their pictures all together. (I myself am co-curating a show on appropriation art; we reached out to AMO wanting a gallery space in spite of limited funds.)

The only payment AMO Studios requires from those hosting an event is one donated object from the occasion in an effort to build a permanent collection. This object may be anything and totally unconventional. For the IMMA/MESS 24-hour performance, the artist donated the make-up soaked paper towels he used post-performance. Patterns of dark and red cosmetics on disposable paper was welcomed at AMO as a work of art.

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

19 21

AMO’s name and logo were perhaps the only difficult things that spurred from working with a group, they said. With six people, everyone has a different opinion, but it was the dual meaning of the word “amo” that caught their attention, Dani said. In Spanish, the word “amo” means “I love,” but, being based in New York, everyone pronounces it in English like “ammo.”

Kathryn, AMO’s main graphic designer, said she played with over a hundred different logos, but when it came down to the final few, the concept of an open circle was the first idea all six of them jumped on decisively: “It was suddenly so clear to us that that had to be it. A circle is what we are – an open space and you fill it up.”

In 2013 their rental period was up, but their vision for space wasn’t. With the goal of moving into the Lower East Side — the new hub for avant-garde galleries, the group proposed a $10,000 Kickstarter event. If they succeeded, rent would be pulled out of the equation for both the AMO team and the artists who wanted to use it.

“We could have used something like Indie-Go-Go, where we would have gained any of the money raised; with Kickstarter there was the risk of raising nothing if we didn’t reach our goal.

That’s exactly why we wanted to use it. It made us work harder, and for us it was really all or nothing,” Dani said. Without enough rent money for a year’s lease, she means, they were unwilling to take on the project without certainty.

Surpassing their goal by $1,303, AMO Studios moved into its new home at 106 Eldridge Street in February 2014.

When asked to talk about their vision for AMO’s future, Kathryn and Dani looked at each other, perplexed; “We only have enough funds for a year, so we don’t know yet if and how we’ll take it forward after that. Right now, we’re just taking it day-by-day, using space as a medium, sharing it with others.” ♦

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

21 23

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

23 25

youth for sale He skates down Broadway carrying $2,000 worth of zippers.

He proclaims, “YKK should stand for You Know Knothing.”

by Austin Weatherly

Charlie is cool. He has the shoes to prove it. Today he is wearing his Visvim Moccasins which are, in his words, “very rare Versace, with a lot of Ys and Rs.” He lives a life idolized by the millennial generation’s Tumblr users. He exists in that part of New York City that you hear about third-hand, and wonder if it even exists. A friend might tell a friend who might tell you about the time they got drunk and ended up at the Missoni house with Angela Davis, and she paid for Uber all night long, hopping from party to party. These stories tend to grow in grandeur as they are passed on, by the last iteration the tale involves an elephant and maybe a federal crime.

Now that we have established that Charlie is cool, let me explain why. He is a successful designer who hasn’t had to sacrifice his artistic vision for that success — and he is only 20. School is impeding on his business and his goal is finding enough success to drop out.

He has an assistant to fetch gluten-free coffees. Charlie knows he’s cool. And he is attempting to monetize your envy.

Charlie Gianetti, a student at NYU’s Gallatin School of Individualized Study, is making his attempt to find and capture youth through fashion. His brand Gioventu, Italian for youth, is built around the idea of capturing the ideas and feelings of being youthful.

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

25 27

This philosophy shines through Gioventu’s designs in the details. In his most recent collection, his “Post No Bills” jacket evokes the energy of the rebellious graffiti scene. The bomber jackets are available in white and black. Both feature an all over print populated by etchings of aging wheat-paste posters and advertisements.

Converting the energy of youth is an ambitious goal for someone still in the throes of youth himself.

Since gaining entry into the fashion world, Gianetti has slowly been absorbing different elements of the business. He tried to launch his own line in high school that he describes as “trash.” Just last year, he achieved international success from behind the curtain. His designs have been worn by names as familiar as Justin Bieber, and in countries as far as Germany and Italy, but still his name only holds weight with the few dedicated streetwear fiends who patiently await his new designs. Gianetti acknowledges his success, but the hunger of the high school kid who tried to launch his own line still persists.

Gianetti acknowledges his Through side projects and collaborative releases, Gianetti has practiced his success, but the hunger of craft, all the while keeping at least the high school kid who tried one eye on his own brand and vision. His latest collaboration is with Glyn Brown, to launch his own line still a slightly more familiar name in New persists.

York City streetwear. The collection is slated to hit shelves at some of SoHo’s most exclusive retailers. The hope is that the few pieces with Brown will broaden Gianetti’s audience and whet the appetites of those already familiar with Gioventu.

Though he has not surfaced as an individual, his designs have surfaced on an international scale. His Instagram account boasts his designs, hanging on recognizable frames spanning the globe, gaining him entry into SoHo’s complex fashion scene.

SoHo represents an interesting convergence of culture. On the surface, SoHo is seen as an international mecca for both high and low-end fashions. You have the massmarket stores like Adidas and Nike on the same street as Versace and Givenchy — luxury directly juxtaposed with utility. This duality creates an interesting habitat, one populated by Charlie and those like him, designers aiming to toe the line between art and commerce. Though all are designers with their own concepts and identities, they relate in their desire to be different. For Gianetti, life is inspiration. He takes from the scenes he exists in and repurposes them for the market. His new hockey tops are inspired by a weekend trip to Chinatown, where Charlie saw two roller-hockey teams playing, each with their own jerseys.

The products put out by Gioventu are reflective of Gianetti himself. The brand feels authentic, a true representation of New York City’s youth. This authenticity shines through in his latest collaborative designs with Glyn Brown. The collection features a tasteful take on the distasteful practice of guerilla promotion, repurposing the ever present “Post no Bills” phrase plastered throughout New York City constructions sites. The collection was initially only launched in the South of Houston store in London, and the shelves were emptied within two hours.

There is undoubtedly a demand: there is a hunger for the youth to maintain its appearance and swagger, and this works to Charlie’s advantage. The brand capitalizes on the often glamorized life of a young, successful artist thriving in lower Manhattan. The life and style that creeps through Tumblr and Twitter pages. The scene dates back to the days of Basquiat, Warhol, and Blondie. Charlie is trying to satisfy that hunger and bring the lifestyle to a store near you. With Gioventu you pay for a shirt, but you get a piece of the person you wish you were.

Maybe Charlie will never see his brand’s name on a storefront, or his name in Vogue, or have a line called “Charlie by Charlie.” Today, he is creating from bellow the surface for the surface. ♦

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

27 29

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

31 29

SOLD OUT 160 5TH AVENUE NEW YORK, NY 10010 212-555-5555

STORE: 1022 DATE: 3/20/14 REG #2 IRN# 241004 SALESPERSON: 176942 (KIMBERLY) CUSTOMER: FRANCESCA CONLIN The price of being someone other than yourself.

I’m a fish out of water in an Introduction to Human Physiology lecture among a sea of Nutrition & Dietetics majors, all of whom are dressed in head-to-toe Lululemon activewear. Health-conscious individuals pursuing a degree that allows them to legally give medical advice to others have to dress the part, and if they don’t, you probably wouldn’t trust their nutrition advice. A businessman cannot be taken seriously unless he wears a sharp suit, and who is a construction worker without his hardhat, ragged jeans, Timberland boots, and neon orange vest? It’s not that a pair of Lululemon’s infamous Luon leggings grants one more power in and knowledge of the nutrition field than another. But, today we perceive that individual to be the person we think the clothing and items they possess imply. We must get up every morning and dress in our respective ‘uniforms.’

We have long participated in the performance of our individual social status, donning certain items or engaging in certain social situations that clearly display the scope of our economic power. Thorstein Veblen coined the term “conspicuous consumption” in 1899, referring to those who acquire goods and services intending to display economicpower and social standing. Therefore, this type of behavior has been around even before the 20th century. Lately, however, we’ve slowly moved away from acquiring products that demonstrate wealth — Chanel’s double Cs, the Polo Ralph Lauren horse to purchasing items that will publicize the specific type of individual we want others to perceive us as, whether or not it is true to our actual character. We, then, have become commodities; walking advertisements for certain “brands” of people.

The products we buy are part of a larger picture, in that they are the components that construct the persona we wish to possess. In this case, I don’t think of persona in the way it is commonly defined as “an aspect” of your personality or character, but rather in relation to the term identity; persona as a contrived identity intended to be showcased to the rest of the world. The term, originally from the Latin persona, was actualized by psychotherapist Carl Jung, who believed that it refers “a kind of

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

31 33

mask, designed on the one hand to make a definite impression upon others, and on the other to conceal the true nature of the individual.” The act of purchasing certain items as a way to become a particular kind of person formulates a whole new term different from conspicuous consumption by cause of a more twisted yet interesting psychological need to be someone other than ourselves.

I am guilty of conducting my life in such a manner, which partly drives me to examine the logic, or should I say delusion, behind this behavior. In my own experience, I buy because I want to have whatever it is the type of person I desire to be would have.

Of course ordering the Cuisinart Juicer on Amazon means that I can finally purchase the Green Juice Kit from Whole Foods. This ultimately means I’m on my way to living the freshly pressed juice and Pure Barre class lifestyle I think I should live. It works for my friend Adrianna who’s a model and has over 4,000 followers on Instagram.

I can feel your judgment already, but I am creating the new and improved Francesca 2.0, rather than trying to be Adrianna. What if I happen to end up liking something I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise, had I not purchased it upon seeing someone else with it?

In my attempt to become a revolutionary innovator in pop culture and fashion, I purchased a plethora of items that I believed would help me achieve that.

For instance, I was convinced that once I found my Rosewater Facial Spray by Mario Badescu through a review on Into The Gloss, I would be using a product coveted by the most influential, in-the-know, fashion entrepreneurs. I purchased the bottle in December 2013. It sits on a shelf in my medicine cabinet waiting to be used, but soon I will spritz it on my face and get the effortless glow that all of those successful fashion entrepreneurs have (in my mind). In the meantime, I’m finishing off a Soy Face Cream I purchased from Fresh during my green juice, all natural phase. It’s still okay to judge me.

This is only second to the 2014 monthly calendar that sits on my desk next to a bouquet of flowers and several picture frames carefully selected in order to create the

Perhaps, then, I’m trying to compensate for something I believe I lack. In that case, I might diagnose my conduct as “conspicuous enactment.” perfect desktop arrangement as modeled after Cupcakes & Cashmere blogger Emily Schuman’s desk. The day the calendar was delivered, I snapped a photo and shared it on the World Wide Web with the caption, “I finally know what day it is thanks to my new Connor calendar.” Now when I sit at my desk typing away, I not only think I look like a successful blogger, rosewater spritzed and all, but am also working like one, therefore my blog will rise to prominence (one can dream). It’s not enough, though, that I create this environment to work in, but others know of it too, thus I must also photograph it, but I pretty much know what day it is most of the time and I have yet to reference the 4x6 white card with an owl engraved calendar on it that sits atop a gold easel. Furthermore, I have yet to change the month (it still says January 2014).

Will I even find a matching refill once 2015 rolls around?

And last but not least is the ever popular Moleskine notebook I picked up at the beginning of the semester, convinced that I needed one because the spiral notebooks I used last year, despite only being half full, are not for the aforementioned posh, artistic individual that at that moment I aspired to be. Not to mention the fact that I purchased it at a stationery store that sells pens individually versus by the pack.

So, naturally I added three Pentel pens at $1.20 each to my order. I justified such a purchase because I believed this Moleskine notebook would be the vessel for all of my ideas. I didn’t need any other tools to be creative since, naturally all of the most profound thoughts and images would come pouring out on its pages. I have been doing

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

33 35

this since the 3rd grade, each year buying new notebooks because my old ones no longer suffice for the new Francesca. Mind you, I never found a use for my Moleskine this semester, so now it sits on top of my other “gently used” diary/inspiration/sketch notebooks on my bookcase with only three pages of doodles inhabiting its pages.

What is the purpose behind all of this time, energy, and money spent on trying to be someone other than yourself? Frankly, I don’t have an answer. Am I materialistic? Am I insecure? Am I trying to create myself or find myself through this trial-and-error process? It could be one, or all of the above.

An even scarier question I ask myself is, who am I without this “uniform?” Who are the Nutrition & Dietetics majors without their Lululemon yoga pants? I’m not sure if constantly chasing after something (or someone) will bring me any sort of sense of satisfaction. But perhaps I’m finding myself through the creation; purchasing the different ingredients of the actual me with these items.

Throughout this process, though, I am bound to provoke the envy of others, or as Veblen might term it, “invidious consumption.” But these roles we’re playing, these performances of everyday life, have nothing to do with socio-economic status.

According to economists Kerwin Kofi Charles and Erik Hurst, as well as finance professor Nikolai Roussanov, they see conspicuous consumption as common behavior among poor social classes in order to cover up their true socio-economic status. Perhaps, then, I’m trying to compensate for something I believe I lack. In that case, I might diagnose my conduct as “conspicuous enactment.”

Maybe we’re not even really materialistic if we take part in this behavior, we’re always just longing for some sort of change, which is true regardless economic class. Based on my financial resources and access to certain items, purchase the cheapest or the most expensive thing, it all depends on what I persona I desire requires.

but rather of your I could think the

If I do want to be the next female version of The Sartorialist’s Scott Schuman (and I do), I can’t help but think that I may be trying to take a shortcut by purchasing certain items I believe will be bring me one step closer to achieving that persona without actually having to work for it. I will be the successful blogger or writer on fashion and pop culture if I have a Moleskine notebook, trendy home décor, and fancy skincare products, but such a title does not come as easily as swiping a credit card.

This is not to say that I shouldn’t find a role model, but I can’t try to achieve their accomplishments. They’ve already done that.

Who am I trying to be now? I don’t know. Maybe a combination of several people, or maybe none, or, maybe just myself, evident by the fact that three bins of clothes, shoes, belts, and handbags from several Francescas ago, sit by my apartment door waiting to be donated. So, ask me again in twenty years and we’ll see if I succeeded or if I’m still buying my way into being someone else. ♦

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

37 35

by Molly Goldmeier

So, here we are. Week four. Six people with worldviews radically different from one another.

It feels like an episode of a reality television show - who will have the mental stamina to make it through the semester, and who will fall to the sidelines? As I snatch the circular table in the back of the café for our meeting, I wonder if I’ve crossed paths with any of these individuals before we came together for the magazine. Each time we congregate, I find myself thinking there could not be a more contrasting group of people.

I’m not surprised that Francesca is the first one to show up — five minutes early. As usual, she is dressed in different shades of white and gray. There is no way I could wear that outfit for an entire day without a single stain. Francesca has managed to remain stain-free thus far. I, on the other hand, already have a coffee stain on my shirt. Francesca and I chat about the project. She tells me, “I would definitely say my style is minimalist, and clean cut, but at the same time nostalgic and vintage if that makes sense.” I could have guessed this based on Francesca’s perfectly coordinated outfit, purse, shoes, and sense of self-composure. I say to her, “I don’t consider myself a spontaneous person, but I do appreciate the art of the unexpected.”

Brooke joins us at the table a few minutes later. Brooke has the fierce New York University hipster look down pat. She’s rocking her beanie-combat-boot-hipster-glasses combination as she meets us at our table. Brooke exudes a sense of total confidence, which gives me comfort that our group could weather any challenge that comes our way. Brooke says “I am not sure if I have an ‘artistic style,’ really and if I do have one I don’t think I would know what to call it. In some ways I’m inspired by minimalism, but I’m not sure if I would consider my style minimalist. I am aware that if I dress a certain way, people will read me a certain way, or if I tell people I am a fan of certain artists and musicians, then people will have an entire arsenal of assumptions that they could make about what type of person they think I am.” I think to myself that Brooke is so self-aware.

Daniela and Austin walk in together, and I overhear them talking about some modern music group. I must be the least cultured person in this university because I cannot follow their conversation. After one conversation with Daniela, you can tell that she has travelled the world. Within minutes of speaking with her, I notice that she has referenced the Paris metro or the Puerto Rican summers. I am referencing the suburbs of Michigan — arguably, the least

NOIZE

ISSUE 1

37 39

glamorous place — while she is telling me about her plan to pursue a graduate degree in Barcelona. I need to get out more.

As a writer and photographer, Daniela is always working on a new project, so she is used to this type of collaborative exercise. She says that the minute she completes one project, she automatically finds a new creative piece to work on. She opens her laptop to scroll through some of her recent photoshoots. The rest of us crowd around the screen to look at her work.

I notice that Austin is sitting on the outskirts of our circle.

He is wearing a pair of red shorts even though it is literally the first day of spring. I respect that bold fashion move and appreciate that he is embracing the 45-degree weather which is spring in New York. Austin has a pair of earphones dangling from his neck. He catches me trying to decipher what song is playing, and he sort of confesses to me that music is his language. That is how he expresses his emotions. As I start to respond, I become quickly distracted by Dasha’s dramatic arrival.

Darya runs in and plants herself down at our table in between Daniela and Francesca. With her distinct Russian accent, she greets each person and seems as though she is bursting to tell us something. With her spunky personality, Darya totally commands a room. I think the baristas even got distracted by her entrance.

Darya’s pixie haircut adds to her fieriness. And her accent makes each English word sound exceptional. I think to myself that everyone should speak English with a Russian accent.

(Perhaps I’ll try that on a date?) Darya hears us talking about our intentions for our project. She chimes in, “I love experimenting and trying new things, especially now when I have the opportunity to do so. But I guess pretty much in any project I’m working on, there has to be an overarching metaphor that I try to unfold.” I think to myself that Darya has such a profound way of speaking. She is energetic and passionate about her work.

I look around at our group. What a blend of people — different languages, haircuts, tastes, and work techniques. Our experiences and thoughts vary so much. As I take a swig of my quad-shot espresso, I think to myself, ‘Lord, help me make it through a semester with this crew.’♦