Off The Cuff - Issue 09 : Americana

Off The Cuff.

SHOOT NAME

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Off The Cuff.

ISSUE 09

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Off The Cuff.

FALL / WINTER 17

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Flower Boys

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Family Dinner

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Trust Exercise

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Lil’ Kid BDay

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Through a Water Bottle

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“Youth in York, Lost Then Found”

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Upside Down

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Spring in Lido Key

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Reach With No Escape

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“Sunday Hair Day”

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Theme: Americana

Frozen

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Letter from the Editor

Ask Me Nicely

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Farewells

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Face

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Fresh Off the Boat

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Vape Culture

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“I’ve Got Too Much On My Plate and I Need Some Room to F*cking Breathe”

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Chrysanthemum I

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Untitled 1 & 2

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Working Woman

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3.13.17

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“Flappers, Greasers, and Punks”

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Executive FW’17

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Thorns

Stay@HomeMom

Stores

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I’m Cooler Under Legs

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84-92 Cycle

Trying Lemons

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Lady Widow

79-80 Crowd

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Whisked Away

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The Next Morning

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Legs with CrissCrossed Shadows

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ISSUE 09 Contributors

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We started with Americana. Following pitch meetings, our definition started to transition from the unique to the collective experiences birthed from growing up in a capitalist society. We reflected upon our youths in comparison to our present as college students. Eventually our theme manifested: Americana as a combination of past and present experiences.

The production of the magazine mirrored this theme, evolving as staff members became more invested and open, transforming into an experiment as much as a publication.

We transitioned into a more collaborative model, allowing staff to transcend their positions and contribute as much or as little as they like – a semblance of capitalism. However, the magazine became more than just a creative outlet or a chance to reminisce. Off The Cuff Issue 09 transformed into something real for our generation: the American life that exists for us as twenty (or almost twenty) something’s, friends, sons, daughters, international and domestic students.

This issue is a visual representation of Americana for us.

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What does it mean to be American?

This semester, we at Off The Cuff explored this question for ourselves. Stereotypically, Americana has been associated with small towns, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. But this idea of has become extremely outdated – and more importantly – no longer represents the diversity present in our nation. True is not just white-picket fences, apple pie, and country music but is every aspect of living in the United States.

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For me, growing up in New Jersey was a small-town cliché: the class of 2014 had been together since 2000, escaped cows actually caused traffic, and Truck-Row was always the back row of the parking lot. I longed to be exposed to a different pace of life and to meet people other than just upper-middle class, white Catholics.

I longed to be friends with Blair Waldorf and traipse around New York or to be Eliza Thornberry and travel the world producing wildlife documentaries. Rather than strutting around Manhattan, my reality was walking past fields of Jersey corn on the way to my bus stop. Instead of traveling to uninhabited areas of the world, I road tripped to North Carolina in the back seat of a Nissan jammed between my siblings, all of us hoping to arrive at the beach before the 14-hour mark or before one of us sacrificed the other.

I yearned for exposure to a different kind of life, however, my unique experiences created my perception of – which is exactly that – my .

My was a brother who came out in high school to a Catholic family and community. My was being raised by a Puerto-Rican mother and a German father who were never taught their native languages as their parents desired assimilation more than their own heritage. My is attending college as the third-child of two high-school graduates.

As I approach the real world, I hope my also becomes one that embraces every . One that allows everyone the opportunity to attend a college like Boston University, to work for an organization like Off The Cuff, and to be exposed to people as inspiring as our Executive Board members and staff. As I say goodbye to this incredible publication, I want to thank the staff members whose enthusiasm and dedication enable our magazine to succeed, as well as the Executive Board who have made this adventure the most rewarding of my college career. Over the last four semesters, all of you have taught me more than any class or professor and given me hope that our future will be much brighter than today.

Whether you relate to my or not; whether you’re African-American, Asian-American, Indian-American or any combination of ethnicities; whether you voted for our current President or not; whether you are a staff member or a reader, you are American and is you.

For the final time and with much love to everyone who supported my journey over the last four issues, thank you.

xox

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FAREWELLS

I am so thankful to have been a part of Off The Cuff for the past three years and for all the people I’ve met, as well as the experiences I’ve had. Shoutout to my amazing Events and PR teams – I am so proud of all of you and so thankful for all the hard work you all put in this semester. I cannot wait to see what’s in store for Off The Cuff!

I joined Off The Cuff as a naïve freshman trying to find her place at Boston University. Since then, I have grown in tandem with this publication. Off The Cuff is more than just a magazine to me; it’s my home, heart, and family. It has introduced me to my best friends and my greatest challenges, and offers me and everyone involved an outlet in which being different is valued, being flawed is praised, and being weird is...well...necessary. As Managing Editor, I have been more than honored to push my creative boundaries, and to have a hand in the creation and dispersion of original, engaging, and meaningful content. Thank you for the long nights of brainstorm sessions, edits, and laughs, and I can’t wait to see what is in store for the future Off The Cuff.

In the twists of fate that can only happen freshman year when attending SPLASH, Off The Cuff’s flyer found me. What I ended up finding in this publication was a community of boundry pushing people who craved authenticity and dedicated themselves to curating that authenticity within the magazine. It has been amazing watching this magazine change and evolve as a true representation of those who work tirelessly every semester on its behalf. Thank you Executive Board and staff alike, for all that you are.

It has been an honor and pleasure to play a part in this journey, and I am so thankful for what we have made together.

The biggest thing Off The Cuff has given me is community. Coming to this university, I was nervous about finding poeople who think and dig the same things as me. Then I found a group of people who appreciate the weird and avant-garde. I understood the people as serious about their passion and craft, but still as a bunch of kids who joke around and don’t take life too sternly. It’s been cathartic and easy to be a part of a group that is intense and pushy (in the BEST way!) I’m so grateful to have encountered truly talented people, to have a sense of pride over our hard work while remaining open and humble. As a photo retoucher, my job is to fix things (in the traditional sense), but at OTC, it’s been more about embracing flaws and enhancing each of our uniqueness. I am awe-inspired by the rad people on staff, and I know everyone will go so far. I can’t wait to see. It’s been real – so real! Many thanks to all.

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SHOOT NAME

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Lauren Moghavem

L I L’ KI D B DAY

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Playing for hours in an imaginary land behind the couch.

Driving to dance every Monday with a tutu and a pout. Making mud pies in the dirt and ruining a brand-new outfit. Crying when Mom dropped me off at my first day of preschool.

Running in circles around the playground until I fell down dizzy. Making blanket forts in the living room. Five-hour car rides to Pennsylvania every December. Playing outside for hours in the summer heat. Losing my friends; playing alone.

Meeting my friends; laughing and laughing. Quitting dance.

Worrying about tests, grades, college. Pulling all-nighters, singing at the top of our lungs. Goodbye hugs and planning for the future. This was my childhood.

—Kelsey Van Fleet

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L I L’ KI D B DAY

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L I L’ KI D B DAY

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SHOOT NAME

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SHOOT NAME

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Growing up in meant Happy Meals and Chuck E. Cheese’s; wallball at recess; and road trips to Tahoe. It meant making the most of my turn on the desktop computer—Neopets, Club Penguin, and cursed email chains forwarded to 10 people. Later, it meant SAT tutoring in the evenings and wondering when my life would be like those of the teenagers in the movies. Now, growing up in means 3,000 miles away from home and my first taste of life at 20 degrees below Fahrenheit.

—Melissa Dalarossa

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L I L’ KI D B DAY

CREDITS PHOTOGRAPHY: Lauren Moghavem FEATURING: Bradley Noble, Rumin Shaik, Kevin Leonardo, Kendall Caputo, & Kaitlin Tsai STYLING: Janna Collins, Mikaela Danielle Ty, & Jose Alberto Orive HAIR & MAKEUP: Katie Zizmor & Nicole Haftel ART DIRECTION: Alisha Kothari PHOTO EDITING: Lauren Moghavem, & Morgan Recker VIDEOGRAPHY: Audria Hadikusumo

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THROUGH A WATER BOTTLE Qianyi Shuai, @jakite Ink on paper, 2016

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Youth in York, Lost Then Found Written by Allie Antonevich

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hen I was younger, I spent parts of my summer in the small beach town of York, Maine, where my grandmother lives year-round. My family would pile into the black Honda Pilot and take the hour and a half drive for a weekend visit.

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York resembles the kind of community one reads about in a book: the streets are quiet and wide, and they lead to either the quaint town center or the clear, cool water. The smell of salt wafts from the endless clam shacks, mixing with the scent of sizzling burgers and frying oil, and the luring sweetness of ice cream parlors. The sidewalks are sardined with people tripping over beach chairs, blankets, and toys.

The days are always spent at the beach; the sunset beyond the water’s edge and awakening stars indicate our forced removal from the sand. The music from the small live band playing at the bandstand carries up to my grandmother’s deck, while the cool air soothes our warm, sun-kissed skin.

York was not just a meeting place for tourists but for my entire extended family as well. My cousins, aunts, and uncles travelled from miles away to spend weekends together; barbecuing out on the deck and spending days by the water. I would escape the adults’ drunken, merry laughter with a few of my cousins and my brother to enjoy our free time we had together. We would read the Boxcar Children and draw pictures for my grandmother to put on her fridge. We played wiffle ball in the backyard – my hands constantly stinging from catching the plastic ball.

We watched people fly kites at the park just next door, our backs pressed against the spiky grass, and hunted for bugs lining the sidewalk.

But as time moved on, like with every family, our schedules became busier and relationships more complicated. Trips to York were no longer the norm. My grandmother switched to technology, connecting with us over the phone rather than over a meal. With my first college semester well underway, I would sometimes receive texts from her checking in to see how I was. With her on my mind, and a free weekend coming up on my schedule, I reached out to my cousin who also lives in Boston. We agreed to pay our grandmother a visit.

I have embarked on the journey to York countless times; I used to listen to music on my walkman in the back of our car, engulfed in my own world rather than the world around

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me. But this time was different, and my eyes drank in the red-orange hues of the trees along the highway.

As we pulled into her driveway and the gravel crunched under the tires, I immediately was transported to the backseat of the Honda. I instinctually peered up to the deck and was greeted by the familiar sight of my grandmother, waving enthusiastically as she always did.

When I got out of the car, the salty air wrapped me in an embrace. The house that influenced my youth looked as though everything was frozen in place, preserved for an eternity. The same quotes lined the walls of the kitchen, the same embroidered pillows sat on the couch, and the shelves contained the same trinkets. My elementary school

“ It was as if a light had been shined on everything that had changed in my life, highlighting that nothing will go back to the easiness that once was.� pictures and the drawings we made for her as kids were still tacked on the fridge, and as I set my bag on the bed, I noticed that even the teddy bears remained untouched.

Despite the many years that separated me from the last weekend I spent in York, it was as if nothing had changed.

It was an odd yet comforting feeling. I looked into the bathroom mirror expecting to see the buck-toothed, scrawny ten-year-old version of myself with crunchy hair from the salt water and freckles sprinkling my nose.

That night, as I sunk into the tiny bed with my feet hanging off the edge, thoughts drifted through my head. It was as if a light had been shined on everything that had changed in my life, highlighting that nothing will go back to the easiness that once was. Here I was in the same house, in the same room, in the same bed, and the only thing that had changed was me. It was a bittersweet realization. Youth has slipped from my tight grasp and escaped me permanently, and it was replaced with responsibility, awareness, and an odd pang of disappointment. There is no machine to bring me back to the innocence that once enveloped me in a hug, and that stings.

My grandmother had not changed though, and her delight to see us filled my gaping hole of sadness. We spent our weekend picking apples, eating donuts, and going for walks. Even though I claim that time has stopped in York, the trip managed to fly by in a blink.

Once Sunday afternoon approached us and the sunlight threatened to disappear underneath the heavy clouds, we hugged and said we would do this again soon. I looked up at the deck once more to see the same chairs splayed out and the wreath hanging on the door, my eyes fixating on the final scene of comfort and familiarity. My grandmother waved goodbye as the crunchy gravel showed us our way out.

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UPSIDE DOWN Lauren Moghaven

UPSIDE DOWN

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Summers were for hide and seek in the neighbor’s tree farm.

Once our team of blond-haired brothers and sisters got a little taller, we ignored the muggy, Pennsylvania heat to race bikes through the horse farm across the street. When we were all old enough to play farther than Mom’s yelling-distance from the house, the older kids would build go-karts to race the smaller kids in the church parking lot down the road. We stayed out until we could start playing Manhunt or until the stars reminded us that the last time we ate was at breakfast.

But the worst was when we started noticing the cool air.

Another grade in school meant an entire year apart from our summertime friends.

—Madison Oliver

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UPSIDE DOWN

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SHOOT NAME

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UPSIDE DOWN

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My is a place where masculinity is valued over individuality success is measured through currency and happiness is dictated by acceptance But my is also a place where I am coming into my own despite all of the above.

—James Krolewski

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UPSIDE DOWN

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I am the most patriotic non-American I know.

—Deean Yeoh

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UPSIDE DOWN

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CREDITS PHOTOGRAPHY: Lauren Moghavem feat. Seiji Wakabayashi FEATURING: Selen Terzi, Emma Purtell, Nicki Hymowitz, & Eve Worobel STYLING: Kendall Caputo, Sydney Cairns, & Maya Green Silver HAIR & MAKEUP: Katie Zizmor & Mili Hurtado ART DIRECTION: Naomi Tenenini & Pilar O’Connor PHOTO EDITING: Lauren Moghaven VIDEOGRAPHY: Seiji Wakabayashi

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UPSIDE DOWN

My youth was influenced by the changing of the tides. It was salty curls and sand castle contests; boat parades and late night dips. For a moment, my youth transgressed to avoiding the water in order to keep my artificially straightened locks at bay. But later, after moving miles away from my beloved coast, it was flying home and running straight into the arms of the ocean, allowing the jovial waves to wash over me.

—Samantha Kelley

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I grew up in a diverse town; diverse in race, religion, nationality, socioeconomic status‌etc. All walks of life. My is one that is, to a degree, representative of the country as a whole.

And of course, that means my is plagued with the same flaws we see across the country. My school was made up of both immigrants and century-long Americans; kids living under the poverty line and kids well above it; kids who barely spoke English, and those whose parents, grandparents, and great grandparents went to American colleges. for me encompassed it all, for me was more than just Americans.

And still, to me was a separated high school cafeteria; immigrants in the back, American-born kids in the middle. An entitlement of the white kids, an anger of low income kids. It meant tension and misunderstanding. It meant a divide that exists even when so many worlds are crammed into one high school building. But it also meant learning, growing, and accepting. I grew up privileged — privileged to see so many walks of life, to understand the importance of understanding, and to be aware of how lucky I am. My experience growing up in Ossining, New York, is the experience I hope everyone has one day, the opportunity to see the world for more than a small, homogeneous box. The opportunity to rid ourselves of ignorance, callousness and misjudgment that so often hurts us in this country.

—Lucia Tonelli

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PAINT Y PPL

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PAINTY PPL Photography: Sophie Lindemann, Featuring: Adam Bieda & Bradley Noble

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FLOWER BOYS Nancy Ho, @bulmababy Digital, 2017

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SHOOT NAME

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fam il y

dinn er Sarah Cummings

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FA M I LY D I N N E R

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FA M I LY D I N N E R

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SHOOT NAME

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FA M I LY D I N N E R

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—Lauren Moghavem

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CREDITS PHOTOGRAPHY: Sarah Cummings FEATURING: Lauren Oubre, Haley Lerner, Dev Blair, Tyla Pink, Teddy Tron, & Adam Bieda STYLING: James Krolewski, Jessica Miller, & Jose Alberto Orive HAIR & MAKEUP: Nicole Haftel & Mili Hurtado ART DIRECTION: Dorian Dreyfuss, Sarah Campbell, & Eunie Jang PHOTO EDITING: Sarah Cummings & Sam Morse VIDEOGRAPHY: Selen Terzi

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I never thought there was a right way to grow up in . When I was a kid, what made me happy was my father’s pho, PBS Kids, and three dollar bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. I never thought there was a correct way to experience childhood.

Eating pho and bringing “smelly” foods to lunch suddenly made me a chink. Having to translate for my mother at age eight didn’t make me an average kid anymore. And living in my Vietnamese-Brooklyn fusion of a house didn’t make me the typical American. Didn’t make me think I was the right kind of American.

—Jailyn Duong

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SPRING IN LIDO KEY Nicolas Alexander Lustig Goessens, @alexlustigvisuals Drone Photography, March 2017

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REACH WITH NO ESCAPE Nina Miller, ninamillerart.com Wood, Plaster, Steelw, 2016

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Sunday Hair Day Written by Ina Joseph & DeeDee Ogbogu

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any black women have the memory of leaving the hair salon feeling fresh and brand new.

Or sauntering out the neighbor’s front door flaunting neat, tightly pulled braids. Or rising from the floor after several hours of cornrowing, curling, gelling, pig tailing, pony tailing, and trimming. No matter the process, Hair Days were, and still are, an integral part of our weekly routines.

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When I was a child, there were a few things I knew not to do in order to keep my mother from screaming: don’t leave food unwrapped in the fridge, don’t leave the lights on when you leave a room, and don’t make plans on Sundays.

Rule number three was arguably the most important, since Sundays were reserved for the most painstaking, lengthy, meticulous (but also cherished) ritual of the week – doing my hair.

I was a little girl with big hair. Washing, detangling, moisturizing, and taming every curl proved to be a daunting, daily task, no matter the tools or resources provided.

“Sorry, I can’t. I have to wash my hair,” was a viable excuse to decline an entire day of plans. My priority on Sundays was to maintain the overgrown garden atop my head. But every Monday, I’d arrive at school with a fresh new hairdo, ready to start the week.

My mother and I would set up the “salon” on my bathroom

“Sorry, I can’t. I have to wash my hair,” was a viable excuse to decline an entire day of plans.

counter or on the kitchen table. She would spend time undoing my twists and washing away the week’s grime from my curls. Hasty to start sooner rather than later, my mother would rush me out of the shower to fetch the necessary supplies: oils, moisturizers, a wide tooth comb, a small tooth comb, alligator clips, and mini rubber bands covered the floor around me.

Sunday Hair Days require infinite patience, a television set or radio, and a parent with nimble hands. It was a day to either relax, or battle over the tightness of the braids. Hair Day could start in the morning and run until the late hours of the evening; no matter the location or time of day, the routine was always the same.

Then, it was just a matter of sitting still and letting mom work her magic. Hours would pass, some more painful than others, before my mother stopped tugging on my hair and the tension on my scalp finally released. My neck stiff and back aching, I would get up from my chair, stretch out my muscles, ardently thank my mom, and put my headscarf on. The productive, yet languid process would either end with dinner, TV, or bedtime.

While this was the original structure of my Sunday Hair Day, some things about the custom changed over the years.

When I was eight years old, my mom stopped washing my hair, and the responsibility fell on my shoulders (literally) to ensure that I cleaned every inch of my scalp thoroughly.

When I was nine, my mom stopped using rubber bands to twist my hair and relied on its natural kink to hold the thinner twists in place, which created a slightly more mature look. When I was 11 years old, we began experimenting with blow drying, which added another element to the Hair Day formula. By 14-years-old, I was using relaxers to chemically straighten my hair, which transformed the

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tradition completely and replaced the rubber bands with boxes of Olive Oil perm treatment.

Regardless of the styling tactics that occurred on Sundays, the elements of tradition and culture never faded. Sunday

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Hair Day allowed me to bond with my mom after our long weeks of school and work. It allowed me to put aside homework and daydream about anything and everything else. It gave me an appreciation for natural beauty, selfcare, and the wonder of black hair which is something I never thought about, let alone admired, until I became more involved in the Hair Day proceedings.

In college, I’ve had to transform my ritual yet again. Now, I have to make Hair Day arrangements in a small dormitory bathroom that I share with four other, non-black girls.

I still get nostalgic when faced with the same solitude and calm that comes with Sunday Hair Day. Instead of sitting at the kitchen table as my mom maneuvers my curly mane, I sit alone on my bed watching Netflix as I tend to my twists. And while Sunday Hair Day may no longer be a full 24-hours, I still find myself explaining why Sunday evenings are dedicated to my hair.

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FROZEN Photography: Natalie Carroll, Featuring: Dorian Dreyfuss & Lauren Moghaven, Styling: Nour Nabhan, Hair & Makeup: Saumya Chugh, Photo Editing: Sophie Lindemann

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ASK ME NICELY Sophie Lindemann, @so_phar_so_good Digital , 2016

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SHOOT NAME

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TRUST EXERCISE

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Two camera’s were distributed amongst staff members.

Each member was asked to take one photo and pass the camera along to another member.

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FACE Photography: Cameron Cooper, Featuring: Dev Blaire, Hair & Makeup: Katie Zizmor, Photo Editing: Sam Morse

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FRESH OFF THE BOAT

Joshua Frias @ yeszua_rodri

Fresh off the boat my ancestors didn’t know about cold Or about Kendrick or about Cole fast forward years later people in my motherland know about Dembow Know our people are colorful of all shades, but no shade If I asked my cousin tu eres moreno At least one of them might say no way Pero Claro they know about the esclavos Translate that to English they know about the slave trade and why some of us look mulatto but does it make them racist if they didn’t know what race to say?

Part of me thinking I’m balancing two identities Because apparently looking black and being Hispanic can’t exist as one entity I don’t check African - American don’t take that offensively Just a Latino with an Afro our ancestors share similarities They just landed in a different location Here they were picking cotton On the islands they were growing plantains on a plantation I look black so still get hit with the same bruises just off my pigment But hold up there’s more to my appearance I ain’t dumb to this shit I observe sometimes that We numb to this shit After all we scroll through the pictures With our thumbs on that shit I see a violent pic and a flick Makes me want grow my hair out with the pick and the fist Feeling like I can pass being a pacifist Because fear brings out our passiveness And nothing gets me more mad When people act like it’s an accident That my parents have an accent and the fact that I speak Spanish got people asking interesting questions like What a unique situation How can you be Latino and still have a muddy complexion?

Silly how they can’t make the connection My ancestors got dropped off at an island with some Europeans that’s the end of the sentence.

Oh I forgot the Tainos The part of me the blood of me That I know barely Point is I just hope people bare to see That all of me is just a concatenation Filled with roots and complexity I mean my complexion can only tell you a part of me Pardon me for complaining causally I know identity can come off as perception One shade darker could mean one day harder and a history that’s always forgotten to mention.

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V A C P U E L T U R E

Allison Caulfield

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VAPE CULTURE

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The biggest plus was being able to have access to so many cultures and different types of people in one area. I don’t think an experience like this is available in most countries so I’m fortunate, and one of the biggest goal nowadays I believe is to be accepting and tolerant of different cultures. Where I was raised (Miami), I was able to develop this mindset at an early age and carry it on to today.

—Jade Fisher

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Growing up in means traveling farther and farther away to get an education. Fifteen-minute walks to middle school. Hour-long subway rides to high school. Fivehour drives to college.

—Tyler Chin

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VAPE CULTURE

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VAPE CULTURE

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VAPE CULTURE

’s been the environment of my growth.

My perceived spirit seems to have been shaped by its intense and voracious energy. It’s made me inquisitive about my surroundings, be that people or place. Culturally, it’s extremely complex to devise. By this I observe every sinew and strand of humanity. It’s inspired me to yearn for nature always and to protect our environment. It’s the birth place of my wild spirit and has provided me adventures synonymous.

It’s cultivated my reality and now pushes me to seek other places to be. I am ready to fly away because of an exploratory disposition it’s fostered.

—Sam Morse

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CREDITS PHOTOGRAPHY: Allison Caulfield FEATURING: Janna Collins, Holly Stewart, & GianCarlo Lobo STYLING: Maya Green Silver & Preston Park HAIR & MAKEUP: Katie Zizmor & Megan Gowen ART DIRECTION: Saumya Chugh & Naomi Tenenini PHOTO EDITING: GianCarlo Lobo VIDEOGRAPHY: Audria Hadikusumo, Seiji Wakabayshi, & Sarah Stipanowich

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Special Thank You to: MoMo Boston

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UNTITLED 1 & UNTITLED 2 Deric Hamer, derichamer.com Digital , 2017

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WORKING WOMAN Concept: Sarah Campbell, Photography: Deric Hamer, Featuring: Sam C. Morse, Photo Editing: Deric Hamer Styled from Goodwill pieces and photographed at the Commonwealth Avenue location.

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3.13.17 Isabelle Sloane Lesh @isabellesloane Monday the 13th. the silent “p” that prefaces “pneumonia.” no one talks about it.

Fridays only.

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Flappers, Greasers, and Punks: Rebellion in America Written by Sarah Arment

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aseball, apple pie, and white picket fences are forever stitched into the fabric of classic American culture.

However, ’s Puritanical roots also fostered rebellion: fast cars, loud music, and risky behavior. From Gatsby-era flappers drinking bootleg liquor in seedy speakeasies, to 80’s punks wearing dark, dirty leather and listening to the Ramones in grimy New York clubs, no one is immune to the intoxicating excitement of doing something they know their parents would hate.

I wasn’t unaffected by the call to rebel either. In middle school, I desperately wanted to be like the edgy goth girls I saw online, because this image represented everything that my parents and friends were not: I wore shirts from Justice and had braces, my mom drove a minivan, and we sat down for nice family dinners every Sunday evening – my life was an after school special.

I was the exact opposite of these images I was seeking to replicate. But I was determined to stand out for better or worse. The most accessible tool I had in my arsenal on my quest to be a cool goth chick was black eyeliner, and I went full force with it. Every morning, I would religiously smear black gunk around my eyes and pack mascara onto my blonde lashes. And every morning, my mom would yell at me to take it off. I thought it made my eyes stand out, but my mom though I looked like a raccoon.

She was right, of course. But the more she opposed me wearing it, the harder I fought back. Whether she liked it or not, I was determined to show up to school in a full smoky eye. But the back and forth was the fun of it. I would buy cheap Wet n’ Wild liquid liner from the drugstore, sneak

it upstairs into my room, and squirrel it away to use in the girls’ bathroom before school. But my mom would, without fail, would find it, throw it out, and the cycle would repeat itself. In hindsight, I spent way too much of my middle school allowance buying cheap eyeliner from Walgreens, along with black nail polish and crappy hair dye; but every cent and every petty fight with my parents was worth it. I got my nose pierced, wore ugly green eyeshadow, and stole lipstick from the drugstore, all in the name of being an American teenage rebel.

Because in my mind, my antics were more than just mindless teenage angst; I was channeling James Dean, David Bowie, Joan Jett, and Billie Joe Armstrong; I was invoking the Beat poets of the ‘50s, the hippie counterculture of the ‘60s, the grunge rockers of the ‘90s. They paved the way for adolescents like me looking to break away from the molds set by their parents. I may not have started any kind of cultural revolution, but I was paying these icons homage in the only way I knew how: with makeup and fashion.

Every time I smudge eyeliner around my eyes, I feel a little bit like Joan Jett. When I put on my thrifted leather jacket, I’m suddenly James Dean. Rebellion isn’t exclusive to the realms of fashion and makeup; however, some test authority with music, some with art, and others with protests and demonstrations. And that’s the ideal. That we have the freedom to experiment, to create, to push boundaries and to test the limits. Sure, apple pie is delicious, and there’s definitely something appealing about raising a nuclear family in some picture perfect, delightfully boring suburb somewhere. But honestly, I’d rather drive fast cars, listen to loud angry music, and have amazing tattoos any day.

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THE NEXT MORNING Ramsha Asim, @ramsha_a98 Photography, 2016

LEGS WITH CRISSCROSS SHADOWS Kate Schnepf, @k8rosie P35 mm film , 2016

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Julieta Rakover

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was a comfortable house for me to grow up in. The land of opportunity graciously let me in. I was always provided with food. I was always given the clothing I needed. I was always given a good education. The Motherland was my giver and I was one of its lucky receivers.

Growing up she would give and she would give, maybe with the expectation that I will be able to take care of her in time of sickness or need.

I never realized that day would come soon. Am I ready to grow up and take care of my mother in her time of need?

—Melony Breese Forcier

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—Zachary Thomas

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Growing up in was constantly being surrounded by my friends; my soulmates. It was walking through three feet of snow in the forest to get to the nearest ogurtland after doing things 14-year-olds shouldn’t have been doing. It was my mom constantly telling my brother and me how lucky we are to be born in the country that helped her achieve the “American Dream.” It was those 2 a.m. grocery trips my dad took me on to get me candy when he knew my mom was asleep, just because it made me happy. builds you, she makes you stronger. My home is where my heart is and my heart will always be with her.

—Madeline Carpentiere

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CREDITS

Special Thank You to: Recollective Vintage

PHOTOGRAPHY: Julieta Rakover LIGHTING ASSISTANT: Cyrus Ettehadieh FEATURING: Jordan Fessehaie, Maya Taylor Giuliette Pfeiffer, & Kevin Leonardo STYLING: Zachary Thomas, Karen An Sydney Cairns, & Dee Dee Ogbogu HAIR & MAKEUP: Niko Cohen ART DIRECTION: Beca Dutra PHOTO EDITING: Julieta Rakover VIDEOGRAPHY: Sarah Campbell

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TRYING LEMONS Elizaveta Sokolovskaya, @k8rosie Photo: David Wile and April Maciborka, Iink pen on paper , 2015

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LADY WIDOW Saloff-Coste, @supernova_stateofmind Soft Pastels, 2017

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CROWD

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80 CROWD Concept: Nicki Hymowitz, Photography: Giancarlo Lobo, Featuring: Kendall Caputo, Nicki Hymowitz, Ina Joseph, Jose Alberto Orive, & Nour Nabhan, Photo Editing: Giancarlo Lobo

CROWD

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I’VE GOT TOO MUCH ON MY PLATE AND NEED SOME ROOM TO F*CKING BREATHE: An article on the good, the bad, and the ugly of stress Written by Deean Yeoh

W

e all have our own special skills. While some of us have an uncanny ability to cram a semester’s worth of material in just two days, others excel in the face of extreme sleep deprivation.

Hello, and welcome to Stress-ers Anonymous. My name is Deean Yeoh, and I suffer from stress. I am known to bite off more than I can chew, and trust me, I don’t say this pridefully. I find it to be a legitimate problem shared – in secrecy – by many of my peers.

Over the summer, I took on an internship, three parttime jobs, and two classes (Calc 2 and Philosophy). I also founded a lingerie start-up with my best friend. While waiting fearfully for our internship offers, my friend and I decided to create this business. Funnily enough, we received our offers two days later. I worked remotely for my internship, so two hour long meetings at 1:00 A.M. twice a week, was the norm. I also took a STEM Calc 2 class to “challenge myself.” Needless to say, three years at business school did not prepare me for arctan or Taylor Series. When I was not reading for my Philosophy class, I was either reading Michael Lewis’ commentary on the GFC or relearning French.

As a college student, societal expectations have conditioned us to deem failure as unacceptable. Over the summer, I felt crammed between the upward pressure of my sky-high personal expectations and what felt like the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders [cue laughter at Econ joke]. But when it was all over, I felt rewarded. The beast was slain and I felt more accomplished than I ever had before.

So, what did I do next? What any normal, workaholic would do, of course: continued to bite off more than I could chew.

“Yes, but do you enjoy what you’re doing?” This was my mom’s favorite Sunday-phone-call question. And my was answer always the same: “Yes, mommy.” The pains of stress are 100 percent self-inflicted; I thrive in busy situations and the feeling of being “on-the-move.”

To me, stress is not stress if I am learning, creating, contributing, and growing as a person. Instead, it’s exhilarating and challenging— it gives purpose to my youth.

Stress is like a massage– painful, but also strangely relaxing. If I learned anything over my summer experience, it was to be more mindful of my health. Now, I aim for more sleep. I even succumbed to a Netflix subscription – a personal rule I never thought I would break.

No, I don’t preach complacency about having a little too much on your plate, but instead, as 6LACK would say, “... just some room to f*cking breathe...” and relax. You see, we are our own dark rooms of stress and our own light rays of hope that seep through cracks of the window pane.

Stress has become an inevitable part of ’s (beautifully) capitalistic and competitive society. We’ve all felt the pressures and live with them day-to-day. In light of this epidemic, I urge you to continue testing your own limits and to continue biting off more than you can chew. Life wouldn’t be rewarding otherwise. But try to call your parents, or catch up with that friend you’ve been neglecting, or see your favorite rapper at a concert, for God’s sake.

You are not too busy to live life.

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CHRYSANTHEMUM I Barbara Kang, @bkanggg Wood, Wood Stain, Spray Paint, Wood Glue, Water; 2017

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I’M COOLER UNDER LEGS Rae Lin, @rae422lin Photography, Canon 6D, 2017

THORNS Rae Lin, @rae422lin Photography, Canon 6D, 2016

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C YCL E

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Alison Su

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CYCLE

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CYCLE

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CYCLE

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PHOTOGRAPHY: Alison Su LIGHTING ASSISTANT: Cyrus Ettehadieh FEATURING: Gia Spargo, Niyamani Watson, Miolani Grenier, & Teddy Tron STYLING: James Krolewski, Mikaela Danielle Ty, & Zachary Thomas HAIR & MAKEUP: Niko Cohen ART DIRECTION: Madison Brinser & Olivia Gelard PHOTO EDITING: Sam Morse VIDEOGRAPHY: Sarah Stipanowich

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WHISKED AWAY Sarah Wu, @pensplanesandplates Digital Photography, Tufts University Ballroom Competition, 2015

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Stores:

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CRAFT & CARO Lifestyle Pop Up 23 Drydock Ave, Boston, MA 02210 @craftandcaro

MŌMŌ BOSTON Women’s Streetwear 468 Commonwealth Ave, Boston, MA 02215 @momobostonboutique

SIZERUN SUPPLY Curated Streetwear 355 Boylston St, Brookline, MA 02445 @sizerunsupply

RECOLLECTIVE VINTAGE Thrift 508 Park Drive, Boston, MA 02215 @shoprecollective

QUEEN OF SWORDS Lifestyle and Crafts 17 Hawkins St, Somerville, MA 02143 @shopqos

PRLY Prlystore.com @prly.tm BANDULU bandu.lu @bandulustreetcouture

ALL TOO HUMAN Current Designer 236 Clarendon St, Boston, MA 02116 @alltoohumanboston MARKET AT CASABLANC Clothing and Crafts 169 Norfolk Ave, Boston, Massachusetts, MA 02119 @casablanc.market

VICTORY PROJECT USA victoryprojectusa.com @victoryprojectusa

BOOMERANGS (in South Boston) Thrift 1407 Washington St, Boston, MA 02118 @boomerangsspecialedition *All proceeds from Boomerangs directly support AIDS Action’s work

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Executive Board FW’17 Carli Schmidt

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Margot Menestrot

Head of PR & Events

Samantha Morse

Editor in Chief

Director of Photography

Deric Hamer

Olivia Simonson

Creative Director

Finance & Brand Outreach

Sophie Lindemann Senior Art Director

Samantha Kelley Managing Editor

David Neary

Jr. Director of Finance

Ella Tatum

Jr. Director of Brand Outreach

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Off The Cuff.

Contributers:

Art Directors Naomi Tenenini, Beca Dutra, Teddy Tron, Alisha Kothari, Olivia Gelard, Madison Brisner, Michelle Chocron Sarah Campbell, Eunie Jang, Pilar O’Connor, Dorian Dreyfuss, & Saumya Chugh Events and Public Relations Team Events: Alicia Shamji, Bao Han Nguyen, Sydney O’Neil, Allegra Kevorkian, Emily Frantz PR: Shravya Rao, Abigail Kolnik, Julieta Rakover, Gabriella Plotkin, & Wallis Perry

Photography Editors Lauren Moghavem, Gian Carlo Lobo, Sarah Cummings, Julieta Rakover, Violet Giddings, Saumya Chugh, & Morgan Recker Lighting Assistant Cyrus Ettehadieh

Hair and Makeup Artists

Stylists

Mili Hurtado, Nicole Haftel, Niko Cohen, Saumya Chugh, Savanna Tavakoli, Megan Gowen, & Katie Zizmor

Dee Dee Ogbogu, James Krolewski, Janna Collins, Karen An, Kendall Caputo, Mikaela Danielle Ty, Natallie Mashian, Tatyana Khashoggi, Zachary Thomas, Jessica Miller, Maya Green Silver, Jose Alberto Orive, Ellicia Chiu, Logan Carter, Sydney Cairns, Preston Park, & Nour Nabhan

Models Anna Hogan, Bao Han Nguyen, Bidemi Palmer, Clare Stonich, Elizabeth Adesanya, Giovanna Spargo, Giuliette Pfeiffer, Holly Stewart, Isaiah Tharan, Jahnavi De Sousa, Jordan Fessehaie, Kaitlin Tsai, Lauren Moghavem, Lauren Oubre, Matthew Katz, Mili Hurtado, Miolani Grenier, Ruiqi Ma, Sara Lozano, Samantha C Morse, Sarah Wu, Taiba Zahir, Teddy Tron, Xinru Huang, Nicki Hymowitz, Bradley Noble, Fiona Lin, Risa Rice, Cristofer Borghese, Dorian Dreyfuss, Tatyana Khashoggi, Janna Collins, Logan Carter, Adam Bieda, Niyamani Watson, Kevin Leonardo, Haley Lerner, Eve Worobel, Rumin Shaik, Dev Blair, Emma Purtell, Tyla Pink, Selen Terzi, Maya Taylor, Hunter Coughlin, GianCarlo Lobo, Ina Joseph, Jose Alberto Orive, Kendall Caputo, & Nour Nabhan Photographers Sarah Campbell, Naomi Tenenini, Beca Dutra, Teddy Tron, Eunie Jang, Pilar O’Connor, Dorian Dreyfuss, Saumya Chugh, Alisha Kothari, Olivia Gelard, Madison Brisner, & Michelle Chocron

Videographers Jamie Ferguson, Sarah Stipanowich, Selen Terzi, Audria Hadikusumo, Lizbeth Herger, Harrison Rusk, Seiji Wakabayshi, & Sarah Campbell Writers and Copy Editors Jailyn Duong, Mustafa Yazdani, Madison Oliver, Calvin Anthony-DuScheid, Elsa Herri, Jade Fisher, Dena AlFadhli, Barbara Kang, Deean Yeoh, Sarah Arment, Kelsey Van Fleet, Allie Antonevich, Logan Carter, Mikaela Danielle Ty, Lucia Tonelli, Amanda Greenidge, DeeDee Ogbogu, Sarah Arment, Sofiko Pipia, Vinamre Kasanaa, Ina Joseph, Doreen Zhao, Tyler Chin, Melony Breese Forcier, GianCarlo Lobo, Dora Agali, Melissa Dalarossa, & Chloë Hudson

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Off The Cuff.

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