Flavor of the Week: Jaden Smith Instagram Roundup

This has been going on for far too long and has been flying under the radar far too quietly. I feel as though I must take the liberty of exposing Jaden Smith’s Instagram account to the public.

Jaden Smith looks like The Weeknd and spits godly phrases like Yeezy. He acts on screen like Taylor Lautner circa The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl. And that about sums it up.

I have a really strange talent for finding semi-famous people’s social media accounts and then obsessively following their lives until I know almost everything about them. I tried to make Jaden Smith one of my stalkees, but it just didn’t work. His guard is too raised; his thoughts too deep. As I attempt to deconstruct the Instagram photos shared by @iputthesocietyonmyback (something Jaden really does, especially valued at $8 million at the age of 15), you’ll hopefully see what I mean.

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Here, Jaden turns geometry into something trippy as balls. I am wondering if he is implying that this is just the start of his passion for paper pyramid building. Will he be building more pyramids? Will he be gifting those pyramids? Will Jaden Smith send me a paper pyramid? I am v excited to see where his paper pyramid endeavors take him.

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In other words, “selfié.” Jaden freestyles in this caption, revealing a passion for the Twilight series, which he wants to watch in a light blue room. He’s lucky that he has enough money to paint a room light blue just to watch a Twilight movie in it. Jaden comes to terms with his ridiculousness, warning others not to end up like him, “Young Black And Delirious.” Don’t ignore the second stanza, either. BTW, I think you mean *too, Jaden.

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Oh, cool. Thx 4 the update.

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Yes, yes. Enchant them with the White Silk Pants. Those are always a winner. Also, I do not see any young dumb scamps in this black and white photo of LA!!!! I wonder if his fingers ever get tired of typing with capital letters. Eh?

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Ready for Hawaii or ready to become a dementor? I’m kinda into this one, though. Super ironic.

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Yes, Jaden, you protect the Kardashian sisters and their pretty blonde friend in an Iron Man suit. Jaden posted this to remind us of his inability to blend into society–the society that is, after all, on his back. I wish I was the privileged child of a celebrity. Then maybe I could look cool pretending every word is a proper noun, too.

That’s all for this week. Check out Jaden Smith: the philosophical poet of our generation on Insta to gain more wordly insights.


Flavor of the Week: How I Really Met Your Mother

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As we’ve come to know too well, the times are a-changin’. What once was nice and traditional has now become outdated and prudish. Girls bare more skin at Bar Mitzvahs than I do on the beach. Hell, they don’t even wear dresses to Bar Mitzvahs anymore. Now, it’s all about the crop top and shorts combo. I commend the trend, but when I have a daughter of my own I’ll make sure she relies on other “in” pieces… like oversized turtlenecks, for example.

My grandparents met through a mutual friend. My grandfather called my grandmother, introduced himself, and asked if she would “marry [him] this afternoon.” It was classy. My grandma wore white gloves on their date to the zoo. I’m all about it.

My parents met in standards more era-appropriate–on a college street corner on Halloween. Later that night, my dad serenaded my mom by playing her righty guitar upside down (he was a lefty). Slightly more edgy, but as charming as ever, to say the least.

I thought I’d share some ways for you to tell your children in ten or fifteen years from now about how you really met their mother–likely a story neglect of white gloves, potentially containing a good serenade (but only if one of you was, like, on molly at a rave or something like that).

1. “We liked the same @JewBoyProblems tweet. Then, I stalked her on Twitter and she seemed like the perfect balance of Long Island and sleepaway camp-cool for me.”

2. “As soon as I found out that he was @JewBoyProblems, I knew Bubbe would approve.”

3. “So, son, there used to be this thing called Tinder…”

4. “We were both waiting on line at Juice Generation and she complimented me on my desert boots.”

5. “We didn’t go to the same co-ed camp, but we had socials…”

6. “She made a naked video of herself and somehow every thirteen-year-old in the Tri-State Area got a hold of it. I used it as a conversation starter when we met in college.”

7. “My mom was her SoulCycle instructor.”

8. “I know you wouldn’t think that the Boca West club pool could be a romantic spot, but…”

9. “I was ZBT, she was SDT, and the rest was history.”

10. “We were on the same Westcoast Connection Europe teen tour!” (Funny sidenote: I went to the Westcoast website to find a photo to pair with this, but I recognized too many of the kids in all of the promos and didn’t want to make them feel super awk when they heard their face was plastered across The FYD)

11. “I held her hair back for her at a tailgate. She thought I was the nicest guy in the world.”

12. “We had friends in common and I kept liking all of her #tbt’s.”

13. “I was standing behind her in line at Pinkberry and offered to pay for her fro-yo.” (My husband to my child)

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Love Is in the Air… And in the Shoes

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Threads: American Apparel velvet bodysuit / Free People boyfriend jean / Vince Camuto pumps / Urban Outfitters necklace

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May all of your Valentine’s Day kisses be covered in red lipstick. 

Love,
Hannah

Shot by the birthday girl, Sophie Schwartz


On Fro-Yo

A couple of months ago, a guy friend jokingly told me that he would sue me because The FYD is a “fallacy.” He said it was a rip off for not properly representing its title. It’s true–I mention fro-yo every once in a while, but I don’t really write about it. On the exact one year anniversary of The FYD, I figured it would be a good time to start.

Frozen yogurt is a very generational thing, which gave reason to the titling of The FYD. Fro-yo is just as millennial as we are not because of the mass amount of chain stores spreading faster than wild fire through an unkempt bikini line, but because of the nature of the product itself.

Fro-yo is quick demand and quick satisfaction. Think fast food for the anorexic. We also believe we can eat more fro-yo than we can ice cream, which is really only half true. Sometimes, I eat fro-yo for lunch or dinner and never feel half-bad about it. If I ate ice cream as often as I did fro-yo (which may or may not sometimes be twice a day) I would feel much shittier, be 10 pounds heavier, and have to go to the bathroom a lot more. We like to think fro-yo is guilt free, which is exactly what we’re supposed to think. Obviously, like all things in life, it isn’t.

Sure, it’s low fat or fat free. But it’s still full of shit, and has enough chemicals to provide a seventh grade girls’ basketball team with full keratin treatments. Fro-yo is kind of like makeup. We can pretend we’re skinny because we make the choice to eat fro-yo and we can pretend we have good skin when we’re really just wearing a lot of makeup. But at the end of the day, you have to realize that you’re just using cash from the third night of Hanukkah to cover up your acne and you’re not losing weight by eating healthier ice cream. If you were actually skinny you’d be eating kale and not cake batter. We’re caught in the vicious cycle of deceit via the deadly sins of Sephora and (insert your go-to fro-yo place here).

You never have to settle on fro-yo. 21 flavors! 50 toppings! It isn’t like a fraternity mixer where you’re stuck deciding between the unattractive Jew and the semi-attractive goy that your mom would not approve of. We should take a moment and be thankful, because back in the day, it wasn’t always like this. The options weren’t always endless. Now, of course, they pretty much are.

Fro-yo started out as Forty Carrots at Bloomingdale’s, where wealthy mothers and grandmothers would take their dressed-up daughters on Saturdays. Today, we all love a good Forty Carrots Instagram. It’s the elegance and class of frozen yogurt captured in Lo-Fi. But fro-yo really rose with Pinkberry in NYC and LA. You could choose from two flavors (maybe three? My memory gets worse with age, ugh) and have the guy behind the counter put two toppings on–more if you had a privileged childhood with money to spend on the luxury of yogurt. Yum.

The problem with trends, like fro-yo, is that they usually die out. Then, they just become another throwback Buzzfeed article to post on your best friend’s wall. Like haha! remember when we thought fro-yo would make us skinny?! Now we just eat large gulps of air!

But I don’t necessarily think fro-yo is a fad. Yes, it’s artificial, but it’s also an indulgence. It’s one of the few things that allow us not to feel constantly shitty about how we look or what we’re doing and how we’re feeling. For once, society was able to provide our generation–a generation in which “plus size” is anything above a size 6–with something good. Kale, I love you, but you don’t always do it for me.

I used to think it was very mature of people to “get coffee.” When I got my license and started “chatting over fro-yo” with friends on weeknights, I felt like an adult. Funny, because in reality, I’m really just a millennial eating fake ice cream, and that’s all.


Flavor of the Week: 2013

Good bye fro-yo, good bye 2013.

Good bye fro-yo, good bye 2013.

Congratulations! You survived your hangover. How does it feel? Rewarding, I bet.

2013 is officially over and we are no longer in that awkward limbo state between Christmas and New Year’s known as “the holidays.” During “the holidays,” everyone talks about everything that’s happened over the past year as if the year has already ended. In reality, the next year hasn’t started yet, either. Our society sets aside a week for us to reminisce and resolute and think about the reasons why we hate ourselves and how we can strive to change in the year to come. The holidays are a strange concept–everyone kind of stops doing everything and doesn’t start real life until the next year gets here. It’s a week that, though it sits on the calendar, doesn’t actually exist.

Now that we are in a new year, I thought it would be appropriate to accurately and fully asses the year that’s passed us by–FYD style, of course. 95 (!!!) posts later and I think I’ve got a pretty good sense of what 2013 was about. Here’s the shortlist of what you really shoulda taken out of that wild year. As the Grateful Dead says, “Oh, what a long, strange trip it’s been.”

1. Your Facebook pro pic says a LOT about you. And by a lot, I mean 4,926 post views in twelve hours-a lot. 

2. The selfie had a revolution. It was the thing of the year, by far.

3. 2013 brought us Thanksgivukkah–a chubby JAP’s dream come true!

4. Every. One. Got. Mono.

5. Kimye is everything.

6. FYD lesson: the balance between being a bitch/playing hard to get and being a slut is very, very difficult to find.

7. Celebrate the anniversary of your Bat Mitzvah by handing out the leftover kippahs you’ve been storing, because there is always a bald man somewhere in need of a hat!

8. Tobi.com took over young women’s “trendy”/mundane going out clothing.

9. Everyone used read receipts. Then, they didn’t.

10. Miley came in like a wrecking ball.

11. We acted like chopped salad was just born, even though it wasn’t. Overpriced chopped salad was born, transforming the dirty water dog-type lunch into one better suited to the women taking over the workforce.

12. FYD lesson: your relationship with your boyfriend is really a threesome between you, him, and Facebook.

13. Everyone wrote about kale, but I wrote about it first. Trust.

14. Cady Heron would not have survived a plastics’ group text. That is why being a girl nowadays is so frickin’ difficult.

15. We speak emoji.

16. FYD lesson: there is a time to laugh, and a time to cry. There is a time to Instagram, and a time to mupload.

17. We were labeled the “me me me generation.” But millennials rock. We’re going places, and they can’t stop us and our selfies.

18. I read Fifty Shades of Grey while living in a rural Eurasian town of conservative Muslims. You might not remember that, but it’ll make you laugh.

19. I wrote my first post, “On Not Being a JAP,” for The FYD. But, obviously, there’s a little JAP in all of us.

20. A lot of other stuff happened that I didn’t get to cover. Gay marriage! Legal weed! Love! Loss! Sex! (GASP!) Breaking Bad! But, obviously, we still have 2014 for all of that.

Cheers to another fro-yo filled year of all of the above. May it bring you all overalls, muploads, selfies, shoe sales, peace, and low fat goodness.

 


On The Selfie

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selfie of me with popcorn

Oxford Dictionary named it 2013’s word of the year. I name it the word of the f****** century. It’s about time I covered the selfie–a bit of life that unintentionally has grown to define a generation.

If we are two things, it is communicative and narcissistic. Combine these concepts and the selfie is born. In 2006, Apple released the first MacBook installed with iSight. In 2010 the iPhone 4 came out with two cameras–one front facing–and a year later the iPad 2 was produced with the same camera model. In 2007, my mom decided she wanted to start taking what would eventually be given the name “selfies” with her Nikon digital camera (these were the days before DSLRs) and claimed that one day, she would publish a book of photos titled “At An Arm’s Length.” And now, as we near the end of 2013, the selfie has become a socially acceptable reason to make an odd face while staring longingly into your iPhone camera. Oh, onlookers think, it’s just a selfie.

selfie of feminism, power women, and all things great about life

selfie of feminism, power women, and all things great about life

We love the selfie so much that we decided to make it transportable. At one point, we were satisfied with opening an application on our laptops and having the ability to give ourselves a good “check out” in the middle of class or while trying to get shit done at Starbucks. But Photobooth wasn’t enough. We needed to look at ourselves on our tablets; on our phones. Suddenly, everything became a mirror with which we could capture moments of life we wanted to keep forever (or until your iPhone lays itself to rest).

Selfie etiquette is a whole other topic in itself, but I suppose I can squeeze in a quick summary… don’t mupload solo selfies–you aren’t Kendall Jenner. Make sure your albums are a solid and equal combination of selfie and regular pics. Make the selfie comical and cute. Emphasize the skinny arm. Document crucial events with the selfie.

Example: selfie of the time my friend vomited in the back of a cab and I sat shotgun because I didn't want to deal with it

Example: selfie of the time my friend vomited in the back of a cab and I sat shotgun because I didn’t want to deal with it

I love the selfie more than I love a good Free People sale. Does this make me obsessed with myself? I’m not sure. My mom says I think I’m a princess, which is half true, but I don’t know if I’d go far enough to say I’m obsessed with myself. I don’t know if I’d go far enough to say that all of the people who take selfies are obsessed with themselves, either. Samsung says that 30% of photos taken by people between the ages of 18 and 35 are selfies. 75% of “normal weight” women say they constantly think about their weight and appearance. So why do the statistics say we’re self-loving when it seems like we’re in an era of incredible self-loathing?

The link between body image issues and selfies exists but is almost as incomprehensible as the Bound 2 music video. I’d like to propose a new angle on selfies: maybe they’re a good thing. Maybe we should let ourselves soak in the good lighting and flattering effects that iOS 7 provides (bitches love chrome). Maybe getting a good look at ourselves in the mirror–making ourselves look Instagram-worthy or mupload material–could help to battle this self esteem. It may be a good thing to get a look at ourselves from the shoulders up. Maybe this post is heavily influenced by the intense food coma I’m suffering right now. Maybe the diet starts tomorrow. Maybe tonight I’ll take a really great selfie and feel better about myself.

Maybe we should just let the selfie be.

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Flavor of the Week: FYD Does Art History 101

Before I decided I wanted to become Carrie Bradshaw a writer, I wanted to be an artist. First, I had an infatuation with the idea of being a marine biologist photographer for NatGeo. This seed was planted in my head when I was but a decade old, and all I wanted to do with my life was hang out with manatees and take cool photos. In middle school, I shyed away from marine biology and leaned toward rock n’ roll. I wanted to photograph trendy shit, like fashion and famous people wearing weird outfits (or, rather, no outfits). My most recent obsession has been in film, not that I’m handy with a video camera whatsoever. In high school I took up acrylic painting on canvas. Now I have a sick DSLR, a beautiful easel, pallet, brushes, and paint set, and an Instagram (Insta covers the trendy photog shit). But, unfortunately, I stopped thinking like an artist and started writing like a yenta.

Since I discovered that I’m really born to write, I haven’t had as much time to paint, swim with sea animals, or to even charge my Nikon. I thought it would be great to take a trip down memory lane and reeducate myself. After all, a huge part of being trendy is remaining culturally in tact with the artistic community. I have this good friend, Juliette Hayt, who is the most talented chick I’ve ever met. She uses oil, watercolor, and arcylic paint and then inks and pens for illustration. Juliette claims that her dark/surreal subject matter doesn’t reflect her as a person and that it all comes from her subconscious. OK, Jules, that’s like me claiming I dressed up as Wednesday Addams for Halloween just “because I felt like it” and not because she’s actually my alter-ego.

It's funny that people think this isn't my face naturally

It’s funny that people think this isn’t my face naturally

What I decided to do for this week’s flavor is to take some of the coolest shit Juliette’s made and then analyze it through an FYDer’s point of view. Enjoy!

"The Meltdown"

“The Meltdown”

This is an example of a dystopian society in which Jewish women around the world have eaten so much fro-yo that their bodies are starting to melt. Eventually, everyone’s body will be a puddle of fro-yo. The women Juliette featured were once big fans of the mango and pistachio flavors.

This is an edgy representation of one of my favorite movie scenes of all time:

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This piece represents the horrors that ensue when boys speak their opinions as well as the complex of the egotistical man. More specifically, it dives deep into what happens when you’re at a liberal arts college and on some sort of hallucinogenic drug and a boy makes a sexist comment. The braces are a strong symbol for how boys think their opinions are more important than ours, but, like braces, they are really just ugly and probably not worth what you paid for them.

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This is what happens when girls waste their calories on carbs instead of fro-yo. We become green monsters and not even keratin will fix our hair once it’s turned into spaghetti. These girls were clearly once very trendy because they are wearing baggy, vintage t-shirts with slogans like “yum” and a mustache on them. They also have crazy thigh gaps. The moral being portrayed here is “don’t be spaghetti, and also get keratin.”

Thanks for joining me for a great lesson in Art History 101. Also, props to my girl Juliette for letting my borrow her unbelievable artwork. I only aspire to be as artsy as you are. Click here for her site and check her out on Insta @juliette_hayt.