1. what i’m going to do about my last name. 

    (do we still say “maiden” name? i’m sticking with it: i like its feminine drama.)

    i once had a colleague who changed her maiden name to her husband’s name on her magazine’s masthead when she got married; added her maiden name back in as a middle name when they got divorced; then got rid of her ex-husband’s last name and returned to just her maiden name. 

    when i used to think about this it seemed so dangerous.

    lesson learned: she’s married to someone else now, with two kids, and her byline remains the maiden name she started with. 

    but i don’t worry about the integrity of my byline anymore.    

    in fact, the idea of changing my name and ridding myself—publicly IRL, on the internet—of my past is honestly kind of thrilling. what if everything was still there (here), but the footprint wasn’t directly related to me? what if moms at the park had a hard time googling those 2010-2012 tumblr posts? i’d rather change my name than take them down. kind of. at this point using my maiden name probably helps me professionally in the magazine world, but hurts me professionally otherwise. (not least because of all those anti-professionalism posts. and i don’t think schools are angling to hire professors who write about their love lives online.) but how much do i care, or does it even matter, about my being hurt professionally? it probably hurts me personally, too.

    still, i have such a pretty last name. people have been telling me that my whole life, even when they weren’t trying to sell me something. 

    and as aliza said recently, what is the big deal, really? if you’re keeping your maiden name, it’s still a man’s name. it’s still the patriarchy. (real feminists make up their own last names when they’re ready. like judy chicago. though even that was related to professional reasons.)   

    i have a feminist friend who got married twelve years ago today (to a marxist!). i was completely flummoxed. i couldn’t figure out why she was getting married. “it’s romantic,” she said.

    i already respond to being called “mrs.” and sign my name with marc’s last name if we’re at a hotel or restaurant. it’s easier. it’s also romantic.

    anyway, i’m keeping my last—maiden—name. legally. it seems like a privilege to be able to have two, and to use the one you want, or have one used, depending on the situation. it also seems like more fun. 

     
  2. everyone else in the hamptons was getting married, but we’re still pre-mooning. 

     
  3. marc’s family’s friends have been on top of this for months. most of them have made donations in my brother’s name to the trauma center that took care of him a year and a half ago. most of them have sent us gifts, too.

    Tagged #gifts
     
  4. <3. this is one of my favorite (relevant) posts: “i like the other thing that virginia woolf said about rooms, which is that she never knew what her husband was going to say when he walked into one. carolyn heilbrun called this ‘a remarkable definition of a good marriage,’ which i told marc the last night we were in puerto rico, and he agreed.” 

     
  5. i aspire to be a sweet drunk, but i think the best i can hope to be is a nice drunk—not the same thing, sadly, and generally achieved by my sticking to wine. reading about your parents’ on-going conversations in love dog was and is an inspiration. i’m glad i posted so much from the book. whenever people ask if we are writing our vows—absolutely not—i think we don’t need them, we’ve got this tumblr.  

     

  6. i have seen marc truly drunk maybe three times in two years, and tonight is one of them. the (married?) group of guys he went to drinks, and dinner, and drinks, with wanted to know what he likes about me, because all of their wives are smart and pretty, and he said that, but also, “she’s the only person i want to talk to.” they confirmed that that’s good, because talking to each other is the main thing we’ll be doing for the rest of our lives. 

    he was lying on top of me, fully clothed, while telling me this, after he asked if i had worn the dress i was wearing all day, and said that he loves this dress. (i am sure that this is one of the dresses he has never complimented me on. he has complimented me on the heels or the lipstick i was wearing with the dress, but not the dress itself. i have a very accurate memory for these things.)

    he apologized maybe ten times for drinking too much and i said and meant it was fine, and we talked about how one of his friends has a kid at packer but he and his wife want her to go to brearley, like her mom. packer is closer to both of our apartments, and the local sephora, but i like this friend enough to try to understand his private new york city high school feelings.

    anyway, it sounds like a fun bachelor party. i am taking this opportunity to sit in the family room, tumblring this post even though i’ve tumblred at least four other posts, and instagramed two pictures, already today. i’ve got a nightcap, i might listen to my ipod, it’s just like the best of the old days, except that marc is in bed having already said “i love you” and “you smell like candy” and “you always smell like candy,” “i like how you smell,” and “you smell like when we first met.”

    we’re getting in our new (old) volvo and going to the hamptons tomorrow, sometime after i get a nail polish change. best bachelorette i could ask for. i just hope he doesn’t throw up or come out here to retrieve me. i know that at some point, even this drunk, he will retrieve me.

     
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  9. last summer, a friend emailed to ask if i wanted to work on a short-term project at her fashion magazine, and i burst into tears. this year, a friend emailed to ask if i wanted to work on a short-term project at her fashion magazine and i was like, oh my god, i am going to get paid a really high day rate to learn new beauty tips (you can use an eyelash curler even after applying mascara), distract myself from premarital stress, and figure out who should do the hair and makeup for my wedding. 

    i had a vision: i wanted a hair stylist and makeup artist who worked backstage and did editorial, but would consent to doing bridal as long as it didn’t look like bridal. i didn’t think these people actually existed, so i was prepared to research until i found a suitable, disappointing alternative.

    i spent a month working on glamour dos and dont’s, a project so steeped in historical import and feelings i was often on the verge of weeping. in doing so, i found out—for once, this never happens—that my vision could actually be realized. the kind of people i wanted to make me look like a milder version of a vogue italia model did, in fact, exist, as a group. i even knew some of their work from before (like, from w magazine editorials i had saved in my tumblr drafts).

    i had forgotten how hard it is to create images with professionals. everyone has a vision, and an ego, and if you are anna wintour you can do a several thousand dollar beauty shoot and if doesn’t work it doesn’t matter: you kill it. if i could be as wasteful as the old conde nast i might be. i mean: i definitely would be. that was part of what made the old conde nast great. 

    we’re working it out. i had my hair cut yesterday and we started considering which extensions are the right extensions. i would be lying if i said i had complete faith that i’m going to look a way i want to look when i walk out the door for the ceremony. but my stylist said she loved the gemma ward updo i sent her as a reference, and i like the gamble.  

     
  10. also this was me just getting started.