3. 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, semi-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, 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. the old conde nast was an experience. 

    in the meantime, 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 (which, according to the internet, lasts one-two minutes, not including pictures). but my stylist said she loved the gemma ward updo i sent her as a reference, and i like the gamble.  

  4. also this was me just getting started.

  5. even if i did not have eight stray eyebrow hairs that i considered for several hours (nonconsecutively) for days, i would have still gone to see jimena before the wedding. it’s only right. we didn’t have much time, since i booked last minute, though she didn’t rush me. she asked if i was nervous and i said yes, about running out of samples of la mer last week, and various intricate family dramas, but not about marriage or marc. i told her about my brother and she said, immediately, “you can’t think about that right now and some people won’t understand.” i said i knew, and agreed, and suspected they didn’t. she looked at my brows and saw exactly what i saw; “you just had to,” she said, adding that one of my former assistants had been to see her yesterday and that they had spent twenty minutes discussing whether the shoulder on celia’s new blazer had been properly tailored. we also said “i love you,” over and over, and she refused to let me pay or even tip. 

  7. lelaid:

    Jerry Hall by Antonio Lopez

    this is actually exactly the perfect look for saturday night drinks and dinner with our families, although i am not jerry hall, this is not that decade, and if i wore real fur someone would throw paint on me (actually, where we are going, no one would throw paint on me). the reference i actually the sent the makeup artist was a more subdued, more 2014, more beauty blog (not that i don’t like beauty blogs) version of this. alas. i still expect my hair will be up and my eye shadow will be more straight-up (but perhaps still bronze-y?) smoky eye and the orange lips should be orangier, not redder. but i’m definitely showing this perfect image to the beauty team. it’s my job to come up with references; it’s their job to make my ideas realistic. kind of realistic. i just want them to keep a little bit of the crazy in the pretty.  


  8. mashatupitsyn:

    On Anxiety and ethics:

    Kierkegaard stating “Whoever has learned to be anxious in the right way has learned the ultimate…It is an adventure that every human being has to live through, learning to be anxious so as not to be ruined either by never having been in anxiety or by sinking into it” is what Avital Ronell means when she says that anxiety is the mode of ethicity par excellence.

    i opened therapy yesterday by saying “i’m extremely anxious. but i haven’t been taking it out on anybody.” on the cab ride home, after i had tipped him 25%, the driver kept thanking me for being patient about the traffic. i was happy to just stare out the window, though. when i told my therapist i was anxious last week she said “it’s probably because you got your dream and you’re afraid someone will spoil it.” anyway, i’ve got some tougher negotiations today. 

  9. will, our witness—pictured here something like 14 years ago, but equally attractive now—is my oldest friend, by which i mean we met at the beginning of our freshman year of college. i have seen him sing “father figure,” a cappella, while wearing a pope hat; he knew me when i wore green pajama pants and rubber boots, regularly, to class. we lived in the same dorm and he used to knock on the door of my room, junior year, while i was in bed on a beautiful sunny day, and yell “kara, i can see you!” there was a long crack in that door. i would turn over and pretend not to hear him.  

    we were both vassar tour guides, and spent two summers together bored out of our minds in poughkeepsie. highlights included chain-smoking marlboro lights; buying the cyndi lauper “best of” album the day it launched at the galleria mall; and getting drunk and tucking him into bed so he could call j. crew and wantonly order from the catalog. one time i told him he should drive us to nearby new paltz, where there were “lots of men’s clothing stores,” even though there were no men’s clothing stores and i just wanted to go shopping. he’s still a little mad. 

    we worked together, briefly, just-out-of-college in LA. he’d get to the office, i’d be already there and a bitch, then he’d go get me a starbucks grande cappuccino and we would move on. i complained that i couldn’t meet people in that city, so he agreed to go to some bar i read in the local magazine was the hippest new bar. we were standing outside as guys paraded by, saying “i love your outfit” (low-cut paul and joe sleeveless, ruched pink top) and “i love your shoes” (black patent leather and white fake pony fur anna sui kitten heels). that’s when i realized we were at a gay bar. 

    will still lives in LA, where he is a movie publicist, and friends with celebrities that he is too discreet to discuss with me. i moved back to new york to work in magazines. marc and i weren’t going to have anyone we knew as a witness, but will was at our apartment a few weeks ago, and offered, and who could say no to having those cheekbones in their wedding photos? 

    plus, he just sent me an email that said “i am really excited about this and i am so glad that i sweet talked my way into your nuptials. i think marc is such a find and i am so happy for you.” he was a champion of marc’s pillowy lips from the beginning, even if the three us were once hanging out and will said if i didn’t stop giggling he would punch me. point being: we are pretty excited to have him there, too. 

  10. marc is concerned that my posting these clips could be lessening his public sex appeal, but i assured him that my tumblr audience understands that he is acting for his niece and nephew. plus i think this dancing scene is capturing some realness. sorry about lying that i wasn’t going to publish more of these. the fur looks good though, right?

    Tagged #bridezilla