Young men are having trouble getting it up – and online porn is to blame, according to a leading psychosexual therapist.
Angela Gregory warned of a "surge" of men in their teens and early twenties reporting sexual health problems, particularly in the last five years, because of easy access to porn, she told the BBC.
Whereas once, erectile dysfunction was associated with older men and people suffering from diabetes, MS, and cardiovascular disease, today, healthy younger men are struggling to stay aroused without a little... help.
"One of the first assessment questions I'd always ask now is about pornography and masturbatory habit because that can be the cause of their issues about maintaining an erection with a partner," Gregory said.
It's an interesting observation, but, duh. Didn't we know this already?
Yes, there is still a taboo around porn addiction among men, but there is so little open discussion about the effects of porn addiction among women that we don't even have a vocabulary with which to discuss it. And it is an equally important topic.
Women become addicted to the dopamine rush associated with porn in the same way as men. They feel the shame and the isolation that addiction inevitably brings.
The conversation surrounding porn addiction and its impact on women's sex lives usually goes something like this: "Poor women, their boyfriends are thinking about porn and not them during sex!". It's always about how porn affects men's sexual behaviour, how it ruins women's lives via their male partners, and how women must be protected.
Not only is this an overwhelmingly heteronormative narrative, it ignores the harmful psychological effects on the many women who struggle to get their rocks off without porn, or, ahem, other "erotic material", too.
Women become addicted to the dopamine rush associated with porn in the same way as men. They feel the shame and the isolation that addiction inevitably brings. The same loss of interest in sex that doesn't live up to the extreme material they're watching. And the same breakdown of their romantic relationships while their minds are elsewhere.
It's hard to quantify the scale of porn addiction among either sex and there are no official figures, but even by talking to people off the record, the scale of the damage is palpable.
One 28-year-old woman, who didn't want to be named, said her use of porn and other "erotic material" has a "100% negative" on her relationship with her boyfriend. "The best way to describe my relationship with porn is 'like a teenage boy', because that is the only description available to me," she told Refinery29.
"I watch porn most evenings before bed unless I’m with my boyfriend, or exceptionally tired and it does 100% impact my sex life negatively – for a hundred different reasons – including not being able to orgasm during sex. However, as a woman, I have no idea who to talk to about this.”
There are no clichés available to her to describe her relationship with porn, which is not only a clear example of sexism, it also makes it harder to talk about her problems, exacerbating the shame she feels.
"There are a million articles talking about what porn for women should look like, and how great it can be when it is designed by women. But nothing about the equally damaging effects it can have on a woman's sexual wellbeing."
Lisa Etherson, a psychosexual therapist, told Refinery29 that women are likely to feel an ever greater sense of shame about their porn addiction than men because of society's sexual double standard, meaning they are unlikely to come forward and seek help.
"Within our culture, we still tend to view male and female sexuality differently – man has lots of partners, he’s a hero, woman has lots of partners, she’s a slut – so if we include an addiction in the mix, the shame can increase dramatically," she said.
Porn addiction can have other devastating consequences, too. "Women who are addicted to porn may be putting themselves at risk financially if they are paying for certain sites, or if their porn use is escalating to meeting strangers for sex. It is also possible that the type of porn they are watching is becoming more extreme, as the addiction escalates."
Regardless of your sex, porn addiction can make both partners feel isolated and feel a sense of shame, Etherson said.
If you think you might be addicted to porn, or suffer any kind of sex addiction, seek help from a therapist who is experienced in working with sex addiction, Etherson advises. And if your sex life is suffering because of porn, it may also be worth seeing a sex therapist.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
A new video has emerged showing around fifty of the schoolgirls kidnapped from the Nigerian town of Chibok more than two years ago.
The video was released by the Nigerian Islamist group Boko Haram, which abducted the girls, and features a masked militant holding a gun and standing in front of the group of young women.
In the video, the man conducts a staged interview with one of the students, who says many of the girls have been badly injured in military air strikes. He says some have been killed by the air strikes and calls on the government to release fighters in exchange for the girls to be set free.
The Nigerian government said it is in talks with the militants behind the video, but that it needs to be sure the officials are speaking to the right people, the BBC reported.
217 of the 276 girls taken from their school in April 2014 are still missing, The Guardian reported.
Many of the girls are thought to have been sexually abused and around 40 are said to have been forced into "marrying" their captors, according to the BBC.
One of the girls, who identified as Maida Yakubu, said on the video: “To our parents – please be patient," reported The Guardian.
"There is no kind of suffering we haven’t seen. Our sisters are injured, some of them have wounds on their heads and bodies. Tell the government to give them [Boko Haram] their people, so we can come home to you."
A father of one of the girls told the BBC he saw his daughter in the video. "I have watched the video several times. I saw her sitting down," said Samuel Yaga, father of schoolgirl Serah Samuel.
"The fact is we are overwhelmed with a feeling of depression. It's like being beaten and being stopped from crying. You helplessly watch your daughter but there is nothing you can do. It's a real heartache."
The end of the video shows dead bodies lying on the ground, said to be those killed by air strikes.
The Nigerian government said it is trying its best to work towards the girls' release, who are thought to be in northern Nigeria.
"We are being extremely careful because the situation has been compounded by the split in the leadership of Boko Haram," said Nigerian Information Minister Alhaji Mohammed.
"We are also being guided by the need to ensure the safety of the girls."
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
“That sounds like the worst idea ever!” exclaimed my friend Mel, when I explained that I was going away for the weekend, but I didn’t know where I was going. “What if it’s not hot?” she cried.
Although less outraged than Mel, my other friends voiced similar concerns when I explained that I was beta testing a "Surprise Trip ", the new offering from travel website Expedia, where customers pay for a two to four night holiday to a mystery city in Europe. The idea is that you set the budget, the date and duration of the trip, as well as the departure airport, but you don’t find out where you're going until about three hours before the flight. Included in the package are return flights (never more than 3.5 hours each way) and minimum three star accommodation with transport to the city centre.
This idea might sound like a gimmick, dreamt up by a competitive travel agent as a creative way to sell holidays to the shrinking pool of people who can still afford to go on breaks abroad, but according to Expedia, Surprise Trips is actually a direct response to market research. Apparently, “a quarter of people who book their holiday months in advance, say the excitement of travel gets lost due to an overload of information available online,” and “81% of travellers admit to enjoying being surprised.”
Despite some cynicism, I liked the idea at first; I thought it sounded fun, so I invited the guy I was seeing, and he was enthusiastic too. Wondering about where we were going was exciting, as was the idea of having to improvise and figure out what to do when we got there. But then again, we didn’t have a lot to lose as we weren’t actually paying for the trip – this was just a test. I’m not sure that I can relate to having such bad information-overload that I would actually choose to pay a travel agent to withhold the name of my destination until the day of my holiday. I mean, of 77 possible destinations, you can only veto three, but there were definitely more than three places I really didn’t want to go to (Luxembourg!), or worse, had been to before.
If I was on the fence about my Surprise Holiday, soon a personal disaster dampened my enthusiasm for the whole thing: I found out that the guy I was going to take with me had cheated on me with his ex-girlfriend. And his name was already on the ticket. Shit. I asked Expedia if I could take someone else instead, but they said it wasn’t possible to make changes to the booking. This seems like a bit of a flaw to me, as people have to drop out of holidays all the time, not just because they turn out to be a dickhead, but also because they get sick, or something comes up at work or in their personal life. If you don’t know the destination, you don’t have the ability to argue with Easyjet about name changes, or book a different mate a last minute ticket.
Instead of changing the name, Expedia tried to placate me by sending over the weather forecast for where I was going. It backfired: I did a bit of cheating, and used the weather and the departure time and airport to work out that I was probably going to Geneva — a city I feared was so expensive (especially with post-Brexit vote exchange rates) I wouldn’t even be able to afford to get drunk in a half-decent place. By the time I left for the airport at 7am on a Saturday morning, I was tending towards agreeing with Mel: this was the worst idea ever.
On the train, I got an email from Surprise Trips — I could now find out where I was going. I clicked the link, feeling nervous, even though I was already sure I was going to Geneva and that the holiday was a write off. I had thoroughly ruined this part for myself, but I imagine it would be really thrilling and fun if you hadn’t cheated, and you were with someone who hadn’t let you down, and you were both hyped up to go on holiday. Luxembourg flicked up on screen, but didn’t settle. Score. And then Geneva came… and went. Turns out Surprise Trips had outsmarted me: It was Krakow. I was delighted; I have been to Krakow before, but this just meant I already knew how nice it is.
As I arrived, memories of the city came back to me, and I felt more secure being alone in a city I had already visited. However, the relationship breakdown warped a really good destination into a bit of a sad thing. I really liked the guy I was meant to go with, and he really likes Poland — especially Zywiec — and when I arrived I got this Sliding Doors feeling, where I saw the holiday through a mirror, as it would have been with him. I wished that I been able to bring my mum, or that I could have chosen a holiday destination more suited to my mood… like, say, my bed.
On the second day, I felt better, though. It helped that I had slept well: Surprise Trips had booked me a really nice hotel in the centre of Old Town, with a kingsize bed that I now had all to myself. In the spirit of spontaneity, I decided I could adapt to the change of fate and make the most of the holiday on my own. I walked down the cobbled streets, among the fairytale horse carts, crowds of tourists, castle, and relatively expensive, characterless restaurants of the Old Town. It felt quite liberating not to have planned an itinerary that I felt the need to force myself through.
I decided to do things that I like doing on my own, so I did some googling and made a quick plan. There was a flea market ending in an hour in Kazimierz, the town's Jewish district, and a flooded quarry just outside of the centre where locals go to swim and cliff jump. I like second hand shops, I love wild swimming, and I figured I could walk between the two and catch Pokémon on the way.
The market was ok, but Zakrzowek, the quarry lake, was brilliant. Technically, you're not allowed to swim because it’s deep, there isn’t a lifeguard, and apparently, because it flooded unexpectedly when miners accidentally hit the water level, the lake bed is a mess of submerged machinery and jagged rock. The entire perimeter of the lake was fenced off, except for at one point where a private dive school operates off a small pier.
Fortunately, the rules don’t stop anyone; the fence is full of holes and from the top of the cliff I could see a few dozen people swimming at the bottom. I slipped through a hole and a woman in hiking gear who was making a beeline for the shore showed me exactly where to put my feet in order to climb safely down the lowest part of the cliff.
The water was very blue, very clear, and full of fish, and floating on my own in it I felt utterly content. I was far more pleased with myself for having successfully adapted to the situation and enjoyed the day than I would have been on a normal holiday that had gone to plan. It was kind of reassuring, to know that I could adapt and find something to enjoy anywhere.
But would I pay to go on a surprise holiday again? Maybe. It was fun, but I’m not sure if I could afford to. This trip would have cost £600 for myself and a friend, for two nights, for the flight and hotel alone. That’s already quite a lot, but almost all European cities are a lot more expensive than Krakow once you get there. At the moment, if — like me — you can’t afford a weekend in Zurich or Geneva, the complete surprise element means that a surprise holiday might not be the best idea, even if you could manage fine in Poland.
And despite the realisation that I could probably enjoy a holiday anywhere, I’m still really glad it wasn’t Luxembourg.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Gigi Hadid's wardrobe is a constantsubjectoffascination. It was only a matter of time before she shared her style sensibility with the rest of us by turning out her own clothing line — or, say, a capsule collection. And just like that, Tommy Hilfiger has released a few looks from its upcoming capsule with the model, dubbed Tommy x Gigi, and it certainly delivers on the "Things Gigi Hadid Would Actually Wear" promise.
"Creatively speaking, it’s something that’s really true to my style," Hadid told Vogue of the collaboration, which will debut in full at Tommy Hilfiger's New York Fashion Week show in September. "I wanted it to be something that when people look at it, they know I was the one who designed it, and that it’s something I would genuinely wear." Judging from the skinny-fit, high-waisted trousers, cropped bomber jackets, leather leggings, and athleisure sets showcased in these first head-to-toe looks, we'd say the pieces are pretty true to what we've come to expect from the model's off-duty wear. There even appears to be some personalised denim in the mix, according to Instagram — makes sense, considering Hadid has been partial to the all-things-customised trend.
This is the model's first official venture into design. Since the pair-up was first announced in December, we haven't seen much aside from detailed close-ups of some pieces on the collab's own Instagram account, plus some sneaky paparazzi shots. The collection reflects Tommy Hilfiger's Americana-meets-nautical aesthetic — plenty of navy, knits, and oversized buttons — but Gigi-fied. "We did really fun patches and added elements that we loved from our initial inspirations, but then we added our fresh twist," Hadid told Vogue.
Ahead, take a look at Hadid's turn as apparel designer. (She models the lookbook herself, of course.) We'll probably have to stalk Instagram for more peeks leading up to the launch. But who knows — we might (read: probably will) spot some of these Gigi-vetted pieces on some of her famous friends before the full reveal at Hilfiger's show.
Transition that summer overalls craze into Autumn.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Never mind that we're in the middle of a heat wave — something about Hadid's smize makes us want to curl up in this cropped turtleneck, STAT.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Get the head-to-toe look for maximum Hadid effect.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
You don't need Hadid's statuesque height to don this flowy maxi-dress (or at least that's what we'll tell ourselves come September).
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
There's a mini version, too.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
We're getting major '90s supermodel vibes from this particular get-up.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
The nautical theme of Tommy Hilfiger's latest fragrance (which Hadid is the face of) pours over into the collaboration.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Hadid is taking all the guesswork out of coat-outfit pairings, clearly.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Reporting for (model-off-)duty.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Call it the athleisure effect, but leggings and sneakers outside of the gym are a classicHadidpairing.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Are you there, dream Autumn aesthetic? It's us, R29.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
This is probably the most weather-appropriate look of 'em all.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
This plushly lined jacket is the cold-weather alternative to the military-inspired bomber.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Caped crusader, indeed.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Shrugging it off, Hadid style.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Mark your calendars for September — we have a feeling this'll be a sellout.
Photo: Courtesy of Tommy Hilfiger.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Just because you love Mean Girls doesn't make you a mean girl. In fact, it probably means that you have a pretty solid group of girlfriends whom you can rely on, and that you all have great movie taste.
For me, the best part of movies like Mean Girls is the nostalgic high school clique-y aspect of it all. The Plastics, as awful as they acted, were one of the original girl groups. They were fierce, they knew how to get in formation, and they were #squadgoals, even at their worst. They represent a really formative time in a girl's life, and there's something sort of empowering about their strength in numbers.
So if you're sick and tired of watching Cady Heron fall into a trash can again, or could redraw a replica of the school cafeteria map, or if you've memorised the whole Kenny G rap — then it might be time to move on. But don't worry, we've got your back.
Here are all the movies you will love if you're a Mean Girls fanatic.
They'll hold you over until that elusive Broadway remake of the film comes out.
Bridesmaids(2011)
Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Maya Rudolph, Rose Byrne, and Ellie Kemper. Has their ever been a more hilarious line-up? The funny girl squad to end all funny girl squads.
Video via YouTube.
Now And Then (1995)
This movie will teach you the real values of friendship, a lesson Regina George might have missed out on.
Video via YouTube.
Josie And The Pussycats (2001)
Fame can do crazy things to a tight-knit friend group.
Video via YouTube.
Grease (1978)
The Pink Ladies were kind of the OG Plastics.
Video via YouTube.
Heathers (1988)
Evil takes a new form in Winona Ryder's character. It's twisted but amazing.
Video via YouTube.
Marie Antoinette (2006)
Marie Antoinette was kind of an 18th-century Regina — just substitute the cheese fries for cake and Champagne.
Video via YouTube.
Bring It On (2000)
Cheer squad = girl squad.
Video via YouTube.
Sex And The City (2008)
The Plastics as adults. But with better outfits.
Video via YouTube.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
There's plenty of talk of where Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump stand on some of the election's biggest issues.
But what about the major political parties they've been nominated to represent on the top of the ticket?
One of the less flashy purposes of a political convention is to adopt the party’s official platform — a.k.a. the stances and goals that the party selects for the next four years until the next convention.
The platform, which is written by a committee with input from the wider range of party members, covers everything from social issues, to foreign policy, to economic reform.
The platforms are non-binding, meaning candidates, activists, and political groups at the state and local level are free to agree or disagree.
Still, for the average American, the platform can function as a sort of cheat sheet for where a political party stands.
So, what do the party platforms say? We’ve broken down what Republicans and Democrats have to say on the big issues that matter to your life, from student debt to reproductive rights.
Ahead, take a look at the differences between both parties.
On this issue, the presidential candidates align closely with their parties. Republican candidate Donald Trump has professed himself a supporter of the Second Amendment and has said he holds his own concealed-carry permit. Democrat Hillary Clinton has called for stricter regulation of guns and their accoutrements.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
Former presidential hopeful Bernie Sanders' push for free tuition likely influenced the Democratic platform on affordable education. The Republican Party prefers making the option of not going to college affordable, too.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
When it comes to economic inequality, the parties stand on opposite sides of the current debate over minimum wage.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
The Republican Party is concerned with the presence of politics in discussions around climate change, and it objects to international agreements on the issue. Democrats, meanwhile, pledge to uphold them and reduce greenhouse gas emissions.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
The parties' opposing stances on LGBTQ rights is perhaps best summed up by the current legal fight over transgender students' access to bathrooms.
After the Obama administration instructed schools to allow trans students to use the bathroom of their choice, 11 states, nine of which are headed by Republican governors, sued the federal government.
This is also an example of an issue that lacks consensus within the GOP. Some Republicans — particularly younger members of the GOP — have fought for their party to soften its stance on this issue.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
The 2016 Republican Party platform was the first to expressly name Planned Parenthood, falsely claiming the organisation sells foetal body parts for profit. Democrats, meanwhile, broke new ground by calling out the Hyde amendment, which restricts federal funding for abortion services.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
The Democratic Party platform supports Obama administration initiatives, like Deferred Action for Parents of Americans (DAPA), Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, (DACA), and the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act, which would allow undocumented immigrant students to remain in the country conditionally.
Republicans voiced support for Trump's call to build a wall along the border between the U.S. and Mexico.
Image: Natalia Spotts.Image: Natalia Spotts.
While President Barack Obama's healthcare law, otherwise known as "Obamacare" or the Affordable Care Act, has been a point of contention between the parties for years, another big issue is the idea of making Medicaid a block grant and giving greater authority to states in the ways that federal funding can be allotted and spent.
Image: Natalia Spotts.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Even at 8 years old, Lily has a lot of concerns about politics and the state of the world.
But unlike many other kids her age, Lily wanted to do something about it. So she wrote a letter to President Obama with a few simple requests.
"Dear Mr. President, I think this country needs more spunk," the letter starts. "With all the attacks, the Zika virus, and the wars, this country is a very sad place. Please do something fun."
Lily, who the White House says is a daughter in a military family, had a couple of cheerful suggestions for the president: wearing a tie-dye shirt and shorts to an important event, going on a water-skiing trip in the Caribbean, or taking the first family to Disney World.
She also asked him to address the nation and "say something that will make everyone calm."
"You don't know how many politics worries I have," she added.
Obama answered Lily's letter, thanking her for her advice.
"Thanks for the fun letters and suggestions," the letter reads. "You seem like a great kid, and I can tell you’ve got plenty of spunk to help keep our Nation strong!
He added, "While I don’t know how the First Lady or my daughters would feel about me wearing a tie-dye shirt in public, I do know that one of my greatest responsibilities as President is ensuring your generation can thrive."
The president concluded his letter saying he expects great things of Lily's. We do too.
Late this spring, I was pregnant, and then, just as summer arrived, I was not. It was scary and sad, and there are probably a lot of very emotional things I could say about it — and someday I may well write about those feelings, as well as about how I hate phrases like “rainbow babies,” and how “At least you know you can get pregnant” and “This happens to a lot of people” are both accurate things to say but probably shouldn’t be your initial reaction when someone tells you they lost a pregnancy. But the main thing I felt about the experience was unprepared. When I discovered I was at a high risk for having one, I realised I barely even knew what a miscarriage was, not to mention how to tell if I was having one, how to know whether I needed medical care, or how to deal with myself and my life, physically, while it was happening.
What I really wanted to know was this: What should I expect? And it was very, very hard to find answers. Partly, I think, because — kind of like pregnancies, and labor and childbirth experiences — miscarriages vary widely, and there’s not necessarily a Platonic ideal here, no precisely “normal” run of show.
So that’s why I’ve decided to tell this story straight: the details of what actually happened during my particular miscarriage. It’s not going to be pretty — in fact, it’s going to be very, very ugly, so please do not read this if you’re easily grossed out — but I’m doing this for everyone else who may be going through it right now, or who will in the future, or who did in the past. Because the one sappy thing I will bring myself to say is this: Women go through some incredibly shitty shit, and they are amazing, and this experience revealed that to me in a way that I never could have anticipated. So this is for them. And for me.
Friday, May 20: I’ve been trying to get pregnant for about eight months, so I attend my first appointment with the acupuncturist (and all-around lovely person) Aimee Raupp, who specialises in fertility. She does my workup, and while I insist that I had my period earlier this week — at least, I think I had it — she thinks I may be pregnant and suggests taking a test this weekend.
Sunday, May 22: I take a pregnancy test. It seems positive? The plus sign is a little faded. I run to Target and buy the digital kind, and that one is pretty unmistakeable. I realise that wasn’t my period last week; it was implantation bleeding, and I’m about five weeks along. Freak-outs ensue. My husband, Akshay, is elated. I’m 30% elated, 70% certain this is too good to be true. We call our parents and our best friends. There are lots of tears.
Saturday, June 4: Akshay and I are on vacation in Dublin. We have sex. I use the bathroom, and there’s blood when I wipe. It doesn’t seem to continue, so I try not to worry, but I'm pregnant and bleeding, so it's hard not to.
Sunday, June 5 through Thursday, June 16: I find brownish spots in my underwear, or see a drop or two in the toilet or when I wipe, almost daily for nearly two weeks. I call my doctor, and she says it’s quite common and that there’s not necessarily a need to worry unless there is a greater volume of discharge and it looks like red blood. It never gets to that point, so again, I try not to worry, but.
Friday, June 17: I’m about eight weeks along now. I visit my new Ob/Gyn for my first prenatal appointment, where she says she’ll do an ultrasound to check for a heartbeat and make sure everything looks good so far. She inserts the ultrasound wand. Akshay grabs my hand — it’s like we’re setting the scene for “that ultrasound moment.” And then, the doctor calmly turns the screen our way to show us. She says, “This dark area is the gestational sac, but I don’t see anything inside, and I don’t detect a heartbeat. There’s a chance that we miscalculated and you aren’t as far along as you thought, but I would say you have about a 60% chance that this is not a viable pregnancy.” We spend the weekend crying.
Illustrated by: Ly Ngo
Monday, June 20: I’ve gotten myself to a place where I feel comfortably numb. And I have a photo shoot today for work, so I need to be on point. In a way, it’s nice to have a distraction — when you’re on set, it’s busy, and there’s no sitting at your desk and staring out the window and ruminating. The shoot goes well, but on my bathroom breaks at the studio, I notice that the spotting has gotten worse. It’s not quite red blood, but it looks sort of like the last day of a period: dark brown, streaky goop in my underwear and the toilet. I go back to the set and back into Chipper Fitness Editor mode.
Akshay and I meet up and walk home, over the Brooklyn Bridge, and I talk to him about how my discharge has changed, but I’m not sure what it means — and the more I think about it, the more I have no idea what to expect if something does, indeed, go wrong. I call Akshay’s cousin, an Ob/Gyn based in California, and she walks me through it: Based on what my doctor saw and said, she guesses our chances aren’t good. The miscarriage may happen on its own, and it’ll be like a very heavy period with very bad cramps. If it doesn’t, I can either have a D&C procedure or take a medication to induce the miscarriage. I think, In a way, I hope this happens on its own. I don’t want to have to have some awful procedure or take some weird drug on top of everything else. She also tells me that if it does happen naturally, I’m probably best off just dealing with it on my own — if I’m filling more than two pads per hour or feel faint, I should go to the ER, but other than that, it’s probably more comfortable to just let it pass at home.
There’s no mistaking it: The bleeding has started in earnest.
We arrive home, and I go to the bathroom, and there’s no mistaking it: The bleeding has started in earnest. I think, Okay, here we go. I decide to try to be cool about all this. I have a pad handy, for some reason, so I change my underwear and put on the pad. I don’t have any other pads, so I have to ask Akshay to go buy me some. By the time he gets home, I’ve lost what little fragment of cool I thought I might be able to have — the cramps have started already, and they are bad. Way worse than period cramps, which are pretty awful to begin with. I’m tearing the house apart looking for Advil. Turns out, Akshay had it in his work bag. I take a few and get myself into bed with a heating pad. I toss and turn, and maybe sleep a little, eventually.
Tuesday, June 21: I wake up, go into the bathroom, and close the door. As I’m pulling down my shorts and underwear to use the toilet, I realise there is practically a flood of thick, viscous blood gushing out of me at too fast a pace to be caught by my pad. (It’s not that I’m actually bleeding this heavily, it’s just that I’ve been horizontal for seven or eight hours and it’s all been pooling.) Blood gets everywhere: my underwear, my pajamas, the toilet seat, the floor. I wipe up what I can reach from the toilet seat, then do some Kegels to see if maybe I can clear more of it out of me before I stand up to get a new pad. I change pads, then get on my hands and knees to scrub the blood off the tile floor.
I send a friendly email to my team: “Hey y'all — I have a health thing going on and will be doing some combo of WFH and sick day today. Will keep you posted and hope to be in tomorrow.” I spend most of the day on the couch, sitting on a red towel. Thanks to the benevolent gods at Netflix, the new season of Orange Is The New Black has just been released — the perfect “Something terrible is happening to me and I need distraction and to be reminded of the incredible strength of women” binge-watch. Every time I get up to go to the bathroom, I bleed more, and my cat has taken my spot on the red towel by the time I get back to the couch.
Illustrated by: Ly Ngo
“Red Wedding”-like morning aside, things are honestly going pretty smoothly. There’s a lot of blood, but it’s not much more than my worst period days. I have cramps, but they've improved since last night, and I’m handling them with Advil and the heating pad. I start thinking about how my best friend is on maternity leave, and how it might be nice to take advantage of the chance to see her and her 8-week-old daughter during a weekday. I text her and see if she wants to meet up — she’s aware of what’s happening and wants to help however she can. I get myself dressed and start heading out, but I immediately begin to wonder whether this is a good idea. I’m a little dizzy, and very tired, and I just feel off. I make it to the smoothie shop where we said we’d meet, and we get a smoothie, but I’m pretty sure I’m acting super weird. I’m telling her all the gory details — they’re just coming out of me, no pause to consider whether she really wants to hear them, though she listens kindly and graciously. We walk to the park, and I start feeling worse. I realise I’m barely listening to anything she’s saying, and reluctantly tell her I need to go home. I feel awful for making her go to the trouble of getting ready, strapping on the baby, and walking in the summer heat to meet up with me.
I get on a train and am not sure I’m going to make it home. I’m hot and nauseous. I get off at my stop and call my mum and brother (not really for help, mostly to distract myself), and they are both very, very worried and very, very sweet. I get inside, strip down to my underwear, and lie on my bed on top of the covers, trying to cool down. I go to the bathroom, and there’s another flood — but this time, it’s happening in real time. I’ve never seen this much blood come out of anyone, except maybe in a terribly gory movie, which is not exactly my genre of choice. And then there are the clots: Unnervingly solid chunks the size of apple slices just fall out of me. I can’t imagine how they were able to squeeze themselves out through my cervix.
I cry, for what might actually be the first time that day. I’m sad, yes, but these are tears of horror, disgust, and shock — and frustration about my life’s total incompetence at preparing me for this. There are also some tears of embarrassment: How stupid could I be, thinking the middle of a miscarriage would be a good time to meet up with a friend for a fucking smoothie?!
I’m sad, yes, but these are tears of horror, disgust, and shock — and frustration about my life’s total incompetence at preparing me for this.
I calm down, and things slow down in my pelvis, and I get back on the couch and cue up OITNB again. I text Akshay and ask him if he wouldn’t mind going to Target to buy me some new underwear — I own mostly thongs, and thongs are not pad-friendly, so I need briefs. He gets home with my undies, and we research what you’re supposed to eat after significant blood loss. Meat, it seems, and leafy greens. We order pork schnitzel and a spinach salad from the nearby German restaurant.
Wednesday, June 22: I wake up, go to the bathroom, and see that the bleeding has slowed down significantly. I decide to take it a bit easy and see how I feel, so I sleep for another hour, watch some crappy morning TV, and at about 10:00 decide I’ll just feel shittier if I stay home again. I get myself together and go into work, but when I arrive I again get the feeling that this might not have been the best idea. I can barely make eye contact with anyone — I feel like a shell of a person. It’s just too weird to be there, to try to act like everything’s normal. I make it through the rest of the day, and then head to Naturopathica, where I’d scheduled a massage a few weeks ago that our Ob/Gyn cousin told me it would be safe to have post-miscarriage. The massage therapist starts to touch my back, and I’m suddenly in tears, from relief at feeling cared for and comforted.
Thursday, June 23: The bleeding is about the same. I go to work on time and feel slightly more human. I even manage to crack a smile at someone’s joke. I realise tomorrow is the birthday of two editors on my team, and one of them will be on vacation, so I throw together some plans for a last-minute celebration.
After lunch, I go to the bathroom and wipe, and a blueberry-sized, odd-looking reddish object appears on the toilet paper. I look closer and realise it’s the foetus — it looks just like those 3D illustrations from the pregnancy-tracking apps that tell you what fruit your baby is the size of this week. I am shell-shocked. I can’t believe I’m seeing this right in front of me. I’d thought this was over. And what the fuck do you do with a foetus that comes out of you in your office bathroom? I burst into silent tears, then try to breathe deeply and think more clearly. My doctor’s office is just downstairs, and they’ll know what to do. I unroll a clean piece of toilet paper, carefully transfer the foetus onto it, wrap it up gently, and put it in my pocket. I exit the stall, wash my hands, and get on the elevator.
At the doctor’s office, a kind nurse tells me that I don’t need to do anything with the foetus — they don’t test these things unless you’ve had three in a row or you’re over 35. Then she asks me how I’m staying so calm and positive. “I’m just barely keeping it together, I can assure you,” I say. I go back upstairs and back into the bathroom. I look at the foetus one last time, spend half a second wondering if I should take a photo or something, and flush it. I later learn via Google that this kind of odd-sounding instinct (to hold or touch or photograph the foetus) is extremely normal, which actually makes me feel a little better. I sob silently in the bathroom for a few more minutes — this time, tears of trauma and exhaustion — and then splash water on my face and head back to my desk. I text Akshay to tell him what just happened, and he comes running — his office is maybe a 15-minute walk away, but he’s here in six. We walk through lower Tribeca and the upper Financial District, and I tell him about the whole thing. I’m upset, but it’s hard to sustain, so we also look at cute dogs and make jokes, which also feels weird. I feel better and go back to the office. I’m 15 minutes late for the birthday surprise. I walk in, and my team hands me a card and a little bag of cookies as a congratulations for my recent promotion. I almost cry again, from gratitude.
Monday, June 27: I go in for a follow-up at my Ob/Gyn’s office. We’d scheduled a second ultrasound after the first one didn’t look promising, just in case there were any positive changes. Even though I obviously knew there wouldn’t be, I kept the appointment so we could do an ultrasound to see if there was any tissue left in my uterus — a suggestion from Akshay’s Ob/Gyn cousin. My Ob/Gyn is businesslike but gentle, reminding me that if this pregnancy didn’t work out, it’s because there was likely something very wrong with the foetus, and it wouldn’t have been a healthy baby. The ultrasound is clear — my uterus is completely empty. It’s over. Physically, at least.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
We all know that getting a good night's sleep leaves you refreshed, energised, and ready to take on the day (most of the time, anyway). But did you know that getting enough sleep can also be great for your marriage? According to a new study from Florida State University, couples who got more sleep were more satisfied with their marriages — at least on the following day.
The study, published in the Journal of Family Psychology, surveyed 68 married couples over a seven-day period, asking them to record the number of hours they slept and to rate their relationship satisfaction on a scale of one (not satisfied at all) to seven (very satisfied). The survey also asked couples to rate their satisfaction with certain relationship experiences, like household chores, conflict resolution, and amount of time spent together.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, people (and especially husbands) were less affected by negative experiences in those relationship areas if they had gotten more sleep the previous night. In other words, getting more sleep meant that they felt less cranky about negative aspects of their relationship, e.g., that recurring argument about who's messier or who hogs the bed more.
It should be obvious why getting more sleep makes people less cranky, but to get scientific about it, getting some shut-eye might be a major key to regulating your self-control, according to other research. Even a little bit of sleep deprivation negatively affects your glucose levels, a key component of your willpower. Translation: not getting enough sleep can make you more susceptible to impulsive decisions, like lashing out at your spouse for forgetting an anniversary or even evaluating how you feel about your partner.
"Up to one-third of married or cohabiting adults report that sleep problems burden their relationship," the researchers wrote in the paper.
However, researchers also noted that just because one couple gets more sleep than another does not mean that they are comparatively more satisfied with their relationship. Rather, it just meant that they reported better overall satisfaction in their own relationship if they got more rest.
So, there you have it: Yet another reason to get your much-needed rest at night. That being said, getting the adequate amount of sleep every night isn't easy for everyone, so if you need some expert-backed tips, we've got you covered.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
We've rounded up some of Trudeau's most noteworthy moments — so far — and will update this post with future news from our Justin.
Click through to see just a few of the moments that have led Trudeau to global fame.
Trudeau will apologise for Canada's persecution of gay citizens.
The Globe and Mailreported on August 11 that the prime minister will issue an apology to gay Canadians who have been fired, imprisoned, or discriminated against because of their sexuality. Unnamed sources, from both inside and outside Canada's government, confirmed the news with The Globe and Mail, but a date for the apology hasn't yet been announced.
Photo: Andrew Chin/Getty Images.
Trudeau and his wife tweeted their support for World Breast-Feeding Week.
World Breast-Feeding Week ran from August 1 to August 7, and the Trudeaus supported the initiative. In a tweet signed "SGT" sent from her husband's Twitter account, Sophie Trudeau shared a photo of herself breast-feeding the couple's son Hadrien.
Trudeau posed for a selfie with a Canadian family who caught him hiking in Quebec's Gatineau Park.
The Godby family will certainly remember this vacation — they spotted Trudeau and his family exploring the park's Lusk Cave. The prime minister agreed to a (shirtless) selfie, Jim Godby told The Toronto Star.
"It was a pretty normal dad moment," Godby told TheToronto Star. "I think some of the other people walking by had no idea it was the PM."
Photo: Vitaliy Holovin/Getty Images.
Trudeau marched in the Toronto Pride parade.
Trudeau made history when he became the first sitting prime minster of Canada to march in the parade. The prime minister waved a Canadian flag with a rainbow border added to the sides. He also danced during the event on Sunday, July 3.
Trudeau was hilariously awkward at the North America Leaders' Summit.
At the North America Leaders' Summit in Ottawa, Canada, on June 29, Trudeau was caught on camera trying to bring the presidents of Mexico and the United States together for a handshake that hilariously failed.
A photo of the handshake clearly shows Trudeau as the instigator of the awkward bonding attempt, as he crosses his arms over to reach for the others’ hands. On his right, Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto is clearly trying to figure out what to do with his other hand. On Trudeau's left, President Obama just seems to be watching the others try to figure this out.
Though Trudeau made up for it with more successful handshakes with the leaders (and at least one selfie with Obama), it’s proof that being a world leader does not protect one from being gloriously awkward.
Photo: Pablo Martinez Monsivais/AP Images.
Trudeau apologised for his goatee.
In an appearance on The Daily Show in May, Trudeau spoke about Canada welcoming Syrian refugees to the country. This week, The Daily Show posted another clip from the interview to YouTube. In the "Sorry Not Sorry" segment, Trudeau told Hasan Minhaj that he was sorry for the goatee he sported five years ago.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. There was just no call for that," Trudeau said. "I look like my own evil twin." He explained that the facial hair was for Movember, to raise money and awareness about prostate cancer. But Minhaj was quick to point out that Movember explains the moustache, but not its accompanying goatee.
On the other hand, Trudeau was "not sorry at all" for Canadian-native Drake and his role on Degrassi. " Degrassi 's a great show," the prime minister said. We couldn't agree more.
Trudeau raised the pride flag on Canada's Parliament Hill for the first time.
On June 1, Trudeau raised the pride flag. "Canada is united in its defence of rights," Trudeau said at the event, noting that members of multiple political parties attended the flag raising. Still, Trudeau noted that "we still have more work to do" to achieve equality, mentioning a recent bill that would give full protection to the human rights of transgender people in Canada.
Trudeau took a day off to celebrate his anniversary with his wife.
Trudeau announced that during a visit to Japan, he'll take a day off from work to celebrate his 11th wedding anniversary with his wife, Sophie Grégoire Trudeau.
"This is the kind of work-life balance that I've often talked about as being essential in order to be able to be in service of the country with all one's very best, and that's certainly something I'm going to continue to make sure we do," Trudeau said, according to Canada's CBC News.
Photo: Getty Images.
Trudeau announced transgender rights legislation in Canada.
On Monday, Trudeau announced a bill that would guarantee legal protections for transgender people in Canada, Canada's CBC News reports. The announcement came just ahead of the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia on May 17.
"Everyone deserves to live free of stigma, persecution, and discrimination — no matter who they are or whom they love," Trudeau said in a statement provided to Refinery29. "To do its part, the government of Canada today will introduce legislation that will help ensure transgender and other gender-diverse people can live according to their gender identity, free from discrimination, and protected from hate propaganda and hate crimes."
Trudeau casually drops the mic while doing one-armed push-ups.
In April, the Obamas and the royal family had a jocular Twitter feud about the Invictus Games, but Trudeau put them to shame with his tweet about the event. On Monday, Trudeau tweeted a video clip of himself — along with several members of Team Canada — doing one-armed push-ups. Trudeau tagged the Obamas' and Kensington Palace's Twitter handles, adding a caption telling them to "bring it" ahead of the sporting event for injured veterans.
Trudeau wows the world with his bhangra dancing skills.
In October, a video of Trudeau bhangra dancing went viral. The footage is apparently from a 2009 event sponsored by the India Canada Association of Montreal. The prime minister is truly a man of many talents.
Trudeau explained quantum computing to a group of reporters.
In April, a reporter who asked Trudeau about ISIL, prefaced his question with a slight that he was not asking the prime minister to explain quantum computing. In return, Trudeau responded by explaining how computers work.
And, of course, Trudeau wins the election.
Trudeau's time as Canadian prime minister is just starting, so we're sure to see many more noteworthy moments from him as his tenure continues. In this viral clip of Trudeau's family watching the election results, he won the world's hearts over by appearing to pay more attention to his family than to the election news.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Every year sees the release of a new Ikea catalogue, and with it, the collective dream-sigh of budget-minded homebodies everywhere. The catalogue a borderline-achievable romance novel for your apartment, complete with assurances that you can build most everything inside yourself.
This year, the catalog theme is Goodbye expectations. Hello you! which sounds like an inspirational game show hosted by Ashton Kutcher. Ikea hopes to offer up "solutions that help people to live a life free of traditional expectations," in order to "rediscover the simple joy of cooking, eating, and being together." Sounds like a plan.
Click through to see some of our favourites from the 2017 catalog — and let us know your thoughts in the comments!
A Rubik's-cube-inspired storage solution for your clutter.
Ikea Lixhult Storage Combination, £155, available at Ikea.
Photo: Courtesy of Ikea.
Even if you failed geometry, you'll fall for this rug. (Those are polyhedrons, right?)
National Sister Day falls on the 6th August, but we shouldn't need an excuse to celebrate the special bond between siblings. Yes, there can be rivalry, jealousy, repeated borrowing/theft of personal belongings, and there's the fact that your sister is the one person who knows exactly which buttons to push, but she tirelessly has your back and would come to your rescue faster than the speed of light. Learning and evolving alongside you from both shared and separate experiences, once your foe, your sister – the most faithful confidante – might now be your best friend.
Below, we've picked a selection of inspiring sisters, working in varied fields from literature and fashion, to cookery, music and interiors, to discuss their relationships and how they have supported and motivated each other to achieve individual and collective success.
Who better to shoot and style our five sets of sisters than sibling duo, photographer Rosaline Shahnavaz and stylist Nazanin Shahnavaz, two powerful and ambitious women who fit in perfectly with our diverse group of incredibly talented, compassionate and fiercely focused females.
Greta, Cosima & Camilla Bellamacina
Cosima: Top by Pop See Cul, Skirt by Each X Other. Camilla: Dress by Bella Freud. Greta: Dress by Bella Freud.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.Cosima: Dress by Bimba Y Lola. Camilla: Dress by Whistles. Greta: Top by Dilara Findikoglu, skirt by Topshop.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
As children we all used to put on plays together for our parents; we would take it very seriously. I think we still come together in a similar way. I just launched my first directed feature film in UK cinemas and Cami helped me produce it. She is now making her own films which I really admire. Me and Cosi also just collaborated on a photo shoot for Stella McCartney, which was such a fun way to spend the day together.
We're all very close and I'm always inspired by the way Cosi and Cami are fearless about their decisions. I encourage them to follow their darkest desires and be as authentic as they can possibly be in whatever they are doing.
All our wild hearts have something to say in our own different creative ways. I feel that we collaborate without meaning to. I recently illustrated a series of children's books, and am working on a number of other exciting painting commissions. Camilla and I are soon to be working on a new film project about emotions narrated through the female voice. I love all of Greta's poems, especially her new one 'Missing Europe'. It's such a pleasure to read her work and it inspires me when I write my own short stories.
Cosima: Dress by Bimba Y Lola, shoes by Stuart Weitzman. Camilla: Dress by Whistles, shoes by Bimba Y Lola. Greta: Top by Dilara Findikoglu , skirt by Topshop.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
Our philosophy is to do it for ourselves, and my sisters are always making things happen. I look up to them for their honesty towards adulthood. We are all very independent but at the same time, are a strong creative force.
My sisters' spirit and drive is something that continues to inspire me. Even though I am the middle sister, I feel that it becomes less of a defined role as I get older and that sharing similar ideas and bringing them to fruition is something that defines us more. Being able to collaborate comes very naturally to us and is always fun. I've just finished producing and directing a short film that Cosi was featured in and definitely want to continue all working together. I am now working in a production company in Central London.
Lotte & Nancy Andersen
Lotte: Jumper and skirt by Bella Freud, shoes by Crockett & Jones. Nancy: All clothes vintage.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.Lotte: Jumper and skirt by Bella Freud, shoes by Crockett & Jones. Nancy: All clothes vintage.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
Nancy and I take turns playing extrovert and introvert, it allows for space for the other to shine and perform. We have quite a special bond as our mother died when Nancy was 7 and I was 10. It glued us in this strange and wonderful relationship, where we have almost given each other permission to act the grown woman and the child intermittently. I'd say I certainly play the damsel to Nancy's efficient no nonsense attitude publicly but it's a different story when it's jut the two of us.
I love watching her navigate the parameters of becoming a young woman. It's a fascinating shift and something she does with more ease than most. To a certain extent I'd say my sister and I have been adults for 17 years, which is both a privilege and a burden. We were given control of ourselves much younger than most, and control as a woman is everything. It's the option to chose who you want to be.
I'd say we work completely differently. I work at 100 miles an hour, whether it's a party, artwork or shoot. The older I get, the more measured I become, which I work against. I want my energy imbued in the result. For me the more time that elapses between concept and creation, the higher the chance of losing the initial incentive. I love risk.
We're both perfectionists. We both want to be the best. Something she certainly keeps quiet! Soz I've outed you! I admire her work ethic. I admire how reliable she is. I admire her patience, I admire her voice, I admire her caring nature, I admire her taste in music, I admire her taste in clothes, I admire her commitment to becoming a respected female musician without compromise. I admire what a hard line feminist she is without realising, I admire that she doesn't suffer fools.
I admire and respect her commitment to constantly winding me up. I admire how chill she is – nothing fazes her. I admire that we went through hell together and she forgives me for all my bollocks. I have the ultimate respect for her.
Lotte and I have always supported each other. As we had a tough time when we were young we haven't really had time to be dicks to each other. When we were younger, Lotte being the oldest, of course, did boss me around a lot but all siblings have that. As you get older all the teen angst rubbish wears away.
We have the same tastes, because we have come from the same environment. Generally, I can play Lotte a song or tell her about a film, or buy a new item of clothing and we will both be excited about it.
I am more measured in my approach to work, Lotte is like a whirlwind of ideas. It takes me a long time to figure things out, so I move a lot slower whereas Lotte tends to have figured out everything a long time before she has even put her plan into action.
Lotte is really brave and strong but also very sensitive whilst taking no nonsense. I admire her willingness to call out any bullshit.
Lily & Bellaray Bertrand-Webb
Lily: Vintage top, jeans by Aries. Bellaray : Top by Rejina Pyo, vintage trousers.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.Bellaray : Top by Rejina Pyo, vintage trousers, shoes by Office. Lily: Vintage top, jeans by Aries, trainers by adidas. Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
Bellaray is my baby sister but the six-year-age gap between us doesn’t mean anything. Most people think we’re twins, even laughing and dancing the same. I think we both secretly like it!
I was six years old when she was born. I remember vividly when Dad came back from the hospital to tell me that I had a little baby sister. From then on, she was my real life baby doll. I worshipped her and loved showing her off to my jealous class mates.
As she got older and started having a mind of her own, she instantly took over the role of 'older sister boss’. Having gone through two major operations, Bellaray was always by my side and was very supportive during these difficult times. She had to grow up a little faster than most as she became my ears in things I couldn’t do: picking up the telephone, answering doorbells, and so on.
I love Bellaray’s strong, passionate views of today’s world. When she was nine years old, she wrote to Tony Blair to express her opposed opinions on the Iraq War. His assistant ‘kindly' wrote back a thank you letter which is proudly stuck our fridge door!
I especially love her unique style and crazy, curly locks.
Bellaray is and will always be my muse. I also try to encourage her to use my cameras to take photos. I want to see how she sees the world. I’m in complete awe of Bellaray’s imagination. From a young age she has always been inquisitive and is the storyteller in the family. I have no doubt in her that she has a lot of stories to share with the world. Watch this space!
Bellaray Bertrand-Webb, Classics Graduate
Lily is like a motherly figure always looking after to me. When Lily was a teenager we weren't that close but when I became a teenager we became closer and started going out together. As we get older we get closer and closer, it's the best!
My favourite characteristic in Lily is her kindness to everybody, her loyalty to her friends and family and how she finds everything funny.
I most admire my sister because she is one of a kind, she's had to go through many journeys in her life and lives with being deaf yet she is the brightest, nicest spirit I know. This makes me have no time for rude, mean or constantly grumpy people, it's unnecessary!
I'm currently building an online magazine The Rock, which is backed by the Government of Anguilla London Office, focussing on connecting Anguilla with its diaspora and the rest of the world. This allows me to interview people and Lily then takes the photographs. The next person we are meeting is Norwell Roberts, the first black man to join the London Metropolitan Police in 1967 who is from Anguilla! As I enter into the world of journalism our two passions are joining forces so stay tuned, there will be more to come from Lily and Bellaray!
Charlotte & Lucie Beecham
Charlotte and Lucie surrounded by Charlotte Simone jackets and scarves. Lucie wears a vintage T-shirt.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
We are very close. There's only a few years age gap so we've always been joint at the hip. My uniform is my playsuit and sneakers. But it is safe to say Lucie is far more casual, she doesn’t own a pair of heels…
Lucie has a great eye and a real energy about her when she's behind the lens. I love working with her as her energy is contagious.
I have so much respect for the brand [Charlotte Simone] Charlotte's built up over the years. When we get to work together there's a level of trust between us, we both know each other so well so I can predict if she's going to hate something...
We're devoted parents to Harold our sausage dog, and best friends.
Sophie & Rose Ashby
Rose: Suit by Casely-Hayford. Sophie: Suit by Casely-Hayford.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.Rose: Top by Joseph, vintage skirt. Sophie: Dress by Rejina Pyo.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
Since we moved to London, we have been best friends. I trust and rely on Rose more that anyone and with our parents living abroad, Rose is my family here. When we were teenagers we bickered and fought constantly because she stole all my clothes, or worse, copied me! I even felt the need to padlock my wardrobe when I left to go travelling but she managed to unscrew the hinges and take what she wanted regardless! Eventually Rose realised she needed to stop doing that for us to get on and it’s been plain sailing and good times ever since. Nobody makes me laugh as much as Rose.
Rose is the most care-free, chilled out, sweet and kind person I know. She doesn’t sweat the small stuff, which is something I sadly do so I think I admire her approach to life the most. She is really calm even though she is a chef [at Spring in Somerset House] and works in a very stressful environment!
I always knew Rose would do something that involved working closely with people and far away from a desk. Rose is amazing with people, she can chat to anyone (and make them laugh). She is a great teacher too, I know that she loves working with her team at Spring, training up the juniors as well as working closely with Skye and learning from her. Rose is absolutely killing it for a chef of her age and I am seriously proud, always bragging about my talented little sis.
I look up to my big sis and am convinced she is the coolest woman on the planet. This has always been the case, although growing up I displayed my love and admiration through punching and hair pulling – I used to be extremely annoying. I borrowed her clothes and left them dirty on my bedroom floor, I told porkies to get her in trouble and I used to pinch and punch to my heart's desire (until suddenly she hit back, it really hurt, and I never hit her again.)
Then one day I realised it was up to me to make our relationship a friendship, so I stopped doing all those things and gradually we started to become best friends. Now I look to her for advice on big decisions I have to make, or problems that may arise. She always has the best advice and is constantly encouraging me to break through my comfort zone and strive for more. I depend on her in so many ways, but mainly she is the best best friend in the world – she knows me inside and out and no matter what happens she is stuck with me!
I'm not sure what she would say about my role, I like to think I help her to see situations for what they are. Soph, has a tendency to overthink a situation and analyse it too deeply. Sometimes I am blown away by the way she evaluates and thinks, it can weigh you down if you worry so much.
Rose: Top by Joseph, vintage skirt. Sophie: Dress by Rejina Pyo.Photographed by Rosaline Shahnavaz.
She wanted to set up her own company at 25, so she did and she has completely nailed it. If she wants something, she will find a way and she will make sure she has it, and that is part of the reason she is successful and has built such a unique brand. I am not referring to material things, I'm talking about clients, contacts and career moves. As with most successful people, near enough is not good enough for Sophie, she has always been a perfectionist.
When Sophie was seven she had a little book of shoes that she designed, her company was called S.K.A.G (glad that one didn't stick) which is an anagram of her full name. So I thought she would go into fashion for a while, but it soon became clear that she had a good eye for furniture and was always trying to help Mum decorate the house. Her room was also very cool, with homemade lamp shades and headboards and her paintings on the walls. Mine was consistently a bomb site so she was always trying to help me improve and organise it, to no avail. I was too in to bugs and being a tomboy to care about colour schemes and bed linen.
My favourite characteristic of Sophie would have to be that she is eternally kind and thoughtful of others. It does not come naturally to her to make fun of people or say anything hurtful, no matter how horrible that person is being to her. She is rather saint-like in that respect. She honestly does follow the mantra of treat others how you would like to be treated.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
While our athletes wow the world with their physical feats this summer, let’s also spare a thought for the women undertaking Olympian tests of endurance in changing rooms across the country. The women quietly, determinedly battling the combined forces of gravity and fashion, often for whole afternoons at a time, without losing their shit and flicking anyone in the forehead with a tiny plastic hanger. The woman bikini shopping. With breasts.
There are no medals for us. No prizes for those precious hours we spend wrestling ourselves in and out of a parade of unsuitable lycra items, when we should be eating Magnums, laughing gaily on rooftops or pretending to read Elena Ferrante in a park. The best reward we can hope for is something that looks moderately sassy, covers our nipples and doesn’t come off going down a flume.
This isn’t to say that nobody makes swimwear for big breasts – they do, but boy, is it often a hot mess of misguided design. The stomach ruching. The baffling, Ikea-style optimism of 'shelf support'. The dental floss halter straps – all the better to garotte you with, my dear! Dress sizes don’t translate into bikini cup sizes, bottom sizes are a free-for-all, and brands tend to mistake ‘has large breasts’ for ‘would basically be happier in a wetsuit with a skirt.’
The whole experience is enough to make you see spots, which I mean quite literally because it is written somewhere – presumably carved on a stone table at the Cair Paravel of cleavages – that if you’re a breasty lady going swimming, you can only do it dressed as a 50s pin-up on a seaside postcard. Just polka dots, polka dots, polka dots, as far as the eye can see. Gingham if you’re lucky. Maybe a cheeky anchor. Those are your options.
Floozie by FrostFrench at Debenhams, a long-time old faithful for bikinis with boob room, have done so many iterations of the 50s trope that they’re practically driving us back to the McCarthy era – but if high-waisted ruffles are your vibe and you're a 38E or smaller, you’ve never had it so good. This white balcony bikini with neon orange flowers (£26.50) is the pick of the bunch.
For the rest of us, seeking reference points from more recent eras, it’s slim pickings. We have the maniacally laughing ladies on the Isle of Bravissimo, all sturdy straps and pink floral tankinis. Their breasts are supported, yes – but at what cost? Meanwhile our usual high street haunts – your Zaras and H&Ms and Urban Outfitters – rarely cater for anything bigger than a C cup. (Last year I bought an underwired Topshop one-piece that fit my chest but was two sizes too big elsewhere, and industriously sewed the halterneck into two load-bearing straps. I paid £35 for a craft project, and considered it a triumph. Thus is the reality of summer as a haver of breasts.)
And in keeping with fashion’s current mood of airy bralessness, this year’s hottest swimwear is a stretchy, minimalist, free-the-nipple affair. Those high-legged, low-backed Baywatch one-pieces; the seersucker bandeau tops; the strappy, wrappy cutwork creations – all gorgeous if you fancy giving gravity a free rein, but less so if you just want to keep the damn things still while you eat a Maxibon.
However, there is hope on the horizon. I went fishing for options to accommodate your style aspirations AND your breasts – with, I promise, not a polka dot in sight…
This scorching pink and orange number from (surprisingly) Debenhams is the first bikini I’ve been happy and comfortable in for years. It delivers a sturdy amount of underwiring and moulded cup support but without looking matronly, and crucially comes with detachable straps – two, not the dreaded halterneck.
Anyone who’s worn a Wonderbra Ultimate Strapless will know that moulded cups mean business. They might feel like body armour but babe, they get the job done. Swish swimwear label Prism London has this chic bustier style in two subtle shades (no fuschia florals here) and claim it works up to an F cup. There’s a classy underwired swimsuit in the same fabric too.
Because if we continue with our sterling efforts, there’s a chance 2016 can be remembered as the Year Everyone’s Shoulders Were Always Out rather than the year the world went to hell in a handbasket – and magically, this fancy-backed Bardot one-piece from Figleaves also features secret underwiring. Not so basic now, eh?
I can’t tell you in what world this qualifies as a ‘high-neck’ swimsuit, but I do know that Wolf & Whistle knows how to combine a thick strap with sex appeal. The straps on this nude-illusion suit are adjustable too, so you can hoist everything skyward.
Long-time friends to the busty gal, Freya might not have the sexiest selection, but they do understand that most of us really just want a bikini that looks like our favourite bra – but waterproof. This one goes up to an H cup.
Sometimes you find things when you’re least expecting them – like the perfect minimalist high-cut swimsuit with hidden underwiring, on the La Redoute website. Huh.
This jungle print number is here to fulfill your Beyonce-in- the-Survivor-video fantasy, and also your fantasy of buying a bikini top that effectively contains your whole breast. Up to 42FF, and there’s an underwired one-shouldered swimsuit version too.
Another colour-blocking triumph, this gentle sweetheart neckline is friend to the breast without the risk of catching seaweed in your cleavage. Available up to a 38G.
For the times you want to forget the Jenners and just be Jayne Mansfield instead, Curvy Kate has come up trumps with this panelled, shell print situation. Goes up to a G, for ‘God, my breasts look amazing.’
If you have the time and energy to trawl through SimplyBe, there are some rewards to be had – like this sturdy bra bikini top, which goes up to a magnificent 46F (and size 28 bottoms) and looks like your parents’ caravan curtains from the '90s. In a good way.
Ideal for those inspired post-Olympics swims we’re definitely going to be going on, Speedo’s sculpted cossie has all the structural integrity your ta-tas need, but manages not to look like something you bought from the kiosk at the front desk of the pool.
Not underwired, but it does go up to a size 18 with a concealed bandeau lining, and there’s some pretty serious fabric coverage to work with here. Would probably even survive a water slide.
Holiday hair, as the advertisers would have it, is soft, tousled (whatever that means), waist length, with natural highlights and a shine only comparable to the sun, under which it basks. It looks too, like it would be soft as velvet to the touch. But in reality our summer barnet looks more like we've been fiddling with some wiring with soaking-wet hands.
When we emerge from the sea, like a poor man's Halle Berry, our hair is crunchy to the touch, and it seems to remain as such when we return home and sit back at our desks. Sun, sea, chlorine, pollution, straighteners, bleach, hair-ties and over-washing – we really torture our tresses, don't we? And, we expect it to bounce back each time. So what to do when hot hair just doesn't look hot anymore? When a blow-dry still leaves it looking dull, or a good comb-out still leaves it flat?
Firstly. Do. Not. Freak. There are plenty of solutions to get your hair back on track – the majority of which can be tried and tested sink-side. Honestly, there's lots you can do, even if your hair is suffering from acute heat-exhaustion. Here's the drill...
Hair Masks
For really dry, brittle hair, a hair mask is a good place to start. Unlike a conditioner, masks get right inside the hair cuticle. Apply this Davines Minu Mask, after shampoo, and leave on for fifteen minutes under a hot towel and rinse, or wear it over night with a shower cap on and rinse twice in the morning.
Leave-In Conditioner
A leave-in treatment, like this Bumble and Bumble quenching complex is ideal for people with chronically dry hair. Apply all over to damp hair and comb, or lightly coat dry hair and don't rinse! Your hair's texture will feel entirely different.
Hair Oil
If you're not using oils, why not? Oils will change your hair's life. Apply a pea sized amount through lengths and ends to towel dried hair. Let your hair dry naturally if you can bear it, and feel your smooth, silky ends.
This should be added to your daily routine and a small amount can be smoothed over dry hair for moisture and sparkle. This Davines oil works a treat and smells amazing.
At Home Hair Treatments
You can make really nourishing masks at home, as Alex Brownsell, co-founder of London's cult salon, Bleach, showed us:
All you'll need is the following ingredients:
2 eggs
1/2 an avocado
4 tbsps of mayo
Mash the avocado, whisk the eggs and pour in, add 4 spoons of mayo and mix together. Apply liberally to pre shampooed hair as a conditioner and cover with a shower cap. Leave for approx 30 mins. Rinse well with lukewarm water.
The protein in the eggs will hydrate your hair, whilst the the vinegar, soybean oil and lemon juice in mayo adds shine and locks in moisture. The fatty acids in avocados also hydrate your hair, and are rich with vitamins and nutrients.
Olaplex
Olaplex should be the ultimate restorative step for people really seeking out a long-term solution.
Despite having to visit a salon, it's relatively cheap (£21-30) compared to say, a Brazilian blow dry, and highly effective. It is applied in three steps at the salon, and can un-do damage caused by dying and styling, while also being used in conjunction with dye at the salon to protect follicles. Either have it applied as a treatment, as part of your cut and colour, or purchase Step 3 and use it at home twice a week as a leave in treatment.
Put Down The Heat
For those of you addicted to your tongs and straighteners, you won't want to hear this but no good can come from heavy heat tools.
They're best left in your drawers. But if that's just not an option then don't think about using them without a heat defence spray like this MoroccanOil Heat Styling spray that creates a thermal shield around delicate hair follicles.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Welcome to Money Diaries, where we're tackling what might be the last taboo facing modern working women: money. We're asking a cross-section of women how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period — and we're tracking every last penny.
Today, a single American expat who is working as a Strategy Manager in London, seeing gigs and eating out "way too much".
Industry: Media & Information Services
Age: 29
Location: London
Salary: £75k
Monthly Salary: £3700
Household: Currently looking for a new flatmate.
Monthly Expenses
Rent: £1820 for a two-bedroom, two bath; I pay £950
Loan Payments: None! While I officially have no student loans, I pay back my mother monthly £530
Utilities: £120 including internet, electric, council tax
Transportation: £124.50 (£32 / week)
Phone Bill: I pay my family’s cell phone bill back in the US – £88
Health Insurance: N/A
Monthly Subscriptions/ Donations: Hulu, Spotify and WAMU – £22
Total: £1834.50
Day One
9am: Work from home this morning and make myself a Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk. Head into the office around 11am.
12pm: I’ve spent the last two weekends travelling (Tel Aviv and Rome respectively) so have had zero time to grocery shop and cook at home. Lunch out it is. Truffle stuffed ravioli at the Italian deli – £6
4pm: And sometimes you need an afternoon snack of gelato to remind you of warmer days – £4
5pm: I order Hello Fresh and used a coupon code for three free meals, first order arrives Saturday. £20.
6pm: Quick pit stop (pun intended) to pick up deodorant for £3.
9pm: Uber home after a late night at the office – expensed! £0
9.30pm: Necessary run to Tesco for sausages (protein) and vegetables, check and check £17.
Daily total: £50
Day Two
7am: Every Wednesday I do morning yoga with friends at their home gym. We take turns paying and it’s my turn this week – £50
10am: Need to replace my foundation and swap Urban Decay Naked Skin Weightless Ultra Definition Liquid Makeup (my first foundation ever!) for Naked Skin One and one with SPF for £25. Then I head into the office late. Thank goodness for flexible work schedules and East Coast colleagues.
12pm: Another lunch out. £6 for lamb and halloumi from Leather Lane Market
6pm: Headed home to meet potential new flatmates, ged distracted reading etc. and skipped dinner.
Daily total:£81
Day Three
8am: Do a morning pilates class I bought as a package a while back.
9.30am: Feeling lightheaded since I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, so drop by a café for a cappuccino and a poached egg, with avocado and toast while doing some emails – £8
11.30am: Pick up a dress I had altered for £10 and then head into the office.
12pm: Purchase tickets on Sofar for a gig on Sunday that a friend’s playing. Tickets were £12.50.
4pm: Late lunch of ham & cheese sandwich from Eat – £3. I buy food out way too much.
8pm: Meet up with a friend’s sister who I met a few weeks ago, had a great time getting to know one another and disappointed we only met so late on her trip. Treat her to dinner at Saager & Wilde for £64.
11pm: We then went to a "members only" club in Soho – the friend grabbed drinks for us both.
Daily total: £107.5
Day Four
9am to 5pm: Work from home today and make lunch here.
7pm: I decided to meet up with a coworker before a concert... someone had the munchies so we went to McDonalds. He paid for this bad decision. £0
8pm: Rocked out at the Leon Bridges concert in Brixton. Had bought the ticket previously, and decided not to drink.
11pm: Headed home with a friend? A friend with benefits? Not sure, but going with the flow.
Daily total: £0
Day Five
10am: Tube home from friend with benefits' place (as long as there are benefits!) Shower, change, "put my face on" as they say.
11am: Stop by my local French bakery and grab a £3 cappuccino before another trip to Brixton, this time during the day to check out the market.
12.30pm: Catch up with a friend who is currently completing her masters. Treat her to Thai for lunch, which costs me £20.
1.30pm: Wander around Brixton market and picked up a Matt & Nat wallet and a cute black skirt from The Keep – £61. Then I tube it over to Borough Market.
4pm: Need another coffee, so face the queues in Monmouth for a £3 cappuccino.
5pm: Left my friend and made my way home, stopping by Waterstones to buy books for friends. Nothing brings me greater joy than sharing my love of literature with those I love. £27.
Stayed in Saturday reading and watching the Masters tournament on the telly, made a late evening dinner of eggs, tomatoes, and toast.
Daily total:£114
Day Six
10am: Slept in and it was great. Woke up and hung out in my PJs reading the New Yorker on the couch.
12.30pm: Brunch (split delicious ricotta hotcakes, courgette fritters, tuna and avocado and a brown rice salad) at Granger with friends – a couple who recently moved here from Singapore – £23
3pm: It’s been nearly a month since my last climbing session and it feels so good! I catch up with my regular climbing partner who I haven’t seen in months. I bought an 11 session package ages ago – £0
5.30pm: Stopped by Tesco to buy some necessities £6
6.30pm: Received my Hello Fresh order! And baked a frozen pizza to eat before I head off to another concert.
8pm: Saw a friend’s band, Nova Neon, playing a SoFar gig in London – super fun experience as always. Chatted up the MC and got his number, started texting and making plans for something later in the week.
Daily total: £29
Day Seven
10am: Stopped by my local coffee spot for a cappuccino and croissant, before heading into the office – £3
1pm: Soup for lunch costs £3.50, plus some fruit for a snack, which is £3.
2pm: I have a friend visiting from Geneva who books us ballet tickets for Wednesday. She owes me for our most recent trip to Rome so I don’t need to pay anything.
7pm: Left the office, faffed around on the Internet reading nonsense, snacking on bread and hummus – uni diet much?
9.30pm: Put in another hour of work before hitting the sack.
Daily total: £9.50
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
With her expressive face and childlike glee, Chinese swimmer Fu Yuanhui has become a walking meme and social media sensation thanks to the Rio Olympics. She's one of the most popular athletes in China and has won hearts the world over.
But her influence now stretches beyond funny gifs and a quirky catchphrase. She has brought to the fore a topic that remains taboo in Chinese sport and society: periods. Specifically, the debilitating effects they can have on women's bodies.
After the final of the women's 4x100 metre medley relay race on Sunday, in which her team came a disappointing fourth, Yuanhui was spotted hunched over in pain.
The 20-year-old told a journalist: "I didn't swim well enough this time," the BBC reported. When asked if she had a stomach ache, she said: "It's because my period came yesterday, so I felt particularly tired – but this isn't a reason, I still didn't swim well enough."
Periods are rarely spoken about openly in Chinese sport, and women took to social media to thank and empathise with Yuanhui.
One blogger wrote (in Chinese): “[Menstruation] is an unspeakable issue in the public for women, but Fu actually talked about it in a live interview with CCTV. That’s exactly her personality. Cool!”, Quartz reported.
For many Chinese people, it was the first time they realised it was even possible for women to swim while on their periods. Let alone that it is hygienic, perfectly safe and even recommended as a way to ease cramps.
Confused people of both sexes also took to Weibo to ask: “Why there was no blood in the swimming pool?”, later finding out that the answer lay in tampons, Quartz reported. Tampons are not widely used in China and have never been popular. Not a single tampon was made by a Chinese manufacturer in 2015, compared to 85 billion sanitary pads. Only this month is a domestic tampon brand launching in the country.
There is still a high value placed on virginity in China and women still undergo hymen restoration surgery. Many believe that using tampons can break a woman's hymen, so they are never mentioned in Chinese sex education classes, reported Quartz.
China's Fu Yuanhui competes in the Women's 100m Backstroke heats during the swimming event at the Rio 2016 Olympic GamesPhoto: FRANCOIS-XAVIER MARIT/AFP/Getty Images.
So why is menstruation so taboo in China? And why is there such mystery and squeamishness surrounding the methods women use to deal with them?
The answer is inherently tied to the position of women in Chinese society. "Despite huge social changes and reforms in the last three decades, China is in some ways still a conservative, Confucian and – at least in its politics and public face – patriarchal society," said Kerry Brown, Professor of Chinese Studies and Director of the Lau China Institute at King's College, London.
Despite "constituting an empowered minority " in China, due to the country's unbalanced sex ratio, women are largely absent from the top echelons of Chinese politics and only make up about a third of the main business leaders, Brown told Refinery29.
All of these factors help to create an environment in which maleness is the default, and women's concerns are not a priority.
When it comes to periods and why menstruation is a sensitive topic in particular, Brown told Refinery29: "I guess you have to think about the fetishisation of the female body, the ways in which in protocapitalist [early capitalist] Chinese modern society, the female body has become a commodified form, and how very ideal and unrealistic expectations towards women's physical appearance are promoted in the Chinese media – witness the huge numbers of plastic surgery places now, and the plethora of dieting and other regimes."
So while women in China have gained influence and other benefits during the last six decades of Communist rule, they still suffer discrimination and face glass ceilings, Brown said. "The swimmer Fu has managed to contribute at the Olympics by opening up another area of discourse which was closed down till now. And that is a good thing," he added.
Ignorance surrounding menstruation is far from confined to China, however, and periods remain a taboo and sensitive topic in societies around the world.
Louis Vuitton's monogram is one of the most recognisable and popular luxury logos in fashion. Bag lovers worldwide have saved to get their hands on that famous interlocking 'LV' and the equally familiar brown and tan check. But now the French fashion house is tapping into a new market by launching seven new fragrances, after a 70-year hiatus from the perfume world. And they've just unveiled fashion favourite, French actress Léa Seydoux as the face of the new range, named Les Parfums Louis Vuitton.
On September 1st, Louis Vuitton will start selling the eagerly-awaited range online and in 473 stores internationally, each costing $240, with scents ranging from floral to oud and leather. After a failed attempt to launch a fragrance in 1946, this time round, the luxury fashion brand has called upon the expertise of third-generation perfumer, Jacques Cavallier Belletrud, as well as setting up a new base in Grasse, following the company’s purchase in 2013 of Les Fountaines Parfumees, a perfumery with over 350 varieties of plants and flowers.
Photo: Courtesy of Louis Vuitton.
Michael Burke, chairman and chief executive of Louis Vuitton explained to the New York Times why the fragrance launch has been five years in development: "Over the last 20 years, we have extended our reach everywhere from shoes to accessories to jewelry and beyond... And fragrance — a fundamental aspect of dressing, and telling the world who you are every day — was our last major frontier. It is of no real surprise we decided to go into this in a big way."
The move into fragrance is certainly a wise one, as handbag sales continue to slide, according to the Business of Fashion, and consumers are more likely to buy a comparatively cheap entry-level product rather than an expensive accessory in the current economic fashion climate. To ensure that this launch is a success, every detail has been incredibly considered, such as the stoppered bottles designed by Marc Newson and the new fountains inside Louis Vuitton stores where customers will be able to refill flacons.
Photo: Courtesy of Louis Vuitton.
The range consists of poetic names like Mille Feux ("A Thousand Lights") and Contre Moi ("Close To Me") but campaign face Léa Seydoux's personal favourite is Rose Des Vents, meaning "Rose of the Winds." "I love the strong, dominant rose," Seydoux explained in a brand statement. "For me, the rose is the symbol of femininity. It embodies mystery and sensuality."
A fragrance fountain, sexy, singular leathery scents and our style crush Léa Seydoux as the new face? See you in the Louis Vuitton line next month.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Last week marked the beginning of yet another series of Channel 4’s much loved, much lauded, fly-on-the-wall dating show, First Dates. The programme first aired in June 2013 and follows a simple premise: two people go on a blind date to a restaurant and at the end of their meal must sit together and give a debrief of how they think the date went, before revealing if they’d like to see the other person again.
The results range from heart-warming to excruciating and the show has regularly trended on Twitter, as well as garnering extensive media coverage, from the Guardian last year pondering "How First Dates won the nation’s heart" to er, The Birmingham Mail’s gripping exposé about what it’s "REALLY like" to go on a date in the infamous restaurant. At the show's peak, viewing figures reached 2.2 million, but under a million people tuned in to Episode One, Series Seven last week, suggesting that things might have become a little too predictable.
As much as I love seeing the peaks and pitfalls of strangers’ romantic endeavours, after more than 50 episodes, I may have seen enough. After the "celebrity specials" which have seen not one, but two cast members of Made in Chelsea supposedly looking for "the one" over a steak dinner, it’s beginning to feel like the right time to switch off. As Fred Sirieix, the restaurant’s French maitre d' and very own clichéd-quote generator puts it, “There is only one happiness in this life. To love, and to be loved.” But are we falling out of love with First Dates?
Re-watching the first few series is like looking back at photographs of an old love and wondering where it all went wrong. Who could forget Terry Turbo, Faliraki DJ and self-proclaimed Lothario who claimed to have slept with over 250 women and who visited the First Dates restaurant no less than three times. Memorable moments include Terry informing his date she was close to giving him an erection and asking another what her bra size was.
Then there was Fayhe, a 23-year-old cheerleading coach from Lancashire, who had to endure ex-soldier Will drinking excessively, discussing paedophiles and generally being atrocious company during their dinner. Despite the circumstances, Fayhe remained poised and gracious throughout and when online applications opened for people to apply for a chance to go on a date with her, more than 1,000 men signed up.
Geordie post-office worker Jodie from Season Three was endearingly self-deprecating, liked a “good eyebrow”, was horrifically friend-zoned by her first date, Laura, and yet managed to bounce back into the restaurant for round two a week later. Jodie found true love in Mancunian Laura, who looked like the perfect amalgamation between Katy Perry and Cheryl Cole. Reflecting on the outcome of her first date, Jodie poetically summed up: “I would say there’s plenty more fish in the sea, but when you take the sea of gay and then the lesbians, and then the feminine lesbians (which I go for), it’s pretty much a puddle”.
My favourite date ever though, was first aired all the way back in March 2014. 76-year-old retiree John and former engineer Jean were both attentive, interested in each other’s stories and gave the kind of advice you want to write down on a post-it note and stick on your mirror to read every morning. It didn’t even end with them agreeing to see each other again, but that was almost beside the point. As Jean said, “For both of us, this experience has been an opening door, which we both need to push it open and walk through it.” Amen to that.
But for all our happy history with First Dates, things have begun to go awry. Perhaps it started when former diners started popping up on other, slightly less sweet and innocent, dating shows. Cara De La Hoyde, who this summer won the dubious title of Love Island finalist, and Ex on the Beach regular Jess Impiazzi, both featured in Series Two of First Dates, slightly tarnishing the idea that they were genuinely "looking for love" in the restaurant. Even aforementioned cheerleading coach Fahye went on to pose topless for Zoo magazine.
Perhaps I also started to feel like giving up when the creators made the ill-advised decision to expand, launching Australian-based First Dates Abroad, which lacks any of the warmth or authenticity that the British version had. Added to this is the news that we’re soon to have another spin-off series, the First Dates Hotel. Set in a boutique hotel in the French countryside, the show will allow us to see what happened next for some of the restaurant’s successful daters. Clearly a five-minute clip of a couple awkwardly discussing splitting the bill is just not doing it anymore. The Mirror reckons it “will surely see more Love Island -style antics than the average giggle and playful banter in the famous restaurant,” so that’s something to look forward to.
It's not all bad. Back in December we were treated to the first ever First Dates proposal for a special Christmas episode. Former guest Scott White got down on one knee to propose to his girlfriend Victoria Wills... with a Haribo ring, no less. (Because what’s more romantic than being presented with a Haribo jelly ring, in the bar of the same restaurant where you enjoyed your first, televised date, just months before?) Anyway, she said "yes", and Twitter reacted in kind.
So sure, we’ve had some good times in the First Dates restaurant; some very good times (Season Four’s Louisa, who inquired "How do you greet a male on a date?" is my spirit animal) but many more bumbling greetings and stilted conversations can we take? Especially now we know that some of the staff don’t actually work there (CiCi is a trained actress, meep). It's a tired formula, and one that's starting to feel as stale as the bread served at the restaurant. Finally, it seems it might be time to take off the rose-tinted glasses and step away from the rosé wine. RIP First Dates.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
Attitudes towards boobs in our society are really quite confusing.
On the one hand, they're highly sexualised commodities encased in push-up bras and splashed across the media, that exist mainly to please men. At the same time, they're useful objects that prudish prima-donnas want banned from public view when mums breastfeed their babies.
As if being a new mum wasn't difficult enough, women have to deal with this double standard every time their baby gets hungry in public. Do they risk offending people in a crowded restaurant, or let the haters win and confine themselves to a public toilet, just in case?
British poet and spoken-word artist Hollie McNish tackles this dilemma head on in "Embarrassed", which has been made into a short film.
The powerful poem attacks everything from the uneasy contradiction between anti-breastfeeding attitudes and “billboards covered in tits”, to the way baby formula is marketed, despite breast milk being free.
McNish teamed up with filmmaker Jake Dypka to visually explore the question: "Why is titillation accepted and sustenance rejected?" You can watch the video below.
It features real breastfeeding women who responded to a callout from McNish. Dypka said of the filming process: "I was unsure how comfortable people would be breast-feeding their babies on camera but it is such a natural thing for a mother to do, all I had to do was avoid trying to direct too much and allow things to be real."
The poem is based on McNish's own breastfeeding experience. She wrote it a few years ago in a public toilet after her six-month-old baby fell asleep, she said on her own Youtube channel.
"I was in town on my own a lot with her and the first time I fed her someone commented that I should stay home. Baby's [sic] need breastfed every 2-3 hours often. It's impossible to run home. It's a stupid argument anyway. But I was embarrassed and for six months took her into toilets when I was alone without the support of boyfriend, friends, mum etc. I hate that I did that but I was nervous, tired and felt awkward."
She added: "And now I find it weird that our TVs, media etc never show breastfeeding in soaps, cartoons, anything. That we and the US are so bloody scared of it. It's weird."
Hear, hear.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed as soon as you step in. You sense opportunity but very little guidance on how to grab it.
For two days across the August bank holiday, crowds eleven times the size of Glastonbury gather in west London to watch bright floats and parades of dancers – that take months to craft and choreograph – glide through cramped streets, while standing under the pimento-scented smoke rising from countless grills. Ska, reggae and dancehall blare out from massive sound systems and makeshift stages on every corner as over one million people dance through the streets, carrying the flags of their home nations, and queueing for the pleasure of paying £2 to use the toilet in a local’s house.
Though this year marks the 50th anniversary of the carnival, many of its revellers still don’t know the extent of its history and just how significant a part this street party has played in providing support to troubled communities. Here we explore the story behind the Notting Hill Carnival and why, after 50 years, its central message is as vital as ever...
I first set foot in the thrilling chaos when I was nine years old. My aim was to explore as far as my legs could carry me, but precious energy was wasted trying to uncouple my hand from my mother’s grasp and, before I knew it, I was fast asleep with only the residual tones and evidence of a conquered saltfish dumpling for company. By 18, the freedom I longed for was mine, but, again, precious energy was wasted failing in vain to couple my hand with another. Though it was confirmed that getting two large groups of friends to successfully meet at one place was a myth, by 25, all was relatively well. By that age, this sliver of west London had fully revealed itself to me in the best traditions of cities suspended from deeply diverse roots and nourished by acceptance.
50 years ago the Notting Hill Carnival began amid a basic battle for survival. London’s West Indian communities of the late ‘50s and ‘60s were suffering the brand of racial injustices that new immigrant communities are often forced to endure, and, in 1958 at the end of August and beginning of September, violent gangs of white men, desperate to defend their mono-racial vision of Britain, targeted the homes of West Indians in a series of race riots that lasted for over a week. Racist chants rang out as destruction fell upon the already dilapidated homes.
Performers wait their turn to join the procession parade through the streets during the Notting Hill Carnival on August 24, 2014.Photo: Dan Kitwood/Getty Images.
The following year, West Indians began publicly seeking solace within the confines of the profoundly rich culture they refused to relinquish. Claudia Jones — activist and founder of Britain’s first major black newspaper, the West Indian Gazette — proposed the idea of a ‘Caribbean Carnival,’ as a way to showcase the community’s heritage and build unity within an ostracised social group. The event was held inside St Pancras Town Hall in January – and the winter chill made the outdoor celebration less than desirable.
Though the exact date is disputed, by 1966, Rhaune Laslett, a social worker, with help from the London Free School, organised the Notting Hill Fair, an outdoor parade that encompassed many of the essential elements we associate with today’s carnival. Processions of steel drums echoed over the swaying hips of thousands whose basic right to exist and thrive was still unwelcome. The fair never intended to gloss over the pain suffered; instead, it faced up to the reality and identified the need for sustained solidarity and reminders of the values of a past that tightly bound them together.
Across Brixton and Notting Hill, areas that contained the highest concentration of West Indians, institutional inequality remained rampant as the ‘70s and ‘80s rolled through. With that, carnival imbued its spirit within new generations seeking a way to express their identity and demand their presence be felt.
A performer in costume at the Notting Hill Carnival on August 31, 2015. Photo: Daniel C Sims/Getty Images.
It’s somewhat fitting, considering its origins, that the 50th anniversary of the Notting Hill Carnival will punctuate a summer when Britain was asked to look inward and self-identify. For many, the bottom line of the EU referendum was immigration. And the result split the country. In London, the depressed reaction to the final result to leave, was a measure of how deeply we cherish living in a place that’s home to more nationalities, races, religions and street-food themed pop-ups than you can possibly fit per inch of ground.
Brexit should remind us that our openness isn’t something to take for granted. Our openness must be protected. And carnival is a glaring example of that.
Dancers parade at Notting Hill Carnival in London, England on Sunday, August 30, 2015. Photo: Tolga Akmen/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images
A recent poll commissioned by local MP Victoria Borwick, found that 9 out of 10 Notting Hill residents feel they are forced to leave their homes during the event due to fears they will be victims of “anti-social behaviour”.
Carnival is not perfect. The Metropolitan Police reportedly arrested 400 people at last year’s event. But, as those of us who delight in seeing west London uploaded with a green and yellow filter know, the Notting Hill Carnival represents a much higher purpose.
Unsurprisingly, many young people have reacted negatively to the findings and suggestion for change, such as moving parts of the event to Hyde Park. Already frustrated by gentrification and the changing demographics in areas that once acted as havens for immigrant communities, some sense veiled racial undertones to the residents’ claims that they find the festivities to be “frightening and intimidating.”
Carnival is not perfect. The Metropolitan Police reportedly arrested 400 people at last year’s event. Unlike the Red Bull Stage, locals can’t just pack up and leave when the last sugar cane is sold, so we should respect their concern. However, as those of us who have fallen in love with the annual pilgrimage, who delight in seeing west London uploaded with a green and yellow filter know, the Notting Hill Carnival represents a much higher purpose.
Against a backdrop stained with violence and contempt for their existence, with courage, West Indian culture fought for a platform that, for the past 50 years, grew from a coping mechanism, into a lasting influence on the rhythms we all dance to, the clothes we wear, and the art we admire. Carnival is a reminder that immigration has blessed our shared experiences with a richness that we should never forget to value.
Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?
