#tell me I hate women whatever if you think liking barbie's defines you as a woman than you need to grow up and get a life

[repurposedmeatlocker]

I might get hate for this but I really don’t gaf about the new Barbie movie coming out.

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift And The End Of An Era

Love her or hate her, Taylor Swift embodied the contradictions of the decade in pop music

“I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,” Taylor Swift sings in the chorus of “The Man,” a song from her latest album, Lover. She chose the up-tempo tune to open her “Artist of the Decade” medley at the AMAs last month, and it’s a return to familiar Swiftian themes; she claps back at unspecified, sexist critics who fail to acknowledge her “good ideas and power moves.”

Whatever one might think of Swift’s underdog complex, it’s not surprising that the end of the 2010s finds her exhausted. Her transformation from tween country sensation to tabloid-friendly pop star to polarizing Twitter talking point and, finally, to celebrity supernova, required — at the very least — plenty of stamina.

There’s no question that straight white femininity still occupies a privileged place in the cultural landscape, which helped pave the way for Swift’s rise and decade-long pop dominance — even as she became a zeitgeisty symbol of that privilege and a target for those seeking to contest it. Yet as many of her similarly situated peers have faltered, she has endured as one of the last pop behemoths of her kind.

Time and again Swift strategically read and rode the decade’s cultural waves, deciding not just which trends and genres to jump on but, perhaps more importantly, what to pass on. As pop music became feud-centric reality television, there was Taylor; as stan culture transformed the way listeners interacted with performers (and each other), there was Taylor; as artists’ rights in the streaming era entered the conversation, there was Taylor; as politics infiltrated music, there was (sort of, eventually) Taylor.

There are definitely plenty of other contenders for Artist of the Decade (a title both the AMAs and Billboard recently bestowed on Swift) — artists who have hugely impacted pop music over the past 10 years and managed to ride out the seismic, industry-wide shifts they’ve contained, from Beyoncé to Lady Gaga to Kanye West. But you don’t have to think Swift was the “best” or even most significant artist of the decade to acknowledge that her cultural domination, and her ability to pivot and reinvent herself, captured many of the defining tensions of pop music over the last decade.

It’s hard to remember (in internet years) that before 2010, Swift was just a teen pop star and not yet a cultural lightning rod. She was already taken seriously as a musician and had plenty of cultural capital coming into the decade; in 2009, having already won Artist of the Year at the AMAs, she was about to accept a Video Music Award for Female Video of the Year when Kanye infamously interrupted her speech. In early 2010, she won Album of the Year for Fearless at the Grammy Awards, beating out Beyoncé and Lady Gaga.

Her early stardom revolved mostly around the fact that she was a precocious young country artist who wrote her own songs, without the risqué edge or sexy-but-wholesome cognitive dissonance of someone like an early Britney Spears to worry white parents and inspire pearl-clutching tabloid magazine covers. And it wasn’t really until Speak Now — when Swift was already a mainstream star but still categorized as country — that she began teasing the media and her fans about the ways her autobiographical lyrics mapped onto her real life, especially regarding the men she was dating.

People are still wondering whether Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” is about Uncle Joey, so it was startling for a young woman songwriter and musical celebrity of her commercial reach to use her songs to consistently craft such intimate stories about such equally public men, including Joe Jonas, Taylor Lautner, and John Mayer. And there was something uniquely bold about the way Swift started using her confessional songwriting and melodic sensibility to “get the last word” on her relationships, as People magazine framed it in her first cover story.

People hardly batted an eye in 2018 when Ariana Grande’s first No. 1 hit, “Thank U, Next,” literally name-checked her list of ex-boyfriends, and that’s in no small part because of Swift. Because even as reality TV stars like the Kardashians and Real Housewives were figuring out how to create multiplatform storytelling through social media, Swift was already pioneering the strategy in the big pop machine. Yes, she opportunistically used this to shame exes, create fodder for talk shows, and garner magazine covers; and even then, it raised some hackles about the way she was using her power. But it was undeniably compelling theater, and even nonfans were watching.

That multiplatform mixture of music and drama wouldn’t have succeeded without the undeniably catchy earworms Swift’s diary entries were wrapped in, or without the devoted fanbase of Swifties that she cultivated online. This all helped her break chart records with her most explicitly pop albums, including 2012’s Red and 2014’s ’80s-inspired 1989. The latter garnered the biggest first-week sales for a pop album since Britney Spears in 2002, helping Swift keep the tradition of the monocultural pop star alive.

But as Swift’s music saturated airwaves, and her willingness to tease behind-the-scenes details of her life in her songs moved beyond ex-boyfriends like Harry Styles (“Style”) into swatting at other pop stars like Katy Perry (“Bad Blood”) the public began to sour on Swift’s strategic use of her personal life in her music. (To Swift’s credit as a performer, no other pop star could sing the lyrics “Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes” about a dispute over a backup dancer with a straight face.)

Juxtaposed with Swift’s self-celebrating “girl squad” feminism, her opportunism — and seeming hypocrisy — started to rankle. By 2015, even racist sympathizer and critic Camille Paglia came out of the woodwork to anoint Swift a “Nazi barbie,” calling out her tendency to treat friends as props. And all these contradictions of Swift’s persona would come to a head when Swift’s seemingly buried feud with Kanye came roaring back the following year.

It makes sense that her clash with Kanye and Kim Kardashian West became the first time she experienced a real backlash. Unlike the drama around her dating life or with Perry, it was the first time Swift was up against equally savvy adversaries — celebrities who, like her, were professionals at merging their public and private lives.

The fight was a meta moment by design, inspired by West’s song “Famous,” where he raps: “I made that bitch famous.” In retrospect, it seems clear that West, as much a publicity-seeking pop diva as Swift, was trying to get the last word after going on an apology tour about the interruption heard round the world. Swift claimed to be annoyed over what she saw as the song’s credit-taking message, and she tried to make it part of her own narrative. “I want to say to all the young women out there,” she intoned in her speech accepting a Grammy for Album of the Year in February 2016, “there are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame.”

In another era, Swift’s storyline might have won the day. Her publicist denied that she had approved the line in the song, despite Kanye’s claim that he had checked with her before releasing it. But celebrity narratives, to some degree, were no longer being decided just by white-dominated mainstream media. Black publications were the first to tease out the racial undertones of Swift’s lie in the ensuing “he said, she said,” specifically as a white woman playing on the ingrained sympathy and benefit of the doubt that white women are given in US culture.

Still, it wasn’t until Kim’s Snapchat leak that July — where Swift could be heard approving the song — that the Swift-as-victim narrative became a framework for understanding her entire career. Contemporary white pop stars like Grande and Miley Cyrus had faced musical appropriation backlashes, but this time it was Swift’s entire persona — not just her music — that were under scrutiny.

Swift’s memeable response to the leak — “I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative” — was followed by her own disappearance from the media landscape. By the time the 2016 election happened — amid the chatter about white women’s complicity in electing Trump — Swift’s refusal to take a political stand solidly cast her as a cultural villain, and her symbolism as an icon of toxic white womanhood was sealed.

If the clamor of social media (especially Twitter) was central to the Swift backlash, it was also central to her eventual resurgence. Over the past decade, social media (especially Instagram) has tipped the scales in celebrity coverage and helped celebrities tell their stories on their own terms, almost without intermediaries. Swift knew how to use that to her advantage and decided to play the long game.

By refusing interviews for 18 months, wiping her social media clean, and focusing on cultivating her Tumblr fanbase, Swift removed herself from the cultural conversation for a beat. This kind of brand management helped her keep an ear to the ground while in a self-imposed exile. But it’s as if the culture couldn’t stop conjuring her; rumors about her absence spread, including that she had traveled around inside a suitcase.

In August 2017, she wiped her social media clean and reappeared with a snake video — reclaiming the serpent emojis — in what was ultimately the announcement for her Reputation album, and which remains one of the most iconic social media rollouts ever. “Look What You Made Me Do,” the lead single, was endlessly memed — Swift couldn’t come to the phone, a perfect metaphor for her cultural disappearance and, perhaps, a kind of ghostly remake of the Kanye call. The album succeeded because it seemed as though Swift was finally open to owning her melodrama and messiness. She subsequently broke records with the tour and album sales.

Still, her political silence was affecting her image and music. By 2018, insipid corporate wokeness had become the order of the day, and Swift Inc. again pivoted musically and culturally. Swift came out for the Democratic candidates in the 2018 midterms, framing her support in terms of LGBTQ rights and racial justice. And this year, the second single from her latest album, Lover — “You Need to Calm Down” — was a perfect encapsulation of her politics of messiness, conflating anti-gay prejudice with Twitter drama. (And somehow turning the video into a celebration of pop queens supporting each other). This fall, she has made sure to include über-stan–turned–pop star (and video coproducer) Todrick Hall at her awards show moments, attempting to expand the range of racial and sexual identities included in what used to be her mostly straight white “girl squad” feminism.

For all of Swift’s success at updating her persona, she’s never quite regained her massive radio dominance — but no pop star can depend on the success of singles for over a decade. In fact, Swift is one of the most interesting figures of the decade because her stardom is caught between the old-school era of album buying and our current streaming moment.

And, inevitably, Swift has turned her own industry issues around streaming and artistic ownership into a wider commentary on artists’ rights — which happens to work as a canny form of further brand management. She framed herself as an ethical businesswoman when she called out Apple for not paying artists, and she battled with Spotify over streaming royalties but without really pushing for wider systemic industry change.

Earlier this year, Swift started a new artist-versus-industry fight about her music masters being bought out from under her by nemesis Scooter Braun. It’s a complicated story, one that Swift has framed as being about “toxic male privilege,” and the fact that Braun mocked her during the Kanye era — once again blurring, in her trademark mode, the personal with the public and the systemic with the individual.

Instead of being seen as opportunistic, Swift seems to have succeeded in framing her campaign as a fight for unsigned and less powerful artists’ rights, which has resonated at a moment where content creators are all pitted against the 1% of the tech and corporate worlds. This time, even Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez — a squad member any star would envy — backed her up.

Swift’s response to being anointed Artist of the Decade by the AMAs and Billboard provides interesting insight into how she sees herself now and where she thinks the next decade is going. She chose Carole King, one of the preeminent symbols of pop music authenticity, to present her AMA, squarely placing herself in a genealogy of great women singer-songwriters. She also enlisted shiny next-gen pop stars Camila Cabello and Halsey to join her during her performance of old hits.

In her Billboard speech, Swift name-checked newer stars like Lizzo, Becky G, and Billie Eilish as the future of the industry. Tellingly, they are women who, so far, have not played into the tabloidy pop dramas that dominated the 2010s. If this decade has shown us anything, it’s that blurring public and private through music can reap big rewards, but it also opens up stars — especially the women of pop — to more intense scrutiny and a higher degree of personal accountability.

In a Billboard interview looking back on the decade, Swift spoke about her relationship to fame and learning to hold things back. “I didn’t quite know what exactly to ... share and what to protect. I think a lot of people go through that, especially in the last decade,” she said. “There was this phase where social media felt fun and casual and quirky and safe. And then it got to the point where everyone has to evaluate their relationship with social media. So I decided that the best thing I have to offer people is my music.”

Like Lana Del Rey denying she ever had a persona, or Lady Gaga stripping down with Joanne, there seems to come a point when white pop divas need to declare themselves authentic and all about the music — as if their ongoing narratives aren’t part of the show. But the way Swift used her image and the never-ending soap opera that swirled around her to make space for her music in an increasingly saturated attention economy was itself a kind of art. ●

[fashiontrendin-blog]

I Asked 8 Women to Show Me Their “Best Self” Outfit

http://fashion-trendin.com/i-asked-8-women-to-show-me-their-best-self-outfit/

I Asked 8 Women to Show Me Their “Best Self” Outfit

My personal style can be hard to pin down at times, but I know I’m doing something right whenever I put together a combination of clothes from my closet that feels like inverted armor — an aesthetic manifestation of all the things I like about myself, extracted from the core of what makes me me. Every time I hit upon one of these sartorial mishmashes and subsequently walk around all day feeling like the best version of myself, I’ve found that I always experience a number of interesting revelations about the overarching relationship between what I’m wearing and how I’m feeling.

I asked some of Man Repeller’s contributors what their “best self” outfits are, as well as how that relationship has played out in their lives. Read their answers below, as well as Leandra’s and my own, and deposit your thoughts on this topic in the comments.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

Summer is my favorite season to get dressed because it allows me to wear my favorite garment: caftans (or really, any kind of colorful, loose cotton dress). I’ve actually noticed that winter can be emotionally challenging in that sense because I have to wear pants all the time, and most pants make me feel constricted/self-conscious. I crave clothes that I can move and breathe comfortably in, and this caftan from SZ Blockprints definitely fits the bill. Speaking of things that bring me both comfort and joy, these Maryam Nassir Zadeh sandals are the best summer walking shoes I own. The bag is also one of my favorites, thanks to its unique netting that somehow exudes the feeling of salt spray and sea glass — or at least it does to me. I felt really relaxed and really sartorially sated in this outfit, which is how I knew it worked.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

That there is a secret extrovert inside me, waiting to emerge after a few heart-to-hearts or a few Aperol spritzes — whichever comes first.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

This is hard to answer because I feel like my style is constantly evolving. I’ve always had fun with clothes, though, so that’s been a constant. I will say that since transitioning to the role of fashion editor at Man Repeller, I think I have a more informed relationship with style. I write about it all the time, I talk about it all the time, I do loads of market work (both browsing online and attending appointments) so I have a good sense of what’s out there, and that shapes what I want to wear. I’ve definitely become more decisive about what I like and don’t like.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

This outfit makes me feel like my best self not because of the actual garments, but because of the attitude it espouses. My goal is almost always for it to appear as though my outfit makes no sense, but in this weird engaging way that still makes it work. In theory, you are likely not taking four individual garments that have identities all their own (high-waist striped pants for the Beetlejuice aficionado; a blouse that looks like it was thrifted on the French countryside for a member of the French Girls of Instagram crew; a jean jacket with an embellished collar for shit’s sake; a bandana for good [or is it bad?] measure) and mashing them together, but it’s a rewarding experience when you do it and get it right. You know you got it right when you can’t explain why it works, but just know it does. You know it works when you leave home and you are thinking, fuck yeah!

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

Eh, personal style doesn’t frequently fit in a box (unless, you know, it’s not actually personal), and therefore I don’t necessarily believe that I have control over what my outfits do or should say about me. I would prefer to let the beholder make that decision, even if I end up disagreeing with his or her conclusions.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

In a sense, we always know who we are stylistically — style and identity are so closely tied to each other, and even though it often takes a shit ton of toiling to really tease out the particles that come to define who you are, they’re always there. We’re born with that shit. I think the summer after my junior year of college was the first time I could connect physical garments to my style. I always knew I liked a varied look, that I wanted to be able to moderate fancy clothes with practical ones, that I often prefer to be dressed in a way that does not satisfy any dress code and therefore neither adheres to or rejects them. But it was really when I discovered army jackets and vintage Levi’s cutoffs that the rest of my closet (full of neglected silk shirts and cutesy a-line mini dresses) developed more purpose and I started to feel like I could wear a more accurate depiction of who I wanted to be.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

It’s this vintage dress that I got in Paris over a long denim skirt from Zara. I’m going to be honest: I tried microdosing for a month, and the best part of it was that, for some reason, it helped me come up with some of my best outfit combination with clothes I already had in my closet. This outfit makes me feel like my best self because it works in many different scenarios — plus it’s fun.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

That I have fun with clothes and in life, and “damn, that girl is good at layering.” Also, that I’m chill. So clearly a lot of things.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

Developing my style has always been something I’ve been obsessed with. I had my own salesperson at Nordstrom when I was in middle school, and I’d talk to her about my look for the season (I’m talking glitter tees and leopard pants). I picked out the fabric and patterns for all of my homecoming and prom dresses in high school. I got really into thrifting and vintage in college. I definitely think I have had different levels of coming into my own style, and each stage has helped me refine my taste more. I’m still refining and figuring out what’s me, but I definitely know what I hate.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

This outfit makes me feel like my best self for a few reasons. It’s a linen jumpsuit, so not only is it really comfortable, it’s also super easy to wear. Getting dressed in it involves little to no thought, which is a great way to start the day. The blazer made the outfit look more put-together (and therefore serious enough for meetings) but still fun. All in all, I just thought it was really cute, easy and functional for whatever the day entailed. It’s not fussy, high maintenance or over the top. I felt good in it, and I think that translated to everything I did that day.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

This is a hard question! I don’t know that I want this outfit to say anything in particular, but I never want my outfit to say I’m a mess.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

I have never thought about my personal style as something I came into, nor have I related it to a specific point in time. As soon as I was able to dress myself, I did. I was super opinionated (read: annoying) about my clothing as a child. My mom says I was about five when I started refusing to wear the outfits she picked out for me. I vividly remember being so anal about my butterfly clips (they had to match my outfit) and rolling down my socks so they looked like doughnuts. I was the same way with my Barbies and American Girl dolls. I can remember so many instances as a child when I was obsessed with something super specific. I can still remember my favorite shirt and how I needed Old Navy flip flops in every color. I think I correlate my style to a strong sense of self, which I owe to my mama and papa.

For me, clothes/style is almost always an extension of whatever I am feeling and what mood I’m in. I would say 85 percent of the time, you can tell what’s going on with me by looking at what I’m wearing, but that connection can be really empowering. There have been countless times when I’ve used an outfit to fake a good mood. If I’m having a terrible day or really upset about something, I’ll wear clothes that are super bright or put extra effort into assembling an outfit — something I know I will like if I catch a glimpse of my reflection, or something that might solicit a positive comment from someone else. The latter example may sound silly, but sometimes you need a compliment or validation, and that’s okay. It always helps improve my mood.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

I feel like the best version of myself in a great dress. I feel powerful, attractive and feminine.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

I want this outfit to say I’m really sweet — but also don’t mess with me.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

I’ve always been into fashion, but for most of my teenage years, I felt really excluded from it. I think after moving to New York after college and landing my first fashion PR gig, I started to see how I could carve out my own path and make fashion work for me. Now, my clothes are usually an expression of how I feel at any given moment. Today a dress, tomorrow track pants and a head wrap, who can say?

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

To me, this outfit is the perfect balance of dressy and playful. I’m a control freak who feels the most at ease when her apartment is cleaned and her pencils are sharpened. On the other hand, I hate routine, love to be thrown out of my comfort zone and really need my freedom. I’m also a bon vivant; I love to dress up as if I’m going to a cocktail party even though it’s a normal Tuesday and I need to see the dentist. I guess this outfit pretty much reflects that: the ironed shirt (stolen from my dad), ’60s Prada skirt and white Neous mules represent my love of orderliness. But the shirt is tied the other way round, the mules have globe-shaped heels and my earrings look like grapes — they supply the requisite dose of fun I long for not only when I get dressed, but also generally in life.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

“I’m a disco ball who loves writing to-do lists.”

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

I’ve always had a penchant for elegant and glamorous clothes. I understood early on, probably mostly from watching my mother get dressed, that fashion has the power to counter the mundanity of everyday life — it’s a form of escape. I’ve had some confused phases (like after the movie Juno came out in 2008 and for three days all I wanted to wear were hoodies and ill-fitting jeans), but recently, maybe over the last two years, I’ve really come to understand what kind of clothes are “me.” I think that transition had a lot to do with accepting the feminine body I live in instead of trying to hide it. I realized I feel much better in a beautiful skirt that suits my shape than I do in a pair of heroin-chic ripped jeans.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

The print of the skirt, sunglasses and bag all make me so happy. They definitely give off a vacation vibe. I’m also obsessed with these Reebok pumps. Not only are they on trend, but they are also really supportive for my messed-up feet. Plus, you can’t go wrong with a Nudes sweatshirt.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

That I’m fun … and maybe that I hail from Italy.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

I’ve always had my own style. I used to wear tennis dresses a lot even though I hadn’t stepped on a court in years. And I went through a phase of exclusively wearing jodhpurs (riding pants) in a rainbow of colors. I’ve always thought of clothes as a bit of costume and a way to have fun. I think my clothes represent how I feel inside — loud, happy, colorful and permanently on vacation.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

This outfit is special because it cost me less than $40 to put it together. It also combines my two favorite things: thrifty prices and special pieces. The sweater is Forever 21, the skirt is thrifted, earrings are Machete and the Rachel Comey shoes were thrifted for $17.50!

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

This outfit (hopefully) says that I love to play with silhouette, color and texture, and that I’m put-together yet fun.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

I came into my style when I got my first regular job at Urban Outfitters my senior year in high school. I suddenly had all this disposable income plus 40 percent off merchandise, so I took full advantage and started dressing more on trend. I finally nailed my style when I moved to New York. I worked at Opening Ceremony, and I was surrounded by beautiful clothes, shoes and people for 8+ hours a day. All of that exposure rubbed off on me, and I began wearing what made me feel good.

I used to fiend for designer clothes until I got them and realized designer clothes are nice but are not everything. I buy what makes me feel special. People seem to gravitate towards my style because they can sense that I’m comfortable. I’m not trying to one-up anyone else. Style can be great and low-key at the same time.

Tell me about your outfit and why it makes you feel like your best self.

I took this mirror selfie after dropping my kid off at kindergarten. I hadn’t showered or put on any makeup, which is very typical for a weekday morning as I prefer using my time to cuddle with my kid and make him food and convince him that it’s a really cool idea to brush his teeth and put clothes on instead of going to school naked. After all that I barely have a minute to get ready, so I literally wear whatever I see first, which is usually something lying on the floor from the night before. Ironically, getting dressed under these circumstances is always when I feel my absolute best. I didn’t waste a second on my outfit, so it’s comfortable and not overly styled. I felt like a good mum and ready to hustle for work.

What do you want this outfit to say about you?

That I don’t give too many fucks (I didn’t necessarily want it to say that, but I think it did just because I really didn’t give any). I can be wearing something not at all fancy and still feel 100 percent awesome, though.

At what point in your life did you really start to come into your own in terms of your style and why/what shaped that process?

When I became a mother, for sure. I just have so much less time to overthink things, and I also like my body much more. I have come to embrace how it feels to be a woman, which makes wearing clothes so much easier. I have a lot of fun with my style. I dress up like the character I want to feel like that day. Sometimes it’s a conservative WASP-y mom, but more often than not it’s just Stella — a.k.a. the sum of 25 different personas all wrapped in Jacquemus.