SAVI

Every hour 75 women in the United States will be raped.......

This is why an organization called SAVI (Sexual Assault and Violence Intervention) is so important. They offer support, advice, options, counseling, and advocates to women and men at their most vulnerable.

Today, we "graduated" as advocates after 40 hours of intense training. We are on the front lines of all sexual assault and Intimate Partner Violence cases that are admitted to New York City area hospitals. It is an incredible human responsibility to help others at at such a raw and vunlnerable time in their lives. We were educated in legal, medical, emotional, technical, psychological, and physical issues that arise in the survivor's life. We have to be mindful of the minute details of both ourselves and the survivors, which can include tone of voice, facial expressions, vocabulary, and physical movements. Every step we take and word we speak can have a dramatic impact on the survivor, which is why this training has been so grueling. We also have to give our full support to the survivor, knowing they will most likely drop charges & return to their abusers.

Here are some unsettling facts:

*1 in 3 girls and 1 in 6 boys will experience sexual assault in their lifetime
*more than 80% of rapes are committed by someone the survivor knows
*alcohol is the leading drug that is involved in Sexual Assault cases
*until 1993, it was impossible to rape your wife. She was your property. There was no such thing as martial rape.
*the traditional wedding vows were stated in the trade of women as property to a male
*on average it takes 7 tries before a survivor leaves their abuser
*victims of domestic violence are 80% more likely to be murdered by their lover in the 6 months following their escape

If you would like more information please email us or check out the following link:
http://www.mountsinai.org/patient-care/service-areas/community-medicine/areas-of-care/sexual-assault-and-violence-intervention-program

If you or someone you know is struggling with trauma following a sexual attack:Safe Horizon's Rape, Sexual Assault & Incest Hotline 212.227.3000
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence: Safe Horizon's Domestic Violence Hotline 800.621.HOPE (4673)
*all phone calls can be both anonymous and confidential*

Tonight we celebrate Halloween and our graduation with prosecco and candy corn. We hope everyone has a safe night!

My Story

**WARNING: This post is about sexual violence**



I moved to New York on a typical muggy afternoon in late summer. Innocuous as the day was - to me, it was the biggest moment of my adult life. I wanted to live in NYC ever since I first visited as a young girl. I had spent the last year working three jobs (from 9 AM – 3 AM six nights a week) to save up enough money to promptly throw away on a tiny studio. I knew exactly one person in the city. I was 24 years old.

A week after I moved in, I went out dancing with my friend. I laugh to think of where we ended up, but at the time I knew nothing about the scene. Everything felt glamorous and thrilling. Sometimes, I miss that feeling.

We met two guys who offered to help us get in to a club. Once inside, my friend started dancing with one of the guys that got us in. I stayed near them, dancing by myself. I was completely sober that night – I had wanted to remember everything about my first big night out. Little did I know, it would soon become a night I could never forget.

Soon, a very tall man came up and started to dance with me. He wrapped his hand around my waist to pull me into him. I realized he was quite muscular and much taller than me. I gently moved his arm back – I didn’t want him that close – and he acquiesced. We kept dancing near my friend. She and I exchanged glances over their shoulders. He got too close again, and again I pushed him back a bit. I gave my friend a ‘save me!’ look and she came over and danced in between us until he got the hint and retreated.

Later in the evening, I went to ask the bartender, “Where’s the restroom?” He didn’t hear me, but someone behind me said, ‘Just upstairs.’ I threw a casual ‘thank you’ over my shoulder as I climbed the stairs. The second floor was a large balcony overlooking the dancefloor. Absolutely no one was up there. I realized I had forgotten to tell my friend where I was going.

Thinking nothing of it, I went into the private, single-person restroom and locked the door behind me. As I was reapplying my lipgloss, my friend texted asking where I was. I replied, “Bathroom!” snapped my cell phone shut and turned to leave.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw his imposing figure fill the entire doorframe. Without saying a word he pushed me into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. It was so fast I barely had time to think. He pulled me into the corner and started kissing and groping me. I tried to pull my head away and I felt him kissing all down my neck and face. I squirmed away but he pulled me back, and suddenly his hands were everywhere. He was pulling up my dress and grabbing at my breasts. He managed to push my bra to the side. He pulled my dress all the way up and grabbed my butt. I said “No” about a thousand times. He wouldn’t stop.

I tried to reach around him and unlock the door. I managed to get it open a few inches before he pulled it closed again. It was so effortless for him to pull it closed, when I had struggled for so long to get it open just that one crack. Staying focused, I tried again. I reached around him even as I felt his hand pulling at my underwear. I managed to crack open the door again. I felt the music get louder, saw the strobe lights, heard peoples laughter and happy chatter. I realized that no one would hear me scream. No one would find me up here. I finally stopped telling myself that I would be ok, that I could somehow convince him to stop. He wasn’t going to stop. I finally got it. The epiphany flooded my brain with images of the horrors I might endure. I knew that the absolute worst thing could happen to me in this tiny bathroom upstairs and no one would save me. My whole world became that bathroom door handle. I had to get out. I had to do anything to get out of this bathroom before it became a nightmare.

I gasped, “You’re scaring me!” and then I somehow managed to knee him in the groin. In that split second it took him to react to my move, I managed to rip the door open. I ran as fast as I could, my heels tripping me as I flew down the stairs. I grabbed my friend and with panic in my eyes said, “We have to get out of here immediately, someone attacked me in the bathroom.”

She ran out with me. The only thing I was thinking was escape. Thankfully, she stopped me once outside and told me to tell the bouncer. I went up to one guy and said, “Someone attacked me in the bathroom.” I half-expected him to completely brush me off, but he didn’t. He stayed with me, and within minutes, the police were on the scene. They managed to find him in the club and held him outside in cuffs. The police officers escorted me into a van, where we waited to be interviewed. I could hear his vituperative screams from the sidewalk.

She wanted it! She’s such a fucking whore! She’s lying!

I was driven to the police station where an officer filed my report. I remember him having the kindest demeanor. Soon, it was nearing dawn. I went back to my tiny apartment, all alone, way uptown. I walked into my room and fell down on my bed. But I couldn’t sleep.

I called my boyfriend, still in Philadelphia, and told him what happened. I was still in complete shock. He was not as comforting as I wanted him to be and he even told me that I shouldn’t have been out at a club, and asked me what I was thinking. Shocked and numb, I hung up.

I spent the next week in a daze. I completely broke down at my new job and had to fly upstate to recover with my mother at our summer place. I walked the quiet, empty tree-lined streets and tried to convince myself I was safe. But I wasn’t.

A reporter called me. I stupidly told them what happened. I had wanted to warn other women with my story. I didn’t even think about how it could affect me. A photographer showed up and took my picture. The next day I was on the front page. My boyfriend said, “Anything to get your name in the paper, huh?” My mother broke up with him for me. I couldn’t move.

Then the panic attacks started. The first one was in the shower. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to faint in the tub and die. I grasped for the curtain, barely making it out. I fumbled for my cell phone, dialing my best friend. I sputtered, “just talk to me about anything nice” and while he spoke, I balled-up naked on the wood floor in a big wet puddle and tried to get my heart to stop racing. I was worried that he would track me down because of the article. He could easily find out my name and where I lived. I stopped sleeping.

A few days later, I got a random phone call. It was someone pretending to be a friend of my friend. I answered a few questions until I realized that he was a private investigator hired by the defendant to terrify me in the hopes that I wouldn’t press charges. He told me that he had done background checks on me and that my friend had said I was very drunk that night. He told me that he had heard stories about me and that I was a prostitute. I hung up and changed my number. I took myself off Facebook. My world became even smaller.

I would dread the nighttime because I was terrified to go to sleep. I had the most horrifying nightmares and would wake up screaming several times each night. But I knew I wanted to go forward with my case. The fact that he’d hired someone to try to convince me otherwise only strengthened my resolve. My mother got me a shrink and I started taking Xanex.

I testified in front of the Grand Jury a few days before Christmas. It was a room of fifty people in stadium seating. I sat at a small table in the front. My ADA stood in the back and shouted questions down to me. “Where did he touch you?” “Was it inside or outside your underwear?” I did my best to remain calm, but I broke down sobbing a few times. Every pair of eyes was on me, wide and sympathetic. Within hour, I was informed that I had cleared the Grand Jury and I would be taking him to court.

I got Bells’ Palsy the next week. The entire right side of my face would not move. I had to tape my eye shut to sleep. Eating became nearly impossible because my lips would not close around my food. I resorted to kind of tossing sushi in my mouth as I tilted my head back. It was not cute. When I laughed, it was macabre. My world got smaller still.

After a few weeks of acupuncture the feeling returned to my face. I prepared for my court date. My friend and I had become quite close but we never spoke of that night. I didn’t want to tamper recollection of the events, and I didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She was amazed that I had even gone this far. She said she never would’ve done it.

The hearing was intense. He had absconded to Brazil, so I only had to fend off his lawyer, the prototypical scumbag. He even looked like one: greased back hair, bad teeth, ill-fitting suit. The judge banged her gavel several times at his completely inappropriate questions. She really stood up for me. My ADA was amazing… so kind and decent and he believed me. It made all the difference in the world. The last thing the defense said to me was, “This isn’t the first time you’ve solicited men for sex in bathrooms, is it? Isn’t it true that you’re a prostitute?!” The courtroom erupted. The jury was removed. The judge was screaming. I was escorted out. Not two minutes later, my ADA came into the room.

“We won,” he said. “I’ve never seen a jury come back that fast. It was unanimous. He got the full sentence – 5 years, and he’ll register as a sex offender for life. Since he’s in Brazil, he’s never allowed to return to America.” I cried. I was vindicated.

That day, almost exactly one year after the attack, the panic attacks stopped. The nightmares disappeared. I felt brand-new. That night, I went on my first date with a man who would become my first great love. Manhattan stretched out before me like the giant adventure I’d always hoped it could be.

I was free.

*scorpio*

Emotional Rescue

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Emotional Abuse

I am currently reading "The Emotionally Abused Woman" by Beverly Engel to learn more about what I have been through. I found that she puts what I went through into neat little sentences that better explain what emotional abuse is.....

"First, let's define abuse. Abuse is any behavior that is designed to control and subjugate another human being through the use of fear, humiliation, and verbal or physical assaults."

"While emotional abuse is probably the most common type of abuse, until now it has received the least attention. Many women who are being emotionally abused do not even realize what is happening to them. Many suffer from the effects of emotional abuse -depression, lack of motivation, confusion, difficulty concentrating or making decisions, low self-esteem, feelings of failure, worthlessness and hopelessness, self-blame, and self-destructiveness- but do not understand what is causing these symptoms."

"Emotional abuse is like brainwashing in that it systematically wears away at the victim's self-confidence, sense of self-worth, trust in her perceptions, and self-concept. Eventually, the recipient of the abuse loses all sense of self and all remnants of personal value. Emotional abuse cuts to the very core of a person, creating scars that may be far deeper and more lasting than physical ones."

"Those who are being emotionally abused often grow to believe their abusers' accusations. The abused women do indeed become less and less productive, less motivated, less affectionate, and less sexual. And as their self-esteem plummets and their depression deepens, they also feel less loving."

"It is often difficult for a woman to admit that she is indeed being emotionally abused, particularly if she is competent and successful in all other respects."

*Aries*

This is why I love fashion...

Our refrigerator at the office:



Today I had to go to Harlem to get the last of my medical clearance for our volunteer work. I forgot I was treking up there while dressing this AM, and while my ensemble is lovely and stylish for our midtown offices, it got a bit of a different reaction uptown.

"If you're outfit didn't look so expensive, I'd call you a hooker!"

I replied, "And you're...what? Homeless?!"

And then I ran.


*scorpio*

Kudos for the Day

So I have to say these women/girls have really impressed me this week!

Willow Smith



When I heard she was singing, I thought of Justin Bieber only more annoying. Then I watched the video, picked my jaw off of the floor, and felt I had to give her massive props for looking like Rihanna, only she mastered this genre at 9 years old!!

Check it out:
http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20435267,00.html


The second person I give props to is Miss Janet Jackson. She looks amazing on her press tour for her new movie "Colored Girls"! The new hairstyle is FAB!



*Aries*

Miss Jackson, If You're Nasty...

Just found these on the Nasty Gal Clothing website...


OBSESSED!

I love NastyGal for slightly subversive, downtown pieces on the cheap. Think mesh, body-con, animal prints, fringe... comme ci:


Nothing wrong with a little bit of sex to spice up a typical Tuesday.

I love a nude back. It's the new cleavage (not that I was ever really into la cleave)



I'm (slightly) too old to do a whole head-to-toe Nasty, but certain pieces are just PARFAIT, and perfectly incorporate into my wardrobe. Since I work in a creative industry, I would totally wear these to work with a slouchy sweater dress or chubby fur.

The cherry on this leather-luv sundae? They're only $168. The absolute right price for a trendy item I will wear to death, but probably won't be wriggling into for decades to come...

GAAAAH.


*scorpio*

Sunday

I hope everyone had a nice weekend!

Scorpio & I find ourselves officially exhausted after this weekend. We are both living parallel lives right now with an insane amount of things on our plate. We both are feeling pressure in our jobs, dealing with complicated personal relationships, working through intense and painful emotions for 14 hours every weekend in October, while trying to remain healthy, creative, and stylish.
The volunteer work that we are training for has really thrown us out of the New Yorkers routine of crazy Friday nights, wasteful Saturdays, and relaxing Sundays.

As Scorpio mentioned we will share more about this mysterious volunteer work, which is extremely important to us, once we have a moment to decompress and get our thoughts together. All I have been able to do is meditate, eat pounds of chocolate, watch Golden Girls, and fall asleep at 8pm.

The volunteer organization keeps telling us to treat and take care of ourselves. Here is a preview of some of our tools in photos (including my decompression tonight watching the breathtaking sunset on the WSH):

I think only NYC would create rat shaped pastries


It literally takes us an hour to commute one way every Saturday & Sunday morning and afternoon!! Who knew the West Village was so far from the Upper East Side!


Our volunteer training requires eating comfort food :-) It's actually stated in the manual.


*Aries*

Scenes from a Work-ation...

Absolutely adored the room service...

These cookies were off-menu but there's nothing better than the decadance of warm milk & cookies to send me off to sleep.
(And make that 5:30 AM wake-up call for the gym that much more bearable!)


I only take bubble baths in hotels. A little wine, a little music... Bubbles, bubbly and Buble (Michael, that is) spell vacation for me.


Finally, nothing better than sprawling out on a big king size bed with no one to hog the covers... and someone else to make it in the morning! Perfection.

*scorpio*

Is life better with a little sugar?

I am starting to think I am too emotionally fucked up to have an actual relationship. Instead, I have my sights set on meeting another sugar daddy. I found when I went through my trauma (which I will share pieces of in the next few days) a couple of years ago I started to only date older men, that I knew would never amount to anything. I felt safe knowing I had control in the relationships and didn't have to even think about emotional attachment.

I recently read an article in the Post that made me laugh because the words are so true!
http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/strange_bedfellows_trQKzSVgrP0dFTVGyyZhYO



I mean I was dating men so much older that people stared at us as if I was a prostitute, because there could be no other explanation other than payment for me to be hanging out with these guys. The truth was they made things easy and romantic at a time when any stress would have sent me into an emotional tailspin, that I was already going thru under the guise of PTSD. When you start relating your love life to that of Janis Joplin, Tina Turner, and Diana Ross songs, all you want is spoiled rotten fun!

I grew use to having hour long dinners with the best bottles of wine, trips to European cities, gifts of affection, and I controlled all (mostly no) physical activity. The good thing about older men is that they are still polite and will wait forever. I found the key to keeping a real sugar daddy is to never get physical. They will throw the best of the best at you, but once you give them what they want they move on to the next young thing.

Eventually, I felt sad that I was settling and wanted the lust and wild sex again. I also realized older men can be just as fucked up. Take these examples of my dates with different "daddies":

*taking me to dinner with his boss and his bosses 3 Russian prostitutes (this became a normal occurrence)

*offering to fly me to Vegas, then telling me it would have to be on Southwest Airlines, which I found out only flies out of an airport halfway to the Hamptons. I turned him down and shamed him for being cheap (when I am shopping for a sugar daddy I don't go to Target...come on)

*glued to their work/looking at the blackberry so much he almost missed seeing the Vatican entirely

*basically attacking me with sexual advances at a table full of his friends and associates (that was the last time I ever saw him)

*telling me how much he wants to be with me, after admitting that he still sleeps in the same apartment, IN THE SAME BED, as his 23 yr.old Russian ex-girlfriend!!! I told him we would never be together and I don't know any sane women who would be ok with that.

*another, whom I had been on several dates with, told me he was still married right before Christmas. I stormed out leaving him to get wasted on sake and have a threesome with random chics from the restaurant later that night



So I ditched oldies for good for awhile. Now, I just want lavish dinners and Louboutins for dessert! Apparently, I am not alone as there are dating websites and even a Ken doll to represent this growing demographic. So feel free to make fun or scowl at the thought, but don't knock it until you have tried it. This phase will pass once my emotions begin to thaw and my heart warms back up to the idea of true love.

*Aries*

You Better Work!

...Cover Girl!



I'm currently at the top of a tower of fashion. This place is freaking huge, and there's so much to see. I have definitely seen some regretable outfits - think corset, midriff and distressed, studded denim... on ONE person! Hello, 1998.

But I've also seen some great clothes, and have been particularly inspired by my team. Last night we all went out to a massive sushi dinner and traded drunk stories. Seriously, these girls have so much fun. I love it when I find genuine people in fashion-- like an oyster in a pearl, it's quite rare.

Our Moroccan escape...


I've decided to use this trip to work my lil' butt off during the day, and treat the nights like a vacation... b/c in the fashion industry, this is as close to a vacation as I'm going to see for a while!

Though I did get up at 5:30 AM to go spinning... & they played nothing but Country music. Honestly, I deserve a medal for powering through. I just pretended it was La Gaga in my head.

Scenes from a 'work-ation' to come....

*scorpio*

MIA

Been jetting around for the J.O.B.... last night rewarded myself with a little room service. That's a fudgy brownie sundae with carmel and chocolate, along with the requisite glass of wine.


All curled up in my king bed with skyline views... don'tcha just loooove room service?

Aries & I have started our volunteer work and it's been super time consuming. We're basically locked in to 40+ hours of training, mostly on the weekends. Sure, the personal and social sacrifice has been great (you definitely learn who your friends are once you can't make every social engagement any longer), but we're really excited about what we're learning. I want to write a bit about it once I get some time... it's not really something I can just blurt out without editing & thought.

xoxo
scorpio

Label Lust

My dream birthday dress......now if I can only find $10,000 of disposable income!

(Versace $9,525)

*Aries*

A Picture Tells A Thousand Words

There is only one male celebrity I have always thought "now that is the perfect man". He appears to be the loving husband and father to a gorg wife and even more gorg little boys. He seems laid back, creative, masculine, funny, and sexy as hell.



I was disappointed to find out he has a teenage love child, but Gwen seemed to forgive him so I did too. Now, he is apparently admitting to a gay love affair as a young adult?? My bubble officially burst. Then I thought, if Gavin was my dream and he had a male lover, how many other guys may have had the same experience? Is it a common thing for men to experiment in their early years? Just how common is this?

I really don't need one more thing to worry about as far as relationships go!

*Aries*

First Date Killers

All of these are from the same date. Poor guy. I don't think he had any idea how to actually talk to a woman on a date... at age 32! (Kinda felt like high school)

“Wow, you must read a lot”

“I was in therapy for a while because of my ex-girlfriend”

“I don’t know what I am doing at my job. I’m in over my head”

“I was a total player from the age of 24 until… a few months ago”

“You’re really tall… do you always wear heels?”

“I don’t know what love is”


Check, please!

*scorpio*

Miss Moss

How quickly the fashion world forgives a cocaine bust when you can rock leather skinnies like that. Loving the leather lapel, too. She does it better than anyone.

That is all.

*scorpio*

Same Schtick / Different Face

Last night I had my date with the Muslim mystery man. I went mainly out of curiosity… I’ve never dated a Muslim before and I thought I might learn something.

Instead, he engaged me in the same pedestrian, pedantic (and surprisingly prevalent) discourse about male/female relations in NYC.

Apparently – and brace yourself here because this is a brand-new concept:
Men want gorgeous women.
Women want rich men.

Sigh.

Every single man I’ve dated since I moved here four years ago (with the exception of my ex) has launched into this topic with vigor. It’s inevitable. It doesn’t matter how intelligent or substantive they are—they seem to truly believe that women chose men based on their bank accounts rather than good old-fashioned compatibility. And don’t even get me started on “needing the most beautiful woman” regardless of her personality.
I refuse to believe that all men are that vapid.

And conversations like this- especially on dates- make me feel more alone than ever.

Not to be pedestrian myself, but … what ever happened to love?

*scorpio*

Prey

I watched him walk across the room in the mirror's reflection, freezing up like a shy little school girl when he stopped behind me. Our brief exchange of words was short and generic. Over the next hour, I found my eyes always wandering in his direction, feeling pangs of jealousy when he would speak to other blondes.

Finally, I became the center of his attention. He approached me with an aggressive charisma that you only imagine Mick Jagger could pull off. For the next hour, I was putty in his hands. He had complete control of my body and mind. My head was spinning and I tried not to let him catch me staring at him. My eyes drank in all of the little details; his hand distressed Levis that hung on his hips just low enough for me to see the outline of his amazing abs. His body was like a chiseled rock from head to toe. The outline of his chest, shoulders, and bulging biceps could not be covered by his perfectly torn, worn in white cotton t-shirt. I traced the faint outlines of the hibiscus tattoos that would eventually become a colorful sleeve, seriously hot! His face was sweet, intense, and aged in a sexy way like a Clint Eastwood character in some cowboy movie. His shoes were expensive, as well as the masculine chain with amethyst pendant that dangled in front of me like a carrot. He had style, charm, and a body to back it all up.

His crystal light blue eyes pierced me with his intense, sometimes icy stare. He started to tease me with his body in unpredictable movements. At times he would be straddling my legs, his crotch just hovering above my right knee, other times he would gently grab my face and turn me in whichever direction pleased him most. He would run his hands through my hair, with a gentle yet powerful motion. He stood in front of me, in a strong straddled position, grabbed my face with one hand as the other ran through my hair and ended pressing against my breast and resting for a moment. The passion and focus behind his eyes and movements intimidated me. The few words I did manage to speak became an immediate unspoken understanding. We were strangers, but in sync with our desires.

As he finished, he turned to me eagerly seeking my approval. We exchanged a slight smile and decided to go our separate ways. I watched as he packed up his Louis Vuitton tote and as I turned to walk away he said "it was a pleasure to meet you". Then he put on his RayBan's and walked out the door.

He was like the man I have been waiting four years to meet in New York City, but I had to remind myself that it was and will always be just a crush. You see, my orgasmic moment was all in my head and my new found love interest is my new gay hairstylist at John Frieda. At least I walked away with beautiful hair which is more satisfaction than most men have given me in this town.

*Aries*

Dirty Little Secrets

Scorpio and I were in desperate need of vodka last night, so we met in Bryant Park and ordered 2 dirty martinis. As we were catching up on each other's horror stories, a 50+ year old Wall Street Exec walked over and offered to buy us a round. Normally our response would be a glare of disgust, followed by a "fuck off". We looked at each other, then back to the banker and said "yes, 2 Kettle One martinis." Off he went, like a little obedient puppy.

Three more rounds of basically straight vodka and an olive later, Scorpio and I found we were all sharing our New York life stories. I was listing all of the qualities that I am looking for in men, including a large penis. We were all in a debate over "average" and the necessity of oral sex to compensate. Scorpio was getting relationship advice from a man who told her stories of his daughter listening to him have sex with, what we hope would be his wife. While the guy I was talking to kept telling me his marriage secrets because he claimed to have never cheated. I believed him at first until he started touching my leg and telling me I was a younger version of his wife. Then the "happily married" exec gave me his business card and asked for my number. I wrote a summary of the qualities that I was looking for in a younger banker (which he said he would find for me) making it known I had no interest in hearing from him.

We were all on vodka overload, sharing our dirty little secrets, over dirty little martinis like a fucked up version of "The Breakfast Club". Scorpio and I stood up and towered over them, leaving our mark of intimidation as we walked away with a free buzz.

I can't say I even remember the subway ride home. I just know I somehow ended up in a sex shop looking for the perfect slutty Halloween costume, opposite a full wall of finger toys. I then text options to a select group of guys I have hooked up with in the city to get a broad vote on which was the hottest. So far one is the clear winner, which I will post part of on our Halloween entry!

Never a dull night in New York......

*Aries*

Stealing the Ball

When I was a girl, my family would spend summers at Chautauqua. (They all still do, while I’m chained to my desk). The kids would all go to Club, where we would while away the days playing variations of classic American sports: bennis (baseball & tennis combined), cricket, dodgeball, etc. Inevitably, in every one of these games, a pumped-up boy would lunge himself in front of a very capable girl, just moments before she was to catch the ball. Having no confidence in her abilities, he would try to ‘save her’ and steal some glory for himself. Of course, the cocktail of velocity & adrenaline almost certainly resulted in a fumble. Whereas the girl was perfectly in place for a solid catch, the boy’s hubris would force a loss.

I re-learned this lesson as a teen as well. I remember very distinctly, in high school, beginning to answer the teacher’s question. Invariably, a boy would butt in, effectively cutting me off. In college, I raged against this (and became a bit of a strident feminist along the way). I would fight for my turn to speak, and if I was cut off, I would interrupt. It felt good to be able to stand up for myself. After all, I had a brain and I deserved a chance to use it.

Then I moved into a field with very little male ego… fashion. Sure, there’s ego, but it’s not mixed with testosterone and a desire to constantly jockey for position. My feminism settled into a nicely encapsulated “men & women are equal” party line. I slowly forgot those early hard lessons. (Plus, I started wearing 5 inch heels so everyone would have to pay attention to me!)

Last night at the gym, I was reminded of the incredible irrationality of the male ego. I work out at one of those classic old school gyms where you rack the machine weights yourself. It’s underground and massive and everyone pretty much ignores each other. (Coming from the SoHo Equinox which is basically a pick-up joint, this was a welcome repose). I walked in last night around 10 pm, expecting it to be mostly empty. It is. I’m the only woman in the gym of six men. I bee-lined for the leg press machine, intending to bang out a quick leg rotation and be on my way home. The machine had 100 lbs on each side. I started to slide one 50lb weight off the right side, and was about to place it on the ground, when I hear a man get up from his machine behind me and approach.

“I can help with that”. I survey him up & down. The man is about 50, in jeans, and only hopes he could be my height.

“No, I’ve got it” I reply.

“I insist, after all I was just using it. I should’ve unracked it.”

I acquiesce, and stand by as he slowly lifts one 50lb off one side. He asks me how much I usually press. I said, “It’s been a while, but I’ll start with 100, thank you.”

He counters, “Why don’t we start you off with just the bar?”

My mouth just about drops to the floor. Just the bar? Just the bar?!!? If I can’t lift 100 with both legs then I wouldn’t be able to support my own body weight. Who does he think I am? Some little girl who doesn’t know her way around a gym?

I’m incensed. I say, “No, I want 100.” He looks at me patronizingly.

“Please stop, I don’t need your help,” I say as I move toward the machine. He goes back to his sad little calf raises as I lower myself into the machine. I am fuming. I can’t believe some old man has the balls to tell me I can’t lift what I think I can. It’s not even that much weight. I’m practically 6 feet tall and I’m a mesomorph. I am strong & capable. It’s very important for me as a woman to be physically capable. I like to walk around the city with confidence that I can handle myself in most situations. But I am so angry at this exchange, I end up pumping out a few too many reps. It’s a miracle I was able to even walk home. I knew I would have to settle for flats in the morning.

Still, it was worth it to prove that man wrong. Later, a male friend of mine elucidated the exchange for me. Apparently, the old guy was embarrassed that I was about to lift half of what he was lifting. His fragile ego couldn’t handle the thought so he did what guys do best when faced with a threat; he stumbled in and tried to "steal the ball".

The male ego: puffs up like a big balloon… and pops just as easily.

I’m just tired of tiptoeing around it.

*scorpio*

Hump day

A reminder that fashion isn't all that serious, if even La Wintour can crack a grin once in a while.

I've been a bit of a stressball lately with studying and a big increase in work pressure combined with my impending volunteer work for an amazing womens' organization. The training alone is 40 hours, and 10 of those fall on the same weekend that my new boss wants me to travel for market. Unfortch, missing the training is unacceptable, and it would be another year-long process to get approved. So my new and very cool boss has decided to do the unthinkable, and fly me out for a quick & dirty. Here's hoping my plane lands on time...

Everyone needs a little Hump day pick-me-up. Here's hoping yours is more literal than figurative ;)

*scorpio*

Saturday AM Antics

To pick up where Scorpio left off on Friday night....

We left the first hot spot in a street limo complete with crazy driver in a cowboy hat. It turned into every male fantasy as Scorpio and I piled in with our entourage of at least 8 gorg swedish women and one drunk guy who snuck in the side. We ended up at hot spot number 2 (pictured below)



As soon as I walked down the stairs someone tapped me on the arm. It was this guy who I hadn't seen in over a month, but who would not stop calling me (see blog post- Text from Last Night posted on Sept.11). I was completely caught off guard!! How does this shit happen to me?? This other guy I had been ignoring ended up at the birthday party! I really do not know one other person who always runs into people like I do. Anyways, the guy I have been seeing on a regular basis then walks in behind us. I think he was drunk and didn't notice, but I was on full alert. I told Guy #1 I had to go find my friends, as Guy #2 text me asking where I was. I found him in the corner and shared a little affection until I looked over my shoulder and spotted Guy #1, who then walked over to talk to me!! There I was, feeling like that Twix commercial where it says "need a moment? " Then time stops and the guy takes a bite of the Twix and thinks of something clever to smooth everything over. I quickly said "I have to go check on Scorpio in the bathroom". Guy #2 sat down, Guy #1 escorted me to the bathroom and waited!!! Scorpio and I said "hello" to him again and then I pulled her the back way to the dance floor. I thought I was finally in the clear and started to text Guy #2 to figure out where he was, when Guy #1 grabbed me from behind, at our table!? How did he find me so fast??? Thankfully he said "goodbye" and I found Guy #2 to say "goodbye" before sharing a cab of intoxicated funny stories with Scorpio all the way home.

Another night of antics and apparently reunions with 3 of the 5 guys who have seen my roof ;-) I mean what are the odds of that happening?? I looked at myself the next day and laughed. I realized New York has turned me into the player I never want to meet.

*Aries*

Friday Night Lights

Friday night found us splitting a cab to Grammercy for a new friend's birthday party. We brought Prosecco for the apartment party, thinking it surely must be like all of the other pseudo-casual apartment parties.

We were dead wrong.

First, there was a cute little red carpet and velvet rope. When we opened the door-to a very chic apartment- we were greeted by the bartender, mixing up the most incredible cocktails. We perused the menu, and quickly decided on the 'First Orgasm' as we glanced around the apartment. We quickly realized we would not be needed the bottle of Prosecco as one entire wall was devoted to a gorgeous display of hundreds of bottles. In the corner, a DJ spun music so cool I wasn't even familiar. As the party began to heat up, I found myself talking to the man who decided to make red carpets rentable for the common man.

He had quite the interesting story, and a completely viable business (thanks to the age of internet celebrity and reality tv, it seems everyone needs a red carpet these days). I waffled between being intruiged by his business, and being put off by the man himself. He was way too close to me, for one. Secondly, he had a small chip in his front tooth (this is how close he was!). Third, and most important, he made two or three rather vulgar jokes. Now, I'm no prude, but these jokes were more of the bathroom variety than the bedroom... something I'm just not interested in hearing. Especially when they were passing out cake.

The clincher though, was when the party was moving to the next venue, I watched as he rolled up the carpet and moved the velvet rope inside. Call me a snob, but once a man rolls up a dirty well-tread carpet, the moment just kind of loses it's magic, doesn't it?

After collecting our Marc Jacobs giftbags (!), we headed to the next venue... from there, the night was a blur...

Can you tell where we are?

A Little Perspective

It was a cool, rainy morning in New York. As I sloshed through the crowded streets to work, I glanced at a blurb on the New York Times. It was about the UN's lack of control over the rebels in the Congo. As soon as I logged on at my desk I read the article below. The article ended with this line, haunting and heartbreaking:

“I know, I still look sick,” she said, though her cloudy eyes tried to smile as she spoke. “Just a few vegetables, that’s all I’ve eaten, since I was demolished.”
- Anna Mburano

I learned that Anna is an 80 year old woman who was gang raped as her village was torn apart in Congo. She was just one of hundreds of women who suffered that night. They are helpless to these violent men and that should be terrifying for all women around the world.

Please make yourself aware and read this article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/04/world/africa/04congo.html?hp

*Aries*

Toast to Fashion

As I mentioned before, I saw one of my all time favorite fashion bloggers, FashionToast, at the runway show. She had an incredible seat (right across the way from Anna Wintour) and I saw her snapping away all show long.

As an aside, I noticed Anna Wintour only looked at the models right when they passed her, and then followed them as they turned. I was wondering why she prefered to look at the gowns from behind...

Anyway, I clicked over to fashion toast (www.fashiontoast.com) this morning and saw the truly beautiful detail shots she was able to capture. Enjoy & Happy Friday!

I plan to make good use of my weekend... a birthday party, dinner, an event, and perhaps 'Danny Beach' as my friend hilariously calls his Saturday evening balcony parties (complete with hot tub, DJ and copious drinks so he's not too far off).

Here's hoping the weather's not nearly as dreary as it is this AM... although I did indulge in a little mid-day pick-me-up (quite literally) so I really can't complain.

*scorpio*

Texts from Last Night, Part Deux

To my surprise I get these texts from Boy Wonder as I walked home yesterday.....

I think he may have achieved the worst line ever in his first text!

boy wonder: "So u coming friday?! We r facebook friends I think (insert his name)"

***LAME***

Aries: "I am going to 2 other bday parties on friday.....so will have to see. I am pretty sure we are not friends on facebook...hahaha"

***I still can't believe he even brought Facebook into the conversation.***

boy wonder: "haha"

boy wonder: "ok"

boy wonder: "well try"

*Aries*