Sacre Bleu, Mallory!

Mallory had a Francophile phase in college, specifically of the French New Wave variety. She dated a film student who smoked Djarum cigarettes and showed her Truffaut and Godard movies and…things kind of got out of hand. She dressed in pencil skirts and Jean Seberg stripes, and got Anna Karina style bangs, despite her hairdresser’s woeful pleading that they wouldn’t work with her curls. You could often find her at parties encamped on the sofa, chain smoking and saying eye rollingly terrible things like “modern music is so boring”.

Her film student boyfriend made a short movie for class of her waking up in her bed, brushing her teeth, and wandering around a playground on a windy day, looking despaired. The film was torn to shreds by his classmates in the critique, and he broke up with her. It took her a year to grow her bangs back out.

Sacre Bleu, Mallory!

Kristy On Top

Kristy rejoiced when slouchy sweaters became en vogue, not because she could start wearing them, but because now she wouldn’t feel under dressed at parties she was already wearing them to anyway.

She runs a nanny staffing agency (because of course she does) with a specialty in matching nannies with children with special needs. She wears sweaters to the office every day, because she keeps her office ice cold, it’s the only way she can work. In the summer time, she cranks the AC, and in the winter, she keeps her office windows open. Its one of many idiosyncrasies she’s acquired as The Boss, from eating exactly 3 wheat crackers and 10 cherry tomatoes for her afternoon snack, to cracking her knuckles, one at a time, at the start of every board meeting.

Her employees generally like her, but secretly make fun of her sweaters and borderline autistic snacking habits. Kristy is good at maintaining a healthy balance of morale and efficacy in her staff, but she is often lonely. The lines between authority and friendship aren’t blurred here and now like they were in the Babysitter’s Club.

She is going to a work party in Midtown, she rented out the banquet room of a trendy sushi restaurant and hopes she preordered enough sashimi for everyone, and wonders if anyone will get bold enough to offer her a parting hug at the end of the night.

Kristy On Top

Jessi’s Big Break

 

Jessi was a dancer for the New York City Ballet, but an Achilles Tendon injury sidelined her career 3 years ago. Since then, she has been teaching Movement classes at Julliard and trying to get pregnant with her husband, Dov. She has also been taking improv classes and…as it turns out, Jessi is funny. As a child, she was the definition of overextended: school, ballet, babysitting, the babysitting club, helping out with her younger siblings, Becca and Squirt. For the first time, Jessi is allowed to just be goofy and loud and make up her own stuff, and not just follow the choreography of some other person’s plan. Dov is supportive of her newfound hobby, but figures she’ll cool it when she gets pregnant….

Jessi’s Big Break

Spacey Stacy

 

Stacy works in hedge fund analysis. She works long hours, but she loves it. She finds comfort in numbers, the digits flashing through her computer, her blood sugar count, how many miles she ran on her fit bit band before she goes into the office. No one at work knows she’s diabetic, she doesn’t want to give any of her shouting, amphetamine amped associates any more reason to infantilize her.

In college, she was given a number of nicknames like Spacey Stacy, and Space The Case (as in headcase), because of her ability to immediately go into her work with an unbreakable  focus. She was revered as a roommate at Stanford for her indifference to TV shows blaring in the dorm room while she studied, impenetrably locked into her “math trance”.

She has a boyfriend, Stanley Weisman, a stock broker who until recently, didn’t punish her for her tireless work ethic. But lately, his patience has been wearing thin. He calls Stacy from Nobu, they had dinner plans and she’s late, they won’t seat him until the rest of his party has arrived. Stacy keeps a few simple cocktail dresses at the office, they don’t need steaming and are easy to slip on in a rush.

“I’m sick of this shit” he tells her on the phone, and she grabs for this little black dress she has hanging on her curtain rod, but the healthiest part of her brain is still working through the numbers…

Spacey Stacy

Claudia Of All Trades

Claudia calls herself a “Jill of many, master of none”, but she’s selling herself short. What she means is, her artistic impulses have taken her down many lanes, but she’s constantly changing her mind. In her travels, she has been a jewelry designer, chalkboard letterer for fancy cocktail spots, costume assistant, animator, and a modestly successful makeup tutorial host for a Youtube channel. Her most recent endeavor was designing and constructing a giant fluorescent moon with the facial semblance of Morgan Fairchild to be filmed in a music video for the band Gremlinzz 2.

Claudia has a lower back tattoo of a willow tree, but you would never call it a tramp stamp. On Claudia, it’s a lower back tattoo, and it works. She did the half-shaved head thing before anyone else. She has a rescue cat named Taco Salad. She goes to the Met every weekend. Rihanna follows her on Instagram. Her metabolism never caught up with her love of junk food, but her taste for it has been dwindling ever since she moved out of her parents home. Somehow, candy doesn’t taste as great if you don’t have to hide it.

Claudia Of All Trades

Mary Anne Takes It All

Mary Ann has was used to her shyness being misunderstood. The only child of an overprotective single dad, and best friend of the naturally dominating Kristy, Mary Ann was simply used to putting other people’s needs before her own. Then in grad school for Library Sciences, she read The Ethical Slut, and now Mary Anne has no problem making her needs known.

The weekend after she finished the book (in one sitting), Mary Ann attended a party at the library where she was doing her work-study hours. In the dimply lit basement break room, characteristically buzzed off one plastic cup of Merlot, she put eyes on Nathaniel, a warm eyed 27 year old who worked in Returns, listening to NPR all day while sorting books. She hadn’t had sex in a year and a half, not since her college boyfriend Terry, her only sexual partner and second boyfriend in total since Logan, moved back to Santa Barbara after graduation. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, like the hackles of an aggressive dog, ready to pounce.

In the morning, he microwaved a bowl of Grape Nuts with soy milk and offered her some. She refused, she was more concerned with finding her blouse. It wasn’t with the rest of her clothes beside the bed, and she struggled to remember where she took it off. Then it came back to her: spilling some wine down the front of it while they inched closer together on his futon couch. Fumbling, he’d offered to go find a washcloth, but she said “Don’t worry, I’ll go give it a soak”. Moments later, she emerged from the bathroom in only her skirt and bra, nodding towards the bedroom.

Now, in the light of day, Mary Anne stood over the bathroom sink where her blouse was floating in a sink full of soapy water. Nathaniel promised to air dry the blouse and return it to her on Monday. He said he’d try some club soda on the stain if the soap hasn’t gotten it all out. She told him not to worry about it, but could she borrow something of his to wear right now? She had breakfast plans with Mallory and Jessi. He gave her this T-shirt, the closest he had to her size. He said he would love to get coffee with her sometime, and gave her both his cell number and non-work email address.

She never called him, and she never gave him his shirt back.

Mary Anne Takes It All

For the Love of Mallory

I was excited to take my first crack at a Mallory look, because I’ve always felt an affinity with her. We both like to read, we’ve both had mono, and we’re both natural redheads (HA). The look I was aiming for was “gamine, studious, sensitive”. I missed the mark. Instead, I look like a 15 year old drowning in way too much sherbet colored fabric. You’d think that an outfit that baggy and shapeless would at least be comfortable, right? Wrong. The waistband of my culottes felt bunchy, and the sweater is really the kind of sweater you need to layer over a soft t-shirt, because the wool gave me some next level under-boob itching. While I didn’t hit this one out of the park, I’m still on Team Mallory, looking forward to the next time I’m up to bat. (baseball euphemisms courtesy of my inner-Kristy)

For the Love of Mallory