I remember exactly where I was when I applied to Jezebel. It was January 15, 2008, and I was living unhappily in San Francisco, in a failing relationship, in a failing economy, working a job at which I was failing. Late one desperate night, I wrote an email to email@example.com — and you can still reach us there, tips is a mainline to all the editors' inboxes — offering my services as some kind of, I don't know, undercover-model-correspondent. I was so unsure of myself, so wary of coming across as presumptuous, that my subject line ended with a question mark.
I didn't have an 'in.' I didn't know anyone. I was just a reader of the site, a regular reader since its launch, and I knew I liked Dodai and Moe and Anna, and their highly sophisticated brand of sex joke. The next morning at 6 a.m., I was flying to New York City for the first time, to work fashion week. I agonized over that email while my boyfriend argued with me about money — our problem was simple, we didn't have any — before he finally went to bed. I stayed up all night packing and avoiding the argument, and just before I left for the airport, I hit send. Five hours later when my plane touched down, my little Nokia buzzed. It was a voicemail from Moe asking to meet. I had no idea to what extent my life was about to change.