Windsor—What does it take to get the perfect shot of the newly married Harry and Meghan from the cheap seats? Turns out it’s a £25 fleece Union Jack blanket, three pairs of socks, four cups of wildly overpriced coffee, and the kindness of several royal enthusiast strangers.
Windsor—I’d been in Windsor less than 30 minutes on Thursday morning when I spotted Hoda Kotb, host of the Today Show, ambling around in a light pink coat. Moments later, CBS This Morning anchor Gayle King passed by, calling out: “Hoda, you have fun!”
I blame my interest in raw meat on my mother. Under the guise of protecting us, she wouldn’t let me or my sister touch raw chicken while we helped her cook, lest we contract a salmonella infection. Like any child, what I wasn’t allowed to do I wanted to do more, and I found myself overly fixated on the flabby tan…
The tote bag I was given upon crossing the threshold of In Goop Health—a day-long wellness conference for Goop’s community—is the perfect tote bag. Not too wide, not too tall; the straps are generous enough to accommodate the bulk of a winter coat, but did not slide off my shoulders once I stripped down to the …
Ever since Tim Gunn uttered his first “Hmm” on Project Runway, I’ve dreamed of being a contestant on the show. Not only am I a capable sketcher (when I put my mind to it), I’m also a lover of design of all kinds, be it interior, urban, fashion, etc. I also have an innovative mind.
Generally speaking, I find life adequately challenging without inventing ways to put my mettle to the test. Although I admire marathon runners, people who get tattoos that require multiple visits to the parlor, and people who are “finally quitting coffee,” I feel no desire to follow their lead. I’m far more likely to…
If you have ever flipped on the tube after eating a ball of pot, settled on the most invigorating display of human physical abilities available on network television, American Ninja Warrior, and thought, “I could hang onto that chunk of plastic if money was on the line,” I’m here to say you are wrong! Like, so wrong!
We at Jezebel get invited to endless PR events, most of them not worth attending. We do make an exception, however, when the outcome might be funny, weird, or there’s exceptionally good free stuff involved. It was through these circumstances that Madeleine Davies and Megan Reynolds ended up on a Williamsburg hotel…
Like all ideas that sound good at the time but are actually quite scary, my journey to become a mermaid started with a PR email. It was an invite to try Aquamermaid—part actual workout, part childhood nostalgia fantasy for anyone who had practiced a hair flip in the shallow end of the town pool. I’ve never entertained…
A man has built himself a bubble bath out of balloons. He is asking two teenage girls—who have volunteered for this, but still—to stand in the bathtub and sing a song, which they do, until it’s clear that everyone is miserable.
On Thursday, our friend and former colleague Jia Tolentino wrote, “The Personal-Essay Boom Is Over” for the New Yorker. Respectfully, Jia, it isn’t.
Over the past few months, you may have seen commercials for a Phantom of the Opera-esque beauty treatment, a plastic mask full of glowing lights that promises clearer skin. Like glycolic acid peels or at-home laser hair removal, it is the latest product to act as a holy grail: something that was once relegated to the…
On Sunday, I arrived in North Dakota and headed to Oceti Sakowin, one of the main camps where Native water protectors are peacefully blocking the planned path of the Dakota Access Pipeline. I did some interviews. The photographer accompanying me took photos. It was icy cold and very dark and once or twice I fell down…
I don’t remember exactly how I played myself into wearing a tail for a week—I just know that it wouldn’t have happened were it not for my pride.
God help me, I actually enjoyed reading Ivana Trump’s dishy, ridiculous, semi-autobiographical 1992 novel, For Love Alone. Except, of course, for the parts where I kept picturing Donald Trump in the throes of orgasm.
About a year ago, I got botulinum toxin injected into my face for the first time. As a woman of the aughts, this seemed almost like an inevitability, especially once I moved to Los Angeles, the land of face modification and cheap med spas. Here, you can walk into a clinic and get Botox on demand for around $10 a unit,…
I’m not going to subject you to the umpteen millionth permutation of the opening line of Pride and Prejudice, so let’s just lay it out there: Holy shit, there are so many Jane Austen souvenirs.
This past weekend, I went to see The Longest Ride, the latest Nicholas Sparks movie, all by myself.
"Oh fucking shit," Julianne says to me. We've been at this New York magazine-sponsored wedding expo for half an hour, and somehow it's taken us this long to notice the massive open bar in the middle of the room. What could have possibly distracted us from the promise of endless free alcohol?
