I can’t stop watching Dance Moms. My senior year of college was the end of my three-year, on-and-off, absolutely horrible relationship. Every time he left me, and he left me a lot, I would put on Dance Moms, cry, and ask my mom if she’d hug me. This happened enough that Abby Lee Miller started to feel like a family member. It wasn’t even the breakups that got me. It was the thinking. He’d tell me he was “thinking.” Thinking about us. Thinking about life. Thinking about whethe

Dating wasn’t always so drawn out. With the rise of social media has come the notion that we have all the time in the world to decide, date around, and settle. The next day is never guaranteed, and although it's good to take your time getting to know someone, people might not be around forever. I think men especially fail to understand that their options might not always be there. When I lived in Paris, I was dating a guy who decided to stop seeing me in the Spring. After the

I left Turkey without much artistic experience, jumping into art school in a foreign country, knowing no one and speaking none of the language. Everything was uncertain. I always believed that if I followed my dreams, life would somehow meet me halfway. I knew, especially as a foreigner who hadn’t studied art before, that I’d struggle to fit into an artistic community. I found myself making work not for my own pleasure or curiosity anymore, but almost involuntarily, to be lik

To quote Samantha Jones, defender of messy women and hard truths: “Chill, babe. We’re all bad in someone’s story.” For nearly a year, I had an affair with a friend’s husband while living with my boyfriend of almost six years. Even now, writing that sentence makes my stomach turn. Not because it isn’t true, but because it is. I was in my thirties. I knew better. I was the kind of woman who would have destroyed a man for doing this to me. And yet, there I was, actively particip

Never date a lawyer, or maybe just don’t confuse political literacy and emotional integrity. After graduating with my undergraduate degree, I took a gap year. I spent it working a job so miserable that I quit on a random Friday after being accused of having an affair with a married coworker. It was the kind of accusation that made me wonder what kind of free time my coworkers believed me to have. Outside of work, I was trying to build a life that looked healthier than it felt

Imagine your closest friend telling you one day, "I think I'm finally ready to get married." Chances are, you wouldn't be surprised. After all, women's relationship with marriage has always been full of contradictions. They're asked about settling down before they've even figured out who they are, yet the moment they admit they want a serious relationship, they're suddenly accused of being too eager, too intense, or of putting pressure on men. It's one of those unwritten rule

Sex has always existed with two meanings. On one hand, it is an act of love shared between two people. On the other, it is a lustful sin, bitten by the tooth of taboo. Or so history would have it. As a friend and I laid our woes on the table one evening, both recounting worryingly similar experiences that had happened on different occasions, I began to realise something. Our understanding of what sex is has lost an important, intimate side in its slow shift towards becoming c

If there is one thing younger generations can agree on, it’s that life is for living, not for working. “Work to live, don’t live to work” could easily be our collective mantra. It sounds obvious enough, but previous generations approached life the other way around. This does not mean that Gen Z lacks ambition or isn’t invested in their careers. Quite the opposite. The problem is that many no longer believe hard work guarantees stability, let alone success. When a demanding c

When I opened Zoom, I saw Debora Spanhol, a young woman in her early thirties, adorned with chunky silver bangles, rings, and earrings that looked like melted metal, all created by a designer friend of hers. They stood in striking contrast to her warm, dark eyes, little brunette curls, and big, curious smile, giving her the look of a southern Italian woman. Yet Debora is a Brazilian photographer, and through her work, you can trace her roots, rising to make her photography vi

I met her one time in my parents' backyard in New Hampshire. She was wearing a summer nightgown with little pale pink flowers decorated like polka dots. She looked at me — so happy, but nervous. She wanted to walk toward me but was too afraid, so I went to her. I held her little hands in mine, knelt to meet her blue eyes, and embraced her. I hugged her the way she always wanted to be hugged. We laughed. We rolled around in the plush, freshly cut green grass. We ate chocolate-

We start out in this life exposed to everything: family dynamics, the zip code we were born into, the beauty standards that come pre-packaged with our birth certificates. In those early years, we aren't trying to 'make it'; we’re just expanding. We’re constantly mapping out the world, one discovery at a time. And there’s this beautiful, raw truth to how a child navigates the world: they never stand at the edge of a dream and think, 'I can't'. Kids just push their limits until

“If we are lucky, we get to experience around eighty summers.” I came across that sentence recently, and it made me slow down. Eighty summers. Eighty seasons of warm evenings, open windows, sun-warmed skin, golden light stretching into the night. Eighty chances to sit somewhere beautiful and realise: I am here. I am alive. I am experiencing this. And yet, how often do we spend our summers waiting for summer to begin? Waiting for the perfect holiday. The perfect version of our

Come at 9 pm, we told them. “Bet,” they replied, meaning, See you at 10:45 pm. Nights with our “guy friends” – naturally, they were only ever nights – were fueled by the hometown mule, who delivered strawberry lemonade vodka straight to suburban parents’ homes, up-charging teenage daughters at a rate of 50%. With grins that bore full sets of milk teeth, we waved his Honda Sedan out of the driveway; “You be safe tonight, girls!” he called out to my friends and I, as if he wer

In an internet built on performance, Samia Kanaan somehow feels remarkably unperformed. Whether she's interviewing fashion insiders from the bathroom of a Paris nightclub, documenting Fashion Week, or greeting millions with her now-iconic "Coucou ma biche," her content has always felt less like broadcasting and more like inviting people into a conversation. Born in California, and now building a creative career in Paris, Kanaan has quietly become one of a new generation of cr

It may seem inconceivable, but only a couple of decades ago, women were encouraged to hide their pregnant bellies. Women even wore maternity corsets in the Victorian era just to hide the baby bump. The appearance of a pregnant woman was considered improper because it was evidence of sexual activity (God forbid). This year at the Cannes Film Festival, nobody could take their eyes off the Hungarian Beauty, Barbara Sprouse. She is not the first woman to debut her baby bump at Ca