A Fond Farewell to Lucky

If you aren't familiar, Lucky was "the magazine about shopping" that Conde Nast began publishing in  2000 (year confirmed by Wikipedia). This week, numerous media outlets have reported that Lucky is dead, after a reduction in issues, major staff layoffs, and a partnership with an outside company failed to save it. According to New York Magazine's fashion blog, The Cut, Lucky may live on as a website, but the print aspect of it is done.

I'm a feminist media critic. I'm supposed to find women's magazines problematic. And I do. But I also love them.

I have a long history with "ladymags," and especially fashion and beauty magazines. My entry into the category was Allure, the first issue (1991, so sayeth the Wiki) of which somehow ended up in our house. I was all of 11, but my mom subscribed and I read every issue when she finished it. I have subscribed (either through my mom or on my own) ever since. No kidding, 24 years. By around freshman year of high school, I was also getting Vogue. I have vivid memories of advertisements in both magazines for the pastel eyeshadows and nail polishes so popular in the early to mid '90's. I loved poring over the pictures of the couture fashions and reading about various random rich people attending parties and what they wore to those parties (Vogue, of course. I actually ended up canceling my subscription several years ago when I realized I was more annoyed by than interested in these ladies and their parties). I even wrote a research paper for my sophomore year science class about Botox using an article in Allure as a source (I was, and I remain, horrified by the idea of paralyzing one's facial muscles with botulinum toxin. It has the word toxin in its name!!!).

I remember hoping that one day I'd be able to afford the clothes and bags I saw in those pages. As soon as I had money, I started buying the more affordable luxury pictured in my magazines: the cosmetics (first non-drugstore makeup purchase: Clinique Chubby Stick -- the original silver pencil that had to be sharpened -- in Blue Jam, approximately 1996, and chosen based on an article I read in Allure). The clothes I saw remained elusive, though. It was difficult to even recreate the styles with the options available to a teenager in suburban Detroit working a minimum wage job.

Lucky was a game-changer for me. In 2000, I was a junior at DePaul University. I kept seeing advertisements in Allure (my subscription came with me to college) for a "new magazine about shopping." As soon as it appeared on newsstands, I bought a copy. I was instantly hooked. Here was a magazine that showed how to style clothes, but the clothes were at least in the realm of possibility for me. Instead of Chanel and Burberry, here was Gap and J. Crew and Banana Republic. Sometimes, they'd even feature stuff from Target and Old Navy, where an undergrad could actually afford to buy clothes. The focus was on looking good at every price point and the thrill of getting an amazing deal on something that made you look and feel great. Every item's price was printed right next to it on the page. They even included pages of "Lucky Breaks," exclusive discounts and giveaways on items featured in each issue (I won at least five of the giveaways over the course of my subscription). I subscribed immediately.

For its first several years, Lucky was my favorite magazine. Editor-in-Chief Kim France brought an accessible, interesting approach to style. I loved Jean Godfrey June's columns about beauty and bought many of her recommendations. If you ever liked an outfit I wore in undergrad or grad school, chances are at least one item or the idea for the outfit came from the pages of Lucky. The mix of high and low end styles was groundbreaking for a fashion magazine and it was perfect for someone who wanted to look good on a small budget.

For me, Lucky started to lose its appeal in 2010 when Brandon Holley (previously of Jane) took over as editor-in-chief. By that time, I had a real, grown-up job and had just had my first baby. I was financially stable enough to start building a wardrobe and affording the things I loved in Lucky's pages. Just as I got to that point, I started noticing a major shift in the items featured in the magazine. Instead of that famous high-low mix, more and more high fashion brands were taking over. The prices kept going up. I remember seeing a very plain white t-shirt featured that cost $70. There was less and less differentiation between what I was seeing in Lucky and what Vogue, InStyle, and Allure were pushing.

I held out until early 2013. By that point, the magazine was focusing heavily on "street style" stars (which seems to me to be young, wealthy people, who work in creative fields, mostly in New York, with unique style sense, who wear outfits that are meant to make them seem "interesting") and fashion bloggers. While I get why these people can be influential and important (talk about democratizing fashion) there is very little about the life of a rich twenty-something in Brooklyn that I can apply to my own life and style. I canceled my subscription. Shortly after that, Conde Nast announced that Holley was being replaced by Eva Chen, best known for her mastery of social media, particularly Instagram. Several months later, I bought one Chen-edited issue at the newsstand to see if I'd want to resubscribe. It didn't take me many pages to realize that I didn't. The only thing I found compelling enough to read in the entire issue was Jean Godfrey June's column.

The end of Lucky makes me sad because for a long time it was the only magazine that made fashion and style seem achievable for a young, middle class woman in the midwest. Part of its downfall may have been that other magazines started picking up their high-low approach, rather than focusing on high-end only. I can see Lucky's influence when I flip through a copy of InStyle and see items I can actually afford with their prices printed right on the page, instead of in tiny print at the back of the magazine. I think the bigger problem, though, was that they left their readers behind. The focus on street style significantly narrowed the concept of style in the magazine's pages and as a result reduced the appeal to a broad range of readers.

These days, my fashion magazines of choice are Allure (of course), InStyle, and Elle. They're good for what they are and I enjoy them, but I miss the old Lucky approach. A lot of what I used to see in Lucky is covered in numerous blogs and websites now, so there will almost certainly never be another print publication like Lucky pre-2010. And that's sad.

So, about that...

If you're Facebook friends with me, you may have seen a post I did criticizing an advertisement for a homebrewing contest that only featured images of white, cisgendered, men. You may also have noticed the negative reactions that the post got from some of my followers. You may have questioned why I bothered to respond to some comments that were at best shortsighted and at worst outright hostile and sexist. I'm normally the type to rise above the fray and minimize drama on social media (I just don't have time, energy, etc). I didn't do that this time, but I am unabashedly not sorry that I engaged. I thought some of my friends may be interested in hearing why I responded. I want to share my thoughts about this with you in this space.

Reason #1: I'm sick and tired. 

When I was younger, especially in high school, I internalized the idea that keeping my mouth shut, not putting myself on the line, and being as invisible as possible would protect me from being bothered by other people. I was the target of a lot of crap from my peers when I was a kid. Blending in to the background (which is a lot different than fitting in) was my primary defense mechanism. It continued to be my primary defense mechanism for a very long time. In college and grad school, I was at least encouraged to open up and express my thoughts and ideas and I frequently did in places and spaces that I knew were safe and supportive. 

I realized over the years that blending in wasn't working for me. It was making me anxious, angry, cynical, and distrustful. As a feminist, I felt like a hypocrite when I'd see discrimination and inequities in action, but couldn't bring myself to speak up or act against them. Keeping everyone around me happy was detrimental to my own happiness and wellbeing. I'm sick and tired of holding back and questioning the value of the contributions I make to the world. I strongly suspect that a lot of other women feel the same way.

Guess what? In that "controversial" Facebook post? I made a lot of really good points that I backed up with logic and reason and evidence. I have expertise and credibility in media criticism and analysis. I put myself on the line in a way that I could defend and justify. I stand by everything I wrote.

Of course, putting yourself on the line opens you up to a lot of criticism and negative attention, especially when you're a woman. Which brings me to...

Reason #2: Stereotypes and gendered microaggressions MUST be called out.

The people commenting on my post went to the well of gender stereotypes and microaggressions very quickly. The first was mansplaining. If you're not familiar, mansplaining is when a man tries to explain something to a woman, or prove her wrong on an issue, about which she has more knowledge, experience, or expertise. Amy Gray, in The Guardian, notes that this is done patronizingly and with the assumption of ignorance (http://preview.tinyurl.com/pyd4mf6). This frequently happens in discussions about gender and the experience of gender discrimination or inequity. While not coined by her, most people credit the development of the concept of mansplaining to Rebecca Solnit's essay "Men Explain Things to Me" (you can AND SHOULD read the whole essay and some of Solnit's additional thoughts about it here: http://www.tomdispatch.com/blog/175584/). Mansplaining is exhausting for women. It makes me feel like I should just stop talking because, "why bother?" And that right there is why it's such a problem. When that "why bother?" feeling overtakes the desire to stand up for myself, I am complicit in my own silencing. 

Among the many other problems with the responses to my arguments were attempts to frame my points as being anti-male and as "yelling and screaming" about my "personal tastes." These are classic examples of things men say to shut women up. Number one, I am a heterosexual woman who is married to a man. I have many respected and loved family members, friends, colleagues, and even mentors who are men. I am NOT anti-man. I do not think men are "ew" as one commenter accused. What I am is anti-sexism and anti-misogyny. By the very nature of sexism and misogyny, they are most often perpetrated by men against women.

As for the "yelling and screaming" thing...this is one of reactions to women's voices that makes me the angriest. Have you ever noticed that when a woman has a strong opinion and states it with authority and conviction, she's frequently labeled as "shrill" or "unpleasant" or even "bitchy"? Calm, reasoned arguments are framed as screaming and being hysterical or crazy. The examples in popular media are legion. There are so many excellent studies about this very issue written by scholars in communication. This came up very recently in a widely discussed study of class evaluations written by college students about their professors (see more here: http://preview.tinyurl.com/pl5ebtd). It happens and it happens ALL THE TIME. Women are frequently socialized to believe that they have to be nice, and that nice means coming across as friendly, approachable, and sweet. So, being labeled shrill or bitchy or any other synonym for those words is another technique for silencing women's voices. Men aren't generally talked about in negative terms when they're opinionated and outspoken. Instead, men are described as "good leaders," "powerful," "strong," and "smart." I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I've been called a bitch by men who want me to stop talking. Students, acquaintances, even a family member have hopped on board the bitch train. I cannot be shouted down by these reactions, because then I give that method of silencing credence. 

Which brings me to...

Reason #3: Celia and Eleanor.

My little daughters are a major part of why I won't be shouted down. I want to equip them with the knowledge that their voices, opinions, and ideas have value. That they matter. That they can change the world just by being themselves, to paraphrase the great and wise Amy Poehler. How can I accomplish those goals if I allow them to see me being silenced by ignorance and misogyny? They're extremely lucky to have a father who believes that they and their voices matter, but what about outside of our home? I believe that seeing me be powerful and hearing me use my voice to enact change will help them realize their own worth and power. They are far too important for me to act otherwise.

There is really so much more I could say. I could discuss why I'd go to the mat over beer (trust me, it matters). I could write about the psychological effects of being systematically silenced. I could write for days about sexism and misogyny in craft beer and brewing. For now, though, I'll leave it here, knowing that I'm probably going to have to deal with another day of people telling me I'm wrong, it's not really that bad, I'm making too much out of it, etc. 

Back Out on the Road -- FINALLY

So, after the longest, most annoying winter I can remember, a two-week-long chest cold, and a series of cold and/or rainy weekends, I finally managed to get back out on the bike this past weekend. Since the mornings are still chilly (and Dave works most Saturday mornings these days), I waited until the afternoon to head out. It was gorgeously sunny and in the mid 60's, so I was anticipating a very nice ride. As usual, I decided to do the Slippery Elm Trail, from the Montessori school in Bowling Green to North Baltimore and back (around 26 miles total).

The ride started off beautifully. It was a bit breezy, but it was blowing from the west, so it wasn't really helping or hindering (the trail is a north-south route). I was comfortably hitting 15 mph and with the slightest extra effort closing in on 17 mph regularly. My legs felt great and I was feeling better emotionally than I had in a while (work is excessively stressful lately). I pulled into North Baltimore in just under an hour and was all ready to head back to BG just as speedily. And then...

Headwind.

Not just any headwind, but a full blown, Northwest Ohio style, blow across farm fields that haven't been planted yet, gusting to 25 mph mess that made it feel like I was trying to bike through a brick wall. The wind must have changed directions at some point because instead of pointing to the east, the bright orange wind socks that dot the trail were now pointing directly at my face. Here's what happened to my thought process during this time:

First Couple of Miles, North Baltimore to about Oil Center Road
Well, this sucks a little. Oh well, it'll be good training for the hills outside of Columbus during Pelotonia.

Between Oil Center Road and Cygnet
At this point, my average speed dropped to about 10 mph. My legs were starting to burn. I can always tell when things aren't going well because I start checking my bike computer to count down the miles every few seconds.

Between Cygnet and Rudolph
I had never experienced the "hitting the wall" feeling I have heard runners describe until this time. Not even when I rode 50 miles last summer. My legs felt like lead and there were times that the wind was blowing so hard that I couldn't even get over 7 mph. I started trying to think of ways that Dave could come collect me off the side of the trail, but since I had taken the Subaru (which has the girls' car seats) to the trail, it wasn't really possible. I was close to panic a few times.

When I finally got to Rudolph, which has benches and a water station, I could barely feel my legs. When I dismounted, I almost fell because my legs buckled when I tried to stand on them (fortunately, there was no one around to see that bit of gracelessness). Making matters worse, I only had half of a protein bar left. I took about a fifteen minute break, sent Dave a particularly profane text message to check in, and then pushed on.

Rudolph to Bowling Green
Usually, I can do the Rudolph to BG homestretch (about 5 miles) in my sleep. It's not even exercise most of the time. This time, it was the longest five miles I've ever done. The wind was even worse and I could barely hit 10 mph (remember, I ride a ROAD BIKE). Most of my thoughts during this stretch were too profane to print here, but were along the lines of thinking what the wind could do to itself. When I finally got back to BG, I almost cried. It took me close to two hours (including breaks) to get from North Baltimore to BG (basically double what it took to get to NB). But, I did it.

My heart rate monitor clocked me in at burning 2,317 calories. So, I think I was justified in ordering pizza and breadsticks for dinner.

Overall, it was a demoralizing ride for that second half. However, I finished and I got some good resistance training for the hills I'll encounter during Pelotonia. In the meantime, I'm hoping for less wind and stronger legs as I keep training for 100!

Check out my Pelotonia profile and please consider donating: Emily's Rider Profile

Why I'm Riding 100 Miles

Anyone who has known me for more than a few years would probably have never guessed that I would sign up to ride 100 miles on a bicycle. My history with exercise and exercise-like activities is inconsistent at best. I HATE running. Hate it. I decided to try training for a 5k a few years ago, against my better judgment, and ended up with such severe bursitis in my knee that I could barely walk for three weeks. Screw that. Treadmills and stationary bikes and other gym equipment bore me to tears, even with audio books, TV, or reading material. I actually enjoy yoga, but classes are expensive and after having two kids, it's pretty intimidating to bend myself into pretzelly shapes around a bunch of thin, flexible twenty-year-olds. I'm not exactly graceful (my less generous friends and family would call me clumsy even) and I've spent most of my life feeling decidedly un-athletic. And yet, here I am signed up to ride 100 miles on a bike this August.

My road to 100 miles has been a journey of self-discovery and physical and emotional change. I've enjoyed riding a bike as long as I can remember, but I never did it in any kind of sustained way. When I was in undergrad, my husband (well, he was my boyfriend then), David, got me hooked on watching the Tour de France each summer. Watching these elite athletes zoom across the French countryside and power up the sides of mountains gave me a sense that cycling was beautiful, fascinating, and best undertaken by men with zero percent body fat and a crew of supporters behind them. But then, in the spring of 2010, David came home from work with information about Pelotonia, a grassroots cycling event in Columbus, OH that raises money for cancer research at Ohio State University. His company was sponsoring the event and offering incentives for their employees to participate. After some deliberation, he signed up to ride 50 miles. I was only a few months postpartum with my first baby, so I didn't even consider riding. I did, however, help Dave fundraise and supported his training efforts. That August, my nine-month-old daughter and I watched him set off on his first Pelotonia. I surprised myself by feeling a little bit jealous as he rode away surrounded by hundreds of like-minded cyclists, all with the goal of ending cancer through research. By August 2011, when David did his second 50 mile ride in Pelotonia, I'd had another baby. That would be my last time standing on the sidelines watching him ride away.

So, being inspired by my husband was the first step. The second step was, and stick with me here, breastfeeding (I know that those of you who know me are rolling your eyes and groaning, "She's talking about breastfeeding again. Why won't she just shut up about it already?" Too bad. Don't read a blog by a breastfeeding scholar and activist if you don't like it). I struggled with breastfeeding my first daughter. I experienced just about every one of the "booby traps" defined by Best for Babes. I stuck with it as long as I could, but when I got pregnant with my second baby, my milk supply dropped drastically and that was that. I was sad and disappointed, but determined to succeed on my second try. When my second daughter was born in the spring of 2011, I was ready. Armed with information, experience, support, and awareness of what went wrong the first time, I succeeded. I breastfed my youngest for eighteen months: six months exclusively, until she was one with complimentary foods, and then through the six month process of baby-led weaning. It wasn't always easy (I work full-time and was only able to take one week of maternity leave, for example), but I did it. And as the months went on, my perception of my own body started to change. I started to feel like my body was capable of much more than I believed. I was keeping an entire person alive, healthy, chubby, and thriving using just my body (with some food when she was ready, of course). I realized I didn't need to be graceful to be powerful...I just needed to try.

My final source of inspiration was Pelotonia's mission. Getting to know the organization in Dave's first two years of participation, I was deeply moved and motivated by their mission to end cancer through research. I am an academic, so I value research and know the power it holds when it's well-done and well-funded. I've known far too many people in my life who have suffered through cancer, some surviving and some not. My heart breaks when I think about what people with cancer endure and what their families go through to support them and care for them. Pelotonia is different from other cancer charities. It does not exist to "raise awareness" (I think we're all aware of cancer, thankyouverymuch). It does not exist to "find a cure" (which implies that it's ok if people get cancer in the first place as long as it can be cured). Instead, Pelotonia's motto is "One Goal: End Cancer." THAT I can get on board with. Pelotonia seeks to achieve this goal by funding cancer research at The Ohio State University Comprehensive Cancer Center - Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital and Richard J. Solove Research Institute. Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, check out the Pelotonia website. If you aren't fired up and motivated after reading their About Us section, you aren't paying attention. I had to be a part of this.

I started with the goal of 25 miles (the shortest Pelotonia route) in 2012. I got myself a new bike, a Trek Pure Lowstep in Candy Orange: a big old cruiser that made up in style what it lacked in speed. I spent the spring and summer going on rides up and down our local bike trail with Dave (toting the girls in a trailer behind his bike). In August, I completed 25 miles with pride and joy. I told Dave that I'd do the 25 mile ride again the next year because I just didn't see the need to go farther since 25 miles was hard enough. That feeling lasted about two weeks. I started noticing that I felt a little guilty and lazy about only doing 25 miles. I could go farther than that. And doing so would raise even more money for cancer research. So, I decided to do 50 in 2013. I spent the summer of 2013 training and fundraising. In August, I completed the 50 mile ride. It was incredibly emotional and fulfilling. Again, I told Dave that I thought 50 miles was my limit. That feeling lasted about two weeks. Can you see where this is going? In September 2013, I upgraded to a road bike (a Trek Lexa...light and fast and euphoria-inducing). In January 2014, I officially registered to ride 100 miles in Pelotonia '14. And here we are.

I plan to use this space to write about my training and fundraising because writing about things helps me hold myself accountable and because I enjoy writing about things that make me happy. I hope you'll join me in this journey and check in with the blog sometimes.

tl;dr: Emily's going to ride her bike a long way and hit people up for money.

Check out my Pelotonia Profile.