More behind the cut! Some NSFW.
More behind the cut! Some NSFW.
Roxy passed away on November 24, 2013. Sad doesn’t really begin to cover it. Neither does heartbroken.
Roxy and I met on twitter in 2011 (thanks, Megan) and this surprised just about everyone because we always seemed like we’d known each other forever. I can’t say I have any regrets because we had a no-holds-barred kinda friendship. The last thing we talked about was a combination of cystic labia acne, group sex, and grocery shopping while intoxicated, and I’m totally okay with that.
When my cousin Paul died several years ago I didn’t tell anyone; not my roommate at the time, and not a single friend from college. Because the more people that know about something the more real that thing is, which is particularly true when it comes to loss. In a way, my taking so long to write about it on Broadist is another means of burying my grief, but some of the best advice given to me was “there’s no correct way to mourn.”
Here in Brooklyn, Roxy’s death is still not entirely tangible as most of our friendship was online. It was just a few months ago that she visited New York last.
I ultimately decided this photo was too porny for instagram. Roxy wanted to keep it though, so here it is.
Broadist has always been about feeling it out and going with our gut(s), and I’m starting that process over again, or rather, revisiting what it all means. She appreciated how much I hate logistics and even now, over two months later, I’m still haunted by the logistics of the thing we created together. She would have been the person to ask what to do in this terribly specific and tragic situation.
“What becomes of the banana skirt?” and “How should I edit our bios on Broadist?” both came to mind immediately. How will I fly to LA for her funeral? HOW WILL I HANDLE THIS ON THE INTERNET?
You may have noticed Roxy hadn’t contributed to this blog much since its summer-2011-inception. She started law school that fall and simply put, it was time consuming. Collectively we were always giant balls of anxiety but, as a law student and music industry freelancer, we handled it in different ways. I’ve always found writing to be cathartic whereas she felt it was another obligation, like reading about a case or something. I had a hard time wrapping my head around that concept because she loved Broadist with all her blood and guts and I just wanted her to do what she loved always 100% of the time forever. Whenever she wrote something it was the most magical surprise– I would get a text about it like, “Caroline, look in drafts!” and our hearts would gleam. No matter how few blog posts came from the west coast, the essence of Broadist was always both of us and still is which is fucking weird because Roxy is gone now.
An intimate thing that came up in our friendship (it surfaces in all my friendships, really), is my keen ability to drown myself in work and plummet off radars for months even years without notice. Roxy’s awareness of this was inspiring and kept me in check: “I know you always say you get busy and just disappear from peoples’ lives but you can’t do that with me, okay?” Now that she’s gone I resolve so actively to stop disappearing. If you get a weird email or phone call or postcard or something, or if you notice a blog post maybe, please understand that I’m trying so hard not to disappear. Nothing is as important as the people you love which sounds so cliché but is truer than ever now that I’ve lost yet another close friend this past month. Just trust me, ok? Losing contact is not worth it.
People really need to stop dying because this is hard to write and I am selfish and about to go on a tangent so I’ll stop with one last intimate thing that came up in Roxy and my friendship/texts after her visit here.
Rox: Knock knock
Me: ass ass ass ass ass
Rox: TITTIES. Ugh I miss you bunches.
Me: Miss you too. I am going to bed now because I’m exhausted.
Rox: Ok I’m going to cry because I can’t find soup.
Me: I want to feed you soup.
Rox: Let’s get married.
I love you, lady. RIP. Broadist isn’t going anywhere.
ATTN: “You look great! Have you lost weight?” is not a compliment. I know it has been the go-to praise-route towards many women since the inception of puberty, but I’d like to put an end to it. Why do I hear this like a broken record every holiday?
I don’t know who started the rumor that “Have you lost weight?” is just about the goddamn nicest thing you can say to a (fat) woman. Let me assure you: it’s not. I haven’t done anything right or wrong or good or bad for appearing to weigh less than the last time you saw me. Don’t congratulate me.
Use your head. Or, at the very least, be more creative with your compliments.
I can get pretty gushy about clothes, but this jumpsuit is hands down the best thing I own (first seen here, July 2011). I’ve been wearing it a bunch in my last few leisurely days of work-cation, getting organized at home before re-entering the college radio hustle on Thursday. Trying to envision myself at a show wearing this outfit. Actually considering it.
Hey, what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?
Occupation: I am an emcee in the rap group Hand Job Academy and a professional manicurist and nail artist.
What informs/inspires your style?: When I was growing up my mother force-fed me a steady diet of Audrey Hepburn, Jacqueline Kennedy, and Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals. I think I first rebelled, then later accepted and subverted these influences. I like wearing black; my boyfriend calls it “East Village Black” because in the 80s and 90s everyone in NYC apparently had a closet full of black clothes. I like gold. I like to wear a lot of jewelry because rap game. I think I like accessories more than clothes. This suit I’m wearing is part of the “Rich White Woman” series. I’m only 1.5 of those things. One time, a gay black man in a store in Alphabet City saw my Anne Klein shoes and exclaimed, “Look at your rich white woman shoes!” and he said it in a way that told me he knew I wasn’t that person. I could never be mistaken for an Upper East Side lady, nor would I care to be. I think it’s a good look if you’re kinda punk rock to begin with. Dismantle it from the inside or something.
All time number one favorite thing to wear: Probably my Vera Meat hand necklace. I have worn it almost every day for the last 3 years. When I bought it I think it was Christmas and I was single and kinda practicing being my own boyfriend. I joked that the hand belonged to my imaginary boyfriend and was there for me to hold when I needed it. Then it kinda became the hand of my Higher Power. After I began the journey toward my new career as a manicurist and started Hand Job Academy, it took on a different symbology. Like it guided me into the life I was supposed to have. I remember when I bought my first piece from Vera she said something like, “The piece of jewelry chooses you.”
What’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot lately?: Art. Riot Grrrl. Pussy Riot. Chihuahuas. That I could stand to read more books and do more exercise. JUICE: my new Ninja juicer Xmas present from my dude.
Current non-fashion obsession: Well, she is somewhat involved in fashion, but I have such a boner for Marina Abramović. I assisted on a shoot earlier this year and ended up doing her nails. I didn’t really realize until after the fact how much that moment impacted me, just watching her interact with people and the way she speaks and appears to give nary a fuck. (And I certainly didn’t save the orange wood stick I used on her, that would be totally creepy. Yeah.) I recently saw her opera at the Armory, “The Life and Death of Marina Abramović,” and it was incredible. Good art makes me want to make art but great art makes me want to live my life more deeply, and this was the latter. Also, at the climactic final moment of the show the person sitting behind me violently vomited, which felt like an appropriately visceral and horrifying circumstance.
What helps you feel confidence about your body, style, and general sense of self?: Entering my 30s and getting sober and finally finding an artistic and career path that I care about. I can’t feel good about myself if I have my head stuck up my own ass, so I try to help other people as much as possible. Coming back around to the style I had when I was a 15-year-old weirdo. Being around other people who are their authentic selves which allows me to be my authentic self. I think 2014 is about standing next to the smartest person in the room and dressing for the job I want, and other boardroom cliches that I plan to apply to my work and life.
What’s it mean to be a broad?: I like to replace “bitch” with “broad” sometimes. Like the phrase “bad bitch” sounds better to me as “bad broad.” Anytime there’s a photo of four of my friends together it’s like “Bad Broad Mount Rushmore.” Not sure where that came from but it’s a thing now. My dad claims that one of my great aunts was a chorus girl with Barbara Stanwyck back in the day. Now THAT was a broad.
End note: In the spirit of New Years Eve (the one night glitter is a neutral), Claire’s dishing out manicures with nail art for $20.14! Upon seeing her work, you’ll realize this sale is kinda insane. Email firstname.lastname@example.org for availability, appointments, and questions. Check out instagram.com/Fngrblstr for more pics and info! On a flashback-y note, I met Claire through Sue, a broad y’all met almost 2 years ago. <3
In early 2011, we thought Wouldn’t it be funny to make a Tumblr about yogurt? Like, yogurt news, maybe reviews, definitely pics and other musings about yogurt? Actually yes. Maybe only funny to us, but worth doing. She came up with the name and I set it up. She reblogged the first of many photos of large-breasted women up alongside the yogurt pics. In her mind, this made complete sense. I thought it was hilarious.
Over time, I’d say I did a lion’s share of the work on creamtop. She was a little busy with law school and a younger, more active social life. A wonderful fashion blog called broadist that she created with another friend was really taking off and we thought, for very obvious reasons, if she had any free time at all, it was more important for her to contribute there than to this one. Do your thing, girl. I got this.
Now and then she’d surprise me by putting something up here. Something that amazed me. That I would have never seen on my own feeds. Funny or beautiful or both. That’s so her.
I’m feeling so many things this evening. Mostly gutted, but thankful for the short time I was able to share with this amazing person. I prefer to keep it at that—some things are too personal for a yogurt blog. Yogurt blogs are funny. Life is funny. You never think that a stranger that you chat with in a will call line at a music festival will become one of your best friends. You never think this person will be taken away from you so suddenly. And you hear this all the time, but I promise, you will regret all the things you never say to a person.
Goodbye Roxy—I love you.