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February 6, 2003

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Campus Couture

By wpengine | February 6, 2003

Many guys claim to prefer girls with natural, cosmetic-free faces to those with foundation-caked masks, but what they don’t know is that this “natural” look is really a guise. That’s right, girls everywhere are tricking you into believing that their complexions are the by-products of good genetics, as opposed to a stealthy morning ritual. In reality, makeup isn’t meant to hide, it’s meant to enhance layers of the real you. So don’t shy away from experimenting with these different looks for fear of being accused of false advertising.

Sizzling Siren

Catherine Zeta-Jones epitomizes this look in her most recent role as Velma Kelley, a sultry-eyed bombshell in the movie Chicago. Transforming yourself into a vixen is relatively easy; all you have to do is keep things dark and dramatic. First, shape brows into a striking arch (Bourjois Sourcil Precision, $10). Next, apply a light shimmer all over the lids, and then smear a smoky plum shade up to the eye crease (Stila Apres Ski Eyeshadow Trio, $30). Line eyes in kohl black (She She So Over You Eye Liner, $6), and then finish things off with fatally blood-red lips (Sephora in Deep Red, $10).

Soft & Romantic

Singer-songstress Norah Jones has been sporting this trend, wearing her hair in loose waves and flattering her face in soft, dewy colors. Instead of a matte foundation, use a very sheer, translucent liquid one (Prescriptives Traceless Skin Responsive Tint, $32.50). Color cheeks with a rosy gel blush (BeneFit Cheekies in Head Over Heels, $20), and apply pastel shades over your lids (Urban Decay Shadow Box, $34). Line eyes and slightly smudge in a soft gray (Sephora in Gray, $4), and then complete this sweet look by painting your lips in a pretty pink (Sugar Shine Dividedby2’s in Rainbow, $12).

’60s Mod

Striking cat eyes are making a comeback, an ode to the edgy ’60s mod makeup typified by Brigitte Bardot. All you really need here is bold, waterproof liquid eyeliner (Lanc

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Rant: Want Minimum Wage With That?

By wpengine February 7, 2003

A couple of weeks back in the trenches as a wage laborer have taught me a few things. As a second semester senior, I’ve decided that I deserve to have the Spring Break of a sorority girl’s (or drunkard’s) dreams. As such, I have set my sights on Acapulco. After extensive research, I’ve found not a single airline that will bursar it. So, how to get the cash? Well, I’ve taken on a second job. I work at the Pita Pit 10 to 12 hours a week for Acapulco money. Don’t get me wrong; I like my job. My co-workers are nice, I ring in people’s orders and make sandwiches. It’s not a bad way to make some change. There’s nothing wrong with asking “Do you want chips with that” for a semester in the service of a debauched dream. But the thing I’ve learned that I’ll forever carry with me is this: sometimes, the customer is always wrong. The customer is always wrong when she, a 92-pound girl, asks me if she can have a third baba ganoush, a third hummus and a third falafel on her sandwich. And just a little lettuce. And no pita. He’s always wrong when he calls me asking why his 222 chicken pitas haven’t yet been delivered when he ordered over an hour ago. Has he ever made 222 chicken pitas? Does he know how long it takes to make 222 chicken pitas? Should he just smoke another bowl with his 221 buddies and relax? Finally, the customer is especially wrong when he or she puts in an appearance as The Drunk Customer. The Drunk Customer is a unique specimen. Both sexes look the same, for the most part. They are clothed in expensive outfits which must have looked good at the beginning of the night, but are now beginning to — for lack of a better word — wilt. Gelled hair has gone limp, and has chosen to part listlessly in the middle. Mascara has smeared above and underneath the eye. Beer has been spilt, usually on or near the crotch area of the pant. I will begin by describing my encounters with the male. Often staggering in with 48 of his closest friends, he begins his night at the Pita Pit aiming his beady, bloodshot eyes at my chest and smirkingly slurring out the words: “Whaza BLT?” Next, he proceeds to do one of three things: He invites everyone in the Pit to after-hours at his place. He asks the location of the bathroom. Unable to wait for a response, he rushes outside and pees in the snow. He asks the location of the bathroom. Unable to wait for a response, he rushes outside and pukes in the snow. Then, if he is able, he returns and orders a pita. Or two. Or FIVE. Oh yes, The Male Drunk Customer can eat. Let’s turn now to the female. She pays with someone else’s credit card — usually a close relative’s — which happens to have her name on it. I know this because when I say “$28.50, please,” she says, “Oh, that’ll break my father’s bank.” One can only hope that in a mere five weeks I too will be drunk enough to say something even stupider. Possibilities include: “Green things are better than blue things,” “Why don’t birds fly inside?” and “What are you doing later?”Archived article by Maggie Frank
End the Trend

By wpengine February 7, 2003

The battle. From the early inception of hip-hop, duels between MC’s, break dancers, or DJ’s have become a defining element of the culture surrounding this evolving music form. Hip-hop battles were as natural as the three-stripe Adidas jumpsuits that defined the old school aesthetic. People gathered at clubs or the local hangout to witness this feat, as intense competition led to displays of overwhelming skill and showmanship. It was the shouts of amazement from the audience that would determine who would emerge victorious and who would have to return to their home for hours more practice. In this sense, these publicly performed battles rendered hip-hop a democratic art form: the voice of the people decided what the future would sound like and served as a creative impetus for the advancement of the music. Though the spirit of competition continues, recent battles in hip-hop, now fought out through media sources and song lyrics, seem to have lost this populist edge, and are won by the loudness of one’s voice instead of the level of one’s skill. An example of one of the most recent hip-hop rivalries, manifested both in the hip-hop media and in the music, is the controversy surrounding Benzino and Eminem. In this duel, the battleground is no longer the club, and these petty conflicts don’t seem to be doing much for the advancement of the music. This conflict is representative of the new hip-hop battles, where the artists fight amongst themselves; removed from the immediate judgment of the listeners — the people. Benzino, the co-owner of hip-hop magazine The Source, seems to have little objection to using his publication as a platform for self-promotion or to shoot insults at other rappers, as The Source has also chimed in on the side of their co-owner, printing cartoons that shine the unfavorable light of Elvis and Vanilla Ice onto Eminem. On the subject of the white-rapper phenom, Benzino most clearly articulates his attack on Eminem in “Pull Your Skirt Up,” in which he rhymes “I’m gonna’ pull your skirt up/ expose your true sex