canadian tuxedo

I’m in two great relationships right now. They don’t know about each other, but I’m sure they’re okay with it. The thing is I never knew that I would ever be in a relationship with either of them. I  have a relationship with denim and TV now in that I never had them growing up. It’s almost like an unrequited love story, except that it was never one-sided love since I didn’t appreciate them, while denim and TV didn’t really know about me.

I grew up as a dancer. I did ballet, jazz, tap, the whole works. So it gave me pride that I was the only one in my 5th grade class who could do a split during gym class. What is the only thing that could restrict me from showing off my splits, pirouettes, and grand jetes? Denim.

The constricting fabric that held my legs together could never let my legs make more than a 40 degree angle. Wearing jeans was like being in jail. I was a nerd, so jeans never fit my personality either. Multi-colored sweatsuits and Capezio jazz pants were a large part of my repertoire on “dress down” days at my uniformed private school. At one point, the only pair of jeans I had were from the boys section of GAP with patchwork all over the legs and formulas written on them.

The same goes for my TV viewing habits. My love for TV now is garnered by the fact that I hated TV when I was a kid. I spent endless hours in libraries and I grew up in a home that watching classic movies during lunch was normal behavior. In fact, I distinctly remember watching Gandhi with my dad for snack time.

Of course, I still kept up with pop culture with crushes on Zack Morris and creeping in the next room when my brother watched The OC. Still, the relationship was meant to be when TV came into my life like a long lost friend in high school starting with Saturday Night Live. Now, my Monday morning schedule simply consists of reading reviews of last night’s episodes of Mad Men, Silicon Valley, or Veep.

As I felt like elaborating my teenage wardrobe in high school, I subscribed to ELLE. It was then that I saw a new trend of stretchy jeans, which were so cleverly advertised by having a ballerina do an arabesque in the so-called stretchy jeans. It’s like they were trying to sell them specifically to me.

Fast forward to present-day, I wore my own version of a Canadian tuxedo. Rolled-up my favorite Madewell high-waisted jeans, with a J. Crew chambray button down. I guess you can say that the two-toned Ralph Lauren loafers are an homage to the nerdy me who used to never wear any denim and thought jeans were just blasphemy. If 2001 called, then surely Justin & Britney would have a great rebuttal outfit.





I was the one who said, “Sorry, I don’t watch TV,” way before it was cool. I didn’t have Cable TV growing up. With now being the prime time of Cable TV & the hour-long drama, I think this is God’s way of making up for the lost time. As Mindy Kaling once said, I have a relationship with television in that I grew up not watching it. Dozens of documents and unread emails piling up are the fault of unwatched episodes. So long, life. I’m keeping up with the characters.

Summer mode means catching up on personal work, work that needed to be delayed because of school. It turns out, my life for the past couple of months has been very much like that episode of Portlandia. I keep track of time in terms of episodes instead of hours. I keep tracks of weeks in terms of the TV series. It’s time to return to real life…if I still remember what that is.

In May, I binge-watched all six seasons of Mad Men. After watching the finale and finally escaping my house, I felt like I lived Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. The world being a bright light unknown to me, and the only safe place I knew was in Sally Draper’s sassy quips.

I try to reason with myself as to why I need to keep watching…why we all keep watching. I say it’s “research” for my coming-of-age romantic dramedy hour-long series that is my life. I suppose we love to watch fictional characters because they’re more twisted than we are. Speak for yourself, Jessica. Isn’t that the reason that America is so fascinated with the Kardashians? Maybe Kim and her friends are all pulling a classic Lonelygirl15 on us (remember her?), and it’s all an illusion!

Then here we are with Netflix making a bold zig-zag snap to Cable TV. Already a contender at the Emmy’s with House of Cards (with its hilarious protagonist’s “asides”), it produces Orange is the New Black. TV gods, you’re doing a lot for the unemployed. Because of Netflix, I finally have an answer to “What would you do if you had one week to live?” Ironically, a copy of Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises sits on my bedside table. Staring at me.






P.S. Why are we obsessed with television? What’s missing from television now?