Getting Lucky in June
Long Island has a certain sinister allure.
My best friend and I went to the mall
for vitamin face-lifts and scrambled egg
whites: she, an adorable, Japanese club-kid
and me, a ladylike wiseguy. We met a playful trio
of beachy-nudes in nurse shoes, heavy-handed
with the blush—like, too much pink. The rich
are different from you and me. My ultimate
statementy item would be a slick Snoopy
timepiece or old-school ylang-ylang. I can’t
see myself eating face cream at a Hollywood
power breakfast. I’m happy being my husband’s
utilitarian pin-up girl, subversive little hotcake;
sweet gypsy thrown round his neck, barely there.
My best friend and I went to the mall
for vitamin face-lifts and scrambled egg
whites: she, an adorable, Japanese club-kid
and me, a ladylike wiseguy. We met a playful trio
of beachy-nudes in nurse shoes, heavy-handed
with the blush—like, too much pink. The rich
are different from you and me. My ultimate
statementy item would be a slick Snoopy
timepiece or old-school ylang-ylang. I can’t
see myself eating face cream at a Hollywood
power breakfast. I’m happy being my husband’s
utilitarian pin-up girl, subversive little hotcake;
sweet gypsy thrown round his neck, barely there.
Getting Lucky in June
Is there anyone cooler than the coconut
connoisseur in beaded gladiator sandals
drinking strawberry champagne outside
a little café downtown? Crafted from hair
oil and pliable denim, the red-blooded,
regular-haircut-getting siren is all warmth
with no sweetness, as smoldering as it gets
in Ye Olde Barber Shoppe. The American
items she loves are few and far between--
she dreams of London’s under-the-radar
salons, the fresh-cracked heat of a shimmering
French coastline. For her, the glooming pit
of despair is an afternoon at home with
a full dishwasher and a roll of cookie dough.
connoisseur in beaded gladiator sandals
drinking strawberry champagne outside
a little café downtown? Crafted from hair
oil and pliable denim, the red-blooded,
regular-haircut-getting siren is all warmth
with no sweetness, as smoldering as it gets
in Ye Olde Barber Shoppe. The American
items she loves are few and far between--
she dreams of London’s under-the-radar
salons, the fresh-cracked heat of a shimmering
French coastline. For her, the glooming pit
of despair is an afternoon at home with
a full dishwasher and a roll of cookie dough.
Getting Lucky in February
Ankles are sexy! A hidden surprise you catch
a glimpse of, tinted but not over-the-top bronzy.
All I really want to do is look like Brigitte Bardot:
impossibly pretty, lemony, monochromatic;
complicated in I-don’t-take-myself-too-seriously
lingerie. When you put it on, it’s like--whoa!
So good-girl-gone-bad, swoon-worthy: uptown
bombshell emerging from the depressed haze
of junior high. Chloë Sevigny, stop paying attention
to fashion and crank up the vamp volume! Don’t leave
home in desperate need of a wash; inject some
earthy glamour into that bare, bare, bare front.
If you want more texture after you’ve sleekified,
drape snakeskin all over. Backless is always hot.
a glimpse of, tinted but not over-the-top bronzy.
All I really want to do is look like Brigitte Bardot:
impossibly pretty, lemony, monochromatic;
complicated in I-don’t-take-myself-too-seriously
lingerie. When you put it on, it’s like--whoa!
So good-girl-gone-bad, swoon-worthy: uptown
bombshell emerging from the depressed haze
of junior high. Chloë Sevigny, stop paying attention
to fashion and crank up the vamp volume! Don’t leave
home in desperate need of a wash; inject some
earthy glamour into that bare, bare, bare front.
If you want more texture after you’ve sleekified,
drape snakeskin all over. Backless is always hot.
Getting Lucky in March
I’m the five-alarm hero of the moment,
a high-voltage, envelope-pushing socialite
pinching éclairs from the party. I roll out
of bed and splatter paint on the dilapidated
brick and cement walls, apply eyeliner
forcefully for a Marlene Dietrich-cool.
Madcap in the hothouse, I drape my body
in oversized flowers, burst the blackberries
and embrace the gardenias, upbeat beyond
belief. Unisex (though arguably leaning
toward curvy), outré and retro-Warholian,
I’m hunting for a cheery six-year-old boy
to play in the dirt, ride polka dot bikes
around Paris and collect adorable buttons.
a high-voltage, envelope-pushing socialite
pinching éclairs from the party. I roll out
of bed and splatter paint on the dilapidated
brick and cement walls, apply eyeliner
forcefully for a Marlene Dietrich-cool.
Madcap in the hothouse, I drape my body
in oversized flowers, burst the blackberries
and embrace the gardenias, upbeat beyond
belief. Unisex (though arguably leaning
toward curvy), outré and retro-Warholian,
I’m hunting for a cheery six-year-old boy
to play in the dirt, ride polka dot bikes
around Paris and collect adorable buttons.
Getting Lucky in May
“Doughnuts are the new cupcakes!”
Gwyneth Paltrow declared. We love
a girl who loves her snacks, even one
with epitome-of-boring hair. So many
chic chanteuses in Brooklyn and the Lower
East Side love chocolate bars—flattering
for practically every complexion, they improve
general skin awesomeness while retaining
a comfort factor. A bottle of peachy-melony
soda-pop as an everyday moisturizer instantly
gets you comments about how healthy and
cute you look. Creamy, rich ingredients--
that’s the idea. If we could turn a fluffy cake
into a dress and live in it, we sooo would.
Gwyneth Paltrow declared. We love
a girl who loves her snacks, even one
with epitome-of-boring hair. So many
chic chanteuses in Brooklyn and the Lower
East Side love chocolate bars—flattering
for practically every complexion, they improve
general skin awesomeness while retaining
a comfort factor. A bottle of peachy-melony
soda-pop as an everyday moisturizer instantly
gets you comments about how healthy and
cute you look. Creamy, rich ingredients--
that’s the idea. If we could turn a fluffy cake
into a dress and live in it, we sooo would.
Nicole Steinberg is an editor-at-large of LIT, contributing editor to BOMB, and the founder, curator, and host of Earshot, a reading series dedicated to emerging writers. Her work appears in journals such as Barrow Street, Barrelhouse, Gulf Coast and No Tell Motel, and she’s the author of the forthcoming chapbooks Undressing (Scantily Clad Press) and Gamblers (Taiga Press). She lives in Queens, NY.