THE MASTHEADwe are the cool kids behind the print

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MARKETING / PUBLISHING / PUBLIC RELATIONSAlexandra Ruffing

EDITOR-IN-CHIEFDebbie Lechtman

GRAPHIC DESIGNAlexis Quarles // Nicki Longsdon

Elizabeth Tapper // Debbie Lechtman

WEB GRAPHIC DESIGNDana Bisett

WEB MANAGEMENTMichael Habib

PHOTOGRAPHYDeanna Smith // Debbie Lechtman // Caroline Hancox

STYLINGAlexandra Ruffing // Debbie Lechtman

SOCIAL MEDIAJulie Sabo

CONTRIBUTING JOURNALISTSJulie Kosin // Maddy Perez

Megan Morat // Debbie Lechtman

CONTRIBUTING ARTISTSRyan Pierson // Maya Champion // Nicholas Krapf Cristina Varela // Brian Dionne // Ariela LechtmanJulie Sabo // Julia Rosenthal // Elizabeth ScafutoLexi Brooks // Brittany Leitner // Kenzie WeeksZoe Jones // Lauren Friedman // Tessa Kennedy

Danielle Quigley // Brittney Rutigliano // Kirstie Pena Mick Rivas // Liza Marie Martins // Erika Hoffman

Peter Boskey

MODELSJulie Sabo // Ali Dobbertin // Kristen Scirotto

INTERESTED IN WORKING WITH US? CONTACT US AT VITALITYTHEMAGAZINE@GMAIL.COM

table of contents

03 little letters

04 sewing kit

05 art we like!

07 urban runway

09 fashion out loud

10 a letter never said

11 jams

12 the art of giving

13 a chat with the plume

16 save the metal

17 not all those who wander are lost

23 toward pretension

24 the night is young {in london}

26 pen & paper

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alex says...

...debbie says

Like most good ideas, it all started over a bottle of wine (or two or three, but who’s counting, right?). See, here’s the thing: I love magazines. I always have, and I believe I always will. When I was around ten years old, I even put my very own magazine together with the help of a Microsoft Word document and armed with an outrageous amount of ClipArt (do we consider ClipArt vintage yet?)

Every month - for the three or so months this magazine of mine lasted, anyway - I slid it under my younger sister’s bedroom door (the poor girl was my sole subscriber). But - isn’t there always a “but”? - I do have an issue with the magazine industry (an “issue”: Oh, the irony). Here’s the thing: Every single glossy that I find on the newsstand is either telling me about celebrities, Prada shoes that I will never be able to afford, or what to wear and what to do. In other words, everything in this industry is either unattainable or incredibly irritating (who wants to be told to splurge on brights because, shit no way, brights are in for the summer? Aren’t they always?). I don’t only love magazines, though. I love art, too. I also know that if you were to tell people that you plan to make a career as an artist, they would probably laugh in your face. The chances of succeeding as an artist are more like myths than real possibilities. And you know why? Because a little no-name artist will have a hell of a hard time getting enough exposure to promote his or her work. So here is where Vitality comes in: We want to give aspiring, underground, and independent artists - regard-less of your specific field, be it art, music, literature, or fashion - a voice in the media, because half the time, your work is better than any celebrity’s could ever be. We are here for you as much as you are here for us. And so far, we’ve proven our theory right: Artists are desparate to get their incredible work out there. With that said, welcome to our preview issue. We hope you enjoy it and stay a while: There is much, much more to come. This isn’t even the beginning.

There’s a purpose, a place, a reason, a time; we all have passions and we all want to make our changes in the world. We want to create a place where we all have the ability and freedom to express our-selves and have it affect someone, something, anything. The passion Debbie and I have for enabling this expression lies at the very root of Vitality the Maga-

zine. Consider this your outlet to express yourself in your artistic abilities and passions. The fact that someone doesn’t know or appreciate your amazing talents should not hinder your passion and drive to succeed. We’re here to represent the ordinary folk. Ordinary folk, with extraordinary talent. Without the expression of art, I believe the world would be a lot more dim and mundane. But you, the artists, bring light to this world, ignite imagination, and inspire the masses. Let Vitality be your stepping stone to spreading this light to the masses. Vitality wants to be the voice of the under served and start a community of artistic individuals who wish to be an agent of change and give back to the community. Keep the creativity alive, you beautiful souls.

SEWING KIT

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COOL NEW DESIGNERS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT

TESSA KENNEDY, NEW HISTORIES JEWELRYWHAT: Kennedy’s line includes one-of-a-kind rings, necklaces, broches, and other stunning - and handmade - pieces. WHERE: Kennedy works out of Syracuse, N.Y., but you can order her jewelry online via Etsy (www.etsy.com/shop/NewHistoriesJewelry) or visit her website at

www.newhistoriesjewelry.com WHY: To put it simply, Kennedy thinks outside the box. Way, way outside the box. After all, her favorite ring (always on her finger, she says) has a piece of her daughter’s hair in it. Yes, you read that right.INSPIRATION: “I am inspired by old Victorian pieces,” Kennedy says. And elephants. Kennedy loves elephants (but then again, who doesn’t?).

photo by John Dowling/New Histories Jewelry

photo by Sylvie Spewak/Rhapsodical Nature

NATALIA GORDIENKO, RHAPSODICAL NATUREWHAT: Unique jewelry inspired by natural surroundings. Feathers plentiful.WHERE: Gordienko just recently started selling her work to her fel-low students at Duke University, but you can find her line on Facebook (www.facebook.com/pages/Rhapsodical-Nature/293701150693437) WHY: The line is deliciously hippie. Who doesn’t love some good old-

fashioned Flower Power? And get this - Gordienko is not a sellout. “I treat it like art instead of a marketeable product,” she says.INSPIRATION: Nature, of course. She is also a huge fan of the “peace and love” mentality. Told you her stuff is deliciously hippie.

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BRITTNEY RUTIGLIANO, THE ALYSE COLLECTIONWHAT: In Rutigliano’s own words: jewelry made from natural semiprecious stones and a touch of vintage charm. WHERE: Rutigliano’s line sells at J-Michael Shoes in Syracuse, N.Y. and at Curious in Syosset, N.Y. She also takes online orders through her website, www.thealysecollection.com and via email at

TheAlyseCollection@gmail.comWHY: It is rare that you will find jewelry that complements any personal-ity, but The Alyse Collection does that. There is something for everyone - even men. And even better? Rutigliano uses her revenue to donate to her favorite causes.INSPIRATION: Rutigliano’s work screams 1960s and 1970s hippie chic.

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photo by Sylvie Spewak/Rhapsodical Nature

shop across the pondacrossthepond.storenvy.com

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art like

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(1) Ryan Pierson

(2) Maya Champion

(3) Nicholas Krapf

(4) Cristina Varela

(5) Brian Dionne

(6) Ariela Lechtman

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urban runway

IMAGES BY CAROLINE HANCOX (TOP LEFT, TWO BOTTOM RIGHT) AND DEBBIE LECHTMAN

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A COMPILATION OF FILM & DIGITAL STREET STYLE IMAGES FROM SYRACUSE, NEW YORK CITY, AND CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND

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fashionout loud

How do you define fashion? Our grandmothers found it on the pages of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar, in small snippets of glamour and intrigue pro-vided by the lenses of Penn

and Avedon. Our mothers witnessed the birth of the modern industry on a runway inhabited by those otherworldly denizens, the supermodels. But us? Our generation really hit the fashion jack-pot. Thanks to the Internet, we have access to an in-dustry that until a few years ago hid behind curtains more impenetrable than Karl Lagerfeld’s sunglass-es. We Tweet about Fashion Week as live videos of the shows stream to our laptops. We dissect the latest Grace Coddington-styled shoot on our blogs hours after the newest issue of Vogue hits newsstands. We scour the racks at H&M and Zara to recreate runway looks, adding in a Salvation Army score or DIY-ed

piece here and there to make the style our own. Gone are the days of passive admiration. We can actively contribute to and formulate the fashion conversation in ways our mothers and grandmoth-ers could never have dreamed. We create trends just as much as we follow them. Nowhere is this seen more than on the streets, where ordinary people with amazing style are dic-tating trends just as much as the runways and pages of the glossies. As the industry continues to diffuse to the masses, today’s technology allows us to derive inspiration from the diversity and uniqueness of the people on the streets. Even though street style photography has existed for years - Bill Cunningham has pioneered it since the 1970s, when his images of intriguing looks began running

in The New York Times’s Style section - the concept really gained prominence through blogging in the mid-aughties. Scott Schuman’s The Sartorialist be-came the standard for street portraiture, while Tommy Ton of Jak & Jil gravitated towards impromptu im-ages of the fashion set on the street at fashion week. Now, dozens of street style sites seek to capture the extraordinary amidst the mundanity of everyday life. Of course, individuals with great style existed long before Canon was there to capture them and Word-Press to show the world. But now, this individuality and creativity can be preserved and shared with the masses. After all, at its core, fashion is an art form. One could even argue that it’s the best kind of art, because unlike the paintings hanging on the walls of a cold museum, fashion adorns the body and ex-presses the individuality of the person wearing it. The streets are our museums, and we’re not charging a fee.

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BY JULIE KOSIN

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a letternever said

BY ERIKA HOFFMAN

It’s not the time without you that hurts,It’s when I pick up and smell the memories off your shirts.

I sat and waited looking for anything I could,To fill that emptiness, that vacant hole as I stood,

AloneBecause that’s what I was,

My very essence my very being,No longer was I seeing.

You and me were everything and nothing at all,but I felt it, I counted, till the day you’d eventually fall.

Was it worth it? Was she good?Did she do you the way she should?

You didn’t need to say what you told me that day,I already knew and there was nothing I could do.

The untainted trust, the love that was anything but pried,all boiled down to tears upon your lie.

So that was it,like a ghost with a figure, you entered, destroyed and left without rigor.

Sometimes I lay there staring again and again,

Asking if we’d still be together if you’d just hadn’t put it in?No, that wasn’t just it,

It was the punches, the chokes, the way you held my throat.But stupid me, I just couldn’t let you go,

even after the yelling, the beatings, every punch you’d throw.It’s been two years and it feels like today

that I last kissed your lips thinking you were here to stay.But now two years later I can honestly say,

your apostasy was a gift that put my mind at bay. So thank you for abandoning the only thing you ever had,

I am me without you and that’s a good thing, not bad.I hope you’re doing well

but this is as close as I’ll getto telling you and your lie goodbye

Sincerely,

A girl you once met.

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so there’s this band I love...BY MADDY PEREZ

And its name is The Avett Brothers. Hail-ing from Charlotte, N.C., banjoist Scott and guitarist Seth Avett joined together with

bassist Bob Crawford in 2001, eventually becom-ing The Avett Brothers we know and love today. If you haven’t heard of them, they are known for their rock-pop- bluegrass-folk style. The harmo-nies and melodies the brothers and bassist cre-ate combine with beautifully written lyrics that leave listeners wanting more. From “Head Full

of Doubt/ Full of Promise” to “Kick Drum Heart,” the songs run the gamut with lyrics that speak to the heart of sadness, love, and life. The instruments have more variety too, with piano adding in to the mix of banjo, bass, and guitar. Released in 2010, this album continues to gain the Brothers popular-ity, urging their fans to listen to their works before and after the release of the album. The most re-cently released album is The Avett Brothers Live, Vol. 3, which captures the pure energy The Avett Brothers are known for at their live performances. This album features crowd favorites including “When I Drink” and “Pretty Girl from Matthews.”

If you want to check out The Avett Brothers live, you can go to a show on their current tour, which runs through the fall. I recommend going to a show, because that’s how I person-ally found out and fell in love with The Avett Brothers last fall in Baltimore. The band is part of the lineup at Bonnaroo in June so if you’re going, you can check them out there. No matter how you are introduced to the band, however, just make sure to put this alternative-country band on your radar. They are defi-nitely worth a listen.

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ART GIVING

Word on the street is that around ten - give or take - publishers rejected J.K. Rowling’s origi-nal Harry Potter manuscript (God knows why, but that is

another story for another time). Dr. Seuss’s first children’s book was rejected no less than 27 times - 27! - before it was taken seriously. And so the moral of the story is simple, really: Writing is an art, and making it is nothing short of impossible. Meet Syracuse, N.Y.’s Downtown Writer’s Cen-ter, which was founded in September 2001, and is an extension of the city’s YMCA Arts Branch. The Center provides aspiring writers with helpful work-shops, classes, intensive graduate-level programs, visiting author readings, and networking opportu-nities for a negligible price. To this day, it is the only literary arts community in Central New York. The Center currently serves around 200 students, ranging from recent college graduates to 80-year-olds to everything in between. Over the past eleven years, the organization has been successful in help-ing aspiring writers publish fiction novels, books, and even poetry journals. In the winter of 2012 alone, two Center students published their first poetry books and one published a fiction novel. Phil Memmer, founder and executive director of the Downtown Writer’s Center and an author of sev-eral books himself, says that the Center’s success has been absolutely unexpected - and incredibly thrill-ing. “We started out thinking that we’d have around ten to 12 workshops a year,” he says. “But now we host over 40 different workshops and have around 20 to 25 authors come visit the Center annually.” Memmer explains that he originally decided to create the Downtown Writer’s Center because there really was no place around for people to take

classes on the literary arts. As a writer and a poet, that saddened and frustrated him.The Downtown Writer’s Center became a part of the YMCA’s National Writ-er’s Voice (there are around 30 community centers similar to Memmer’s across the country, some bigger and more popular than others), and it is currently con-sidered one of its leading entities in the United States. “The point of our programs is to provide ac-cess to arts education,” Memmer says. “You don’t have to be a member of the Y to take classes. In fact, most of our students aren’t.” YMCA members do get to take one free Down-town Writer’s Center class a year, Memmer explains. Aspiring writers of all ages have a place at the Downtown Writer’s Center. The Center not only offers classes for adults, but there are after-school programs for children, teenagers, and even college students. “Everyone can take a class here,” Memmer says. “We’ve got veteran writers and people who have never picked up a pen in their life before. We’re here to help everyone develop their writing skills, which is why we offer beginner and advanced classes.” Classes are also inexpensive, ensuring that no writer or aspiring writer is denied the op-portunity to learn. “An eight week class costs between $80 to $100,” Memmer says. “And a two-year certificate program, which is similar to a graduate school class, costs less than tuition at the Onondaga County Community College.” For those writers and aspiring writers in the Central New York area interested in the Cen-ter’s services, you can visit its website at w w w. y m c a o f g r e a t e r s y r a c u s e . o r g / a r t s or visit the building, which is located at 340 Montgomery Street in Syracuse, N.Y.

BY DEBBIE LECHTMAN

Say hello to our selected nonprofit organization for the preview issue, Syracuse, N.Y.’s Downtown Writer’s Center.

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Independent jewelry designer Jillian Lukiwiski from thenoisyplume.com talks to Vitality about the tricks of the trade.

TELL US A LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF AND YOUR JEWELRY. WHY AND WHEN DID YOU START DESIGNING, AND IS THIS YOUR FULL-TIME JOB? DID SOMEONE TEACH YOU HOW TO CREATE JEWELRY, OR ARE YOU SELF-TAUGHT? Well, howdy! I live in the beautiful Rocky Moun-tains of Idaho with my husband and all our animals. I’m originally from Saskatoon, Canada. I make jewelry and art jewelry in my 800 square foot studio space, right behind my little farm house. I started making jewelry five years ago when my husband and I were living on a remote US Fish and Wildlife fish hatchery station on an Indian reservation in Ari-zona -- I was actually a librarian at the time. I be-gan selling what I was making on Etsy and Rob told me when I started selling 100 pieces a month I could quit my real job. I hit that magic number, went full time with metalsmithing and haven’t really looked back! While in Arizona I took two metalsmithing classes at a community college which basically taught me how to solder. Most of the techniques I employ in my current work are techniques I have taught my-self so with that in mind, I do claim I am self-taught. WHAT INSPIRES YOU? I spend a lot of time in the mountains or just out-side in general. I’m originally from the great northern plains of Canada so I like to be out in space, in big country. While I’m out there, I’m absorbing every-thing I see. The shapes of plants. The sound of roll-ing mountain water. The movement of wind in cheat grass. The colors of bugs, the size of a mule deers ears and they way they flicker to collect sound, the clouds against sky against mountain, against sage-brush. I’m recording all of those details and some-times those details make their way into what I’m making. I like geometry. I like music. I like ab-stract expressionist art. I love bison, jack rabbits and

A CHAT WITH THE PLUME

BY DEBBIE LECHTMAN

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wolves. I like white. I like picking berries and inspecting the physiology of plants and trees.

HOW MUCH WORK DO YOU PUT INTO EACH PIECE YOU MAKE? HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO PRODUCE A PIECE OF JEWELRY? It depends on the piece. I create quite a wide range of work. Some of it can be made in 20 min-utes. Other pieces can take me a couple of days to make, from start to finish. Of course, the time I spend daydreaming about a form, sketching it, and writing about it (if it’s a conceptual design) should also be considered part of the production of a piece. In that case, some bits of work can take months to create, that is if we consider the entire process behind some of the things I’m making.

WHAT MAKES YOUR JEWELRY DIFFER-ENT OR SPECIAL? The same thing that makes anything handcrafted

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different or special! The soul behind the work! I think all art comes from art. I think because we’re all human, living on the same planet, drawing inspi-ration from the same things, a lot of creative work overlaps between artists, in terms of general aesthetic and with regards to textures, form, materials, color, shape, and even concept. We’re all reach-ing for the same thing and I think that fundamentally, all humans are the same. Art is a language. We’re all fighting the same fights and win-ning the same battles, outwardly and inwardly - for that reason, all art is telling the same, whole story. What makes my jewelry unique, different or special is that there is only one me and there will only ever be one me. I value process over finished product. Process is the only thing any artist can ever claim ownership over. In the end, I think it’s the only thing that makes creative work unique or special.

ANY DESIGNERS OR ARTISTS THAT YOU PARTICULARLY LOOK UP TO? Joan Mitchell, Joseph Cornell, Alexander Mc-Queen, Helen Frankenthaller, Anne Truitt, Andy Goldsworthy - this list is endless. Any of my friends who are artists, they’re the salt of the earth and they’re so talented and beautiful. They never fail to jangle my soul in the best ways possible. I admire creative people who freely teach their tech-niques to others and do not attempt to control what their students do with that knowledge - creative people who believe in giving creative freedom to everyone they come in contact with. Addition-ally, any artist or craftsperson who consistently creates and behaves with humility and graciousness is my hero - that’s how I want to be, all the time.

IS THERE ANYTHING YOU WISH SOME-ONE WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU WHEN YOU FIRST STARTED DESIGNING AND CREAT-ING? I think it would have been great if someone told me to not take my work too seriously! I think I did, right when I started, for a couple of years. I let my ego steer me and what I was doing and I worked, quite often, out of fear and with a territo-rial spirit. I regret that. I was never mean to other

“I think funda-

mentally, all hu-

mans are the same.

Art is language.”

metalsmiths, but I harbored a lot of ugly emotions in my heart. I’m not that way anymore. I took a long, quiet year to myself to really reform my mindset and heal the state of my spirit but I wish I would

have started out with a humble heart from the very beginning. It was a good les-son to learn t h o u g h . I’m glad

I learned it in my twenties. I really like who I am now and where my work is coming from.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE THAT YOU’VE MADE AND WHY? WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE THAT SOMEONE ELSE HAS MADE AND WHY? It changes from day to day, from month to month! I loved the Body Cavity Series I was working on last year. I made a small series of enameled breast-plates called The Quiet Ones - I would say they are probably my favorite work to date. I recently made wedding rings for some friends of ours and I really loved how they turned out - rugged and organic, just like the couple they are meant for.

IS THERE ANY OTHER ARTIST THAT YOU THINK OUR READERS SHOULD FIND OUT ABOUT? Every single one of my personal friends who are involved with creative work. They’re all so talented and have such robust souls. They’re secure peo-ple who aren’t afraid of personal growth, women mostly. I admire them for their talents but also for the way they handle themselves as artists, women, friends, mothers and teachers. I’ve surrounded my-self with who I want to be, basically. They all pop by my blog from time to time. If you hang around long enough, you’ll find out who they are.

DO YOU CREATE ANY OTHER FORMS OF ART? I am a writer and a photographer. I dabble in leather and watercolor painting. I’ve just started

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working with a bit of steel, with the help of a black-smith friend of mine. Frankly, I’m very focused on metal. There’s so much to do with it, so many tech-niques I haven’t yet tried, so many types of metal I haven’t yet worked with! I feel overwhelmed when I daydream about what I might try in the future, or just today, for that matter. I think the artists who work in more than one medium are incredible peo-ple, but I can’t get past the metal. I’m enthralled.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT CREATING? I like that it makes my life pretty flexible, that I have to motivate myself and crack my own whip, so to speak. I like that I can disappear for a few weeks and simply work; this pleases my introverted and reclusive personality very much,the spacious chunks of isolation. I’m constantly casting myself out and then reeling myself in. I like that creative

work is a sort of second-ary voice. My heart and life can speak of them-selves in a traditional ver-bal format, but they can also sing with the work of my hands. There’s something pretty magical about being able to make something that captures an experience or voices an emotion, that manages to be beautiful to look at or touch as well. Everything made is always good, no matter what, even if it turns out all wrong or ends up being ugly. A friend and I always say that if it has been made by these hands, it was worth making. Something is always learned along the way.

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the real dealBY NOW EVERYONE (ONE WOULD HOPE) KNOWS ABOUT THE BENEFITS OF EATING AN OR-GANIC DIET, BUT WHAT ABOUT THE CRAP YOU’RE PUTTING ON YOUR FACE? BEAUTY EX-TRAORDINAIRE MEGAN MORAT GIVES US HER FAVORITE ALL-NATURAL PICKS.

I’ll be honest here for a second: I have quite the collection of primping mechanisms, hair tools, serums, plenty of makeup, and an endless supply of skincare that I like to experiment with. The good news is that I like to keep my beauty regimen clean and green (the environment isn’t going to save itself, you know). The following are my favorite three all natural products:

AURA CACIA ROSEHIP OIL: A coworker suggested this to me as a way to end my seemingly endless pursuit to fade acne scars. I use this oil under my moisturizer right after I cleanse in the morning and at night. I rub two or three drops unto my face for about a minute, wait five minutes for it to fully absorb, and then presto - I’m done. The difference in my complexion is so drastic that I highly recommend this product.

ORGANIC COCONUT OIL: That’s right, kids - plain old coconut oil. The benefits are endless, but let’s just stick to the basics: It is a natural anti-inflammatory, antibacterial agent, and a great way to moisturize everything from your hair to your toes. I use this in my hair as a mask, and for a moisturizer, I spread it over my entire body - yeah, even my face. Smells like sweet, sweet summertime.

BADGER BALM: Talk about versatile. I use Badger Balm on everything: cuticles, calluses, my lips (let’s keep one thing straight though: If you are using this on your feet and lips, don’t be an idiot and double dip. Really, don’t). Not only does it act at lightning speed, but it smells totally delicious (wouldn’t recommend eating it, though, and I believe the Badger Company wouldn’t either. But, you know, whatever floats your boat).

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How is this for an interesting concept: An antique door knob is not just a door knob. It is a cocktail ring and a pair of earrings and perhaps even a statement necklace. At least it is

to Danielle Quigley, owner and designer for Dani-elle Rose Bean, a vintage-meets-a v a n t - g a r d e i n d e p e n d e n t jewelry line. “I’m trying to be different,” Quigley says. “You have to, in order to get no-ticed, I think.” Quigley, a mother of two and currently a senior writing ma-jor at Syracuse University, started her company just a little over two years ago for a simple reason: She did not like the jewelry anybody else made. She taught herself how to make pieces by order-ing materials online and eventually decided that in order to improve her collections, she would have to learn the art of metalsmithing. Recently, Quigley won the Ray-mond von Dran Big Idea grant that will help her expand her busi-ness. She is also currently working on launching www.custommade.com, a website that will allow designers to bid for custom jobs. As an independent designer, the vast majority of Quigley’s work is original and custom-made – “Ex-cept if, say, someone wants a pair of hoop earrings. I can do that

no problem,” she says – and although she recognizes that it would be easier for her to make more money through mass production, she feels that that would completely diminish the quality and defeat the pur-pose of her work. “I just kind of feel that the stuff you buy at places

like Target is a little flimsy and cheap,” she says. “I make sturdier jewelry. It passes the test of time.” Quigley really is in no need to consider mass production, how-ever – she is doing quite well on her own. She sells her jewelry at a couple of stores in downtown Syracuse, including the popular Scarab Body Arts tattoo shop, and her Etsy shop (www.etsy.com/shop/daniellerosebean) only

receives positive reviews. And, most importantly, Quigley loves what she does. “I love my job,” she says. “I get to stay at home and work on my jewelry all day. It’s just great.”

“I’m trying to be

different. You

have to, in order

to get noticed.”

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Save the METAL

Indie jewelry designer Danielle Quigley recycles antiques into something great: one-of-a-kind, seriously cool statement pieces.

BY DEBBIE LECHTMAN

photo by Debbie Lechtm

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not all those who wander are lost.

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A FASHION EDITORIAL INSPIRED BY THE ARTWORK OF MAYA CHAMPION.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DEANNA SMITH

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on Kristen: dress & pants: Modern Pop Culturenecklace: The Alyse Collectionheadband: Lauren Friedmanchair: Liza Marie Martins

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on Ali:dress: Modern Pop Culturevest: Forever 21

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on Julie: dress: Peter Boskeynecklace: Flammable Heartsfringe earring: Danielle Rose Beanring: New Histories Jewelry

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on Ali: top: Modern Pop Cultureskirt: Some Girls boutiquebroche & ring: New Histories Jewelryearring: Danielle Rose Bean

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I have a vintage circa-1960 Olympia De-Luxe typewriter that I keep on my desk in the bathroom-sized common room I share with two other girls. It’s a beautifully re-stored cream and teal and the keys resist just enough to make typing a physical, corporeal

experience—I’d say almost a laborious one. I love the thing. I flaunt it. But in all honesty, even as I write this I’m cringing with mild embarrassment. See, I’m a twenty-something Midwesterner. I’m employed at minimum wage, I like Crunchwrap Supremes from Taco Bell, and I still secretly, in-explicably place The Lizzie McGuire Movie on my long list of favorite films. Now, really, based on that description alone, I could be anybody. I could be a handful of people that I’ve lived with. I could be my well-connected, zeitgeist-spearheading, music promoter friend or I could be the thirty-five year-old lady with four kids who wipes down the tables at the food court I frequent. I could be my teenage brother. I could be you, even. But I refuse to believe it. Because I’m that hateful thing that grocery store magazines and fluff news articles refer to as an “aspiring writer.” When I tell someone I am or that I want to be a writer I get similar if not identical reactions to when I admit that I have a vintage typewriter—eye rolls; smug, disap-proving grins; laughs of derision; judgment. For ei-ther reason, that label, this prized possession—I’m marked as pretentious. If you’re an artist, you’ve grown up and at some point, at some moment, and in some hidden place, you looked at yourself and you thought—I’m differ-ent. I’m special. The way I write, the way I play, the way I draw. To be an artist of any kind, you neces-sarily have to have some ego imbalance. You have

to genuinely believe “I am exceptional and I am brilliant and I have exceptionally brilliant things within me to create and to stun all the non-specials out there.” In reality, nobody thinks this all of the time. The most humanizing, demoralizing moment of a hu-man life is the moment in which you realize that you’re not superlative, not definitive, but rather… competent. When you realize that we’re all human and we all die and we all just try to muddle through the middle stuff. But what separates artists from the rest of the world (or the clinically insane from the sane) is the fact that we as artists cannot accept just competence. In order to pursue art as a lifestyle, as opposed to a hobby, we must engage in the most sincere form of self-deception. In order to pursue a generally thankless, penniless, masochistic path of life, we have to believe that we are extraordinary. If we didn’t, we’d have cut and run for Silicon Valley a long stretch back. So, in response to your eye roll, yes, I know that my vintage blue typewriter might be a little preten-tious. Yes, I know that I might not ever succeed as a writer in any quantifiable, measurable way. Allah forbid, I might not be as ingenious and inspired as I secretly think I am. But to be an artist, to be a writer, and to possibly, maybe, someday create something truly original (maybe on that beaut of a typewrit-er)—right now I have to be a little pretentious. I have to believe I’m unlike anyone else. I have to believe I’m extraordinary.

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BY KENZIE WEEKS

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ng{in

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little some-thing about the London n i g h t l i f e . It does not

matter who you are, really: There is a place for everyone to rock it out, à la Beatles. The weekend is a sight. It’s eight o’ clock. Your mates start blowing up your phone. “Where are we going tonight?” they say, or “Same thing as last weekend or should we try a new venue?” Your response: “New thing. Let’s meet at my place and go from there.”

After a long tube ride, we stop at the market on our way home to buy the usual wine bottles and some Desperado bottles – just in case we run out, of course. Just in case. Although who wouldn’t mind a Tequila shot to change the pace every now and then? We pregame to the beats of Ne-Yo, Jay Z, and a little Rihanna. Before we know it, half the bottles have disappeared, and then there are none left. We feel the buzz. We head out. It’s been decided: Tonight will be pub and club night. At around ten o’clock, we head toward the tube. Early? Yes. But we’re not in America anymore. Here, you start early – and end late. As broke university students trying to survive the ways of London, taxis are out of the question. We try to remember the night bus route because the tube closes early. We are tipsy – our memories are not the sharpest.

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tripping from place to place, completely obliterated ated. There is graffiti everywhere and fabulous mu-sic luring you into the clubs and pubs. Proud Camden’s claim to fame is that it is located in what was a horse hospital in the Stable Market around 200 years ago. In fact, stables – some of them from the original horse hospital, even – are incorpo-rated into its design to this day, although the club has given them a more modern touch. This is a place associated with piercings, tattoos, house music, and staged dancing poles. You walk in, and the steam becomes suffocating. A stranger (who cares, at this point?) pulls your hand into a dance. He takes you into another room – 60s music. Talk about a change of ambiance – or is it the amount of alcohol in your system? Regardless, at that very mo-ment, you murmur to yourself, The Isley Brothers have never sounded so good. You notice the bar in the corner and ask the guy for another drink. Instead, he takes you to the terrace bar, where a man in a horse costume runs off and gives you a high five. Normal. After a few minutes, you spot your crew. They are doing Jaeger bombs, so this is obviously your cue to reunite with the rest of the group. Goodbye, British man. Thanks for the drinks. We dance the night away. Proud announces its last song of the night – no doubt, in an effort to kick us out. We walk down the streets of Camden and spot

a hookah joint. No bet-ter way to unravel after a long night than some shi-sha, we think. We do not remember how to get home. It does not matter, though. We smoke with the Brits. We irritate them. We are too loud and American (and drunk). They try to dis-tract us with purple bal-loons. I mean, it’s not a good night unless you get a pur-ple balloon, right?

We arrive at Piccadilly Circus and head straight to O’Neil’s Pub. Flirting with the bouncer? Totally acceptable, but not a guarantee that he will not charge you the cover fee. You walk in and immediately take in the sounds of the band playing upstairs, the hot international kids staring at you as you walk by, and your mates insisting on doing tequila or Jaeger shots at the bar. The key to a good cheap night: Pay for one drink while standing next to the bar and soon someone will offer to buy you more. You say the guy is not cute? Who cares! He’s buying you drinks, right? Hell – he’s starting to look pretty hot to me. You have never felt so in love with the world, so you dance and dance. You dance and dance and try to keep up with the lyrics – something or other about being dumped. The Italian guy who bought you the shots (don’t forget to thank him for that) asks you to join him for another round when your mates pull you aside and say something. It’s 11:45, they say. Time to go. You apologize and ask to take a raincheck, get his number, and head out. Miraculously, we have managed to find the tube and head to Camden Town, an area known for its numerous music venues and local pubs. It is also home to the famous Camden Pub Crawl. We stumble our way to Proud. It looks sketchy, . sure, but there are university students everywhere,

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JOHN AND BEATLUCKSby brittany leitner

It’s good to establish a territory, John thought as he took a seat at the fourth table from the door, for the fifth day in a row. Every day this week he’d come to Beatlucks, and every day

he ordered a piping hot latte with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He had thought the sprinkles to be a bit childish at first, but after the brown haired barista suggested them on his second visit, he just couldn’t say no. Plus he had felt better about ordering them when she smiled and said, “awesome,” as soon as he agreed to them. Today, he looked down at the brown cylindri-cal sprinkles and smiled. He liked being the type of guy that drank coffee and hung out at Beatlucks. The latest undiscovered music was always playing (he made sure to write down a piece of the lyrics to Google and download later) and the lighting was al-ways warm and yellow (perfect for scribbling lines of poetry). When he wasn’t writing down lyrics or cooling his hot drink with little puffs of air from his mouth, he was looking at all the girls. His favorites to look at were the redheads. He liked redheads simply be-cause red was pleasing to his eye. Even when he was little, he always had red sheets, chose red sweatshirts, and even requested red frost-ing on all of his birthday cakes from years 5-17 (by 18 he left home and hasn’t had a birthday cake since). He did realize however, that the color of hair “redheads” possessed wasn’t exactly the traditional red he was used to, but he liked the orangey-fire color of it nonetheless. On his first day at Beatlucks, a tall red-haired girl with locks reaching past her rib cage walked in about seven minutes after he sat down. This is when he decided he would come back every day. It was, after all, a sign. This red-haired girl was so lovely sipping her

coffee in little spurts, careful not to burn her thin, deli-cate lips. He imagined himself walking up to her and introducing himself. She seemed so sweet and lovely; surely she would smile back at him and extend her thin freckled hand for him to shake. He was sure she had a bursting personality, it would not be hard to start a live-ly conversation with her about what she does for a liv-ing, or who gave her that sequined blue scarf she was wearing around her neck that made her red hair appear as if it were some form of hell shooting out of God’s ocean. Then, he would compliment her green eyes, but he wouldn’t say out loud that the piercing green of both of them staring at him together reminded him of the bright spine of a book that stuck out amongst rows of grey and black ones, the kind of book you knew would be good from the second you pick it up. Yes, her eyes were the easy choice amongst thousands of other copies to choose from. Then, he would intrigue her by saying his father died a year ago and he made the promise to him that he would finish medical school and become a neurosur-geon like he had wanted to be since he was a little boy, and that he works two jobs just to be able to afford his classes (and his coffee) and then she’d look at him and mold her green eyes to form a sympathetic pout and she would forever see him as a pioneer, someone who gets what he wants and is willing to fight hard for what he believes in. She would instantly want more of him. That Monday she stayed and sipped alone for ex-actly 11 minutes before swinging her large canvas bag over her shoulder, tying her red hair up in a knot, and walking out. John ordered a refill. By Friday, no other redheads had walked in since Blue Scarf. John remembered they were a rare breed and therefore did not become offended by it. By Friday he had tried every latte flavor available and continued dotting up the foam with chocolate sprinkles. He in-stantly wished he had kept sprinkle ount on all of the

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previous days as well and vowed to do so every day here on after. On Friday, before he was about to leave, he looked up at the menu on the wall and planned what he would order on Monday (he decided taking the weekend off would be a good idea for his pocket book). He chose a whipped mint frappuccino and felt his front pocket to make sure he had his pack of ciga-rettes. When he headed towards the door, a middle aged couple walked in and over towards the line to order. John instantly imagined them having hot passionate sex only hours earlier and thought how lovely it would be to engage in such a warm, loving, and united ac-tivity and then head to Beatlucks to enjoy something wealthy, sweet, and frothy. John had no car so he turned right out of the shop and began his 30-minute walk home. There’s something about sitting in a coffee shop that really fucks you up.

INSOMNIA BLUESby zoe jones

fucking pretty girls becomes the game,becomes the goalfucking pretty girls because we want to feel pretty, too.i am up late, well into the new day,watching caricatures of people in romance --pretty boys chasing prettier girls.so pretty together.i am up late, on the couch,pulling up new cuticles fromdead nail bedswondering if i will be the ending to anyone’s game,the goal of anyone’s agenda. and it occurs to me:caricature or not,romance belongs to those prettiest.

that moment when you read a paragraph and

catch yourself say , “wow!”out loud. you lay the open book on your chest and think,“why can’t real life be as wellwrit ten?”

TYPE THO

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by lexi brooks

illustration by Elizabeth Scafuto