Depression Smackdown: LA vs. NY
Keep scrolling for an extremely generous list of my favorite things...thou shalt not gatekeep.
Well, well, well look who decided to show up. It’s October, the queen is here. Praise be to God we’re out of that hellish inferno you all refer to as Summer. Time for all my bends, curves, and shoulders to go into hiding, and time for all the sociopaths who insist on rolling down the windows when they drive to shut the fuck up for a few months. Let the procrastination and the “let’s circle back in the New Year'' Olympics begin. It’s officially time for me to shine in all my horizontal glory.
As you might be able to tell, I harbor an almost hysterical fondness for the Fall/Winter months. I have a toxic amount of Christmas spirit and daydreams of launching "Fall-Back Daylight Savings" merch, and I absolutely thrive in the collective depressive episode we nosedive into as we spend the money we don’t have and become suddenly nostalgic for our ex best friends.
This morning I had the genius (read: really dumb) idea inspired by a Tiktok to transition my wardrobe from Summer into Fall/Winter. Sweaters and jeans would be given VIP status while all things flimsy and revealing moved to the nosebleeds. (I should interrupt this story for a quick admission: every morning, I watch Good Morning America, sue me, bitches.) ANYWAY, as I was piling my arms full of crop tops and a collection of jean shorts I know Gen Z would roast me for, ready to banish them to the depths of a hallway closet, I heard the weatherman say that LA is supposed to sizzle at a scorching 100 degrees this weekend. I nearly collapsed. Pure, unadulterated BETRAYAL.
Surely when God created Autumn she intended for me to don cashmere. LA is notorious for its seasonless existence, and while I'm a pro at keeping my house shrouded in eternal darkness and the thermostat set at a frosty 63 degrees–DIY Fall–for the very first time in my 29.8333333 years on this planet, I thought maybe just maybe it’s better to be an East Coaster at this time of year. These vagabond shoes are longing to stray!
Two weeks ago I spent a solid 48 hours in New York, and it got me thinking about the age-old rivalry between the adorably named "City of Angels'' and the horrifyingly named "City That Never Sleeps." I’ve lived in LA my entire life and while I know it’s cool to hate on your hometown, your girl just can’t get enough of this silly city, hundred degree October and all. Listen, I’m admittedly, quintessentially LA. I started dabbling in Botox and other face-needles as a teenager (ok fine, 24), I’d rather pluck my eyelashes out one by one than forgo valet parking, I eat sushi 5 days a week (don’t @ me, mercury levels are the least of my problems), I have an inexplicable affinity for $30 smoothies and $6 bottled water, I’ve been in therapy since I was a mere embryo, my parents are in the entertainment industry and divorced, and when someone suggests we walk somewhere I briefly consider homicide.
New York to me feels like a relentless–albeit kind of chic–assault on my nervous system–and hair. It slurps up my already waning will to live, as if the city itself is as dehydrated as it makes me feel and quenches its thirst on human energy. I don’t walk fast enough, I’m too passive to hail a taxi, too directionally-challenged and olfactory-sensitive to ride the subway, and I rarely derive enjoyment from human interaction, let alone interaction with those who are chronically yelling. But my genetic makeup is actually equal parts LA and New York. My dad and his side of the family hail from Italian roots in Brooklyn and Staten Island, and my mom’s side proudly claims six generations of Californians. So, despite its brutality, precisely half of me has a soft spot for New York.
There are even some ways that New York might, dare I say, outshine LA. You, my sweet, chronically-suffering New Yorkers have better bagels and pizza, you have access to a flavor of spontaneity I find utterly terrifying but that undoubtedly makes singlehood or at the very least your twenties more entertaining. Your people are wittier and less inclined to shove their ‘morning routine’ down my throat, you have more restaurants per square foot which just might equate to better food (except sushi), and your Christmas decorations make my heart sing. While I can’t fathom how any of you can get groceries up six flights of stairs or maintain a blowout for more than thirty seconds, if I squint really hard I can grasp the appeal. Every time I visit I fall a little bit in love with the frenzy of it all, but after a few days, my aching feet (see picture above) and pounding headache remind me that I am, at my core, an inside dog and must return to my squishy LA life immediately, even if the wind feels like it’s coming straight out of a hair dryer during Gilmore Girls season (seriously how dare you).
Also, as the depressed little bitch I am, I often think about which city is a better backdrop for us mentally ill queens…sound off in the comments.
Ok… now that I’ve ranted, I want to reward those of you who made it this far and give you my list of things I maybe could live without but would rather not and just some things I want for my birthday/Christmas…in case some relative/secret admirer of mine (Dylan) is reading this.
That lip stain you’ve seen on TikTok might be the best purchase I’ve made all year.
High Frequency zit zapper that unlike zit stickers actually works. I’ve had mine for like six years and she still works great.
These wine glasses that are too expensive but that I would like my husband to surprise me with.
These jeans if you like to have enough money to pay rent. These if you don’t.
Magnesium spray that makes me sleep like a bebe and isn’t a pill. And this glutathione spray because I’m turning 30 and my body is failing me. (and yes, it’s supposed to smell bad).
These Sandy Liang ballet flats that I’m telling you about because my therapist says I shouldn’t gatekeep. (I have them in black leather and red satin)
A cute slutty-thanksgiving set that I haven’t worn yet so don’t post it on Instagram before I do. Sidenote: I'd get married again just to wear this veil.
Everyone already knows this one but the Drunk Elephant D-Bronzi stuff so you (I) don’t startle people with your (my) ghostly-ness.
I’m somewhat makeup-challenged and look like Toddlers in Tiaras when I even put foundation on, but this eyeshadow saved my life.
Another hint for any relatives or spouses of mine.
I wear this skirt every day.
Amazon socks. Get them before they sell out again.
I think this list just turned into a Christmas list for Santa. But I love this.
The dry shampoo that is ten times better than any other. Trust me on this one I’ve tried all the shitty ones and I hate showering.
This hair brush I’ve used for the past 25 years and now all my friends use.
One of these candles. Disclaimer: I’m married to the co-founder but these are objectively the best gifts to give.
If you’re not already using a copper tongue scraper take this as your sign.
The love of my life: AirDoctor Air Purifier
Love to love you,
Jade