News, Narrative & Design

It's a class act.

[evelynchapman]

One less hurdle: Women's shelter allows victims to escape with their pets

48% of American women stay in abusive relationships because they don't want to leave pets behind. This shelter welcomes animals.

[npr]

Coding Diversity Into Keyboards One Emoji At A Time

In its attempt to represent a broader spectrum of ethnic faces through emoji, says Bernie Hogan, the Unicode Consortium is both addressing users’ needs and facing a new set of potential problems.

"Right now within political circles online, there’s a lot of concern about voice, authenticity, representation and cultural appropriation — imagine people claiming who can and cannot use certain emoji," he said. "I can imagine ‘22 White People Who Use the Black Emoji Wrong.’ That list is going to write itself."

Via NPR’s Codeswitch

Credit: Emojis via the Unicode Consortium

[evelynchapman]

Vanity Sizing, Insanity Rising

There was a day when a woman’s measurements were not as much numbers as significant components of a woman’s identity. A “respectable” woman knew her measurements as one knew their phone number or address. The bust, the waist, the hips - the numbers that sum up the body of a woman. Your tailor, your seamstress, store clerk, your sister, knew those numbers. Sadly the days of a society ruled by the width of a woman’s waist is still very much alive, and yet sizes are subject to changing with the seasons and the whims of corporations. They have nothing at all to do with those little notches on a measuring tape, and more to do with what those notches mean.

            A woman can be anything from a small in one store, to a size fourteen in another, but the confusion doesn’t end there. I often find myself in the hell that is a dressing room trying on clothing that two weeks ago had fit in these sizes in this same store and now I can’t get the damn thing on. I know I haven’t gained weight or inches, but then there’s this doubt, this insecurity that begins to grow in your belly. Did you possibly get significantly larger within a very short amount of time? Luckily my eyes were opened earlier to this retail trick, after a short stint as an Urban Outfitters employee. They would gather us around for a store meeting and inform us that what once was a size eight, is now wearing a tag with the number ten, and this went for everything and anything, all except for the men’s clothing. Occasionally a t-shirt ran big, but for the most part their sizes matched the measurements in a very smart and reliable way. 

            Then I came across a store whose pop music and sassy cropped t-shirts beguiled and charmed me. I floated around mindlessly piling skimpy articles of clothing up into my arms, drugged by strong cologne and photographs of half naked girls lying on beaches. Then I stopped. There hanging above a pile of fitted beanies and flimsy flowered dresses was a sign. “One Size Fits Most.” That’s what the sign read. “One Size Fits Most.” I thought maybe it was a joke; a badly placed attempt at satire, but then I began to look at the tags. Small. Small. Small. And sometimes an Extra Small. How was this possible? An entire universe created for tiny women? Not even a specialty store, just a clubhouse with a big painted sign, “No fatties allowed.” I looked around at the crowds of youngsters pushing at me to get to the line for the fitting room. “Don’t even bother!” I wanted to yell. “If you’re not sure it’ll fit, it probably won’t.” All of these young women reading this sign and thinking what exactly? “I hope I’m part of the ‘most’”?

            Just recently JCrew was accused of doing exactly the opposite, something referred to as “Vanity Sizing.” This is when a retail establishment makes their “small” sizes run a good amount larger to make their customers feel better about themselves and ultimately buy more things. I’ll admit that while in a small, bright and dingy room accompanied only by a mirror, it feels nice to slide comfortably into a size double zero. A double zero?! I re-check the tag. I haven’t been a size double zero since middle school. At first I am elated, and I don’t think I am alone in this. Then I grow suspicious. Firstly, why does it matter if there are two zeros, or just one, or a big LG on the tag? What the hell am I so ecstatic about? I haven’t lost weight, some rational part of my brain knows that, but they almost had me! Vanity sizing – created for a breed deemed stupid enough to not realize that the fit changes, while their body stays the same. Insecure enough not to care, and buy more things that have hopeful little sizes on them that say, “Buy me, and you’ll be a part of the ‘most!’”

            We are not only told to see our bodies through how our clothes fit us, but how society fits us. How we are fitted into society by our sizes. It is insulting that our self-esteem is being tossed around like a ball on a string for a profit. It is even more upsetting that it has been going on for so long. It is time for size to be less relevant, and more structured. And to stop corporations from digging in our pockets with cheap ads. Now is the time for women to wear the pants – if only I could find some in my size.  

-Evelyn Chapman

Picture courtesy of Bakinigaga on Pinterest.

[evelynchapman]

Champs Family Bakery : In Defense of Vegan

Vegan food gets a bad rap, and it’s somewhat understandable. The absence of butter is reason enough to be suspicious, cashews tend to be used too often in unnatural and unappealing ways, and I’ll admit that “tofu scramble” doesn’t appeal to me in the same way that “cheesy scramble” might. Having been a vegetarian for the past two years, and on and off for most of my life, I have gotten used to the scrunched noses, the raised eyebrows, the condescending chuckles. “Oh she doesn’t eat meat.” They say, “How cute.” But when it comes to veganism, there is a whole new kind of disdain. I once met someone who said they don’t like vegan food because of their experience with a vegan blueberry muffin. More than once I have been told it’s not “real food.” Well I’m not sure what kind of food Champs Family Bakery in Williamsburg is serving if it’s not real, but it sure is delicious and definitely nothing to shake ones head at.

I heard about Champs from my steak-loving, fox fur-wearing roommate when I first moved to Williamsburg last August. Just recently I took my Mom for lunch. The restaurant, nestled in on the corner of Ainslie and Leonard St. gives off an old diner feel, with black and white photographs on the walls, beat up booths, and a bar built for twirling around on your barstool and sipping milkshakes. The word “Sweet” is written in large lighted marquee letters on the back wall. The crowd eating here seems to be Williamsburg’s finest; tattooed ladies, bearded men, an elderly woman with blue hair, a young kid with a striped pantsuit; everything one expects and scoffs at when avoiding vegan restaurants, and here I was with my Mom. Then I looked at her and realized, with her mismatched earrings and oversized flannel, she was right at home. We were seated at one of the booths by a waitress who was both friendly and couldn’t be bothered. The menu, of which there is apparently a new one coming soon, is vast but not over-complicated. It’s got something for a Sunday morning hangover, a lunch with friends, a date night, (as long as said date doesn’t have an irrational fear of vegan cuisine.) The prices are moderate, the sides ranging from $5 to $9, the sandwiches all around $9, and the brunch entrees all around $12. This is pretty standard pricing for an eatery in this neighborhood.

We started with coffees which came in old mugs with cartoon characters on them, something “hipster” establishments have picked up for whatever reason. Then decided to both order something and split both between us. Neither of us could decide on just one thing we wanted. The Chik’n Pesto sandwich was my choice, which I couldn’t have loved more. Their chik’n pesto salad is made in-house, and served on grilled rye with tomatoes and mozzarella. The meat and the cheese are of course adaptations of the real things, made from tempeh and seitan and other such protein replacements. With this being said, it was maybe one of the most memorable sandwiches I’ve ever had. It was savory and fresh, and not once did I think “I just wish it were real food.” Does the chik’n taste exactly like chicken? No, of course not. If I wanted the real taste of chicken I wouldn’t be a vegetarian. I considered smacking my Mom’s hand away as she reached over to collect on our sharing agreement. But then the burger she had “built” was almost just as good. The “Bomber” – a blend of tempeh and seitan – patty was nothing like the flat plastic-like flabs they call veggie burgers in most diners, this was juicy and the texture perfect, although maybe a little plain. We had decided on the avocado and sprouts as a topping, a $2 addition which proved to be worth it. After sitting in front of our empty plates for a little while, the waitress, in that classic “I work in a vegan bakery in Brooklyn so I don’t have to like you, have a nice day” kind of way, dropped the check. Then she struggled quite visibly as my Mom called her back to order a chocolate cupcake, which turned out to be soft and rich with a sweet and creamy butterscotch icing.

Since then I have gone back for brunch, for a hung-over Sunday type scenario, and ordered the Drunk Cowgirl, which I deemed appropriate for this particular morning. This is a mess of tofu scramble, garlic rosemary potatoes, their “award-winning” chili, cheese, and avocado on texas toast. The spice added maybe a bit more than a kick, but wasn’t overwhelming, and the addition of the avocado balanced the dish perfectly. Although the atmosphere reeks of a place that tries far too hard to appear as if they are not trying, Champs and its simple comforting fare has changed my evaluation of vegan cuisine, and I am convinced it would just as easily convert others.

-Evelyn Chapman

(Picture courtesy of jwarhol on instagram.)

[witchoftheeastandwest]

[nyrbclassics]

Let’s take a moment to appreciate the wisdom of Tove Jansson.

[humansofnewyork]

"I don’t know how to skateboard."

[rollingstone]

The untold story of Bob Dylan’s Basement Tapes.

[evelynchapman]

I don't f*cking care if you like it, the t-shirt

Inspired by this excellent piece by Rebecca Traister —http://www.newrepublic.com/article/118735/problem-esquires-praise-42-year-old-women-amy-poehler—

This shirt.

[evelynchapman]

[evelynchapman]

[evelynchapman]

Can Changing How You Sound Help You Find Your Voice?

Women's voices are often criticized, especially at work. We're called "shrill," told we "lack authority." Here's the story of two women who changed their voices in a quest to be heard.

[npr]

I have no problem understanding that women are interested in mascara and the Middle East. Men are allowed to talk about sports relentlessly, and yet we still take them seriously. I don’t understand why women can’t talk about fashion, or sex, or love, or wanting more money and not be taken as seriously as men.

Joanna Coles, editor of Cosmopolitan magazine, tells NPR’s Rachel Martin why she thinks women should be able to talk about fashion and politics.

(via npr)

[nationaljournal]

Guys. Guys guys guys. 

[evelynchapman]

This. Woman. 

[evelynchapman]

A little late - but always relevant.

[evelynchapman]

[breakingnews]

Kim Jong Un makes 1st public appearance since Sept. 3

AFP: North Korean leader Kim Jong Un made his first public appearance in more than 40 days, according to state media.

KCNA said Kim inspected a newly built housing complex. His absence from public view had fueled speculation over his health and power.

File photo: This picture taken by KCNA on Oct. 10, 2013, shows North Korean leader Kim Jong Un, accompanied by senior army officials, visiting the Kumsusan Palace in Pyongyang.

[evelynchapman]

A blessing and a curse for SNL writers. 

[nprbooks]

You guys!  We are so VERY excited to be the ones to announce this year’s National Book Award finalists! Check out the full list here.