Millennial Pink has been largely written off as nothing more than a painfully-transparent marketing ploy as large companies desperately try to regain the support of younger generations. True or not, there is no denying that this strategy has worked. Corporations, from Nike to Glossier , have capitalized off its popularity, seeing undeniable hikes in profits and consumer support . In April 2017 alone, rosé sales experienced an inexplicable 70% jump in profits . Amidst waves of failing businesses, the market has spoken: for boys and girls alike, Millennial Pink is the color of a generation.
To many, Millennial Pink is just pink. A muted version of its predecessor, Barbie Pink. It is indistinguishable from the fads that came before and many writers are sick of it, willing it to the graveyard of forgotten trends, joined by the likes of saggy jeans and velour tracksuits. They encourage consumers to buy into emeralds, ambers, blues, all of which are more traditionally androgynous colors. And despite their best efforts, companies and individuals continue to fund its popularity. This crusade against Millennial Pink is unbecoming. Who could this color possibly hurt? The problem lies in our perception of gender. An increasingly progressive generation of millennials believe that gender lies on a spectrum and that liking or disliking trends is not inherently associated with gender identification. Rise in gender fluidity has allowed for the integration of female trends into everyday men’s fashion. Men can tie their hair in buns, rock a floral shirt, and, yes, even wear pink. We have been raised on popular culture that associates strong women with pink, from Elle Woods in Legally Bond to Sofia Amoruso , badass founder of Nasty Gal. Pink taught children that breaking the glass ceiling is not only possible, but something to strive for. The exposure to progressive messages shaped the cultural identity of an entire generation. But the mainstream message of modern pop culture is strikingly different to that of the mid-to-late 1900’s. Older generations were raised on sitcoms that promoted an ideal middle class lifestyle, with a breadwinning father, homebound mother, and 2.5 perfect children. Women were given little latitude outside of the home, and pink was strictly feminine, adorning household appliances and girls’ toys . So now, as the line between traditional gender distinctions blur, those who were not continually exposed to the same progressive media may not be privy to such a transition. The overwhelming embrace of Millennial Pink signals an evolution in thought that teaches people of all genders that strength and femininity are not mutually exclusive. We’ve addressed the patriarchal bias that fuels the campaign against pink and turned it around. Millennial Pink is never really just pink. It can’t be tossed aside like a fleeting fad and replaced with the trendy color of the moment. Millennial Pink symbolizes a rich history of oppression and reclamation. It is a symbol of new-age androgyny, the redefinition of traditional gender constants. Times are changing, so it’s time to wake up and smell the rosé.
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Every year I learn and I grow.
2017 was no different. Here are the highlights: (1) Taking small, calculated steps isn't a bad thing. As long as I'm still moving forward. (2) Introversion is not the same as being antisocial. I've always walked the line between introversion and extroversion, but college has really brought out my introverted side. Meeting people and engaging in classes are both exciting, but mentally draining. Setting time aside to be by myself to recharge, relax, and reflect has been essential in maintaining balance. I've learned that taking solo trips to eat or work or explore gives me time to refresh. There's something freeing about putting myself first. (3) Lonely phases never last. They seem endless in the moment, but so insignificant in retrospect. (4) People are stronger than you know. Everyone is going through more than they let on. Be patient and have faith. (5) Quality over quantity applies to almost every situation. Friends especially. (6) Slow down. Admire little things and celebrate little victories. Don't unilaterally focus on a single problem or goal and lose sight of all the good that life has to offer. (7) Making the first move is okay! Too often, I allow myself to coast through life, making excuses and staying quiet so that I feel comfortable. But sometimes, getting what I want requires facing a situation head-on and being honest, vulnerable. And while the result isn't always positive, the potential reward is worth the risk. I'm ready for you, 2018. A month ago, I could have sworn that I was ready for change. As much as I enjoy having unstructured time to write and reflect, summer had made me restless. I missed snoozing my morning alarm, bearing through endless late nights, and consuming an unhealthy amount of coffee just to keep myself awake. I was strangely comforted by the study grind lifestyle that I constantly complained about. No matter how stressed I was, I loved feeling productive and challenged and useful.
The beginning of the new school year came around and I was excited to regain the connection to my nerdy, studious side that I had lost over the long summer. I figured that, with years of experience, I would be able to find my study grove seamlessly and that college would simply be a continuation of my high school experience. But things have been different. I don't feel just busy anymore, I feel overwhelmed. It's not that I'm afraid of working hard or that I'm not used to the rigor of college classes. It's that so much has happened in a short period of time: meeting new people, exploring a large unfamiliar campus, having to be self-sufficient. The lack of familiarity with my new life is daunting. My senses have been on overload for the last few weeks and I don't feel like I have enough time to relax and reflect. In high school, I would have new classes and a larger workload throughout the years, but much of my life would remain unchanged. I was still living at home, talking to the same people, walking around my home city and school. I was comfortable and safe and I knew that, if needed, someone could be there for me to take care of me. Now, I can rely only myself to stay motivated and healthy and it's scary. I've been doing little things everyday to make me feel at home in San Diego. Whenever I can, I order an iced mocha with extra whipped cream or a milk tea with aloe vera to feed my (very unhealthy) addiction. I still fall asleep to the same podcasts and blast Grouplove's "Tongue Tied" in the shower. I set aside half an hour every night to write or doodle, anything to destress and let my mind wander. I've accepted that my college life will be very different from my former high school one. I'm doing what I can to maintain my connection to home while allowing myself to branch out and experience everything San Diego has to offer. Adjusting has been difficult, but it's a process that I'm prepared to face. Summer 2017 has been strange. A lot has changed since June. The bad got worse and the good got better.
I wasn't too happy in the beginning. I was stuck in high school: the stress, the drama, the old friendships. I was fixated on the toxic relationships from last year that I clung onto despite my best interest. I wanted to mend what I had; I figured that if it once worked, there's no reason it shouldn't work now. I was wrong. I knew that everyone grows up, but didn't consider that oftentimes people don't grow together. Everyone changes in different ways and even when people grow for the better, they may not do so in a way that is complementary to one another. Some friendships aren't met to last forever. And that's okay. I made the conscious decision to refocus. I used the summer to build the relationships that I did value and paid little mind to the ones that weren't destined to last past high school. There was less negative energy in my overall as I spent less time agonizing over shaky bonds and questionable actions. I had more time to dedicate to those in my life I valued and to taking care of myself. My current friendships are stronger than they've ever been. I've taken the time to explore my interests further: styling clothes at work, writing every day, finally clearing my Netflix queue that piled up over the year. I can confidently say that I'm a happier, more dedicated person than I was when summer began. I'm prepared for more change this upcoming year as a I head off for college. I don't expect anyone to stay the same and I hope my friends grow during their first year. I just hope we grow together. When I first came to Whitney, I had a list of very definitive goals for myself. Some were more achievable than others, like being in a main drama production. And some were simply out of my control, like my goal of being five foot seven by the time I graduated. But the majority of my aspirations revolved around a unilateral goal of appearing intelligent and achieving success. I told myself that I would be a valedictorian and graduate Whitney as the top of my class. I would then attend Stanford or Columbia and before becoming a lawyer. Typical thirteen year old musings. In my mind, my life path was clear I could think of nothing that would stand in my way. I genuinely believed that, if I wanted something enough, the greater powers that be would take notice. I was old enough to form “realistic” life plans for myself, but young enough that my naivete clouded my thought process.
Fast forward six years and very little has gone according to my initial plan. But I'm glad that it didn't. And while I would still love to be slightly taller, I’m glad that I’ve moved past what I thought I wanted and learned to be slightly more open minded. I’ve learned the more accurate measure of my existence can’t be expressed in a laundry list of achievements. The goals that I set for myself now center around what will bring me joy, not what I should want for myself. My understanding of myself when I was in middle school was abysmally limited. I didn’t know what I wanted and I thought that following what I “should” want would bring me happiness. It didn’t. On paper, I should have been happy. My grades were good. I landed this amazing internship at a courthouse that would put me on a fast track for a law degree. I was frustrated and I couldn’t understand why. I felt like I was living my life for other people and never took the time to discover what made me happy. I was afraid of being different and being judged for wanting to pursue a more unconventional career. Being at Whitney among countless others who had found their niche and were unafraid of to pursue that purpose inspired me to do the same. I am a writer. I am a creative thinker with a passionate interest in fashion and design. I am artistic and hardworking and thoughtful. I haven’t given up my lists and planners, but I am no longer forever fixated on this ideal academic perception of myself. I’m glad I didn’t dedicate my entire existence to being the person I thought I should be in seventh grade. I’m glad that the person I am now more accurately reflects who I am. I’d be pretty miserable if all I had to represent my high school experience was my college and my future career. I’m a person with much greater depth now than before and I have Whitney to thank me for that. Here I met people who challenged me and made me feel comfortable and accepted. I figured out who I was when I was at the this school and I will be forever grateful. 2016 has been an emotional rollercoaster to say the least, full of unexpected turns and moments of unadulterated happiness and unbelievable stress. This has been a year of self-discovery for me and, despite how I may have felt at times, I am eternally grateful for everything that has happened. Over the year, I have become stronger, wiser, and most importantly, more unapologetically myself. Here are the things that I've learned over the past year: (1) Take time to breathe. I struggled with this a lot this year. During times of stress, I would become so unilaterally focused that I would lose sight of myself. I would lock myself in my room, turn off my phone, and just power through work for hours on end. Then, I would go to sleep and do the whole thing again. So much of my stress was self-inflicted because I did not allow myself to pause; I was worried that taking time off meant giving up. But I was wrong. Allow yourself time to self-reflect, or meditate, or sleep, or whatever you need to recharge. Remember that your health and happiness always come first. (2) Do what you love and never apologize for doing it, even if you're not very good. You don't owe anyone an explaination but yourself. Time spent doing something you love is never time wasted. There is absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying something that you're terrible at. So, sing off-key, write bad poetry, dance to your own beat. Just own it. (3) Appreciate your friends. Genuinely love the people you surround yourself with. There is no shame in cutting out the people who have grown toxic, but never cling onto memories and past friendships in hopes that they'll be whole again. (4) Progress is personal. Take pride in your effort and achievements and don't ever let anyone tell you that you are undeserving. (5) Talk to your parents. (6) People are kind. Open up to them and they will treat you well, despite what you may have been led to believe. Here's to 2017. May it bring you joy.
The debate regarding the regulation of a minimum BMI for models has been long argued and, until recently, resulted in very little actual change. Last year, French Parliament passed a new law banning the “excessively thin” or “malnourished” models by threatening agents who hire these models with possible jail time and fines; any model measuring under the recommended BMI of 18 would be barred from working until he or she reaches the minimum weight requirement.
The extreme societal pressures of being a model and maintaining a rigid standard of beauty, however unhealthy and impossible, is not unheard of. With a reported 30,000 to 40,000 people suffering from anorexia in France alone, this bill hopes to prevent future cases of anorexia among both models and the general public. While there is an almost universal support for the motivation behind the law, it has faced some backlash from several influencers within the fashion industry who view the law as too restrictive, as it does not take into account the lack of a direct correlation between BMI and health and models who are naturally thin. On the other hand, supporters of the bill often site Isabelle Caro, a former French model, who, weighing only at 55 pounds, died at the age of 28 due to an extreme case of anorexia nervosa. Countries like Spain and Italy have followed France’s example, implementing strict regulation of model BMI and health, while also factoring in geographical and ethnic backgrounds. However, this more “factored” delineation continues to be subject to bias and subsequent resentment from industry officials. Abigail Walch, Vogue’s health editor, sited education programs for models to inform them about the severity of anorexia as being the first step eradicating malnourished models. It is an undeniable fact that, from thigh gaps to collar bones, models are meant to perpetuate the ideal standard of beauty. Fashion, and therein models, dictate taste and what it means to be “beautiful”. By regulating the health and weight of the models that have unfathomable influence over society, France is spearheading a revolution within the fashion industry, bringing an end to an era of stringent standards of beauty. |