The Fashion Boyfriend

Typecasting · New York · by Marina Khorosh

Fashion Boyfriends, i.e. men dating or married to women in the fashion industry, are like modern-day Army Wives. They stand by their significant others, watching them spend more on furry Gucci slippers than most human beings spend on rent without budging an inch. (Some even bravely pull out their credit cards, although I’m not even advocating that – your vices should be your own financial responsibility!) They listen to conversations that occasionally sound like record players jammed on the word “amazing” without convulsing in pain. They are silent heroes and must be saluted with the same levels of respect. Here’s how to tell them apart.

The Art of Dating: Paris vs. New York

Typecasting · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

When it comes to dating, Paris and New York are like two famous men: both come with reputations that precede them. On one side of the Atlantic we have have the elitist Frenchmen, self-proclaimed ardent lovers who, paradoxically, reject the entire concept of “dating” as a restricting endeavor where romance goes to die. On the other side, we have the epicenter of neurotic overachievers who tend to overexert themselves in every department, dating included. Both cities are, at times, cultural parodies of their respective selves, and yet they are not without charm. Without further ado, let’s tally up some basic lessons on dating à la française vs. à la New Yorkaise.

TBT: The Story of Luigi, the Roman Dbag

I Know How To Pick'Em · Rome · by Marina Khorosh

Sometimes, I find that my dating history can best be compared to the archives of an old French couture house like Dior – the minute you think you’re flat out of inspiration, there it is, the forgotten ‘pass partout’ suit or the show-stopping jungle dress! (Isn’t it great that all my fancy fashion education is paying off?!) Sticking to the analogy, this story can be best compared to a denim saddle bag from the Galliano days: tacky and cliché, but fun nonetheless!

It was my first year in France and I was on a school trip to Milan with two girlfriends, one of whom happened to be a little French firecracker a few years my junior. After four days of “studying” at Bocconi University, we headed over over to Florence and Rome, a foreign-student-bucket-list of a trip that was just calling for a team of sleazy Italianos. After a quick Facebook shout-out, a friend’s friend of a friend hooked me up with the exact object of my desire, a guy we will Luigi.

Love Lessons from Gen Z

Those Who Can't Do, Teach, Typecasting · New York · by Marina Khorosh

This past weekend, the New York Times ran an article on Gen Z, the generation born after 1995 that is now in its teens, ready to become the next batch of humans to mold the world. They are smart, savvy, physically wired to their smartphones, yet adamant about bypassing our millennial mistakes by avoiding Facebook albums, stream-of-consciousness tweets and blogging about their love lives. What scares me the most is how mature they look and feel – gone is the naivete of my teens, shaped by Britney’s low-riders and lyrics (listen to this for a dose of nostalgia); instead, you have a bunch of little Reformation mannequins walking around, spewing wearied wisdom. They are also strangely pragmatic about their love lives, to the point where I almost feel like sticking them in front of a never-ending marathon of The Notebook and force-feeding them Twizzlers until they cave in. Since I currently happen to have one of them co-habiting with me in Brooklyn, I took the opportunity to configure some principle dating rules from this cooler-than-thou bunch.

When is it Time to Meet the Parents?

Misery Loves Company, Those Who Can't Do, Teach · by Marina Khorosh

I was recently hanging out on the couch in Paris with the guy I was seeing. (Yes, was – we are now the happiest divorced couple on the block!) We were hitting the three-month mark and he had already met my brother and sister-in-law by pure coincidence, when I received a text from my mother. “Honey we are on our way from a cruise, passing through Paris today.” Confused, I muttered something about the possibility of my parents being in town. What followed can only be described as a full-on panic attack. “Maybe you think its normal to throw this on somebody with a 2-hour warning but, where I come from (snoozfest London), meeting the parents is actually a big deal!” I actually thought he would be on the next Eurostar back to “where he comes from”, never to be heard from again.

How to Meet Men at #NYFW

Those Who Can't Do, Teach · New York · by Marina Khorosh

NYFW is the New York equivalent of Back to School. Everybody who is a social media anybody spills into the city at the exact same time, eager to show off their Capri tans and cross-reference pictures of their summer flings. The popular girls become more popular, the new cool kids tentatively step onto the scene, and the rest of us peasants just sip on #nyfw branded kale juices and admire the chaos through the sanctuary of the Instagram bleachers. And yet, there is one other often undervalued perk, i.e. the abundance of males that come out to play during this peak season, presumably to ogle the cheerleaders in action. Sitting on the Soho House roof the other day, I became acutely aware that there were more hot men in twenty-meter radius than in all 20 Arrondissements of Paris. Who are they? Where are they from? I felt more confused than Dorothy in the Land of Oz, but I also knew better than to ask too many questions. With only three days of NYFW left, its time to capitalize!