Fighting the Right for the Joie de Vivre

Musings of the Mind · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

While I rarely get affected by feedback on any of my writing, a strong viral response to a Vogue.com article, which depicts a day in the life of my best friend and mommy blogger La Yummy Mummy (read her response here), really hit a chord. For some reason, multiple women felt the urge to critique the lifestyle I had portrayed in this article, claiming that a truly hands-on, diligent mother shouldn’t have a time to take showers, dress well, be a doting wife to her husband, all while actually enjoying parenting.

This, my friends, are the ideas that scare women out of marriage and child-rearing in the first place.

The Dbag Dating Career Scorecard

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

I know you’re supposed to be what you eat, and how you act, and who your friends are. And yet, I firmly believe that a large part of who you are is what you do. A nobody at a bar can suddenly metamorphose into God via the word “cardiologist”, while a gorgeous stranger can diminish all his appeal by mentioning that he is a retail employee and a photographer on the side. (Unless you happen to be like me and are inherently attracted to losers.) In any case, I love to judge men by occupation, and today, I teach you to do the same via this brilliant little scorecard, positioned roughly by diminishing Dateability value.

Parisian Yummy Mummies Have It Down: A Guide to Chic Child Rearing

DD x Vogue · by Marina Khorosh

It seems that French parenting, just like everything else stemming from this part of the world, is having a moment. Glancing at the endless “be more French” baby books lining airport kiosks, you would think that French women have discovered the Holy Grail of motherhood, one that miraculously transforms this scary and exhausting endeavor into an effortless exercise, one complete with calm babies, lithe bodies, sexually content husbands, and impeccable wardrobes.

Read on HERE!

How to Meet Men at Paris Fashion Week

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

They say Paris would be perfect without Parisians. “They” have clearly never heard of Paris Fashion Week, the one time of the year when this sleepy little village is flooded by fresh international blood, practically annihilating its French inhabitants and transforming it into an outpost of New York. Personally, I thrive on this for exactly three days – up until the moment when I am forced share my Le Progrès banquette with one to many Americans, all of which seem to have invisible loudspeakers tucked into their designer lapels. Nonetheless, it is undoubtedly a fun time in the city, providing endless opportunities to intermingle with the locals and spice up your dating palette. For those of you young fashion creatures visiting the City of Light and Love and seeking for a temporary distraction, I have created a guide that will help you utilize PFW to your romantic advantage.

TBT: My Date with Bukowski

I Know How To Pick'Em · New York · by Marina Khorosh

When I was twenty-two, I graduated to the shittiest economy known to man and was forced to take a job for some crook who was trying to launder money under the pretense of a luxury consulting company. Said crook needed a team of employees to keep up the facade, so he rented an office in Chelsea and hired myself and a few other innocent kids to back the whole thing up.

One day, I was sitting in the office, sending out bogus emails, when a man came in to set up our brand-new (contraband) iMacs. His name was JP, he was the owner of some shady software installation company, and he was fascinating. About 7 feet tall, he was dressed like the most badass b*tch you’ll ever see: leather jacket, layers of black, tattoo sleeved, black nail polish – a real Rick Owens man in soul and spirit. After two hours of watching me crawl on the floor in leggings-as-pants in an effort to “assist” him, he eagerly asked me for my number, which I just as eagerly gave to him.

The Dbag Dating Guide to Dating Rich Guys

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

Yes, I went there. Go ahead and crucify me. But let me explain first.

The idea for this article did not come to me while sipping a 35-euro, perversely-named cocktail at the Plaza Athénée, inspiring me to share the pearls of my gold digging wisdom with the rest of the female population. No, this particular stroke of genius took place at the far more democratic Le Progrès, as a 37-year old TV director in chambray introduced me to “The VICE Guide to Dating Rich Girls”, a piece of high journalistic significance to him. Always on the lookout for a highbrow literary mission, I immediately did an internal Barney Stinson-esque fist pump, accompanied by the ubiquitous “Challenge accepted!”