Dbag Dating SS 15 Runway Report : Crack is Whack and ET’s Trending

Musings of the Mind · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

As many of you may know by now, Men’s Fashion Week happens to be one of favorite holidays, effectively combining my two main interests: looking at clothes and deciphering the male species. While I am not yet considered mainstream enough to get invited to the shows (as a true artiste, I prefer to keep an underground vibe going), I did spend this past weekend skimming through Style.com coverage of the various défilés permeating Paris, not to mention observing the peculiar species known as fashion boys in their natural Marais habitat.

Following last season’s post on the 8 types of men you will see at Men’s Fashion Week, this season I decided to evaluate the shows themselves, appropriating the proposed looks to the types of men they are best equipped for.

A Trip Down V-Day Memory Lane

Musings of the Mind · Paris · by Marina Khorosh

If you’re single and past the age of 22, this is not a depressing week, it’s just an annoying week. It’s not that you really care about getting flowers delivered to your office and all the other overhyped jazz that comes with this fête de merde. You simply don’t need the additional reaffirmation of your single status rubbed into your face throughout half of February, which is already the most depressing month of the year.

I was racking my brain trying to think of a cool Valentine’s day story to tell you, when I realized that I don’t have any. Nobody has ever broken up with me on Valentine’s day; nobody has ever proposed to me on this day either (actually, nobody has ever proposed to me, period). However, over the past dozen years, I have successfully collected a number of perfectly mediocre tidbits of Valentine’s Day past, which I will be more than happy to recapitulate for y’all.

Happy New Year (AKA Your Time Starts Now)

Musings of the Mind · London · by Marina Khorosh

A few weeks ago, I asked my brother (late 30’s, three kids, fairly decent at life) an atypically candid question.

“Do you think I have a chance of getting married anytime soon?”

My brother was quiet, and he’s not a quiet kind of guy. He carefully considered his answer, knowing from experience that one misspoken word can result in many of tears.

“I don’t think that a person who acts like you wants to get married.”

Of course, the obligatory tears ensued. How dare he say this about his perfect sister, a practically born-again virgin with excellent childbearing hips? But after the shitstorm came the calm, and I decided to hear him out.

Hips Don’t Lie

Musings of the Mind · by Marina Khorosh

Slimane mafia strikes again.

Editor’s Note: Yesterday, we opened up a discussion about the man who refuses to eat, a disturbing phenomenon that is becoming increasingly common in today’s world. Let’s continue this thématique with an opinion piece by The Drama Magnet on men in France and their physical incompatibility to her Latina curves.

Dear Men, Food is Not Your Enemy

Musings of the Mind · by Marina Khorosh

The other day, The Drama Magnet (I officially renamed her last night for pronunciation purposes) sent me an opinion piece on a topic I had planned to write about for awhile – the manorexic man. Joining forces, we decided to issue a plea on behalf of all the women who are growing increasingly tired of this new breed of male, proliferating the previously safe hetero zone with rapid speed.

Dbag Dating : Deconstructing the Myth

Musings of the Mind · by Marina Khorosh

In September of 2012, I did what most overworked, burned-out New Yorkers secretly dream about. I quit my fashion PR job, packed my life into a storage cell in Downtown Manhattan, and moved to Paris. Similarly to most life-upheaving decisions, the move was spurred by a recent breakup, an event that had left me simultaneously heartbroken, confused, and determined to follow the advice of every pink-covered airport bestseller and seize control of my life by making The Grand Change.

I first fell in love with Paris when I came there with my best friend in August 2008, the summer we somehow convinced our parents to let us to philander around the South of France under the pretense of “studying abroad.” We soon discovered the Côte d’Azur to be more of a Maxim Top 100 screening than the Fitzgerald-esque adventure we had anticipated. To liquidate all competition, we decided to flee to Paris, where I managed to find the one native (and biggest Dbag) left in the city that weekend. The rest is a sad story reserved for another time. However one good thing did come out of it: my newfound, unparalleled love for his native city.