Archive

Molly Young

23 April 2010

Revisiting the New York Times article after trying miracle fruit is another matter. To interpret Tabasco as donut glaze requires wishful thinking and recalls the party guest who’s wearing a lampshade after one beer. One suspects a preexisting need to make food more interesting than it is, more beautiful, more strange—an impulse more fundamental than a flavor-tripping party. More…

Originally published in Issue 9: Bad Money

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24 March 2010

Vacation, to most people, means the freedom to regulate one’s own body temperature at will. People from all nations go in the water and sun-dry themselves ten times in a row. Then they take hot showers and sit in an air-conditioned room, then take some more sun, then wade into the water and repair again. More…

13 January 2009

Enthusiastic photoshopping has aided a transformation: Gone are the freckles and downy arm hairs of the predecessors. Breasts are surgically standardized; gym routines and spray tans produce identically toned and tinted bodies. Girls of all ethnicities blend together into one latte-colored woman, and the result looks computer-generated. More…

22 September 2008

Like ants in a colony, the men and women in town for Fashion Week have thin black exoskeletons, specialized social functions and valuable cargo to transport. A swarm of these people has formed on a September afternoon in front of the West Village showroom where Z Zegna will exhibit its Spring-Summer 2009 collection. An invitation to the show is sandwiched between two candy bars in my purse. More…

15 August 2008

Since Portnoy’s Complaint Philip Roth has been our national chronicler of horny male vigor. Not because such characters are a constant in his work (they aren’t), but because they boast a vividness that verges, just barely, on the cartoonish. And because they are smart—and, amazingly, it helps. More…

23 January 2008

I could have studied in college without Adderall, just like I did in high school—I just couldn’t have studied with such ecstasy. Theoretical texts, in particular, were transformed into exercises as conquerable as a Tuesday crossword. I could work out with a Xeroxed packet of Spivak perched on the elliptical machine in front of me, reading and burning calories at the same time. More…