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Kylie Jenner Is The Virgin Mary In Travis Scott's New Video

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Travis Scott's new album is a family affair. The rapper released Astroworld on 3rd August, and fans were quick to pick up on the ample references to girlfriend Kylie Jenner and daughter Stormi Webster within it. Now, Scott's new music video for "Stop Trying To Be God" features a special appearance by Scott's lady as well.

The video is definitely a trip: It features loads of Biblical references and insane imagery, including one scene in which Scott's face is melted off after he is set on fire. However, the thing fans will probably pay the most attention to is who nurses Scott back to life after being set aflame. Jenner, a glowing vision, pops up around the 1:23 mark. She's a modern-day Virgin Mary, which makes Scott... Joseph? Jesus? The God everyone should stop playing?

It's unclear. It's also unclear if Jenner actually showed up on set for the music video in the first place. The ghostly, golden vision could have easily been CGIed in — I mean, the flames surrounding them weren't real either, right? Representation for Jenner did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

While Stormi was not involved in the music video, Scott did share an image to his Instagram that reveals the baby is still Astroworld 's number one fan.

"Come home my baby ready to rock and roll," wrote Scott on Instagram, over a photo of Stormi sporting an Astroworld tee.

Come home my baby ready to rock and roll. !!!!

A post shared by flame (@travisscott) on

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Money Diary: A Charity Communications Officer In Belfast On 20k

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Welcome to Money Diaries, where we're tackling what might be the last taboo facing modern working women: money. We're asking a cross-section of women how they spend their hard-earned money during a seven-day period – and we're tracking every last penny.

This week...

"I left university with a vague idea that I wanted to work in communications but ended up getting a job in policy/law. It was a decent job but on a deeply boring subject matter. So after 14 months I left and ended up exploring various roles – I joined a political party and volunteered on campaigns, worked as a tour guide, worked in public affairs, and took on a part-time unpaid comms role along with other work. Until recently, I was balancing two low-paid jobs in campaigns and charity work, but just before Christmas I finally found a full-time, permanent communications role! Breaking the 20k mark was such a massive moment for me.

I think I'm quite good with money. Living on a precarious income for the last couple of years has meant I've been tempted to spend more freely this year, now that I have the reassurance of a regular salary. The time I'm least responsible with money is usually when I go to the pub 'just for one' after work... It's never just one."

Industry: Charity
Age: 26
Location: Belfast
Salary: £20,149
Paycheque amount: £1,305.44 (I recently increased my pension contributions to 5%, which my employer matches with 8%, which has taken a bigger chunk out of my monthly amount)
Number of housemates: 1

Monthly Expenses

Housing costs: My share of the rent is £287.50 – yep, Belfast rent is pretty affordable by UK standards!
Loan payments: £13 student loan paid directly from my salary before my monthly total.
Utilities: I pay my flatmate £16 for the internet. We use top-up cards for gas and electric so this varies a lot by month, but on average throughout the year I end up paying roughly £20/month on gas and £10/month on electricity.
Transportation: £55. I buy a monthly bus card which gives me unlimited bus travel in the Belfast area. The bus system isn't the best, but I do use it a lot so this works out as really good value.
Phone bill: £53.97 – I'm aware this is ridiculously high. My old phone broke just a month before I was due an upgrade so I did no research and didn't really negotiate. This amount includes £6 damage insurance.
Savings? I have about £6,000 in savings which I use as a bit of a loan system for myself when I need to. I have most of it in a cash ISA and the rest in two other accounts which I use to save for specific things. I tend to put roughly £200 into savings each month, but often end up taking some back out. At the moment I'm saving for a trip with my mum in September for her 60th birthday.
Other: Spotify: £9.99. Alliance for Choice donation (Northern Ireland's campaigning group to decriminalise abortion): £10. Amnesty International: £1 – I started this tiny donation when I was a broke student and I feel too guilty to cancel it, but also have never got round to increasing it. Gym: £33.50 – I use my local leisure centre, which is also a social enterprise. It gives me unlimited access to any centre around the city and to all classes. With the summer weather I've been running outside more than using the gym, but I want to keep my contract as I know I'll use it more when it gets to winter. Trade union membership: £14.67. Contact lenses prescription: £12.50

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Day One

7am: My alarm goes off and I crawl out of bed as I've started charging my phone out of reach of my bed – sensible yet disgusting decision. I wrap myself in my duvet and "meditate" for a while, which really just means I put off opening my eyes. I finally get myself up properly and go downstairs to do a quick 13-minute yoga video. My back pain was pretty bad last week, so I'm trying to be more conscious about stretching and doing my physio exercises.

I make myself a banana, oats, coconut milk and peanut butter smoothie with a coffee, and watch YouTube videos while I get ready. I'm out the door to catch the bus by 8.20am.

8.45am: I stop off in Tesco on the way into work and buy milk, bananas and apples. I keep a stash of fruit and cereal bars in my desk and I was running low. £2.46

12.30pm: I eat my lunch while finishing off a document – I've brought in pasta with a kind of vegetable mish-mash/sauce I made last week. Basically, I tried to make a vegetable lasagne but did something wrong and ended up with tons of leftover vegetables. So I put them in a casserole dish, added some tomatoes and stock, threw it in the oven and froze it until I could work out what to eat it with. It tastes pretty good!

Friends from my political party are running an LGBTQ+ event as part of Pride next week and I see on Twitter that tickets are going quickly. It's a free event but donations are also accepted. I book my ticket and add a £5 donation plus processing fee. £5.98

5.20pm: I leave the office and walk home. I'm going on a date tonight and although it takes 40 minutes to walk at least I know I won't be caught in traffic.

6pm: I heat up some leftover stir fry from last night for dinner and quickly get ready. It's a first date with a guy I've been talking to on Bumble. I don't really enjoy online dating, so I normally always pick a coffee date so that I can get away fairly quickly. But lately I've realised that planning the entire date around my exit strategy is probably not the healthiest way to approach things so I've agreed to mini golf.

Two of my friends call to see if I want to go for a walk this evening but when they find out I'm going on a date they give me a mini pep talk and offer me a lift to the venue, which I gratefully accept.

7.30pm: Date is pretty good-looking and seems nice and friendly! He buys our first round of mini golf for £15.

8.30pm: We're both as bad at mini golf as each other but decide to buy a second round. I buy this time and for some reason it's cheaper. £10

9.15pm: We get some soft drinks (he pays) and I add up our scores – he won the first round and I won the second. We chat for a bit and then he gives me a lift home. He seems like a really lovely guy and attractive, but I'm not sure if I'm really feeling a connection. The conversation is decent but the more we talk the less I feel we have in common.

10pm: I'm home and obviously spam the group WhatsApp with my thoughts. After a bit he texts me thanking me for a good night and asks if I'd like to meet up again. He can see I read the message so I'll have to respond tonight. I make myself a cup of tea and defrost a slice of the banana bread I made last week while I make up my mind.

11pm: Eventually I decide that the answer to the question "Would I look forward to seeing him again?" is no. I spend about 30 minutes crafting a "thanks but no thanks" message, because dating makes me lose the power of speech. He responds really nicely, thanking me for being honest, and I go to bed feeling pleasantly surprised about our mutual adulting.

Total: £18.44

Day Two

7.45am: I wake up and can feel my back isn't happy that I didn't do my physio exercises last night. I take a shower and use the remainder of my slightly mouldy bread to make toast and a coffee. I watch the first 15 minutes of Love Island as I missed it last night.

12.30pm: I eat the remainder of my pasta and vegetable mix for lunch and then head to a café round the corner. I have a cup of tea and read over my notes for my probation meeting. I'm not really nervous about passing it as my feedback has been good up to this point, but it's still a bit daunting going into a meeting to be evaluated. £2

3.30pm: Probation review done and went well! A couple of our stakeholders have been impressed with the social media campaigns I’ve been running – score! I make myself a chamomile tea and have a cereal bar from my stash.

5.30pm: Walk to the bus and pick up a bag of crisps from Tesco on the way. 90p

Planning to head to the gym tonight so I need to get changed into my gym stuff as soon as I get home...

7pm: ...And I’m still on my bed scrolling through social media.

7.15pm: Finally leave for the gym; run 15 minutes there, 30-minute workout, run home.

8.30pm: I make vegetable fajitas using ingredients in the fridge – Portobello mushrooms, red peppers, spring onions, tomatoes, garlic and sweet chilli sauce. My flatmate and I catch up as she’s just back from a holiday. We watch Love Island and chat some more.

10.30pm: I wash my hair, put on some tanning moisturiser, and get into bed with a book. End up scrolling through Twitter for far too long.

Total: £2.90

Day Three

7am: Alarm goes off. Grab my phone and crawl back into bed.

7.20am: Get up, meditate for five minutes and do a 20-minute yoga video.

8am: Make porridge with coconut milk, raisins and honey and a cup of coffee for breakfast. I'm out the door by 8.40 and delighted to find it's sunglasses weather.

11am: Coffee and cereal bar from the drawer stash.

1pm: Heat up the vegetable bake I brought in from home. This was the lasagne disaster I attempted last week, which I forgot to put any lasagne sheets into. It's topped off with three different kinds of cheese, before anyone worries it's too healthy.

I need to buy a new planner so I walk into town and go to Paperchase. I pick one with a gorgeous marble design and a 60th birthday card for a friend from my political party whose birthday I'm going to in two weeks. £12.50

My mother's 60th is coming up soon too and I want to start gathering a few presents so I go into Oliver Bonas to see if I can spot anything – they have a sale on and I pick up a Gin Lover's Dictionary for £8.

5.30pm: Leave the office and catch the bus into town as I'm meeting a friend for drinks. She's in my political party too and we go to a regular spot where lots of artsy/activist people hang out. I buy a round – I have a pint and she has a half. We catch up on gossip and I feel mildly jealous that her love life is far more exciting than mine right now. £6.60

6.30pm: We get pizzas as we're starving. She pays.

7pm: I get another round – pint for me, vodka and 7 Up for her. £9.60

8.45pm: I'm feeling so sleepy and I'm glad we both decide to call it a night. We live fairly close to each other so decide to walk home along the river. We also agree to go out the following night. I have plans with family on Saturday so this isn't the most sensible idea ever but we'll deal with that when we come to it...

9.45pm: I stop at the shop and buy a jar of coffee for the morning as I've run out. It takes three laps of the shop to talk myself out of buying Nutella. £2.49

11pm: Defrost a slice of banana bread and drink lots of water. I only manage to read half a page of my book before falling asleep.

Total: £39.19

Day Four

7.15am: Alarm goes off. Grab my phone, get back into bed and watch last night's Love Island while I wake up.

7.30am: I go downstairs and steal some of my flatmate's cereal for breakfast as I've run out and I'm really craving it. Also make a coffee and go back upstairs with my breakfast where I watch the rest of Love Island and do my physio exercises.

8.40am: Catch the bus. I've definitely got the Friday feeling, i.e. tired and baffled at the idea that I actually have to do any work today.

Stop at Tesco to buy some coleslaw to put with the baked potato I've brought in for lunch. 75p

11.15am: Decide that as I've brought my lunches in all week I definitely deserve a treat. Go to one of the cafés around the corner and get a latte and a brownie to bring back to the office. Pleased to notice that they've switched to recycled takeaway cups as I'm awful about remembering my keep cup and this way I feel a tiny bit less guilty. £5.20

2pm: The brownie was so big that it took me half an hour to eat and I'm only hungry for lunch now! I make my baked potato and add some coleslaw, which feels a little plain, but as it's such a wet and dreary day I don't feel like going out to get anything else.

I watch some TED talks and do some back stretches. It's feeling really sore today. I had physio on the NHS last year but it didn't really help. After my mum's birthday I think I might go back to a private place which I had great results with in the past, and just deal with the cost as best I can. It's about £30 per session but had I finished the course first time round I think it would have made an amazing difference – I was getting it covered by work but had to stop early when I finished that job.

5.30pm: The friend I was supposed to be going out with texts that she has a family emergency so can’t make it. But another friend (B) has also texted saying she’s up for doing something – she was rejected for an internship yesterday and needs cheering up. I stop off in the shop on the way and get wraps and lettuce so I can use the rest of the fajita mixture I made two nights ago, and buy a share bag of crisps. £2.95

6.40pm: Once I’m home I run a bath. Friday night baths are the best baths.

7.30pm: Make fajitas for dinner which I have with a beer while watching Grey’s Anatomy. End up opening the share packet of crisps I bought to bring to my friend's. Oops.

9pm: B picks me up and drives me over to her house. Our other friend, who’s her flatmate, can also come so we all have another drink and finish getting ready.

They’re both mature students and the bar is in a student area, so it’s got cheap drinks offers – luckily it’s the summer holiday so most students have gone home and we can go without feeling too much like elderly gatecrashers.

10.30pm: We get to the bar too late for free entry so it’s £3 in each. We each get a jam jar cocktail. £4.95

The bar is full of retro arcade games and we have a go on the dance machine, Mario Kart and Terminator. £3 for my share.

I get vodka and Coke from the bar and it comes to £2.80. £2.80?!? I’ve forgotten how incredible student prices are, and decide that the persistent smell of tequila and excessive male aftershave is probably worth it once in a while.

12.30am: We’re ready for home. I half-heartedly try to get a taxi but give up quickly and walk.

Once I get home I take my makeup off and get into bed. Faff about for so long it’s near 2am by the time I’m going to sleep.

Total: £22.65

Day Five

10am: Wake up and laze around, dozing and reading stuff on my phone.

11.30am: Finally get up. My back LOVES the amount of stretching I did yesterday and barely feels sore at all. Get dressed, put a wash on and go out for a two-mile run.

When I get home it’s basically lunchtime so I make banana pancakes – one frozen banana, coconut milk, blended oats and honey. As I make them I stretch and tidy up the kitchen a little bit.

These are probably the least aesthetically pleasing pancakes I’ve ever made as they keep falling apart and sticking to the pan (should have added an egg). Eat the full stack with a cup of coffee, more honey and some peanut butter.

1pm: I watch Love Island (obviously) while getting ready to leave the house. I’m going to a baby shower for my cousin’s newborn twins. They didn’t manage to organise it before they were born so this is a chance for us to meet the babies. It was also her 30th birthday this week.

1.55pm: My train is at 2.20pm and my bus stops at the station, which is only 5 minutes away, so I make the terrible decision to get the bus there. When I get to the stop the electronic display doesn’t remotely match the app or Google Maps. Arrrg!

2.05pm: I decided that getting a taxi would probably take just as long so I’m panicking now. If I miss my train the next one isn’t for an hour. Elderly man beside me can tell I’m twitchy and starts sympathising. Just as he suggests I do get a taxi, the bus arrives!

2.13pm: I’m at the station! I have a few minutes spare, so I get money out of the ATM, buy my ticket and run to the toilet. £9

3pm: My uncle picks me up and we head over to the venue where a few other family members are waiting – it's a vintage hotel I haven't been to before. He buys a few of us a round of drinks and I have a gin and ginger ale.

4pm: The new parents and babies have arrived and we all turn into the paparazzi snapping photographs with our phones and staring at them. We're having afternoon tea and I opt for the version which includes prosecco. This comes to £21 and I add £1 to the collective tip at the end.

6pm: Lots of food has been consumed and lots of baby cuddling has occurred. We go out to the lobby for present opening and I buy a gin and tonic for my mum, and a vodka and Coke for me. £12

7pm: My uncle drops me and another guest at the station for our return train. At the other end her brother gives me a lift home, which is a good job as I don't know if I can handle the buses again today.

9pm: I'm ready for an early night. I show my flatmate the baby pictures and defrost more of my weird vegetable concoction for a small dinner. I get into bed and spend some time planning my day tomorrow, otherwise I know I'll sleep in and get the Sunday 'oh crap I didn't do any of my weekend tasks' anxiety.

11pm: The problem with being a natural night owl is you tend to get a second wind as it gets close to midnight. I curl up in bed and watch a movie on my laptop, falling asleep much later than planned.

Total: £43

Day Six

10am: Wake up.

11am: Get up.

As you can imagine my productive day plans have kind of gone out the window. I go to the shop and get two small sausage rolls, strawberries and a yoghurt for breakfast and cereal, avocados, bread, olive oil and chilli flakes for the house. £12.51

12pm: I put a wash on then watch Grey's Anatomy while eating breakfast and tidying my room. I take a shower and do some work for my political party. Seriously wishing I’d gone to sleep early as it’s work I need to be creative for.

2.20pm: I leave the house and walk to a coffee shop about 25 minutes away. I’m meeting someone from my party there as I’m gathering some research for a project I’m working on. On the way I drop off some old clothes at the recycling centre.

2.50pm: I’m early so I get a pot of chamomile tea with honey and do some work, £2.35. Once they arrive we have a chat and the meeting goes well. They also get a tea, I pay. £2.20

4pm: I stop off in Tesco and get brown rice and pasta. £2.40. It’s a warm sunny day so I decide to go to the park to finish off my work. I find a picnic table and work for another hour or so.

5.30pm: It’s lovely surrounded by all the trees and birdsong and I’d love to stay longer but I’m starving, so I walk home to make dinner.

6pm: I put a garlic kiev from the freezer in the oven and cook some brown rice with sweetcorn. I make enough rice to use for lunch tomorrow as well.

7pm: I was planning to go for a long run this evening but it's so hot and muggy and I'm feeling tired after going to bed too late two nights in a row. So I decide to go for a walk instead. About 20 minutes away from my house there's a gorgeous wooded area full of streams, small waterfalls and dirt paths – the advantage of living in a small city! I have a lovely walk and do some journalling among the trees which helps clear my head.

8.45pm: I'm home, very sweaty from the humidity. I take a shower, make a cup of tea with two slices of toast with strawberry jam and watch Love Island with my flatmate.

10.10pm: I get into bed and read for about 20 minutes before falling asleep.

Total: £19.46

Day Seven

7am: Wake up, turn off my alarm and doze for 10 minutes before getting up. I meditate and then head downstairs to do a 20-minute yoga video.

7.50am: I make porridge with coconut milk, raisins and honey, with a coffee for breakfast. I'm out the door before 8.30am and make it to the office before 9am (this rarely happens on a Monday, I'm feeling incredibly smug).

Realise I've forgotten to buy milk.

10am: My colleague had a meeting this morning so she's got milk for the office. I have a coffee with some of the strawberries I've brought in.

12pm: I heat up the rice I've brought in and another batch of my vegetable-non-lasagne-bake for lunch. It's another warm day so I make a cup of tea and take it out to my office block's tiny garden on the first floor, with my book.

2pm: Lunch did not fill me up at all – have an apple and a cereal bar from my desk stash. I'm running low so I'll have to get more tomorrow.

5.30pm: Today was such a quiet day that I finally got round to doing a piece of work I'd been struggling to find time for. Feeling pretty pleased with myself. I walk to the bus.

6.30pm: I go for the long run I was planning to do yesterday – five miles, though the second half is really more of a walk/run. Seriously regret not bringing water.

7.40pm: After gasping on my front step for a full five minutes I make dinner and stretch. I cook some quinoa and defrost some sweet potato and coconut curry I had in the freezer from ages ago. I intended to cook a batch of this fresh tonight but I can't be bothered. I send a few emails and do a couple of bits of life admin as it cooks.

9pm: Defrost the last two slices of banana bread which I have with a cup of tea. My flatmate and I watch Love Island, and I work on a cross-stitch pattern I've been making. This is peak Monday night.

10.30pm: There's a reason I don't normally do longer runs on a work night – I’m completely shattered. Get into bed, and manage about three pages of my book before turning off the light.

Total: £0

The Breakdown

Food/Drink: £94.16
Entertainment: £21.98
Clothes/Beauty: £0
Travel: £9
Other: £20.50

Total: £145.64

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I Tried A 'Working Vacation' In Lisbon. Here's How It Went...

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I’ll be honest, until this month I assumed 'digital nomad' wasn’t a thing real people said. It felt like a marketing term invented exclusively to irritate the over-40s. A vague, pretendy concept made up by influencers to disguise the fact their job is being paid to go on holiday and shill bikinis to teenagers.

'Working vacations', meanwhile, I believed were real, but I couldn’t understand why anyone would want one. My main measure of success for any holiday has always been how little mobile data I spunk on refreshing my emails, and how far from any kind of mental exertion I can possibly get while being alert enough to shovel calamari into my mouth. When friends talked about filing features or diffusing work disasters on their phone from a poolside sun lounger, I only felt sorry for them. A working holiday, surely, was just a bad holiday?

Then I had a go myself. And quickly realised the point of a remote working vacation isn’t about letting work encroach on your holiday time, but rather the opposite: plugging extra holiday experiences in around your deadlines, and feeling inspired by the change of surroundings.

As apparently the only person left on Instagram who hadn’t been to Lisbon, I’d been clamouring to visit the Portuguese capital for ages. But my boyfriend had already been twice and my friends were all booked up or skint from weddings – so when I was invited to stay at a new 'co-working and co-living space' in the city, it presented the perfect compromise. I would go on my own, and try remote working. I would explore the cobbled streets and prettily tiled tavernas with my laptop tucked under my arm, and write whenever the mood struck me. I would be filled with equal parts inspiration and custard tarts. And if I got no work done at all, well, that would only prove my cynicism right.

Outsite is one of a new breed of companies (see also: Remote Year; Terminal 3) hoping to revolutionise the way we work and travel. Offering hip accommodation for remote workers and company retreats, there are 11 Outsite locations in picturesque destinations across the US, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Costa Rica and Bali, plus three new sites opening soon in Barcelona, the Swiss Alps and Mexico. All promise a quiet, productive environment but with community activities and a house WhatsApp group to foster fun, networking and those all-important creative vibes.

Photo: Jerry Hernandez/Outsite.

More like a luxe halls of residence than a traditional hotel, Outsite Lisbon is a gorgeous Portuguese townhouse with a vast co-working space on the ground floor and four residential floors above it. My room leads off a shared lounge area, with a shared kitchen down the hall. I have visions of being kept awake by banterous brainstorms into the early hours, but the atmosphere is completely serene. Beyond my balcony, life on the lively Rua de São Paulo clangs by, but inside it’s all calming white walls, lush pot plants and the distant tip-tap of other workers on their laptops. A perfect place to work. In theory.

In practice, it takes half my trip to stop feeling guilty when I’m not working and overwhelmed by FOMO when I am. As a freelancer I’m pretty well practised at the main elements of a solo holiday: eating alone, walking around alone, sitting in coffee shops for obnoxious lengths of time, alone – but being in a brand new city affords a million distractions. Everything I see takes on the lustre of the foreign and unknown. Look, a beautiful church! A funny pigeon! A branch of Zara in a rustic old bank! If I don’t Instagram those centuries-old tiles, did they even happen?

Once I relax into it, though, being away from home also makes it easier to block out the everydayness that normally stops me getting stuff done. No washing to hang out, no friends to see, no post office errands to run. You remember how much of the average working day is spent on stuff that isn’t working. Strip away all the extraneous chat and pointless meetings, and three hours of solid work could be enough for a whole day.

Of course, it helps that Lisbon is full of good outlets for digital nomadding. Places like Cafe Tati, a dreamily rustic but freelancer-friendly café tucked away behind the heaving Mercado da Ribeira. I’d like to pretend I stumbled across it rather than typing 'COOL COFFEE SHOPS WIFI LISBON' into Google with one hand while I went through passport control, but either way it was a win. Twinkly music, Wi-Fi as strong as the (80 cents!) espresso and just a smattering of sexy punters, alight with the glow of their Macbook Pros. I sit, I sip, I actually do some work. I wrote this whole paragraph, in fact.

Photo: Jerry Hernandez/Outsite.

There are downsides to all this #blessed remote working – neck strain from lugging a laptop around; having to tinker with your Google settings all the time because everything keeps coming up in Portuguese – but in always-on, digitally primed cities like this one, they’re decreasing every year. European breaks even have the advantage of no extra data roaming charges in EU member states (though who knows how much longer we’ll have that luxury).

I thought the weather would make it harder to work, but actually there’s something about the loose muscles and long evenings in a warm climate that makes it easier to feel creative and spontaneous. On my second night in Lisbon I take myself out in search of midnight snacks and end up in the Time Out market with my notebook and a huge slab of chocolate torte, working on both until 2am. The trick to productivity, for my lazy brain at least, has always been to bribe myself like a wayward toddler, and apparently holidays are no exception.

Of course, living the nomadic dream when you only have yourself to indulge is one thing; it’s a whole different deal when you have other people in tow. But still not impossible. Or so promises Jo Rourke, a content strategist and entrepreneur who just spent a month working remotely from a villa in Lanzarote, with her husband and, impressively, their three children aged five and under. "It certainly isn’t for everyone, but for those who can, a working holiday is an amazing way to see new places and experience different things," she tells me.

Jo’s best advice? Plan it carefully. "Running your own business gives you a lot of freedom, but it also means that if the wheels come off when you’re away, you better be able to fix them remotely," she says. Jo recommends trying an email automation service like Boomerang for Gmail – so your inbox can be firing off replies while you’re sinking Aperol Spritzes – and sorting out templates for your most common communications in advance, to save time. She even launched The Magic Words, a members' club for freelancer email templates, during her remote working break. Digital nomad advanced level: unlocked.

And me? After three days I’ve managed a decent amount of working, but not so much the elusive 'co-' element. So finding another Outsite guest, Omar, typing away at a communal table, I force myself to try a little 'creative collaboration'.

"What are you working on?" I ask, hopeful for screenplays, TED talks, concertos. He looks from me to his screen to me again, frowning, and eventually shrugs. "It’s too boring to explain."

I fare better in the kitchen with Joanna, a mermaid-haired vegan, who is living here for a month. She’s working on a series of 'animated spiritual meditation videos' with her mother, a psychic medium. Okay, sure. Joanna invites me to drinks organised by Lisbon Digital Nomads – with 3,385 members at last count, it’s the second biggest digital nomad group in the world, or so cofounder Rosanna Lopes proudly tells me. She organises weekly meet-ups to give remote workers and travelling freelancers the chance to exchange ideas and make connections, or perhaps just speak to a human in full sentences for the first time in several days. And there’s plenty of demand; currently rated third in the world by NomadList, Lisbon is fast becoming a co-working capital. Second Home opened a plant-filled office here last year, and the ludicrously hip LX Factory quarter is home to massive business and tech hub Coworklisboa.

Second Home Lisboa. Photo Courtesy of Second Home.

But while the large, buzzy crowd of twenty- and thirtysomethings I find standing round drinking beer in a leafy square would suggest that digital nomads are far from imaginary, everyone is also keen to assure me they’re not really one. "I’m a fake digital nomad," at least five people tell me in conspiratorial whispers. Maybe nobody actually thinks they’re a digital nomad? Perhaps there is one man, somewhere, with a goatee and a Fjallraven Kanken backpack, who called himself a 'digital nomad' one time and it just stuck.

Still, the digital faux-mads are doing a pretty good impression. I meet Chris, a chiselled-jawed photographer from Toronto, who is also scoping out the co-working scene in Colombia and Thailand. I meet Jesse, from Michigan, here for a coding internship. She’s had an idea for a social media food app that I’m pretty sure could make her the Zuckerberg of brunch. I meet Brian, an eco-activist and inventor, and get embroiled in a debate about single-use plastic. For what was supposed to be a solitary holiday, it’s turned into one of the most sociable I’ve ever had.

Later, as I extract myself from a group who have stumbled back to Outsite clutching pint glasses of sangria and are off to continue the party on the fourth floor, I have a small epiphany: being a digital nomad might just be the acceptable face of youth hostelling for the hustle generation. It’s like a gap year, but with invoices. A way to see the world without putting your career on hold. And it might not be for everyone, but it’s certainly nice work if you can get it.

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Celebs That Ivanka Trump Follows On Instagram Have A Message For Her About Her Father

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Celebrities followed by Ivanka Trump on Instagram are calling on her to speak out against the effects of her father's family separation policy by reposting an identical powerful post that begins "Dear Ivanka".

The stars include Alexa Chung and Poppy Delevingne, and US celebrities and public figures including Amy Schumer, Sophia Amoruso and Audrey Gelman, founder of women's co-working space The Wing. All have regrammed the identical emotive message as part of a campaign against child separation at the US-Mexico border, which also urges Trump to call for the resignation of Kirstjen Nielsen, the US secretary of homeland security.

The post, which begins "Dear Ivanka", refers to an interview she gave last Thursday, during which she described the policy as "a low point for me". Trump also admitted she was "vehemently against family separation" but added that immigration is "incredibly complex as a topic".

Celebrities have since been flooding Trump's account with "Dear Ivanka" posts, seizing on her comments and refocusing public attention on the controversial policy. "You follow me on social media," the post continues.

"You said family separation was a ‘low point’ for you. The low point is for the separated families. You spoke in past tense. This crisis is ongoing. As of now, 572 children have not been reunited. A child has died after separation."

I interrupt this broadcast to bring you... RG @sophiaamoruso

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"Approximately 400 parents have been deported without their children. There have been multiple claims of sexual and physical abuse in detention. There have been psychotropic drugs administered to children in detention without parental consent.

"These abuses have occurred on your father's watch and under the leadership of Secretary Nielsen." It then calls on her to act: "End these racist, inhumane and unconscionable abuses now! We demand you call for the resignation of Secretary Nielsen!"

The initiative was organised by film director Paola Mendoza, actor Sarah Sophie Flicker and journalist Alyssa Klein, none of whom Trump follows on Instagram, who are campaigning for an end to the reunification crisis. The trio reportedly reached out to everyone followed by the president's daughter on Instagram and only a handful have posted the message so far.

Dear @ivankatrump, You don’t follow me on Instagram but I feel compelled to tell you something. You said family separation was a "low point" for you. The low point is for the separated families. You spoke in past tense. This crisis is ongoing. As of now 572 children have not been reunited. A child has died after separation. Approximately 400 parents have been deported without their children. There have been multiple claims of sexual and physical abuse in detention. There have been psychotropic drugs administered to children in detention without parental consent. These abuses have occurred on your father’s watch and under the leadership of Secretary Nielsen. End these racist, inhumane and unconscionable abuses now! WE DEMAND YOU CALL FOR THE RESIGNATION OF SECRETARY NIELSEN! Go to link in bio to call for the resignation of Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen. #FamiliesBelongTogether #DearIvanka

A post shared by Paola Mendoza (@paolamendoza) on

The campaign mirrors celebrities' attempts to get Trump's attention via Instagram last year over the Dream Act for young immigrants, when the likes of Sophia Bush, Cara Delevingne, Olivia Wilde and Alexa Chung posted a similar "Dear Ivanka" post.

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Gemlights: The Instagrammable New Hair Trend Inspired By Crystals

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From rose quartz to amethyst, it's fair to say we've become pretty obsessed with gemstones and crystals lately. Some experts claim that they can help you find love, move past bad habits and even attract money, but it looks like they're also making their way into beauty circles, this time influencing hair trends.

We know what you're thinking: another one? This summer alone, we've seen shadow hair (strategically placing a darker-toned dye in the mid-lengths of hair to create a natural-looking shadow effect), midlights (combining light and dark tones for an overall seamless, sun-kissed finish) and oil slick hair (colouring multiple locks of hair with all manner of different shades, from pink to blue and green, in order to lend hair an oil slick effect). But gemlights is the new look on our radar and it's seriously cool.

Perfect for blondes who have grown tired of their usual balayage, the brand new hair colouring technique involves dyeing hair with shades inspired by gemstones and crystals like rose quartz (subtle pink), amethyst (lavender), angelite (sky blue) and green aventurine. The trick to nailing it is to dye just a pinch of hair strands at a time, to lend lengths a more blended, seamless effect, and to avoid any chunky wodges of colour.

So how do you wear it? A quick scroll through Instagram shows that gemlighted hair looks beautiful woven into a bun, boho twist or a loose braid as the colours intertwine, lending hair a multidimensional effect, but it's just as picture-perfect worn straight or fashioned into a beachy wave.

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For top-notch colour, we'd suggest paying an experienced colourist a visit, but if you're not willing to commit, there are heaps of temporary colours to try, like L'Oréal's Colourista Hair Makeup, which serves up cobalt blue, subtle pink and lilac, to name but a few hues. #Gemroots – concentrating the colour to the roots only – is also hot on Instagram if getting a whole head of gemlights doesn't take your fancy.

And remember, if you've bleached your hair to make the colours pop a little brighter, it's worth opting for an Olaplex or INNOluxe hair treatment to repair any broken bonds and to give your hair a healthy gloss effect.

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Is Stella McCartney The Queen Of Sustainability?

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Recently, the idea of being self-made has been called into question. A sudden interest in the concept, which is rarely used to challenge powerful men, made a conversation with Stella McCartney feel all the more auspicious.

After launching her eponymous fashion label in October 2001 under a 50/50 venture with luxury conglomerate Kering, the daughter of Beatles member Paul McCartney saw immediate success with her eco-friendly ready-to-wear, men's, and accessories lines. Despite doubters along the way, she's remained the industry's gold standard for how to run a high-fashion brand while abstaining from textiles that have traditionally defined luxury. A lifelong vegetarian, McCartney does not use fur, leather, or PVC in her collections. But as legacy fashion houses and e-tailers slowly adapt to the model she's put forth, the time feels ripe to ask if it's working. And with rival designers only considering the idea on a cause-by-case basis, how do we know?

Stella McCartney in her eco-friendly flagship on Old Bond Street in London.Photo: Courtesy of Stella McCartney.

In March, McCartney made headlines when news broke that she was ending her relationship with Kering. When asked to elaborate on her recent divestment from the company that owns Gucci, Saint Laurent, and Balenciaga, among others, she remained tight-lipped.

"Clearly, I’m not one to go at things conventionally and I think somebody has to mix it up a bit," she tells Refinery29, phoning from London. "I’m excited about the opportunities ahead. Who knows what’ll happen. But in order to not know what will happen, that was the choice I had to make. Otherwise, things would stay the same forever — which was great — but I’ve got to shake it up a bit." By clearly, one could assume she's referencing an instinctual irreverence that's served her well since she started her business 17 years ago: McCartney, too, may be her own version of "self-made," but she's also wilfully self-taught and, in her words, “refuses to compromise.”

McCartney credits her initial interest in conscious living to her upbringing. She was raised on an organic farm in East Sussex, England, where she says she "understood the elements": nature, seasons, animals. "It’s just how I’ve always looked at the Earth,” she explains. “I didn’t have the conventions or baggage that most other generations have had. My parents broke that rule of 'You have to eat meat. You’re gonna die if you don’t eat meat.'" Her vegetarian parents were outspoken animals rights activists; in the ‘80s and ‘90s, her mother Linda co-authored cookbooks with meatless recipes and developed her own line of vegetarian frozen meals. In 1999, PETA’s first Linda McCartney Memorial Award was presented by Paul McCartney to Pamela Anderson.

Naomi Campbell walks Stella McCartney's graduate Central St. Martin's fashion show, 1995.Photo: Charles Knight/REX/Shutterstock.
Kate Moss walks Stella McCartney's graduate Central St. Martin's fashion show, 1995.Photo: REX/Shutterstock.

Following her childhood, McCartney moved to London to study at Central Saint Martins. After interning in haute couture at Christian Lacroix, and a stint at her father's tailor, Edward Sexton, on Savile Row, the fashion design student presented her graduate collection on model pals Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, and Yasmin Le Bon. They walked to “Stella May Day,” a B-side ballad written by her father. Her runway shows have since evolved beyond college — and name recognition (whether that be her own or those of her supermodel connections) — and she has, one accomplishment after another, proven herself a serious contemporary designer. Think: less what you’d expect from the daughter of one of the world’s most beloved and richest rock icons, and more something from someone “self-made.”

How the word "faux" attached to anything, be it leather or fur, could entice older generations of consumers who can actually afford $1,500 handbags is a mystery. But McCartney has prioritised what other luxury brands treat as an afterthought. Her question to the industry is as frank as it's always been: Why not just conduct oneself in a way that’s less harmful to the environment? "Then you don’t have to donate money to a cause — you can just be a part of solving the problem," she explains. "I’m always thinking, Oh, I should give X amount of money per month to X charity, but I know that what I’m doing has a bigger amount of contributing factors than a random check."

Miley Cyrus and the designer, both wearing Stella McCartney, at the Met Gala.Photo: Kevin Tachman/Getty Images.

But as apolitical as Stella McCartney the brand is — in 17 years of business, she hasn’t made a single political statement via T-shirt (or used the F(eminist) word) — McCartney the person takes a humorous, maybe privileged, approach to making her voice heard. "I’ve steered away from too much political messaging (at least without a tinge of humour) in the collections because I don’t want to tell people off or make people feel bad about themselves and their choices," she says. Most recently, McCartney wrote a letter to Parliament backing the Labor Party's call to ban fur in the country. "We should have a bit of fun with it. I want to label things — like fur-free-fur or skin-free-skin — but I prefer not to ram it down people’s throats. It doesn’t really entice people; I think it has the opposite effect. Our choice is to tell our story and if people are interested then they know about it."

She continues: "I firmly believe that my job and what I’ve studied my whole life is to be a fashion designer — not some sort of environmentalist or political campaigner. If people come to this house and don’t have a clue of what the product is made out of and just want the product, well, that’s okay. I want people to come here because they desire the designs. At the end of the day, that’s when I’m doing my job successfully and in a stealth manner. That’s the most important thing. People don’t come here because I tell them to be vegetarian or to not kill animals or harm the planet. That’s not what you do in fashion. Maybe younger customers now do require that, but that’s only just happening."

Stella McCartney's newest flagship on 23 Old Bond Street in London.Photo: Courtesy of Stella McCartney.

Since the founding of her brand, McCartney’s commitment to sustainability has been anything but a secret, well-documented through a timeline imbued with action, not words, and her role in Kering's partnership with the Centre for Sustainable Fashion (a research centre based at the London College of Fashion). It’s one of many initiatives that speak to Kering’s stated belief that sustainable fashion is luxury fashion. "We’re trapped between old and more established houses that don’t genuinely have sustainability at their core (and might be doing it for marketing reasons or because they just have to be seen to do so to a certain extent) and younger, newer brands for which it’s just a way of life or how they conduct themselves in business full-stop — regardless of what their message is," she says.

According to its most recent filing, the brand's U.K. profits and worldwide licensing revenue saw a 42.5% increase from the previous year to approximately $9 million. But that doesn't take into account wholesale figures or profits from international markets. And, despite separating from Kering, McCartney remains committed to publishing the annual EP&L report, or environmental profit and loss account, which tracks the impact of the business and supply chain on the environment. Most recently, the company reported a loss of about 8.1 million euros, with 62% of that loss a result of sourcing expensive raw materials. McCartney was the first luxury brand to do so.

"It was just a different view and approach; I came into the world with a very different interpretation of the 'rules,'” she notes. “For me, there weren’t any; I just thought the way people saw things was so conventional; that people had to eat the same food yet they weren’t aware of the damage or the cruelty. I thought, Wow, isn’t it crazy that this is how we’ve shaped ourselves as humans on this planet? I didn’t agree with that."

It’s no surprise that McCartney was made to question things. Though she may not have grown up with any strict dietary concerns, she's certainly making new ones for customers who are keen on shopping as consciously as they eat. "Why do we have to use all of those chemicals to treat leather? Why do we have to cut down all those rainforests to eat meat? We don’t actually have to, do we? We’re living in 2018 — surely the technology and compassion can work to our advantage. Because the end goal is to have more time on this planet, isn’t it?" She adds: "It fascinates me that everyone doesn’t look at the world in that way, that people are still ridiculing vegans and are so uncomfortable with people who look at things differently. For me, it’s the way the world should be."

Her fall 2018 collection last February saw McCartney at her best. Yet again, she disguised sustainability as practical and contemporary womens- and menswear. In terms of outward-facing trends, she culled more ideas from her repertoire — like sneakers paired with ankle-length dresses and relaxed, pinstripe suiting — and introduced fresh ones, too, like trompe l’oeil effects that clashed happily with lingerie-style cover-ups. Maybe some of the layering was a bit cumbersome, but it’s all part of the bigger picture: style doesn’t always have to be so serious, but fashion — especially how it’s made — should be.

McCartney’s empire sees sustainability built from the ground up. Today, the company boasts 51 stores, from L.A. to Tokyo. Last month, she opened her largest flagship store in London on Old Bond Street, replacing her Bruton Street location that opened in 2002. It’s an asylum of architecture and endless sustainability: handmade papier-mâché, recycled from the office’s paper waste, line the walls; most of the furniture is made of recycled materials, including reclaimed timber as sculptural plinths, foam, and vintage hand selected furniture; mannequins are made from a bioplastic material composed of 72% sugarcane derivative (which enables for significant reduction of Co2 emissions) — all this and more reflect the brand’s philosophy to reduce, reuse, and recycle. Even her bestselling bag, the Falabella, is still made from vegetarian leather and recycled plastic bottles.

"I had people who I actually employed who told me, 'I don’t think you’re gonna have an accessories business unless you use leather,' and things like that; questioning the ability to do something different in the industry,” she recalls. “It’s a fragile industry, so it’s not like I don’t have to work hard every single day to have a successful business, regardless of how I approach it. Both in design and everything — it’s a massive puzzle. Regardless of whether or not I have a sustainable house, that doesn’t mean I’m exempt from the problems every other fashion house has, too."

So, back to that idea of being self-made. It’s not for nothing that McCartney’s determination to expand and promote a sustainable brand in the face of skeptics and naysayers has gotten her so far. To thrive in an industry that doesn’t set anyone up for success, let alone supports the idea that fashion should be conscious, is as political as McCartney is going to get — and shouldn’t that count for something?

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BlacKKKlansman Doesn't Need Trump Jokes To Be A Disturbing Mirror Of His Presidency

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There are many overt references to Donald Trump in Blackkklansman, Spike Lee's film about two cops, one Black and one Jewish, infiltrating the Ku Klux Klan in early 1970s Colorado.

In one scene, protagonist Ron Stallworth (John David Washington, of House Denzel) debates the plausibility of a white supremacist ever winning higher office. "America would never elect someone like David Duke," he says. Fast-forward towards the end of the film, in which a group of Klan members, led by Duke (then the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, who would run a failed campaign for President in 1988, and served in the Louisiana State House of Representatives from 1989 to 1992 — played here by Topher Grace) chanting a mantra of "America First."

Those winky, foreshadowing moments have creeped into so many (too many!) movies and TV shows since the November 2016 election. But a movie that casts Harry Belafonte as the survivor of a lynching, shows a cross burning, and weaves in real footage of white supremacists parading through Charlottesville, Virginia, doesn't need cheap Trump callbacks to stand as a disturbing reflection of the times we live in. If anything, those soundbites are the weakest links in what is one of Lee's strongest and most entertaining films.

That this will be based on true events is clear from the beginning, when we're warned in bold letters that "dis joint is based on some fucked up, fo real shit." It's an apt description for the wild story of how Ron and his partner, lapsed Jew Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), managed to go undercover inside the local branch of the Ku Klux Klan in 1970.

As the first Black cop in Colorado Springs, Ron has seen his fair share of casual racism. Deemed the Jackie Robinson of the department by his boss, he'll keeps his head down and tries to be the best at his job. No one will do him any favors.

With that in mind, Ron creates his own dream undercover assignment by calling up ( BlacKKKlansman is one of several films by Black creators to play with "white voice" this year) the local Klan leaders and expressing interest in joining the organization. Enthused at the idea of a new recruit, they set a face-to-face meeting to deliver informational material. Knowing full well he cannot show up to a Klan rally, Ron enlists Flip to pose as him. Thus, the dual Ron Stallworth is born, one who talks like Ron and looks like Flip.

For this to work, the two have to learn from each other. Lee juxtaposes the Black and Jewish experience in a fascinating and revealing way. Both are hated by the Klan, but while Flip has had the luxury of avoiding grappling with his Jewish identity until his otherness was explicitly brought up (a Klansman insists he take a lie detector test to prove he's not Jewish), Ron has never been able to pass — until now. This explains why Ron can't quite understand how Flip can treat this as any other job. Isn't he Jewish himself? How can he listen to the offensive slurs and stereotypes and not take it personally?

Ultimately though, Driver gives one of the most introspective and intimate portrayals of what it means to be a Jewish and American, including the struggle to pledge allegiance to both of those identities simultaneously, an issue that's all the more timely given the recent resurgence of anti-Semitism in this country.

Ron's undercover work extends into his personal life, and his relationship with Colorado State Black Student Union president Patrice Dumas ( Laura Harrier), whom he meets while on assignment to monitor a rally where Black Panther leader Kwame Ture has come to speak. A Black Power activist, she'd be horrified to learn about his day job. In fact, on the night they meet, she and her group get pulled over by some of Ron's white colleagues, who sexually harass her and threaten violence, one of the film's many parallels to current tensions. Still, their relationship is a welcome relief from the troubling events unfolding around them. Lee balances out the constant stream of abuse spit out by the Klan with joyous scenes celebrating Black identity, like one in which Ron and Patrice share a dance in a bar after her difficult encounter with the police.

That duality between white supremacists and Black activists prevails throughout the film. Lee cuts between meetings of the two groups, highlighting the former's vile intolerance and the latter's words of empowerment and pride. The way each side treats the women in their midst is also at odds: Patrice is shown to be independent and intelligent, in full control of her actions and her beliefs. The racists, on the other hand, use white women as props: victims to be protected from the uncontrollable lusts of Black and Jewish men; breeding machines who can ensure the genetic future of the white race; but mostly, they pick up the beer cans, and carry out the group's dirty work.

Washington excels at playing the straight man on the verge of a nervous breakdown, toggling between simmering rage and hilarious incredulity during his many phone calls with Duke, who lists the many ways he can tell the difference between a white man and a Black man by the way they enunciate. There's no desire to humanise Klan-members here. With the exception of Grace as Duke (a role the former That 70s Show star takes on with glee — the Topher Gracessance is real), they are all shown to be bumbling idiots wielding dangerous rhetoric (and often weapons), and made all the more terrifying as a result. They are both the antagonists and the comic relief. Lee uses humour to diffuse deeply upsetting situations, a technique that also serves to hammer home the idea that sometimes the only thing protecting Flip and Ron from violent harm is a well-placed barb.

The end result is a film that deftly melds wit and social commentary, compounded by a horrifying end crescendo that's impossible to look away from, and stays with you long after you've left the theatre.

Blackklansman is released in UK cinemas on 24th August 2018

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This Viral Twitter Thread Sums Up The Horrific Reality Of The Mental Health Crisis

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It's no secret that the chronically underfunded NHS is in the midst of a mental health crisis, with demand far outstripping supply. Vulnerable people in need are facing waits of up to four months for talking therapies, being forced to travel long distances for treatment or even turned away altogether, because of a lack of funding.

Mental health services still aren't receiving the money they need, despite ministers promising 'parity of esteem' between mental and physical health five years ago. So it's no wonder that a Twitter thread exploring the true extent of the crisis is gaining traction online, with people sharing their tales of receiving insufficient support for their mental health issues.

It all started on Tuesday when journalist Emily Reynolds shared her experience of trying to get urgent help at A&E for her mental health. After a six-hour wait, she said she left with nothing more than a printout entitled "Are you feeling the strain?" to show for it.

The tweet, which has garnered almost 2,000 retweets and more than 11,500 likes at the time of writing, kickstarted a tsunami of people sharing their own stories of receiving inadequate mental health support.

Fellow journalist Hannah Jane Parkinson, who has written powerfully of her own experiences with mental health for the Guardian, said she was once effectively turned away from a GP practice despite being suicidal.

Novelist and musician Benjamin G. Wilson recalled his dissatisfaction at being offered "art therapy" at a time when he was having suicidal thoughts.

One young woman recalled seeking help for an eating disorder at A&E and being told to "join the gym", "think positively" and "try not to kill [herself]". Some said they were advised to get a pet to help them deal with their mental health issues; one woman recalled being told to get a goldfish after her second suicide attempt (because she was allergic to fur).

Others recalled being "prescribed" works of literature. One woman said she was recommended the Edward Albee play Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf'? while Reynolds herself revealed she was recommended Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl, which chronicles his experiences at Auschwitz during World War II.

Many people reported being told by professionals that they didn't "look like" they had mental health issues. One young woman said a psychiatrist told her she was "too pretty" to have depression and anxiety, and suggested she take some self-confidence books out of the library.

Tales of mental health professionals' unsympathetic and sometimes clueless responses also emerged. One woman who had lost four stone in a few months because she "hated [herself]" and had contemplated suicide multiple times was told, "Life’s how you view it, it’s like a glass half empty or a glass half full," and sent away.

Another woman was made to wait 24 hours after being admitted to A&E for a suicide attempt, only to be seen by a psychiatrist for 30 minutes and sent away with a list of telephone numbers to call in a mental health crisis and no referral to a psychiatric unit, despite her assurances that she was still at risk.

In response to Reynolds' original tweet, many people also criticised modern approaches to mental health issues for placing the onus on individual sufferers and failing to acknowledge the relationship between mental health and external pressures, like the housing crisis and the rising cost of living.

Read the thread in full for a deeper insight into the UK's mental health crisis.

If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health, please get help. Call Mind on 0300 123 3393 or text 86463.

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Here's Why Women Are Told They Spend Too Much Money

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My partner and I are first time homebuyers. Our new home is great but it needs some... curb appeal. Having never hired a contractor before, I scheduled four of them back-to-back to get estimates for a big project we had been saving for. As the first contractor finished up his notes in his truck and the second contractor pulled up, my neighbour came out of his house. "I don't mean to be noisy, but if you're getting estimates, you should have a guy around so they don't take advantage and charge you more. Do you have a brother or husband or father who could come by just for the day?" My partner is a woman and I'm an only child; my dad works, and probably wouldn't appreciate a mid-day call to be around so I'm not overcharged.

To his credit, our neighbour was trying to be supportive. But ever since then, I began to wonder: Why does a woman need a man, literally any man, around in order to avoid being taken advantage of when it comes to money?

It's partly tradition: Women have spent more time as dependents than they have as individuals. It wasn't until 1974 that our mom's could finally get a credit card or a loan alone (as in, without their dad or husband's signature). Back then, women literally needed men to validate us since we were seen as a liabilities, even when the money was our own. Women today are still inundated with messages that we’re bad with money, that we’re irresponsible and suckers who splurge. Why?

Data shows that spending problems affect men and women at about the same rate yet, we keep telling women they're bad with money. And when someone reiterates something over and over, you begin to believe it. It's a self fulfilling prophecy: A recent study found that telling women they're bad with money decreases our cognitive function. And the personal finance industry certainly isn't helping.

"Telling women they're bad with money is a great way to hide the obvious: Women earn less than men at all points during their career," said journalist Helaine Olen. Her book Pound Foolish changed how I think about the personal finance industry.

As Olen explains, "personal finance was sold to many people as a way around wealth inequality. A way to blame people. So it wasn’t that your salary was falling behind, it was that you weren’t saving enough to keep up.” Talking to Helaine made me realise that we are trying to solve for big, institutional problems with our very small, personal paycheques. With the blame for shrinking paycheques being put on us, we turn to personal finance for help.

Personal finance was sold to many people as a way around wealth inequality.

"Everybody gets bad personal finance advice, it is not just women. The difference is that women blame themselves for it. We live longer, we earn less, we have more responsibilities with that money, yet it is impossible — almost impossible — to save that money because you are starting with less. So instead of really addressing all of this it is easier to say 'Oh women! They just go shopping all the time!'"

That could explain why we have so much guilt and confusion around money. It’s not that women are incapable of making great financial choices, it’s that the disconnect that causes the kind of frustration that keep many women from engaging in their financial lives all together.

For most of history, women did not have control over their money. It's only within the last very decades that we've begun to take ownership of our paycheques and bank accounts. Now that we have that agency, we can start to rewrite the narrative. But where do we start?

Check out the video above for my full interview with Olen and my conversation with Refinery29's Money Diaries mastermind, Lindsey Stanberry. For more thought provoking conversations, subscribe to Strong Opinions Loosely Held.

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Revel In Teen Girlhood In This Exclusive Skate Kitchen Clip

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Aside from bananas, Crystal Moselle's skateboarding bildungsroman Skate Kitchen has a theme, and that theme is wild youth. The movie, which features a real life New York City skate crew, follows Camille (Rachelle Vinberg, who was recently profiled for The Cut) as she befriends a close-knit gang of girl skaters. In the clip below, the girls question Camille's "type" — in other words, her sexual preference.

"What's your type?" Janay (Dede Lovelace) asks Camille.

The conversation devolves into: what's your sexual preference. In the words of Kurt (Nina Moran): They're talking about "sexual" cuisine. These are the conversations that make up Moselle's loose, infectious film.

Moselle, the director of the 2015 Sundance hit The Wolfpack, made the movie after she encountered Vinberg and Moran on the G train in Brooklyn. At the time, Vindberg was the sole owner of the "skate kitchen" title, a joke on the idea that a woman belongs in the kitchen. Moselle initially featured the girl crew in a short film for Miu Miu entitled That One Day, a part of the brand's Women's Tales series. Shortly after, she began filming a scripted movie based on the lives of these skateboarders. Jaden Smith — yes, the same Jaden Smith you're thinking of — joined the film after reading the script.

Watch the full exclusive clip, below.

Skate Kitchen clip

Skate Kitchen is in UK cinemas from 28th September 2018

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Your Insults To Muslim Women Have Nothing To Do With Burqas, Do They Boris?

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Steve Bannon, former advisor to Donald Trump, may have left the White House back in August but he's trying hard to win back favour with the US president and he's making pals with UK politicians too. Once Trump's right-hand man, Bannon was a powerful force behind his election campaign. Now Bannon is using his considerable influence to push his 'Movement' and unite the parties of the far right in Europe in order to influence the next UK election. Bannon is the type of man who wants rallying fascists to wear the labels 'racist' and 'xenophobe' as a badge of honour. But what has this got to do with Boris Johnson's recent insults to Muslim women? Well, everything actually.

In July, Boris resigned as foreign secretary over Theresa May’s plans to extract the UK from the European Union. Once a liberal conservative, he was respected in his diplomatic role, hosting world leaders and going on state visits to represent us abroad. He’s now making a bid for the xenophobic vote, and believe me, because of his words, minorities will suffer.

News broke last week that Boris, together with like-minded Conservatives Michael Gove and Jacob Rees-Mogg, met up with Bannon to discuss, well we can't know for sure. After the meeting, Boris exhibited what he learned from his pals, by insulting and demeaning Muslim women who choose to wear the niqab.

The controversy began when Boris wrote a piece for The Daily Telegraph, published online on 5th August, in which he argued against following Denmark’s lead by banning the burqa, but went on to compare Muslim women who wear the head covering to "letter boxes" and "bank robbers". He also revealed he would "feel entitled" to ask a Muslim woman wearing a niqab to remove it if she came to his constituency office. He concluded by saying: "In Britain today, there is only a tiny tiny minority of women who wear these odd bits of headgear. One day, I am sure, they will go."

Boris Johnson loves a bit of discrimination, especially when it’s at the expense of women and minorities. He is a public figure with 446,000 Twitter followers; he knew exactly what he was writing when he chose to use this specific language. He knew the impact and the effect it would have. It's another example of post-Brexit Conservatives thinking and speaking like UKIP.

Photo: selimaksan/Getty Images

Prime Minister Theresa May said the remarks "clearly caused offence" and ordered him to say sorry but I think this needs more than an apology. What about a resignation instead? #BorisMustGo is already trending on Twitter.

Boris is clearly waiting to make a leadership bid and it looks like he will say and do whatever he must to get there. Many Muslims out there, myself included, sincerely hope he doesn’t continue to use us as a tool to garner attention and votes.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe he should have the freedom to speak about his concerns but when it’s blatantly a ploy to offend large groups of people in Britain, he needs to be more sensitive and the media should filter their writers and promote positive news rather than print throwaway comments like this, which sadly have become commonplace. Because let's be clear: this is Islamophobia and Boris knows it.

Just to repeat, to wear the burqa, the niqab or the hijab is a choice.

Far from making him look strong, Boris has proved how weak and desperate for publicity he is, and that, worryingly, he is taking cues from the Trump playbook. Let's show him that's not the way we want our politicians to act.

Natasha Syed is the co-founder of British Muslim Magazine.

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Confessions Of Hollywood's Most In-Demand Tattoo Artist

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Brian Woo, better known as Dr. Woo , is the go-to tattoo artist for celebrities like Drake, Miley Cyrus, and Zoë Kravitz. To celebrate his TV debut tonight on Viceland's Tattoo Age, he opened up to R29 about his relationships with his famous clients, the odd story behind his moniker, and why he doesn't believe his own hype. The following interview was told to Lexy Lebsack and edited for length and clarity.

An Offer He Couldn’t Refuse
"I grew up in L.A. and got my first tattoo when I was 14; it was a little dragon on my ankle, which is now on the side of my calf because I had a growth spurt. I got my start when I was offered an apprenticeship with Mark Mahoney, who had been tattooing me for eight years. I was a fan of getting tattoos, but I didn't think I could ever be a tattoo artist. I compare it to getting a scholarship to a great medical school — even if you weren't sure about being a doctor, you'd probably take it.

“Getting my start at [Shamrock Social Club] on the Sunset Strip, I've seen some crazy things — from huge fights breaking out in the middle of the street to celebrities coming in and out. One time, a girl passed out in the bathroom before her appointment; she must have taken something to calm her nerves, and I had to literally break down the door like a movie when you throw your shoulder into it.”

Dr. Woo is famous for his delicate line work.Photo: Courtesy of Viceland.

It's All In The Details
There's the old, traditional style of tattoos, which is bold and can be done in colour, but fine line started in the ‘50s in the Los Angeles prison system. They're thinner gauge needles and create a finer tattoo with more details. My style was influenced by L.A. and by Mark, who is one of the founders of the single needle tattoo style. I would describe my style as super delicate with a lot of small details in a smaller space. It's not too bold or invasive and it gives an option to people who don't want to be totally covered in tattoos; it's more of an accessory.

On Becoming The "Doctor"
“At Shamrock Social Club, it's kind of a rite of passage: Once you go from apprentice to tattoo artist, you have to get a nickname. Mine started when one guy said there was an old movie that had this evil villain called Dr. Woo, but the character ended up not even being named Woo!

“As a first generation American, my parents immigrated here [from Taiwan] so their kids could be lawyers or doctors, so that was also a running joke — finally my parents have a doctor in the family! When I first started, my parents weren't psyched about my career path, but now they're super proud, which is kind of cool.”

Dr. Woo giving a client a calf tattoo on tonight's episode of Tattoo Age.Photo: Courtesy of Viceland.

Draw The Line
“Celebrities go through life being hounded constantly, so I just treat them the same as everyone else. Being tattooed is such a personal thing between the artist and the client, and I take it very seriously and I’m very protective of all my clients. I don’t talk about the tattoos I do on celebrities, but if someone asked me about a random client’s tattoos, I wouldn't tell them about that either.

“A lot of other tattoo artists like to use the hype of the celebrity to promote themselves, but I just like to be about my work. I want people to look at a Dr. Woo tattoo and be like, ‘That's dope!’ I want them to like my work, not the fact that I gave a celebrity a small cross tattoo on their ankle. That doesn't really define me as an artist — if I tattooed a celebrity and they got a dot or some shit, ya know? That's just hype, and hype doesn't last forever."

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I'm Never Getting Married, Because Everyone In My Family Is Divorced

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As romantic teenagers, my friends and I used to lie in our beds at boarding school – very Malory Towers – talking solemnly about what life would look like by the time we were 30. We’d be married, we decided, with one to three children and a dog, living in a nice house. The fact that none of us had gone much further than snogging a boy, maybe the odd bit of fingering on a beach in Cornwall, didn’t dissuade us from this fantasy. That was the pattern of life. We knew it would happen.

I’m now 33 and not married. Fourteen-year-old me is horrified. I eat toast for dinner, I leave teabags in the sink, I never seem to have enough clean knickers (where do all the clean knickers go? Is it the same place as hair ties?). But my general slovenliness has nothing to do with it. I’m just not sure marriage is for me.

It was a topic that came up early in my relationship with my boyfriend. "I’m never getting married," he announced airily on date five or six. Men often do that towards the start of a relationship, I’ve noticed. It’s a little test – are you Glenn Close from Fatal Attraction or Julia Roberts from Runaway Bride?

"Me neither," I shot back.

He looked slightly surprised. "How come?"

"Everyone in my family’s divorced," I said, shrugging. "So I don’t want to do it."

My siblings and I have often debated whether having divorced parents makes you more or less likely to make a marriage succeed. On the one hand, you’ve felt divorce up close and may be doubly keen to avoid it. On the other, you realise that divorce isn’t necessarily the end of the world. Hideous, sure, but life goes on.

It has made me a cynic, though, and installed a fear of the impermanence of relationships. Falling in love and being in love is a wonderful, extraordinary, magical thing. But making it last? Hmmm. Trickier. And yet in our 20s this strange phenomenon starts happening – friends begin to rush up the aisle as if it’s Black Friday at Asda. They choose to commit to someone forever, which is incredibly optimistic given that many of us struggle to commit to a date for dinner in a few weeks’ time with our closest mates. Statistically, we know that around 40% of these marriages will end in divorce and yet there we stand, celebrating, dutifully clapping after the vows, dribbling espresso martinis over ourselves at the reception.

So, yeah, a cynic. Or maybe just a wimp? I’m in awe of my pals who choose to do it, but sitting in church as the organist ploughs through Pachelbel, there’s often a little voice in my head thinking 'Really? You guys sure? Are you definitely not just doing this because everyone else is?' The ultimate life goal for a huge number of people these days, considering it’s 2018 and we’re supposedly all so much more emotionally aware than previous generations, still seems to be getting engaged so you can Instagram a picture of your hand. And then throw a hen or stag party with its own hashtag so you get loads of likes. And then the wedding itself – even more likes! Brilliant!

Eeeeeech. It sounds bitter and churlish. It’s not meant to. It’s more that this assumption about marriage, this persistent obsession that marriage is the answer and you 'should have' done it by a certain age, feels ever so slightly unthinking. I love my boyfriend enormously and I can't imagine my life without him, but promise to stick together forever? I’d rather we take each day, each month, each year as it comes without that pressure.

Baroness Fiona Shackleton, top divorce lawyer, made headlines recently when she declared that marriage lessons should be taught in schools. They teach children about alcohol and drug abuse, sex and "goodness knows what else", Shackleton told Radio 4, but failed to talk about "the most important decision they make – which is, basically, who they breed with".

Well, it’s a fairly unromantic way to put it, Baroness, but I’m with you. Sort of. When I think back to the classroom, I remember teachers wanging on about photosynthesis and oxbow lakes but I don’t remember many truths about marriage. I’ve admired the lawyer ever since she appeared from court all those years ago with wet hair, slicked back like a Bond girl coming out of the sea. She was representing Paul McCartney in his divorce from Heather Mills and supposedly things had become so heated that Heather lobbed a jug of water over the Baroness in fury. Still, Shackleton stepped from the court beaming, which seemed a sensible way to carry on if you’ve just been assaulted with a surprise shower. And her suggestions about marriage lessons seem a sensible step in the right direction too, but can I make a suggestion? Could one of the lessons cover options for those who aren’t sure about marriage at all? For those who want to be single, or just cohabit with someone, or live in a commune with 47 other people having orgies every night, frankly. In pluralist times where difference is championed, why should marriage still be the prescription for so many?

The Plus One by Sophia Money-Coutts is published on 9th August (HQ, £12.99)

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Jeff Goldblum Is My Summer Style Icon

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If you're anything like us, the image of Jeff Goldblum as a sweaty, shirtless Dr Ian Malcom in 1993's Jurassic Park will be etched on your subconscious, a sexy relic of the '90s, which has been doing the rounds this year, thanks to the film's 25th anniversary.

We didn't think Goldblum could get any better but time has been oh so kind to the actor and musician, who has aged like an extremely fine wine. Now a silver fox – and a bonafide thirst trap – lately we've been blessed with his presence once again as he promotes his burgeoning music career (suddenly we love jazz piano?) and before that, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom.

Photo by Randy Holmes/ABC via Getty Images

Among the viral videos of Goldblum reading out tweets from stans, and photos of him tinkling the ivories, the highlight so far has been a recent TV appearance for which he donned Prada's contrast print shirt with his signature eccentricity and nonchalance. The piece, featuring multicoloured stripes, a graphic '90s print and flames, has garnered street style kudos from the likes of Pusha T and is the perfect amalgamation of our dads' holiday shirts and those our brothers wore to school discos. In theory, it's so, so wrong. On Jeff Goldblum? It's so damn right.

While men's printed shirts are nothing new, sartorially speaking – Ace Ventura -style Hawaiian shirts recently made a triumphant comeback after years in the wilderness, and Saint Laurent's SS16 Surf Sound collection celebrated the loud dad shirt – the printed shirt of seasons past was arguably only for the brave. 2018, however, has seen men embracing print like never before: just look at Ian Wright's fabulous florals, seen throughout his World Cup coverage, longtime maximalist Harry Styles' Gucci-laden tour wardrobe, and Timothée Chalamet's dreamy GQ shoot.

Richard Jones, menswear buying manager at Selfridges, explains why the piece has become so popular this summer. "The relaxed aesthetic makes it an easy piece to wear with sneakers, and is a great option for the heatwave. With a boxy silhouette, it’s universally flattering and works as a statement piece that you can have fun with." Richard's go-to brands include Gucci, Burberry and Prada, which all offer "Hawaiian, camp-collar and bowling-style" shirts. "They're bold in nature without being difficult to style – they effortlessly pair with a white tee – making it a summer staple."

Prada
Gucci

Now, though, rather than leaving our paramours to enjoy the trend, we're eyeing it up for ourselves. Prada does a similarly clashing print shirt for women that combines red, black and white florals and a racing track-inspired brand logo, while Gucci's hyper real tropical silk number depicts a postcard scene on acid. Loewe has a cheery banana-hued linen shirt and Double Rainbouu's monochrome piece is ideal for those wanting to avoid too much colour.

The high street has plenty to choose from this summer, too, with Mango's offering particularly high on our wish list. We're layering this electric blue shirt over slinky silk dresses, and wearing this pastel flamingo one with washed denim and cowboy boots.

For styling tricks, we're turning to Pernille Teisbaek, who paired her printed Prada shirt with track shorts at Paris Couture in July. To counterbalance the oversized fit of her get-up, she piled on delicate gold jewellery, carried a miniature Hermès box bag, and wore cat-eye sunnies and barely-there heels by Céline. Editor of Elle Men China, Yoyo Lu, also wore the brand's boxy printed shirt at Men's Fashion Week in Milan in June. Complementing the femininity of the tropical florals with a pink lace midi skirt, she carried a clutch and topped off the mix-n-match look with fresh trainers.

Photo by Melodie Jeng/Getty Images
Photo by Christian Vierig/Getty Images

Whether you're wearing it over a classic white T-shirt with track pants and slides at the weekend, or over a simple midi dress with Birkenstocks on holiday, an outrageous printed shirt should be your go-to this summer – the bolder, the better.

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What Happened When Two R29 Staffers Swapped Beauty Looks

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According to Mintel, as many as 83% of women in the UK wear makeup. Sixty-four percent of those who do say it makes them feel confident, 43% say it makes them feel attractive, 16% feel more professional and 15% feel empowered. It's no wonder, then, that for some women, leaving the house without makeup can be a daunting experience.

On the other hand, the 'no-makeup makeup' look has evolved and women all over the globe, including influencers and celebrities, are ditching the tens of products needed to create it for, well, nothing at all. A quick whip round the R29 office cites a lack of time, a desire to embrace natural freckles and a fear of clogged pores (note – pick non-comedogenic makeup and this is much less likely to happen) as reasons for deciding not to wear makeup.

Of course, in 2018, wearing or not wearing makeup should be a woman's prerogative, whether you strobe, contour and bake every morning or opt for a little SPF moisturiser and nothing else. But in the name of beauty, we decided to conduct a little experiment...

Here's what happened when R29's makeup-dependent beauty editor, Jacqueline, swapped looks with R29's PR director (and total makeup phobe), Nina, for four days straight.

Nina Joyce, PR Director Europe

I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment I stopped wearing makeup, but slowly my morning routine has dwindled to moisturiser, SPF, a smidge of concealer under the eyes and some lip balm. If that sounds smugly minimal and Goop-y, it’s really not in practice. I know I objectively look better with makeup. C’mon, I have eyes. Sometimes I look needlessly a bit rough and 10 minutes in front of the mirror could take me from looking like Garth from Wayne’s World on a hangover to...well...a prettier version of Garth from Wayne’s World. We all have our crosses to bear.

But when this challenge arose, I bashed everyone else out of the way with a mermaid tail highlighter brush to do the swap. You know why? Because it is my dream to have my own lucrative beauty career where I live off the sales of merchandise featuring my face on Wayne’s World makeup. Joking! I am a curious and vain human who wants to see if the alternative universe where I am better looking is worth dipping a toe into more often. Effectively I imagine it’ll be like having an Instagram filter on my face all day and oh boy, does that sound good.

Day One

I wake up bright and early on the first day of this challenge, bringing the same positive mental attitude that a labradoodle might on the first day of puppy school or wherever it is they get their qualifications from. Obviously I immediately fuck up putting concealer on my face, drying out my spots to such a degree that it looks like someone has sprinkled fish flakes all over me. Oh did I not mention I have adult acne? Cool, right? After slathering moisturiser all over and starting again, I finally get it right. Sort of. The problem is that I’m unsure when to stop applying foundation (I'm using Huda Beauty's Faux Filter, which is really full coverage) and as a rather pale woman, I’m beginning to look ever so slightly...Elizabethan. Which is great and fun if lead poisoning and executing cousins is your bag, but I have a working day ahead of me which doesn’t involve ruling a Tudor court.

After 50 minutes (YES, 50, YOU READ THAT RIGHT. AS IN ALMOST ONE HOUR OF MY TIME), I am done. I feel...not great. I don’t recognise the person looking back at me. I’m scared to touch my face. I’m pretty sure people are staring at me on the Tube. My colleagues are very supportive and tell me how lovely I look, but I suspect they’re fantastic liars. By the end of the day I’m itching to take it all off and I collapse into bed worrying about having to spend the coming days explaining what the hell I have done to myself. Bleurgh, I thought makeup was fun?

Day Two

I wake up with a sense of dread at putting all that on again. The previously bouncy puppy is no longer loving pup school. It’s now upset and embarrassed, like it’s been caught pissing in its owner’s hydrangeas while wearing 14 metric tonnes of foundation. I’ve also realised that all my knowledge of makeup in recent years derives almost exclusively from Drag Race and avant-garde YouTubers, so I decide I need to concentrate less on baking my face and more on making it look normal. I carefully dab at myself with a Beauty Blender (shoutout Jacqueline telling me this should be damp first, it was a game-changer) until I’m satisfied with the results.

I cast my mind back to GCSE art and add some depth and shading to my eyelids. To my surprise, when I’m taking the pictures to document this, I notice that quite frankly, I am deeply feeling myself. Done properly, this makeup has turned me into a master poser, giver of pout and provider of as much sauce as a white middle-class woman in Birkenstocks can expect to achieve without making everyone’s skin fall off in embarrassment, i.e. less than a thimbleful. But that’s enough for me! I’m still sort of dying when I have to look people in the eye, but this is progress.

Day Three

By this point I have refined my routine to a slick 30 mins of concealer, foundation, Benefit eyebrow pencil, three Urban Decay eyeshadows, liquid eyeliner, mascara, contour bronzer, blusher, highlighter and my old faithful lip balm. I abandoned lipstick after day one because my mouth kept getting crusty. I have endless respect for people who have the tenacity to reapply lipstick through the day. You are heroes and the responsibility to solve global warming is, I’m afraid, falling to you as the most reliable.

So far, feedback from friends has been split entirely by sex: women tell me I look amazing and want a makeover, while men stifle a laugh. Unless you’ve got a lifetime to spare, I won’t get into the social and cultural reasons why there might be this kind of gender disparity, but the general takeaway is the ever reliable adage "Screw Anyone Who Doesn’t Have Nice Stuff To Say".

By the end of the day, I begin to forget I’m even wearing the makeup, despite the #BritishHeatwave presenting the very real prospect of it all sliding down my face like expensive custard. I’ve realised that some of the reasons I’ve stopped wearing foundation ("It’ll look too obvious...my skin will get much worse...it’s too much hassle") are all a slightly strange self-flagellation because there’s a world of non-comedogenic products out there that work wonders when applied properly. Yes, I have learned what non-comedogenic means. Hear me roar.

Day Four

Saturdays would normally be a totally makeup-free day for me, but rules state I must test out my full face at the brunch place near my house I go to every week. And yes, weekly brunch, I know, I am a gross avocado-gurgling millennial who will never own property, let me live. I wonder if they’ll notice the change in my appearance? Wearing the entire arsenal of products, I step over the threshold, expecting confusion – maybe even judgement? But of course they could not literally give two shits what I look like as long as I keep giving them that sweet £7 for scrambled tofu (I. SAID. LET. ME. LIVE). I realise for the 148th time this week that my self-consciousness is wholly and squarely down to me and I need to quite frankly get over myself.

As a swansong to my week of makeup, my Love Island WhatsApp group (don’t pretend you don’t have one) decide we’ll get together and employ what I have learned before a night on the tiles. I do everyone’s makeup; I’m like the Bill Gates of cosmetics, I’m giving so much back to the community, although it’s concealer not condoms I deal in. A few days ago I might’ve dismissed this as a waste of time, but I have a new appreciation for the transformative power of makeup on a micro, personal level.

Sure, we might all look like Full On Monets but we’re having so much fun doing it, what’s the harm?

Jacqueline Kilikita, Beauty Editor

I was 11 when I had my first acne breakout, so taking pity on me, my mum gave me permission to raid her makeup bag for concealer. Her collection boasted all the high street icons – Maybelline's Great Lash mascara, Rimmel foundation, kohl eyeliner, Bourjois blush. Every day I'd raid her stash and apply one extra product until rocking a full face became the norm.

Today, my obsession with makeup knows no bounds. My acne has eased off a little, but I wake up at 6am every morning to make sure I have an hour and a half to fashion a cat eye sharp enough to cut my enemies and to sculpt my cheekbones better than all of Kim Kardashian-West's makeup artists combined. Foundation, bronzer, blusher, lashes: the lot. I virtually transform into a different person, looks and personality-wise.

Confession: If I ever stay round a guy's house, I'll reapply my makeup before bed and make sure I wake up before he does to reapply in the morning. And not long ago, I went to a masterclass with a celebrity makeup artist who made me remove every single stitch of what I'd painstakingly applied that day so she could show off her new products in front of around 30 beauty editors and influencers. Long story short, I had to stop myself from bursting into tears. Makeup is my comfort blanket, so the thought of going without for four days straight? In public? At work, on the Tube, on dates? Mission impossible. But in the name of this piece, I agreed.

Disclaimer: I had a lash lift a month ago, so my lashes look a little more curved than usual. I also have really dark, thick and just overall strong brows and give them a brush every morning – there's zero product in them, promise!

Day One

God I look like my brother. It feels so good not to set my alarm for stupid o'clock so I lounge around in my pyjamas all morning and just brush my hair, take my time on my skin (my La Roche-Posay Effaclar Duo SPF30 is giving me a good glow because I can't bathe myself in highlighter) and give my brows a bit of a brush. Although my dad asks if I'm alright because I look a "little pasty" and when I send my mum a picture of myself she just replies, "OH!" Thanks guys.

I'm supposed to be going on a last-minute date tonight but the thought of facing (ahem) that without even a little bit of makeup on really makes me panic – I feel incredibly insecure without it. So I lie and say that I'm not feeling very well and reschedule for next week. If you're reading this, I'm sorry. Instead, I book a mani-pedi – foot massage, hand treatments, the works – at fancy af new salon, Townhouse, just to make myself feel a little more human.

Confession number two: I also spend the day in glasses, partly because I can't see without them and partly because they hide half of my face. I keep my head down at work, so not very many people in the office actually notice I'm not wearing any makeup. I've got away with it!

Day Two

I meet a new PR for breakfast this morning and apologise for my bare face before I even introduce myself properly, which, come to think of it, is so stupidly insecure – note to self, don't apologise for your appearance ever again. But she says she wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't said anything. Even though we work in the beauty industry, we get talking about how hardly anyone wears a full face of makeup anymore. Instead, the focus is on great skin. I don't tell her I'm acne-prone and that today is just a good skin day. In the bathroom mirror, I pop a spot (gross, I know, but it's not hiding under 10 layers of concealer, so it's getting obliterated) and realise I have to go back into the restaurant with a half-swollen chin. Cool.

On my way back in, the same guy I walk past most mornings gives me a nod, which makes me realise I can't look that different without a full face. When I get back to the office, Nina comes over to show everyone her immaculate makeup, so I take off my glasses and that's when everyone realises I've gone barefaced. Cue a congregation around my desk. Our content director Gillian says I look pretty much the same, so I run with it. Anyway, it's hellishly hot outside and I'm thankful my foundation isn't dripping down my neck. Also, the sun has given me a bit of colour so I'm kinda feeling myself by the evening, hence the slight smile in this picture.

Day Three

I've really broken out along my cheeks, chin and forehead and I'm convinced it's because I keep touching my face with grubby keyboard fingers. When I've got makeup on, I won't go near it out of fear of messing it up, but now I'm picking and prodding all over the place, especially my cheeks. It's also 36 degrees today and my face feels really oily and dirty. I'm so much more aware of bacteria and pollution because in my mind, my makeup is almost shielding my skin from all the crap flying around in the environment. The only good thing is that I can reapply SPF, and I need all the protection I can get in this weather.

In the evening, I have dinner with a beauty brand and there are lots of beauty influencers, all wearing the most beautiful, Instagram-worthy makeup and I feel gross, so I wolf my meal down, sink a couple of glasses of wine and leave promptly. I don't feel like myself at all and try not to look anyone in the eye or make conversation. Thinking about it on the Central Line home, I'm being a bit overdramatic, so I give the cute guy in a suit opposite me a smile and he flashes one back. We get off at the same stop and he tells me I have nice eyes but because I'm a bumbling idiot I say something about not even having any mascara on today, which he doesn't understand because why would he even CARE. Cringe. I decide I'm just going to own this no-makeup thing from now on.

Day Four

I'm still quite spotty, but I've been blasting my face with a new, inexpensive retinol (it's really bloody good and all will be revealed soon) and swapped out my gentle foaming cleanser for Goldfaden MD's Detox Clarifying Wash, £32, which eradicates all the oil, bacteria and dead skin. Hang on. My obsession with makeup has just been replaced with skincare because my face is a little more on show. What can I say? I'm a beauty editor, after all.

It's the weekend and I'm meeting my best friend and her boyfriend for lunch (professional third wheel available for hire) but because they know me well, I don't feel that embarrassed around them. My friend notices I've gone barefaced (and says I look exactly the same) but her boyfriend doesn't. They suggest going out for drinks that evening but the thought of meeting new people without wearing even so much as a slick of mascara makes me a bit anxious, so I lie (again – I think I have a problem now) and say I have a few errands to run and head home instead. When I'm sitting on the sofa watching Blind Date on my tod, I get a wave of FOMO and feel stupid for declining. I vow to go out next time...

What I've learned is that my insecurity is just that – mine. Hardly anyone really cares or notices whether I wear makeup or not. This is absolutely huge for me. I've decided that Mondays are going to be my no-makeup days, so that I get a lie-in and because I've realised the world won't end if I don't wear foundation.

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Ray BLK's Devastating New Video Tackles London's Gun & Knife Crime

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Singer-songwriter Ray BLK first saw a gun when she was 15-years-old. She was at a party, there was a bit of a dispute over the music and a guy pulled out a weapon.

Unsurprisingly, it’s an incident that resonated and later became one of the prompts in Ray’s latest single, "Run Run" a song with upsettingly real references to the gun violence and knife crime situation in the UK right now. The first verse tells a story not far from her own; about a teenage boy at a house party where things turn bad, fast. The second part of the song draws from a time she was burgled while her own mum was still in the house.

"Those two incidents stuck with me, and those are quite common instances that happen where I’m from", she told Radio 1’s Annie Mac when the song dropped on Wednesday. "I wanted to reach out to people who maybe feel like the issue doesn’t concern them. A lot of the time you see it on the TV, on the news, and it feels so detached from you that you can’t really empathise."

The music video is as striking as it is heartbreaking. Directed by Tom Green (who also worked on E4's Misfits), it follows a teenage boy running from the persistent threats of death and violence that surround him. He symbolically climbs a concrete staircase, stepping over pools of blood and bodies of young men before ultimately being struck down by a police officer, marked with a number on his chest and taken away in a van full of young men. It's a sharp reflection of a reality that is too often brushed over and we say, it's definitely worth a watch.

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The Doctor Knows You're Lying About How Much Alcohol You Drink A Week

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"And how many units of alcohol do you drink a week?"

"Um..." a pause. "Not much, maybe like, three glasses of wine a week? Small ones. Sometimes even less than that. Except, you know, if there's a birthday. Or a Tuesday - ha, amiright Doc? No, OK, not funny. I'd say like three glasses, maybe four. Absolute max."

The doctor stares at you for what seems like hours over the rims of her glasses, one eyebrow raised in a spectacularly unimpressed manner.

"Fine", she says eventually, turning back to her ancient computer and typing something into your medical chart on her clickety clackety keyboard.

"Phew," you think, "nailed it."

Telling mistruths to the doctor about how many units of alcohol we drink a week is an age-old tradition amongst Brits. Our parents did it, we do it, our kids may do it (although if recent stats about how little younger generations are drinking are anything to go by then they may have nothing to lie about at all), and it's because we feel guilty. Here is a doctor; a person whose job it is to make us well, and we appear determined to undo all of their good work via the medium of Aperol Spritzes.

Even more ridiculous is that we manage to convince ourselves that the doctors believe our lies. We believe that doctors, super smart people who've been through years of extensive training and who, last time we checked, were also human beings, are stupid enough to believe our awkward mutterings about how you intended not to drink last week but then you forgot about a hen do and Prosecco made the planned life-drawing class slightly more appealing.

Now though, a study has proved what really, deep down, we knew all along; THEY KNOW.

The 200 doctors polled for the Direct Line Life Insurance study reckon that just 40% of us are telling the truth about our alcohol intake and in fact, many of them apply an "alcohol multiplier" to our answers which sees some of them double the number of units patients give them.

The reasons they do this are varied. The alcohol multiplier comes into play not solely because they think we're lying, but because 20% of Brits admit to not keeping track of how much they drink and 30% of us have no idea what the actual recommended amount of units per week really is. As a result, many (especially women under 30) are underestimating how much it is they consume.

Whilst lying to the doctor may seem like no big deal, joking aside, drinking above the recommended number of units (FYI it's 14, which equates to a single measure of whisky, a third of a pint of beer, or half a standard glass of red wine) every week isn't a good idea. It's been linked to cancer, poor mental health, liver disease, and, more recently dementia. Lying to your doctor your alcohol consumption is a worse idea - because without the correct information, they're not going to be able to give you the best treatment possible.

If you aren't telling the truth about how much alcohol you drink because it is over the recommended amount and you're worried you can't or won't cut down, then your doctor is exactly the person you should tell, because they can recommend something to help you out.

Also, remember this: doctors have been around the block. They see everyone; from the 99 year old who's never had a drink in their life to the 16-year-old binge drinker. It takes a lot for them to be shocked and they know we're not perfect - because, surprise, they're people too.

If you are worried about your drinking and you want to do something now, visit DrinkAware to find a list of options about who to contact.

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This Is How Much Your Rent Will Go Up In The Next Five Years

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Rents in the UK are set to rise by 15% in the next five years, the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors (RICS) has predicted today.

Rents will rise by 2% this year, the RICS estimates, then climb more steeply "over the medium term" because of a shortfall in available rental properties.

The RICS attributes this shortfall to the government's decision to reduce tax relief on buy-to-let properties, making them less appealing to investors.

This policy is supposed to make properties more affordable for first-time buyers by reducing the number of second home buyers flooding the housing market. However, the RICS warned today that it could end up creating extra expense for long-term renters, including millennials saving to get on the property ladder.

"The impact of recent and ongoing tax changes is clearly having a material impact on the buy-to-let sector as intended," said RICS chief economist Simon Rubinsohn. "The risk, as we have highlighted previously, is that a reduced pipeline of supply will gradually feed through into higher rents in the absence of either a significant uplift in the build to rent programme or government funded social housing."

In short: the government needs to ensure more properties are being built to make up the shortfall, or we'll all end up paying more rent in the longer-term contracts the government wants to encourage.

The RICS said today that rent increases are "evident in virtually all parts of the country", so Refinery29 UK asked ten women from across the country to tell us their current rent per calendar month, and how much they could be paying by 2023.

Jess, 30, south-east London.
2018 £540
2023 £620

Amy, 34, Birmingham.
2018 £475
2023 £545

Clara, 28, Margate.
2018 £395
2023 £455

Jazmin, 25, south London.
2018 £780
2023 £900

Olivia, 33, Cardiff.
2018 £445
2023 £510

Anna, 31, Bristol.
2018 £485
2023 £560

Tab, 33, Manchester.
2018 £500
2023 £575

Katy, 37, east London.
2018 £750
2023 £860

Sam, 26, Cambridge.
2018 £635
2023 £730

Clare, 35, Essex.
2018 £760
2023 £875

If average pay in the UK continues to rise at the current rate of 2.6% year-on-year – a big if, admittedly, especially given the potential impact of Brexit – the average person will be earning around 10% more in 2023 than they are now. Still overall, rents are going up faster than our earnings, which means we'll continue to feel the pinch.

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Ivanka Trump's Longtime Makeup Artist Is A Mexican Immigrant — But Says "Nothing's Changed"

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In 2005, when Alexa Rodulfo was still in her 20s, she moved to the United States to make her dreams come true. She had grown up in Juárez, Mexico, opened a successful salon in her hometown (which she still owns), but had a longtime goal of working with the biggest magazines, photographers, and brands in New York City.

Within just four years of moving here, Rodulfo made those dreams come true, earning Vogue profiles that deemed her the "beloved hair and makeup artist to all the girls," with a high-powered list of clients including Margherita Missoni, Carolina Herrera, Wendi Murdoch, and yes, Ivanka Trump.

Rodulfo tells Refinery29 that she started doing Trump's hair and makeup in late 2005 after being introduced through a friend. "Ivanka and her friends were hosting the New York Botanical Garden gala that year and one of her friends was already a client of mine," Rodulfo says. "She booked me to do the hair and the makeup for them, and that’s how we met. Since then, we have been working together."

Normally, of course, working with a makeup artist who immigrated from Mexico wouldn't be that significant. But Trump is the daughter of and adviser to a president who has definite feelings about Rodulfo's country and its people; he has spread lies about Mexican immigrants, supported the policy to forcibly separate migrant families at the U.S.-Mexico border, and is still hellbent on building a literal wall to keep Mexicans out of America. Though Ivanka has personally come out against separating those migrant families just recently, it still makes her beauty connection to Mexico... interesting.

On Rodulfo's Instagram, you can see that people think it's also interesting that she, a Mexican immigrant, is the one who's routinely doing Trump's hair and makeup, including on her 2009 wedding day to Jared Kushner and for the Inauguration. Find the rare picture of Trump on Rodulfo's account and you'll see that while there are many comments supporting her, there are also comments like, "How do you stand next to this woman who has defended her father?"

In March 2017, when Rodulfo posted a blurry picture of Ivanka with the caption, "Work with people that inspire you," one commenter fired back: "She inspires you? To what? To leave the States? To build a wall between you and your country?" Trump has yet to comment on her father's plans for the border wall, which follows her typical pattern of staying silent about issues linked to her father, including the family separation crisis and his sexual misconduct accusations, until it's politically beneficial (or neutral) for her to speak out.

But Rodulfo is adamant that she's never had any negative interaction with Trump or her family because of her heritage. "Ivanka and Jared both love Mexico and have deep respect for my heritage," Rodulfo says. "I have never felt anything from her or her family besides warmth and respect. Not only with Ivanka but also with my other clients, they are very proud of where I come from and what I have accomplished. Everyone knows Ivanka is not only my client, but she has been a wonderful and supportive friend."

She insists that Trump going from red carpet socialite to fashion designer to policy lobbying first daughter hasn't changed how the two operate on a day-to-day basis either, other than the fact that she now has to commute to Washington, D.C. from her home in New York City to see her. Rodulfo hasn't altered her technique or the products she uses on her, including a particular $6 mascara that she routinely picks up from a "naturista" or natural store in her hometown of Juárez. It's not brand name, and is made with avocado seed oil to encourage lash growth. Rodulfo uses it on every client, all of whom love it. She buys it for around 100 pesos.

"Nothing has changed," Rodulfo says of her past year and a half. "While I set up [in her home], she is waking up her kids and spending time with them. Then they all come to the kitchen table where I’m ready for her. It’s really nice to spend family time with them. She plays with her children and they play with my makeup while I work. Then when Ivanka leaves, I stay with [Trump's daughter] Arabella. She loves when I put lipgloss on her or do braids." Rodulfo could not disclose how much she is paid for her services.

"If there is a message to her makeup, it is one of warmth and confidence."

Even if Rodulfo hasn't felt a difference, there is absolutely a heightened level of scrutiny on the appearance of a female political figure, versus a female celebrity. The way they style their hair or wear their makeup can impact how people perceive them. As Melania Trump's hairstylist Mordechai Alvow told Women's Wear Daily back in 2016, he stuck to a signature look to build trust after the election. "We didn’t want to be changing things up," he said. "It was very important psychologically to let people know who she is and show some stability with the look."

Like Melania, Ivanka Trump does have a consistent hair and makeup look — smooth buttery blonde hair, smoky eyes, pink lips — but Rodulfo herself hasn't been privy to any sort of hidden message. "I don’t think she is sending any message with her makeup," Rodulfo says. "She prefers natural, warm, clean makeup. If there is a message to her makeup, it is one of warmth and confidence. She does not use her makeup as a mask to hide from the world or help her assume a character."

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Black Lives Matter Got Remixed On The Big Screen In 2018

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This time last year, Detroit had only been out for a couple of weeks, but I was already traumatised by it. The Kathryn Bigelow-directed film is a fictional account of the incidents leading up to, and following, a real-life violent altercation between police and civilians at the Algiers Motel in 1967 — three black men were horrifically killed and several others were beaten, tortured, and intimidated alongside two white women as the police followed a cold lead on the source of audible gunfire.

Detroit was timely, given that — thanks to the movement for black lives 50 years after the Algiers Motel incident — America was finally being forced to confront the terror that militarised police inflict on black communities. But that didn’t make it easier to watch. In fact, Detroit was unbearably incensing and disheartening precisely because of its relevance. As one of the only black viewers in the small cinema, I left feeling uneasy, unsafe, and wary of faces that didn’t look like mine. So much so that I took a personal day off work following the screening. As some would say, I had to “call in black.”

History is important, but Detroit wasn’t educational or instructive. It felt like trauma-porn and I’d had enough of it. From the news to my social media feeds, black pain was embedded into so much of the media I consumed. I had seen enough viral videos of police shootings to fuel my nightmares for the rest of my life. Shows were capitalising off of this sensationalism by constantly engaging shooting-turns-to-protest storylines. I dreamt of a break from it all. A year later, I’m finally feeling like filmmakers heard me.

What’s changed? A sudden emergence of movies, helmed by black folks, that have all allowed me to go through a range of emotions other than trauma when relating to black people on screen. We got a preview of this shift with Jordan Peele’s 2017 directorial debut, Get Out, where he combined the conventions of both horror and comedy to nail down the unique trappings of liberal racism, while highlighting the subtle dangers of cultural appropriation. This summer alone has seen several big films that take creative deep dives into the intersection of institutional racism and black life. Sorry to Bother You, Blindspotting, and BlacKkKlansman are all different from Detroit because they were actually enjoyable, but no less weighty. They all had a liveliness that made me feel good about my decision to see all of them, and perhaps most importantly, I didn’t need to take a day to mentally recharge.

Contrast this with how the news heavily pushed a barrage of stories about innocent black people being killed by police officers and vigilantes; and later transitioned to coverage of the resurgence of white nationalism in the months since Trump was elected. Then, scripted television also capitalised off of the fervour in America’s racial tension and its deadly effects by producing impulsive shows like FOX’s Shots Fired and Netflix’s Seven Seconds. Recurring shows like Star and Empire on FOX incorporated Black Lives Matter as plot points. Just this season, Orange is the New Black has framed Taystee’s (Danielle Brooks) trial in the context of BLM-inspired protests. What all of these television portrayals did was delimit blackness to homogenous grief and tragedy.

In 2018, that seemed to change. Black Lives Matter oozed onto the big screen and got a much needed remix. This summer alone has seen several big films that take creative deep dives into the intersection of institutional racism and black life.

Boots Riley — the rapping frontman for musical groups The Coup and Street Sweeper Social Club — made his feature film directorial debut this year with the experimental Sorry to Bother You. This mindfuck of a film (seriously, there is no other way to describe it) questioned how black people are pushed to participate in capitalism to escape poverty. Its protagonist Cash (LaKeith Stanfield) works for a call centre that sells modern slave labor to big corporations, and becomes an unexpected star employee thanks to his deployment of a hilariously deceptive “white voice.” Murder at the hands of police or extreme vigilante isn’t at the centre of Sorry to Bother You, but the disregard of black bodies and the stereotypes that have been used to validate our mistreatment converge when the ruthless CEO of the corporation that produces slave labor (Armie Hammer) begins to turn human beings into half-horse creatures.

Just a week after Sorry to Bother You, Blindspotting hit cinemas across the country. With only a few days left of his post-prison, year-long probation, Collin ( Hamilton ’s Daveed Diggs, who also co-wrote and co-produced the movie along with his costar, Rafael Casal) witnesses the police shooting of an unarmed black man. In the immediate aftermath, Collin must contend with his own post-traumatic anxiety while navigating the trouble caused by his best friend — a slick-talking, hot-headed white boy named Miles (Casal) whose skin privilege has helped him evade the same legal troubles that Collin has faced. Blindspotting is edge-of-your-seat intense at times, especially when the presence of police intervention looms almost constantly as a threat to Collin’s fresh freedom. However, Diggs’ use of comedy and rap — the technique that made Hamilton so special— makes the viewing experience less fraught. Musical breaks gave state-sanctioned violence a magical realism feel, and somehow it worked.

Tomorrow, Spike Lee’s latest film, BlacKkKlansman, will do the same. The biographical film recounts the experiences of Ron Stallworth (played by John David Washington), the first black officer in the Colorado Springs Police Department, as he successfully infiltrated a local branch of the Ku Klux Klan by disguising his voice over the phone. Despite Lee’s annoying habit of beating viewers over the head with social messages, he managed to inject BlacKkKlansman with an effective mix of beauty, pain, humour, and realness, mimicking the reality of what it means to be black in America, even with the effects of racism shaping our existence.

What these films do is acknowledge that black death and struggle is a heartbreaking matter, but that confronting it doesn’t have to mean requiring black people to break their hearts over and over again. Combining playful elements of comedy and surrealism into portrayals of this truth does not negate it. Blackness is not tied exclusively to angst. We relish in joy, happiness, and laughter not in spite of our circumstances, but oftentimes as a form of resistance against them. Blackness is rich and plentiful, which means that our lives matter even when we aren’t clapping back at white supremacy and anti-Blackness.

The truth is that being black is hard. Having that anguish acknowledged and reflected in the media we consume is important. But it is also important that black people are not asked to constantly watch sensationalised versions of their own trauma over and over again. black stories told for entertainment should be told from 360-degree angles, capturing our ups and our downs, and to soothe our pains us as much as it should remind us of our realities. I want more shows and films that remind me to laugh, as if I could ever forget that there are so many more reasons to cry.

And most importantly, don’t give me another damn movie that makes me feel like I have to call in black.

R29 Unbothered presents Trap Glazed, a bi-weekly column where Senior Entertainment Writer Sesali Bowen looks deeper at what’s happening in black pop culture.

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