Cover Letter I had No Guts To Send

Dear digital team at an over priced, overrated fashion brand,

I am writing to you in regards of the writer-related job listing that I have found in my fat, one thousand three hundred and two letter inbox. The truth to be told, I am writing this desperate cover letter in the comfort of my own couch. You might think this is because :

a. I am a freelancer

b. I am pretending to be a freelancer as I am jobless.

I am concurrently eating a chicken burrito, with an extra guacamole, ordered via a millennial food delivery app, to which I have connected my parents credit card, that was given to me in case of emergencies. Sex And The City is streamed on TV and Carrie Bradshaw, whom I am blaming for my continuous failure as a writer who cannot afford Manolos, is speaking Italian. I am currently residing in Milan with a Latvian resident card and a Russian citizenship, which also means I will be a gigantic pain in the ass to file documents for. Let me make this easier for you: drag my e-mail to the bin, pass the job offer to someone with a simpler resident story to tell.

Shall you actually continue on this painful task of reading, let me brag about a fancy fashion school I was privileged and rich enough to attend. I regret my parents spending the money on such luxury still. But hey, if you would like to see my BA certificate, unlike my student peers, I have actually did not plagiarise on my thesis (true story).

My CV attached below, which I have spent hours perfecting to look more creative than needed, although I am not a graphic designer nor do I aspire to be one, nor should you expect me to be one, is full of ‘content writer’ listings. Signifying that for the last few years I have lost my journalist integrity towards digital wordsmith, whom deliberately misspells and hashtags every third word, diffusing any writing skill left in me with words like ‘squad’ and ‘good vibes’. 

Shall you decide to grant me an interview do not expect me to show up wearing any pieces from your brand (simply cannot afford). Reference letters upon request (not going to happen).

Best,

The Stalker Outside Your Fashion Show

SUMMER: FEMINIST READ LIST, CHECK

Vagina, Naomi Wolf

Take this one for a walk. Notice how many men whisper, giggle with embarrassment, shy away or have a look of bewilderment as if their girlfriends do not have one. Or maybe it is just that their mothers pushed them out the other way. 

Start in the middle. "The Vagina Began as Sacred", chapter 7. Make a visit to an archaeological museum. Look for signs. Start believing in prehistoric state of matriarchy. 

Bad Feminist, Roxane Gay

Buy three copies. Give two away. Fold the corners of pages with excerpts worthy of discussion with men. Share the best ones on Twitter. Naively believe that this deed will shift the society for the better. 

Read it again. Do something that will shift the society for the better.

Love Your Lady Landscape, Lisa Lister

Befriend Lisa Lister on Instagram. Wonder why you have bought the book if everything is available online. Well, almost everything.

Salute the candid chronicles of her cycle. Make a note on periods for yourself. 

Not That Kind Of Girl, Lena Dunham

Read it in one sitting. Receive it as a sign slash magic butt kick from Lena herself. Realize that failing at adulthood and then gradually succeeding is a natural process. Conquer the world on your own terms.  

Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M.

Now, that is a title which might grab your attention, while you are wondering around the popular-corner-book-shelf, with the other three books you are about to buy (a selection on best American Short Stories, the most talked about novel and a self help book, tightly clenched to your chest so nobody sees the heading). You will judge this one by its cover and contemplate whether you have enough hands for the forth companion. Maybe you will even get it.

Or Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M. by Sam Wasson will be given to you by a dear friend. You will prolong and procrastinate reading it a couple of years. Although, it is about the actual filming of your very-most-favourite movie (and every body else's), there is always going to be another volume on your bedside table. Since childhood, you tend to believe that if you do not pick something up right away it is usually a drag once you do. Meaning, that if you glance at the book and your eye does not itch to stay up and read until your alarm goes off, it is not worth staying up for at all.

So, back to the bookstore. If you were looking for a beach read, and somehow one of your hands happened to be free, this one will do.

In My Sheets

Let me just Insta story this.

Do you also say it out loud to justify yourself? Or are you one of those kids that have no shame in taking selfies in public spaces? (hats off to those bloggers that do, besides missing out on life, you have to admit, they do get some lovely content done).

I like to chronicle myself, my little objects (books, crystals and cats are in my top five) but I am also very rough on my decision on what to post on Instagram. Although Instagram story became a relief to an over-sharing-self-obsessed generation (which I am in no denial a part of), I wanted a place where I would not be embarrassed about long captions, brave enough to share my unfinished work and maybe post a selfie or two with really bad lighting (and why the fuck not). So I have started a new project on Instagram, named it @InMySheets_ and I am planning on posting all the quirky stuff and feel good about it. Join me?