I took the kids to their very first concert last night…

If you live in or near Philadelphia and have never been to a show at The First Unitarian Church, you’re missing out. This place is by far the coolest place I’ve ever seen a musical act. It’s a real church (yep, you can do the worship thingie there every Sunday if you want) but it’s like no church I’ve ever seen. It’s old (established in 1796) and colorful (check out that photo I snapped last night…those colors are real) and the acoustics are otherworldly.

St. Vincent, one of my favorite performers ever, played last night (Swedish duo Wildbirds and Peacedrums opened for her and holy moly, were they awesome.) and it was the first show I took both of the girls, ages 9 and 12, to. We sat in a pew no more than 10 feet away from the stage and the view and sound was spectacular. Annie Clark sounded angelic (wow, I’m totally dropping all of these church references accidentally, I swear!) but the best part of the night by far for me was seeing Lola’s reaction to the entire event. My sarcastic, often-sullen tween was mesmerized. She was happy. She smiled and clapped and sat on the edge of her seat the entire time. She couldn’t wait to buy a tee shirt and when we arrived home around 11:45, she promptly updated her Facebook status to read “Just got back from a St. Vincent show!!! EPIC!!!!!! : {D” By far, it was one of the proudest parenting moments of my career. Now she wants to learn the guitar. Words can’t express how amazing I feel about this.

R5 Productions booked the event and, as usual, did a fantastic job. The shows at First Unitarian are all ages and the average ticket price is $15, so you can take your kids or younger siblings or current hottie out without getting a second job to pay for it. I saw Metric here in the basement about four years ago and it blew my mind. R5 Productions deserves lots of love and praise; they’re responsible for helping to bring brilliant artists to our city at a price that most of us can afford.

Last night was a historic event for my girls and me. We all remember our first concert (mine was Shaun Cassidy in Raleigh, NC). How fitting that theirs was in such a special place.

My new favorite show is on MTV. WTF, man? This ain’t 1992.

I’ve chronicled my love of Degrassi, Sweet Valley High and John Hughes films, so it’s no big surprise that I’m completely fascinated by the teenage experience. In fact, I’m working on a YA novel and a start-up that’s geared towards kids age 11-17, I have the sense of humor of a teenage boy and I share clothes with my 12 year-old daughter (In fact, I’m rocking acid washed jeans and Lola’s Adidas kicks today. Pow!). But that’s not the only reason I’m all over “My Life As Liz.”

I could never get on board with “The Hills” or anything else that MTV has churned out these past years, so I was taken by surprise when I totally got sucked in by this show within the first three minutes. It’s thirty minutes of teen angst at its finest and revolves around Liz Lee, a high school chick in a small Texas town who’s a bright red beacon of awesome in a shallow blonde puddle of average. The “It Looks Real But It’s Scripted” production completely captures what it’s like to be struggling with your identity and finding your place in the world (or small country town…not that I would know anything about that, being a redheaded alt-girl who grew up in Western North Carolina…), including rejecting the banality of the masses while at the same time longing for inclusion. Le sigh. Growing up is exhausting.

One of my favorite things about the show is that while Liz has an unrequited crush on her friend Bryson (who, SPOILER ALERT!) has a girlfriend), it’s not all teen romance and hormones gone wild. It deals more with friendships, bitchy popular girls who make fun of her because she’s different, finding one’s voice and making it work where you are because, really, when you’re in high school you’re pretty much stuck wherever you are until you graduate and figure out a way to get the hell out of town.

Now that I think of it, maybe it is 1992, year of my high school graduation, after all. I’m blaming “Hot Tub Time Machine” on this one.

(Follow Liz Lee on Twitter right…over…here!)

So this post is a little less about social media and pop culture and and marketing nerdiness I usually write about and a little more about a topic that’s near and dear to me for a few reasons. you can break out the violins if you want-that’s ok with me. I’m gonna hit you with something a little heavy for your Monday. Ready? Let’s do it.

I’ve been in treatment for eating disorders since I was 15 (I’m 36 now; you do the math, ’cause I suck at it). My original diagnosis as a teenager was for bulimia. I went to therapy, grew up a little, went to school and things were cool for a long time. I got married. Had two awesome daughters and enjoyed both of my pregnancies. And then, for some still-mysterious reason, I hit 29 and things went bananas.

I started restricting my diet to the point that I ultimately checked into two programs for anorexia. One of them was The Renfrew Center, the country’s first residential eating disorder treatment facility. Those folks are great at what they do but unfortunately at the time, my insurance refused to cover the complete costs for me to receive inpatient help even though my healthcare providers strongly urged me to do so. Yep, another strike against our not-so-hot healthcare system; it didn’t matter that I could go to a chiropractor and get adjusted for just $30 or have my teeth cleaned twice a year at no additional charge if I wasn’t covered to receive the life-saving treatment I totally needed. So I attended their day program as if I was in high school, commuting to and from their Philadelphia campus for a few weeks before my insurance capped it altogether. Another tricky element of my time there was that I was a bit older than most of the women I was there with (since then, Renfrew and other ED professionals have made great strides to address the concerns of women of all ages). Needless to say, the time I spent there helped, but I was far from recovery at that point.

So it came as no surprise when I found myself struggling with body image issues a few years later.

In 2008 I spent six weeks at Life Healing Center in Santa Fe, NM. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but holy crap, did it do the job. My private insurance once again failed me, but this time my family was there to help with the enormous cost of treatment because I think we all felt that “three strikes and you’re out” was a sad but true possibility. At that point I was a 34 years old professional and married mother of two and I couldn’t afford to be passive in the confrontation of my issues anymore. The time for weekly 55-minute therapy sessions and pep talks from loved ones had done all they could do; flying my bony ass seemed like the best choice. (A quick time out to send my enormous gratitude to Bob and Paulette Estok, the most amazing, loving and compassionate people I’ve ever had the good fortune to know. I’ll find a way to pay you back every penny someday, I promise. And yes, them’s A LOT of pennies!)

While I was there I did lots of reading, and one of the books I came across was called “Life Without Ed: How One Woman Declared Independence from Her Eating Disorder and How You Can Too,” by Jenni Schaeffer with Thom Rutledge, LCSW. At first, it sounded like a sitcom (that’s just my strange sense of humor for you), but I quickly realized that this was a book that really spoke to me. I read it cover to cover within two days. It now sits on my desk, where I refer back to it at least once a week for inspiration, reference or gratitude for the journey I’ve been on.

So before this totally turns into a Lifetime Movie of the Week (Too late? Maybe so.) I’ll explain that the genesis of this post comes from Jenni Schaeffer’s upcoming appearance at Bryn Mawr College this Saturday, February 27. Brought to you by Valley Green Counseling and Bryn Mawr College Body Image Council as a part of National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, the event is free and open to the public. Scoot over here to register and seriously, tell everyone you know about this. It’s important. For realz.

I realize that my involvement and passion for pop culture, media and fashion could be construed as feeding into the obsession we have with weight, image and unhealthy behaviors, but I’ve always been aware of the fact that there are so many factors that influence how we see ourselves and our bodies. I’m no psychologist (although goodness knows I’ve known enough to pick up a thing or two) and I’m certainly not someone who has everything all figured out; as far as I’m concerned, I’ll be in recovery for the rest of my life, fingers crossed. Every day is a challenge in some way or another, but I’m working on it. I’m getting things figured out bit by bit, and I love that each step I take makes me a better mom, a better friend and maybe most importantly, a better me. I love what I do and couldn’t imagine taking a job where I weren’t examining what’s going on on a cultural level. I may not be saving the world with my work (although I am committed to doing good in the world at all times and would love to find a bigger way to integrate that into my professional life) but I sure as hell know I’m making a difference by taking care of myself and making a commitment to living an authentic life that I can be proud of going forward. Don’t worry, though. I’m still the same wacky, tattooed goofball you’ve always known. I’m just a little softer around the edges these days.

And now, when you take me out to lunch or dinner, I’m actually going to eat instead of pushing my food around on my plate. If you’re not careful, I might just polish off your meal, too. In a good way.

In just over an hour, Tiger Woods is scheduled to make a statement regarding his recent sexual shenanigans, car crash incident and the future of his career in golf.

When will celebrities and their publicists ever learn?

Unless Tiger plans to spill the details, TMZ-style, about his floozies, the public doesn’t really care. Unless he’s going to give us full disclosure, it’s irrelevant. This tightly-controlled PR stunt reeks of obviousness and is totally self-serving; we’re not dumb dumbs. This is about wooing back sponsors and restarting the money machine so he can replace that Escalade he totaled when his angry wife attacked him with his very own golf clubs.

The simple fact that he’s refusing to take questions from the press and will read a prepared statement in a closed setting tells us everything we need to know. Sure, he might be sorry, but this is so not the way to convince the world that he’s on the path to making personal and professional amends in a sincere and active manner.

It’s great he’s in rehab for his problems. 6 weeks in an intense treatment program worked for me, but it damn well took more than a couple of months for me to get my head together. A straight up “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I know I screwed up and disappointed my family and fans” message is all nice and good, Mr. Woods, but give us a little more credit. Until you’re ready to get honest – REALLY honest – with yourself and your wife, it doesn’t really matter what we think. Take your time, dude. The world will be here when you get your house cleaned and in order. Everything else can wait.

I am totally bananas over the copywriting team responsible for the latest Old Spice campaign. Let me just state that I have no idea if the people responsible for these magnificent creative accomplishments are male or female. I don’t know if they’re short and fat or tall and skinny or any combination in between. They might be gassy. They could have bad teeth. They could be vegan (just kidding, all you vegans out there!). It doesn’t matter. They’re awesome, and I want to spread my non-sexual, Old Spice-scented love for them all over the internets.

For more Old Spice goodness, scoot over to oldspice.com. The videos are hilarious; the execution of this campaign for a product that’s totally not aimed at me is totally impressive. Plus, the dude who stars in the commercials is the coolest (you can find him on Twitter at http://www.twitter.com/isaiahmustafa). Seriously; copy such as “Don’t smell like sunsets and baby powder. Smell like jet fighters and punching.” deserves a holiday or something. Or at least a trip on that boat or two tickets to that thing you love.

dear jen, let me first say that while i made a joke at your expense on my homepage, i think you might be ready to hear what i have to say. you may be rich and skinny but no one’s “just fine” all the time, no matter how many magazines you try to convince otherwise (lindsay and britney, i’m looking in your direction). i bet i’d like you a little more if you dropped the fembot act and admitted that you spent last weekend binging on pizza and ring dings while indulging in a molly ringwald film fest and petting your cat. it would make you real, and i wouldn’t feel so weird for doing it, too (note to self: buy more hot fudge).

sure, you had your heart broken while the world watched, your career goes up and down more than a playground teeter totter at recess and we still have to witness the effects of that stupid “rachel” haircut. i’m betting that a well-meaning publicist told you to put on a happy face and focus on your triumphs rather than your slumps but sister, listen up. this mama suggests you drop the bs and come down to non-hollywood, regular gal level.

i have seen my friends freak out after a dude screws them over (and guess what; none of those dudes even come close to looking like brad pitt, john mayer or gerard butler). i have ridden shotgun while they stalked their ex’s facebook profile for any photographic evidence of the chick he’s now “involved” with. i have stood by their side as we trashed, mocked and hurled voodoo curses towards girlfriend 2.0. we were not kind. we did not smile graciously. we did not pretend to be happy about it. we wanted vengeance, but due to the fact that we are civilians with nothing more than a few social network followers and a bad attitude rather than being international stars of stage and screen, we didn’t experience any sense of accomplishment or closure. you, on the other hand, have the media on speed dial. you, my dear, could be the voice of bitter women everywhere.

we’re a gigantic population, you know. we buy overpriced organic foods in pretty packages, drink plenty of moderately-priced wine (also in pretty packages) and spontaneously purchase a lot of random, unnecessary stuff (look in my closet and you’ll see what i mean). if you shelved the “i’m a strong woman who doesn’t let anything get me down” act, everyone with a product aimed at women our age would be beating down your door with an endorsement deal. yeah, yeah…i know you did a vitamin water campaign a while back, but i’ve certainly never met anyone who drinks that stuff. slap your mug on something a little more exciting, though, and i’m gonna pay attention.

but please…less “love happens” and “he’s just not that into you” and more “friends with money” and “the good girl.” after all, quality really does attract quality…unless you’re not looking for mr. prince charming and you really are just fine – if that’s the case, then you should probably just put the kibosh on answering relationship questions. that whole pollyanna attitude is so not hot.

your pal,
carrie

My latest client is an organization called The CFO Alliance, which is a very nifty group of accounting and finance executives in eight markets across the country. Yes, those of you who know me are no doubt laughing out loud, as it’s no secret that I can’t add without using my fingers and I’ve never even attempted to balance my bank account, but hey, they didn’t hire me to do math, they hired me to develop a brand strategy, conceive a public relations and marketing plan and come up with some brilliant content for their upcoming online community. Get ready, CFOs!

Working with start-ups means that you often find yourself doing things you don’t necessarily love or know how to do. For example, I’ve spent most of my week designing ads for upcoming CFOA events. Luckily, I’m married to an art director, because I’ve never designed an ad before in my life. And today I helped out by making follow-up calls in preparation for an event in Connecticut next week. 57 calls, to be exact. Good times.

As a consultant, I’m hired to do a specific job. All of the details get ironed out in a written agreement before I start a project, but there’s always the expectation that things are going to shift and change a bit during those weeks or months. There was nothing at all in my contract about designing ads, making phone calls or preparing Powerpoint presentations, but these are all things that needed to get done. Sometimes the right thing to do for your client (and the future of your business relationship) is to say yes. As for those other times, a conversation is definitely in order to avoid feeling taken advantage of or disrespected. It’s happened to us all at some point in our careers, which is why I can sit here and sound like I know what I’m talking about (don’t even get me started about the time I was expected to clean up and take care of a girl who got drunk and pukey at an event I was helping out with).

Maybe you’re the President of your company. Maybe you’re a staff director or manager, or you could just be getting your start as an assistant or intern. Call yourself whatever you like (I’m fond of Your Royal Highness, but that’s just me) but don’t take your title too seriously; everyone’s job requires cleaning up messes and dealing with other people’s trash at some point, which essentially makes us all janitors, anyway.

Meditate on it.

It’s no secret that I’m more than a little obsessed with pop culture. I’m ok with the fact that I can spout off the names of all the Jolie/Pitt babies but I don’t know my kid’s social security number. I don’t mind that I can sing most any pop song recorded from 1974-2000 but I can’t remember what I wore yesterday. However, there are a few things I’d like to purge from my brain, including but not limited to every tune from the “Cocktail” soundtrack, a few tipsy evenings over the years and the entire existence of Jon and Kate Gosselin.

Hey! Have you heard that Jon and Kate have onetwothreefourfivesixsevenEIGHT kids? Didja know that Kate is super bitchy and has a reverse mullet? Maybe you’ve read that Jon is a cheater, cheater birthday cake eater…how does this enhance our lives at all? I’m putting my money on the fact that it doesn’t. Not even a teeny tiny bit. In fact, I can feel my brain cells committing suicide as I write this.

So nobody was surprised when the Gosselins announced that they would be divorcing. The mister had already been photographed a few dozen times with his young lady friend, and had even jetted away to Utah for a weekend of skiing and who knows what else, where he was-you guessed it-snapped sitting in the VIP area of a media-covered event with “the other woman.” On his wife’s birthday. Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

I read over the weekend that Ed Hardy designer Christian Audigier was now Jon’s BFF and they had met up on Audigier’s yacht in St. Tropez in the French Riviera to discuss a possible children’s clothing line (the new girlfriend was along for the ride; she’s the daughter of the doc that did dear ol’ Kate’s tummy tuck). According to People Magazine: “Audigier tells PEOPLE that he approached Gosselin with the idea after noticing that the reality show dad often wore his tattoo-inspired T-shirts on Jon and Kate Plus Eight. “He’s huge,” says the French designer, who may also collaborate with Gosselin on a specialty motorcycle collection. “Everyone knows this family. And everyone will know our clothes. They’ll be fun, easy clothes for kids.”

I would like to go on record saying that this is a really, really dumb idea.

The dude has no apparel experience other than wearing clothes. He’s not plugged into the world of childrenswear (last time I checked the children were ALWAYS dressed alike, mostly courtesy of Gymboree, which is about as far from Ed Hardy as you can get). He’s dopey and mumbly. And he has very questionable taste, to say the least.

The latest report from Audigier’s rep says the line isn’t really happening, despite the fact that they seemed pretty cozy just a few days ago. Maybe someone was smart enough to stand up at the Monday morning staff meeting and threaten to go on a hunger strike if they hired a guy who’s biggest claim to fame is that he spawned a bunch of kids and then exploited them on television. Maybe someone realized that having the marble-mouthed public adulterer as a brand ambassador is a no-no. Or maybe Gosselin’s asking price was too high. Who knows. For the love of tattooed-inspired tee shirts, phone accessories, trucker caps and bottled water, keep that man away from the cameras. And your college-age daughters.

The time was 1987. The place; Somerset, KY. I was a 13 year old dork with braces, an Olgilvie Home Perm and a few crazy dreams…

One of my dreams was to marry Ricky Schroder. We’d move to Hollywood and shack up in that swell mansion he lived in on “Silver Spoons.” Another was to publish a best-selling novel. Never mind that I had no idea what I wanted to write about. But the dream that seemed the most doable was the dream of being on the Canadian hit “Degrassi Junior High.”

Degrassi was a soap opera for kids. It was your typical “After School Special” fare, which then spun off into “Degrassi High.” There I learned what to do in case of date rape, teenage pregnancy, parental death and the development of an eating disorder. Thanks, guys!

The thing I liked best about the Degrassi empire (I’m now totally caught up on Degrassi: The Next Generation, now airing on The N) was that they never dumbed it down for teenagers. Young people aren’t dumb; they just act like it sometimes (and uh, so do adults). They can tell when they’re being treated like idiots. Now that I’m a mom I try to take the same approach. My 11 and 8 year olds aren’t ready to hear about abortion but you better believe they know how a baby is made – and how to keep that from happening. The creators and writers of Degrassi respected their audience and as a result, 35 year old chicks such as myself are still watching, all these years later. Their brand works. And yes, I’m still holding out hope that one day I’ll get my showbiz break in the halls of Degrassi Community School. Linda Schuyler and Stephen Stohn, I’m ready for my close up…

I’m a busy bee today so instead of “telling,” I’m “showing.” Here are a few fashion shots I’ve taken that I’m quite fond of. Enjoy!

(all images copyright carrie estok. if you want to feature them somewhere else, please be a pal and give me credit. thanks!)