GLOW opens on Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie), reading for a part in an audition. She emotively delivers a powerful and dramatic monologue, at the end of which the casting director informs her that she had been reading the wrong part—the man’s part. They reset. The casting director leads her in. Ruth performs the women’s audition part:
(knock knock) Sorry to interrupt, your wife is on line two.
This opening scene sets the flavour for GLOW perfectly; the show is a delightfully nostalgia-hazed and also critical and shrewdly observant portrayal of the real-life women’s wrestling circuit of the same name—The Gorgeous Ladies Of Wrestling.
Eve Jones examines Lorde’s latest album, Melodrama. Eve is a 19-year-old writer and waitress from Plymouth. Obsessive by nature, she’s always in pursuit of some delicious syntax. This is her first article for Boshemia.
Lorde: explorations of youth and power
In 2013, Lorde, aka Ella Yelich-O’Connor, released her debut album Pure Heroine. Its popularity was hailed by Clash as proof that ‘there’s still an intellectual, polished and important place for pop [music]’. She was 16 at the time. Four years on, Lorde launches back into our minds with Melodrama, which still buzzes with that potential energy—though it hasn’t all been plain-sailing. In a recent interview with The Guardian, she likened her fame-riddled celebrity friendships to ‘having a friend with an autoimmune disease’—‘there are certain places you can’t go together. Certain things you can’t do’. The insensitive analogy received backlash from fans, prompting Lorde to apologise on Twitter. While her conduct has been controversial, her music continues to question youth and power in a dynamic habitat of scorched harmonies, flinty 80s keyboard and lyrical wit.
We’re officially in June, and even though we’ve been busy with Boshemia magazine (available soon online and at select retailers), it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.
I’ve started using new hair products, and nobody has noticed my impeccable curl.
JK we’re going to talk about the election. I’d rather talk about my hair too. Here we go.
Honestly I’ve been putting off election talk because it’s always so exhausting! We’ve just had to deal with the disappointment of Brexit, only for our collective eyes to turn to the State’s shocking election fuck ups. The recent French results were a relief, but good god I’m tired! But no, we’re back at it. The busses are at full swing, we’re getting campaign letters through the mail and every single UK reader of this blog (and every blog) has registered to vote. Right? Right?
Emily Jessee returns to Boshemia to share her reflections on the weeks following the 2016 American election, dissecting The American Problem and looking ahead to Trump’s America. Emily is a young feminist creative who uses platforms like photography to portray the harshness and vulnerability of the world around her.
It is as if reality has become something that dystopia cannot even begin to describe.
God wasn’t 2016 rubbish? In the next few weeks, Boshemia will almost definitely be musing over how god awful the last year was, but today we’re going to be looking at one of the prevailing themes of the year: Toxic Masculinity. In a year of Trump asserting his masculinity in dangerous ways over everything he seemed to cross, and then somehow getting awarded for it; a year of Brexit and the following fight for the Prime Minister spot being nothing more than a dick measuring contest, only for the cursed position to go for a woman, almost certainly setting her up for failure. In a year of rape accusations, police shootings, terrorist attacks (good god the year’s even worse when you write it all down!), we coincidentally lost three icons of masculinity and gender subversion. On December 25th, aged 53, George Michael joined Prince and David Bowie in the pantheon of people destroyed by 2016; the trifecta of 80s queer icons has gone, politicians are swiftly moonwalking away from identity politics, and the world is basking in the stench of toxic masculinity. Merry Christmas.
As the Holiday season looms upon us, we start to consider how best to show our appreciation to the ones we love in the most materialistic way possible. It’s been a tough year for everyone; icons have died, movies have been shit, on either side of the pond we’ve suffered through political fuckery. Why not show the ones you love that you care with an $85 rock in a bag.