Dry Cleaning 101

      Not only have I been doing my own laundry since the fourth grade, but well, I love doing laundry.  The art of stain-removal absolutely fascinates me, not to mention special care instructions regarding silk, fur, and hell, plain 'ole cotton.
      I was the kid who always read the labels on my clothes-- line dry this, hand-wash that, and actually followed through with the manufacturer's guidance. Why? Who knows. I guess I'm a little crazy.  But since these labels have never hindered me from buying particular items of clothing (like I suppose they do for some), I seem to have accumulated a wardrobe made up of these "special care" pieces. The primary cleaning instructions:  Dry Clean Only.
      Which made me think:  What is "dry" cleaning?  How does it affect my clothing?  And since dry cleaning is not something I, a college student, can afford on a regular basis... can I do it myself?
Read on for some laundered enlightenment....

I'm sorry... I completely had to. Perhaps I will blog about hairless cats later considering my mild obsession.

      Dry cleaning originated in the mid-19th century, and was invented by Jean Baptiste Jolly, a dye-works owner, when he noticed that a table cloth became cleaner after his maid accidentally overturned a kerosene lamp on it.  Kerosene is mixture of petroleum hydrocarbons (for my science buddies), and is a solvent for organic compounds.  To simplify a bit, stains can be divided into two broad categories: water based or non-water based.  Using the general chemistry principle of "like dissolves like," one would use water (with a detergent) on "wet" or water-based stains (ketchup, coffee), and similarly a solvent on "dry" stains like grease or oil.
      So right off the bat we now know that "dry" cleaning just means that the cleaning process involves no water, but it isn't exactly moistureless.  Considering kerosene is highly flammable (hence why it was used to keep lamps lit), it's markedly too dangerous to be smearing all over our clothes.  Subsequently, the current solvent for dry cleaning is tetrachloroethene, commonly known as "perc."  Essentially when one drops his or her clothes off at the dry cleaners, first any blatant stains are pre-treated, then the clothes are soaked in perc, dried, and voilá!  Fresh clean clothes.
      While this seems like the easy solution, dry cleaning has a reputation for shriveling the life-span of clothes, along with talk of perc being a possible carcinogenic and/or toxic waste.  So, if indeed you are reluctant to drop off your garments at the dry cleaners, try mastering the art in your own home!  This is a task I've been diving into lately... well, sort-of.  Though I wasn't able to find any truly "natural" dry cleaning methods that actually worked, there are at-home dry cleaning kits.  Also it's important to know that most of the time items that say "Dry Clean Only" can frequently be handwashed with a mild detergent and water.
      It really comes down to identifying the fabric you're working with and it's nature.  A simple rule of thumb:  garments made natural fibers like silk, cotton, and linen can generally be handwashed at home, while synthetic fabric blends (i.e.rayon), and pieces made of leather, fur, or delicately embellished should be left to the pros.

This is an all-encompasing Quick 'n Easy Stain Removal Guide

Goodluck with your future stain-fighting ventures!

Cash Rulz Everything Around Me

One of my perhaps hidden passions is money and the accumulation thereof. As shallow and terse as this appears initially, my motives are far from. Wealth management and the economy in general, I feel, are not adequately taught in the US' primary education systems. In fact, information on finances is not really that accessible at all (atleast most people don't know where to start.) You see, the thing with money is that you have to seek the knowledge on how to handle it properly.

Sure, we've all heard to save money (spend less than you earn), but how much cash have you put into savings this month? Also, many people associate high salaries and worldy goods with wealth. What they were never taught, however, was to recognize the difference between being "rich" versus being "wealthy." Think about that for a minute.

While I am far from having a great knowledge on this topic, I am surrounded by many people who do; one being my Mother, who is a stock guru and an aspiring financial planner. I've always wanted to do a post on money, but wasn't sure how to present it simply. Luckily, I stumbled across this video today where Dan Ariely, Professor of Behavorial Economics at Duke University, covers some of the most basic tenets of money management in laymen's terms.

To get you started, here are some books I've read, and would certainly recommend for other newbies.

Rich Dad Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki and Sharon Lechter

The Millionaire Next Door by Thomas J. Stanley

The Automatic Millionaire by David Bach

and my next read is Suze Orman's Young, Fabulous & Broke

Forgive the cheesy title, but please remember that you are never too young to secure your financial future!

P.S.

Now Playing: Sweetest Girl (Dollar Bill)

Best Purchase of the Holiday Season? I Think So.

"Mona Bacon," Mike Geno

Mike Geno is a local Philadelphian artist and a self-proclaimed "foodie." He makes "food art," and seemingly is going through a bacon-phase. I'm hoping to find someone to drag with me to view his works at the Mew Gallery on 9th street, but not so certain of the probability of that happening...

Moving on, this next creation was one I just couldn't resist. Let's see how Grandma reacts when this comes in the mail!

"May Your Holidays Be Wrapped in Goodness," Mike Geno

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Salut, Peux-Je Retourner en France Maintenant?

Ce semestre, J'ai eu une relation incroyable tumultuese avec mon cours d'Allemand. Vraiment, Je n'ai aucun intérêt pour l'Allemand. Tout que Je veux est de pouvoir parler Français; alors, il fait pour un temps frustrant!

De toute façon, pour quérir cette anxiété, J'ai substitué ".com's" pour ".fr's," et J'ai changé même ma page de Facebook à Français (naturellement, ceci a seulement duré un jour... les traductions etaient trop "funky.")

Dans une autre forme folle d'atermoyer, n'étude pas pour mon examen d'Allemand,- J'ai regardé exécutions musicaux rares d'La Blogotheque (J'étais si heureux d'entendre du Français!)

Là, J'ai trouvé ma #1 musique d'étude du moment, Yeasayer

***Excusez mes fautes! Like I said, I only wish I was fluent in French.

Everyone Get Naked

My interest in secret societies has been a little outstanding and strange as of late. Ever since my friend Alex lent me a Time Magazine focusing on advanced secret groups like the KKK, Skull & Bones, and Freemasons, I have not been able to peel my brain from the topic. I was particularly interested in the partaking of societies in the Ivy Leage circle, perhaps because of my close proximity to UPenn.

So, how would you like to see an ivy-leager in the nude? A secret society at Yale called the "Pundits" hosts an annual "Naked Party" each year on campus. These parties have been held in periphery libraries, dorms, and storage rooms. The only rule: strip before entering. Students are invited by private invitation, given only a time and place to meet. The Pundits keep the location of the party undisclosed to ward off prying eyes. Once attendees are escorted to the event, they are given bags to put their clothes in, unable to enter until those bags are full! Students are charged per item of clothing they wear (shoes, low slung belt, etc.), so the only way to enter free is by freeballin'.

The venue is dimly lit, and the students try to drink wine and carry on sophisticated conversations with companions... careful to keep their line of sight from dropping below shoulder level. As one reported, "To pretend you're feeling really great and happy to be overcoming the oppressiveness of clothing, or whatever, overlooks the more authentic feeling, which is 'I feel kind of weird right now.'"

These parties are designed to be "an experiment in social interaction." To observe what happens "when the faces are familiar, but the bodies attached to them are not." After about half an hour the students generally loosen up and check out how everyone else shaves, who's boobs are saging etc. Of course, mingling and consequent hook ups are bound to happen but if so, the two in action are separated by the Pundits and an alleged 18-inch dildo!

Advice from former yale student David Thier, "Don't be afraid to eyeball somebody who looks good, or feel weird around those who don't, or worry about which category you fall into. Naked parties are often touted for shattering social norms and liberating minds, but according to one Pundit, the idea is much more simple: 'Yale students like going to naked parties because the parties are naked, and it's fun to be naked."

What's in a Name?

"Hey, my name is ________, what's yours? We have this conversation with strangers almost everyday. But really, what's in a name? Are names just arbitrary symbols or do they express "deep, essential truths" about our innermost being? Most people feel strongly attached to their names. Personality Psychologist, Doctor Gordon Allport says "our name might be the most important anchorage of our self-identity." In other words, a person's name is that person. But why is there so much meaning in something we didn't choose for ourselves? Our names, like our bodies and personalities, follow us everywhere; but how do names affect our everyday lives?

First, our name is a stimuli that grabs our attention. Later in life, the same name gives us an identity. Perhaps one of the first we recognize is our fit within a family. Names become very important in our social development as we being tying names to ideas, places, and emotions. Names aid us in feeling unique and celebrate us from anonymity. Loved or hated, we have a closer tie to our names than can be seen on the surface.

Let's begin with the self, or more specifically, how we feel about the name given to us. Researchers or The Netherlands' Tillburg University, explain the concept of "implicit self-esteem." Essentially, this idea describes that if a person is sound with their identity, they have a "positive" self-evaluation, and thus place positive values on the letters in his or her name. This is known as the name letter effect and, according to theory, it is very influential.

One way is reflected through the attitude of a person. For example, using the name letter effect on subjects with positive self-evaluations, one may find that Chris likes chocolate more than Linda does; and, on the same note, Linda likes lions more than Chris. These correlations can also translate into career choices and places of residency. Using two other examples of people with positive self-evaluations: Suzie is more likely to sell seashells on the shore than Brad, who is more likely to bake bread in Boston. While these models are extreme to convey the idea, I look forward to seeing how this effect leaks into everyday life. Maybe you will do the same.

Which leads me to how our names are perceived by others. We usually hear about the significance of first impressions, and are trained on the importance of a firm handshake, eye-contact, etc. However, one of the very first of impressions you lend is your name. Based on your name, a person will create expectations for you, which will not only guide your relationship with them, but in most cases, your future.

One illustration of the weight one's name has on first impressions takes place in schools. Students with "desirable names," or more common names, tend to receive higher grades from teachers. The Journal of Educational Psychology conducted many studies in which excerpts of equal writing proficiency were given to be graded by educators. Some papers had common names like Karen, Lisa, David, and Michael, while others had the "undesirable" names of Bertha, Adelle, Hubert, and Elmer attached as authors. Teachers marked significantly higher grades to the papers written by students with common names. This bias all funnels back to the grader's first impression. He or she saw a name and assigned expectations based on that name (i.e. the expectation to earn a good or bad grade.) Unfortunately, research has shown that a significant amount of students tend to follow the paths of these suppositions as a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy. But not to fret! Odd-namers can succeed and do! Think Elvis, Gwynneth, Tiger, Zooey, Meryl, and Regis... the list goes on.

Another sense of judgement is demonstrated in the work force. Men with socially masculine names, like Hank, are expected to do "masculine" work, and accordingly it's easier for them to find jobs in those respective fields. This concept also applies for women. However, women have more to worry about than just their names, employers also take their husbands' names (or lack there-of) into consideration. Generally, women who take their partner's name or a hyphenated name post-marriage are perceived as being stereotypically more feminine. Employers assume these women to be "more caring, dependent, and emotional, but less intelligent, competent, and ambitious," and thus are less likely to hire them. Women who keep their own name instead of adopting their husbands', are seen as being less feminine with assumed associated traits completely opposite of the above (veering towards the masculine side), and were not only hired more frequently, but also awarded larger salaries.

Just some things to think about before you blurt out your name or ask for someone else's. What does your name mean to you? Where has it gotten you thus far, and where is it leading you? In the great words of Shakespeare,

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet."

Would You Like Parts With That?

Earlier this week, my mom presented me with an "assignment." Not interested in hearing what I expected to be a laborious task, I displayed my stitched up knee. "Doesn't it look more swollen today?" My mother kept talking. "Sarah, your dad and I would like you to find a restaurant for us to eat at for our anniversary," throwing in "... and we want you to come, so make sure you'll eat there too."

Was she really giving me this throwback? My dad has always been the chef of the family, and I, the lowly admirer (or on a good day sous chef), have mostly just been best for making reservations. Actually, at a certain time, I was pretty decent at uncovering the city's hidden gems. But since I moved up north, I've felt a little out of touch with Atlanta, and haven't kept up with its restaurant scene. So what's a girl to do? This was like rock climbing after a winter off: you're a little rusty on locating a route to the top. Phew!

So, I hopped on the computer and reacquainted myself with some of my favorite Atlantan restaurant bloggers. Generally, my family eats a lot of french food, but I was on a mission-- searching for a bold food adventure! Without the restraints of this regular search boundary, I was able to explore all types of cuisine metro Atlanta had to offer... South African, Ethiopian, Tex-Mex. Then, I found it. An upscale, yet non-pretentious gastro-pub: Holeman and Finch Public House, located right on the edge of Midtown and Buckhead. Yes, it was the one.

The day came as we pulled up to the valet, walked in, and were seated. A kooky, red-glasses-wearing waitress greeted us, and sooned turned out to have very impressive knowledge of the menu, which was compiled of unique ingredients, many that were unfamiliar to me. H&F wins its aclaim for, according to Creative Loafing, being "a chef's restaurant... [with] all the food that chef's want to serve, but restaurant owners refuse to allow." So what delicacies were introduced that night?

H&F's entrance... greeted by the kitchen!

I started off with a creative cocktail made by Chef Greg Best (awarded one of America's top ten "mixologists" by Playboy Magazine) christened "Neutral Grounds." It was an enticing mixture of bourbon, fresh lemon juice, raspberry liqueor and Angostura bitters, topped with Victory Prima Pils and sprinkled with fennel pollen. Booze, booze, and beer-- what a concoction! Surprisingly, theses fixings fused into the acute flavor of grapefruit. Deeelicious. In the meantime, my parents split a bottle of Spanish wine. We were also pleasantly surprised to find the menu was tapas (small plates) style, and immediately ordered a long list of items to share.

First, we were presented with the red and yellow watermelon salad (yes, there are yellow watermelons) with lime créme fraîche. The cubed fruits were vaccuum packed with small bits of lime to infuse the flavors, making them more intense. Each bite of this starter was sweet of melon, lush and creamy with the créme fraîche, and bursting with droplets of lime juice. Simple, refreshing, and cleansing.

We had a few more small dishes (fried pickles, quail, mussles, deviled eggs) before veering off the culinary cliff. We had entered the "parts" section of the menu. Committed to the experience, I smiled while requesting an order of veal brain; my parents followed with their requests for sweetbreads and veal fries. What had I gotten us into? Did I really just order brains?

Minutes later, the brain was served. "You ordered it Sarah; you get first bite." My mom nudged the plate towards me. The brain looked like a small chicken breast, lightly breaded. Not too bad, I thought to myself, I can do this. I tried to convince myself that I'd eaten things just as unusual. First (and last) bite lay in my mouth, flowing over my tastebuds. The brains have the same consistency of a soft cheese, like Brie, but I could feel the natural folds of the tissue, and this just set me off. I could not get past the texture. Downed a few more sips of cocktail, and signed for someone else to dive in. No more brains for me.

Next, sautéed veal sweetbreads served a-top raw black-eyed peas. I was slightly more familiar with these, the thymus gland of a cow. These were shaped interestingly, they sort of looked like 2"x2" molars. A little lumpy, but certainly square. As I chewed, the texture was something I was comfortable with- firm, like a day old bread pudding. The fresh peas cut the fatty taste and the flavors melded marvelously.

Finally out came our order of schnitzeled veal fries with a gremolata of orange zest, lemon zest, and parsley. I kept running through my mental dictionary. Fries? Certainly not the same thing we're asked to supersize at McDonalds. Fries. Fries. Fries. So, as both of my parents were digging in, I sat pondering. Finally I resorted to naming some edible parts of a calf. Brisket...knuckle...fillet...loin... though I certainly do not have a diagram of calf parts in my mind, I could not figure out what I was missing. Loin... groin! Are both of my parents eating what I think they are? Am I about to eat that? You bet. Baby cow testicles... god, it doesn't get classier than that, right? And you know, as far as "parts" go, these beat both the brain and the thymus. No, they did not "taste just like chicken," but they were good. Good enough that fans in Illinois hold an annual "Testicle Festival," which has more balls "than you can shake a stick at." While I doubt that my liking for fries will ever grow this deep, it sure is great knowing I'm not the only one.

We topped off the night with deep-fried peach pie, a coke float with boiled peanut ice cream, and a decadent chocolate cake. This was all I could ask for. Maybe not the regular definition of a "fun time," but we had a great one! I tip my hat to Chef Linton Hopkins, named one of Food & Wine Magazine's Best New Chefs for 2009, for his courage and exquisite execution. He changes the menu frequently, so I will surely be dropping by for more of his clever palate pleasers!

1] Executive Chef Linton Hopkins and his Executive Sous Chef Ryan Smith

2] The quirky Holeman and Finch Public House crew

3] Acclaimed "mixologist" Greg Best

Bon Appetit Y'all!

Sleepwalkers Anonymous

A few weeks ago at work, I was having a daily chat with two of my favorite kids. Kayla, seven years old, and Bryson, her eight year old buddy, have been friends for as long as they can remember. This time the conversation steered over into Bryson's accounts of Kayla sleepwalking... and though the topic isn't new to me, I was inspired to learn more and uncover silly stories of sleepwalkers all over the world. Thus, a new post is born!

the left picture is a little Sigmund Freud-esque, you see it?

Sleepwalkers have been featured on headlines countless times throughout the years. Also, since sleepwalking, or somnambulism, causes sufferers to engage in "wakeful" activities, when really they are asleep, some people have been aquitted of severe charges like rape by pleading that they were sleepwalking at the time of the offense. Records hold that jury acquitted these defendants because the criminal activities were "involuntary and unintentional." Hmm...

Steering from the "sexsomniacs" to a lighter note, a UK woman who regular exercised and maintained a low-fat diet was puzzled over her dramatic weight gain. She went to specialist upon specialist to figure out why she could not maintain a steady weight, but received no clear answer. It wasn't until she woke "with broken biscuits in the sheets and all over [her] face," that she was finally diagnosed with Sleep Related Eating Disorder (SRED), which meant that essentially every night she would sleepwalk her way to the kitchen and "go straight for the snack bars and sugary treats." She consumed over 2000 calories a night for years without even realizing it.

Though sleepwalking isn't very common, affecting only 18% of the population, mostly young boys, a London hotel group experienced a "surge in naked sleepwalkers among guests" which pushed executives to publish a "sleepwalkers guide" for hotel staff, advising hotel staff on how to handle the nocturnal naked wanderers. Desk attendants were advised to keep towels up front, to preserve guests' dignity if found unclothed in the wee hours of the night.

I'm sure there are many many more crazy stories of sleepwalkers, but these were just a few I wanted to share. A bit of a disconnected post, but sweet dreams/happy sleepwalking!

Michael Jackson Lives On

When the King of Pop died a few days ago, I was overcome by a gloom I never expected. I genuinely was upset over a celebrity, and I'm not one to idolize high-profile figures nor do I surf TMZ. Driving home from work that heavy night, his music diffused across the airwaves; his hits endless, and with ease they cut straight to my core.

I came across some crazy conspiracy theories when researching the results of his autopsy: he was abducted by aliens, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad had him killed to direct attention away from the chaos in Tehran, or my favorite- he's still alive! (is MJ moving inside of the body bag?) As one journalist reported, "nothing as routine as heart failure would suffice for the grand finale of this extraordinarily talented man."

Admired or despised, Michael Jackson is a legend. His tumultuous childhood paved the way for an even rougher adulthood. But despite his eccentric personal life, his genius in sound orchestrated a timeless dimension of music that will forever transcend generations.

Michael Jackson Tribute Mix

O Craigslist, My Craigslist

As of late, I've been a huge habitué of Craigslist. It's an all-encompassing conglomeration of listings sure to fulfill any need users have for entertainment, gigs, drugs, housing, or personal connections. The website swarms with controversy as it continues to push the barrier of political correctness and social comfort through transsexual erotic services ads, people posting free Bibles because they "don't believe in that stuff anymore, but if you do here you go," and rants and raves on the President, taxes, whatever. I really see Craiglist as a tool for social progress... of course in an encrypted "it's not supposed to be that way" kind of way.

On my search for other Craigslist fans, I learned about a man named Michael Ferris Gibson. Gibson, a San Francisco native, was captivated by Craigslist when the website was still newborn. He browsed every section, contacting users through their anonymous emails requesting authorization to follow them through their listing experiences. The resulting documentary, 24 Hours on Craigslist, was completed in 2005 and featured in nine film festivals, winning "best feature documentary" along the way. So, learn about the joys of Craigslist, or perhaps depths of it you never knew existed. Enjoy!

view the trailer here: http://24hoursoncraigslist.com/subs/trailer.html

I have the full film if you are interested in seeing more!

The Pill... for men?!

     Just like the title says-- soon there may birth control for men!  China is flying ahead working to create an effective yet reversible male birth control.  One of their biggest hurdles is funding the project.  Drug companies like Wyeth, Schering, and Organon are skeptical: if they provide the money to support further developments of a male contraceptive, will men actually be interested in using them?  Due to this slow progress, scientists working in the field predict that it will be atleast 5-10 years before the FDA approves any form of male birth control for distribution.

     According the the Male Contraception Coalition (haha... honestly, what a cause), the most recent compounds for male birth control were discovered by the contraceptive side effects of relatively old anti-cancer, high blood pressure, and schizophrenia medications.  These active ingredients suppress sperm production and have been isolated and manipulated to create a wide range of birth control options for men.  These medications may come in the form of a seasonal shot, subcuntaneous implants, or a daily pill.

     Similar to the female birth control pill, the male pill is 100% effective so far... in the men that it works for.  An enigma to researchers is the fact that the male pill doesn't even affect the sperm count of about 10-15% of men, mostly Caucasians, thus making it 0% effective for these few. 

     Onto the side effects. My first thought was greaaat, now men will be just as hormonal as women.  But actually, according to drug trials, the only side effects that men on the pill experienced were slight weight gain, maybe a headache here or there, and very rarely, night sweats.

    

Some predicted results for men jumping onboard the male contraceptive train:

-Higher STD infections due to the decreased motivation for using condoms.

-For once men will have control of the baby situation.  They don't want a kid, no problem. Sick of the feel of a condom on their member, no problem. Rich and some girl wants to get knocked up so she can collect buckets of money- definitely not happening.

-Fewer vasectomies (duh)

Is the "Man Pill" a great advancement or just plain demoralizing?  You decide!

Lactation Station

     When browsing through the latest edition of Gastronomica, I stumbled upon an interesting find: an article about...  human breast milk tasting?!!  After stifling my initial reaction, I gathered the courage to read more; and, I guess my primordial instincts came free because I have to admit that I was rather intrigued. 

   

     The author, Charles Reeve, talks about why most Western Civilizations are disgusted by the thought of lactation.  Perhaps it's the confusion of the breast as a sexual object versus a maternal one.  Or maybe it's just the thought of bodily fluids flowing from private orifices. Regardless, milk is packed with vital nutrients like choline to stimulate a baby's growth and learning.  But I digress.... back to the tasting....

     Jess Dobkin, a controversial Canadian artist, has provided an answer.  She ingeniously set up a Breast Milk Tasting Bar, complete with six women's pasteurized breast milk to sample and Cheerios to nibble.  The display was hosted at Ontario's College of Art and Design (OCAD) in 2006, and more than 300 people attended.  "Beer critic, Jon Filson, gamely opinioned, 'Breast milk has a silky mouthfeel, leaving a slight film-but much less even than the skimmest milk from a cow.'"

     If you ever have the itch to sip on some human breast milk, a Lactation Station may be waiting just around the corner!

The Drunk Files

It's happened to most of us at one time or another. Suddenly we feel either outrageously courageous or uncharacteristically sporatic... and then we do it. We compile the rawest (most regrettable) message we're able to, punch in the name of the one person who has no business seeing it, then click... it's SENT!

Clearly, this sore phenomena is common among inebriated internet surfers. But sober individuals too may suffer. The New York Times interviewed one such person. She was prescribed zolpidem (commonly known as Ambien) to combat insomnia. To her knowledge, the drug was successful and allowed her to sleep all night. What she didn't know was that she was waking for short periods in the middle of the night, a condition called sleep apnea. In the morning she had no recollection of these brief wakings nor what she may have done during them. Well, you guessed it... she flooded the inboxes of random people from her contact list during these middle-of-the-night bouts of awakeness.

So, let's thank google for having our backs. Introducing, Mail Goggles. One can activate Mail Goggles in his or her google email (Gmail) account. Gmail asks for a time range during the day or night when you may not be "in the right state of mind" to send an email. Then, if you compose an email during these vulnerable hours and click send, Mail Goggles will lightly let you know "It's that time of the day. Gmail aims to help you in many ways. Are you sure you want to send this?" The reader is then assigned five simple math problems that are to be completed within 60 seconds. If completed correctly and in a timely fashion, off goes your email in to cyberspace. But if you fail, Gmail will suggest, "Water and bed for you." And you are saved until the morning when you see the horrid draft still pulled up on your desktop.

Pablo Picasso: PIMP

Generally, I presume that most people have a familiarity for Pablo Picasso. While I consider myself to be only vaguely acquainted with his works, I find his personal life much more intriguing. Picasso had his share of women, and remnants of them live on in his masterpieces.

Fernanande Olivier

Nude in an Armchair, 1909

Fernande Olivier, "La Belle Fernanande," is remembered as Picasso's first lover. She grew up in Paris and made a living as a nude model (and later, prostitute.) Olivier was married to someone else the entiretly of her seven year relationship with Picasso. However, when he prohibited her from modeling for other people, she said "nuh uh!" and ended their affair.

Marcelle Humbert

I Love Eva, 1912

Picasso rebounded with Marcelle Humbert, who sometimes went by the name Eva Gouel. Not much is recorded of her life, but we do know that she impacted Picasso in a big big way. Picasso was devastated when she died an early death, presumably due to tuberculois. Humbert very well may have been Picasso's "first true love," as he incorperated the words "I Love Eva" into some of his paintings.

Olga Khokhlova

Olga con Mantilla, 1917

I admit, this post started as a mere autobiography of Olga Khokhlova. But as I delved further into her complex life and vivacious acquaintances, I couldn't help but to commend Picasso for his acute taste in women. Thus began an unabashed stalkery of Picasso's other companions. But I digress.

Olga met Picasso at the Théâtre du Châlet for the ballet Parrade. Picasso designed the costumes for the show and Olga was one of the ballet dancers. The two hit it off and soon Olga moved to Barcelona to live with Picasso. About a year later, the two wed and Olga gave birth to Picasso's first child, Paulo.

Thereafter, their relationshp began to deteriorate due to rumors of infidelity, so Olga filed for divorce and moved with Paulo to the South of France. Picasso refused to split his wealth with Olga according to French law, and as a result they were in legal wedlock until Olga's death in 1955.

Marie-Thérése Walter

Marie-Thérése Walter, 1937

Marie-Thérése Walter was Picasso's young mistress who ultimately broke up his marriage with Olga. She was only 17 when Picasso began courting her. They met at the French shopping center, Galeries Lafayette in Paris (teens will always be mallrats, I suppose.)

Marie conceived Picasso's first daughter, Maya and it is rumored that Marie became jealous of one of Picasso's muses, Dora Maar. When the two accidently met in Picasso's sutdio, he suggested that they "fight" for him. The two women started wrestling, which quickly progressed to a steamy threesome with Picasso. Marie-Thérése and Picasso split after ten years of romance, but Picasso continued to support her financially. Four years after Picasso's death, Marie hanged herself in the garage of her home in the South of France.

Dora Maar

Dora Maar au Chat, 1941

Henriette Theodora Markovitch, alias Dora Maar has always been an inspiration to me. Although she was also an avid poet and painter, I especially appreciate her for her dark and trepid photographs. Dora was no less than what we would now categorize as an "emo" self-mutilator. She was very in touch with her emotions, especially the despondent ones. Perhaps she suffered such unrelenting melancholy because she was infertile.

Nonetheless, Picasso was intrigued by her and she turned out to be his most vauable muse. His painting of her, Dora Maar au Chat was auctioned at the Sotheby's, one of the oldest auction houses still running, for $95,216,000, making it the world's second most expensive painting ever sold at auction. Mind you, it was only behind Picasso's other work, Boy with a Pide (the Young Apprentice), which sold for $104.1 million. Picasso, the moneymaker.

Francoise Gilot

Unknown

Francoise Gilot, a young artist and law student, met Picasso when she was 21 and he was 61. She birthed Picasso's third and fourth children, Claude and Paloma. Francoise and Picasso split roughly nine years later, and Gilot went on to marry Jonas Salk, the "polio vaccine pioneer." However, she didn't leave Picasso quietly. Eleven years after their separation, she wrote a revealing book, Life with Picasso, so divulging that Picasso himself took legal action to stop its publication (he was denied.)

Jacqueline Roque

Jacqueline with Flowers, 1954

Picasso met Jacqueline Rogue in 1953, the year that Francoise left him. Eight years later, Picasso proposed and Jacqueline became his second wife. The two had no children, and over the span of the 20 years she spent with him, he created more than 400 portraits of her. The two stayed together until Picasso's tragic death at a dinner the two were hosting in their home April 7, 1983. Jacqueline, the last of Picasso's lovers, too took her own life by gunshot three years later.

To conclude, Pablo Picasso, birthname: Pablo Diego José Santiago Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Crispin Crispiniano de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santisima Trinidad Ruiz Blasco y Picasso was an extraordinary man who never lacked women. My only regret is that he never dated my grandmother (nevermind the 36 year age difference nor the undeniably inconduicive location...) Oh, sigh. How I would love to be an offspring of the terribly talented Pablo Picasso.