Monthly Archives: August 2016

Crushin #3: Leandra

Apparently ‘fashion month’ is coming up and I can’t even write these couple of words without feeling the urge to roll my eyes so hard you’d be worried about my well-being. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that I have a certain opinion about everybody and their dog talking about their involvement in the ‘fashion world’ –  looking at pictures of the same old faces for days on end, the same Chloé bags dangling on every arm, the same girls forming crowds of clones, wearing the same f*cking clothes in different shades, mixed with pieces nobody in their right mind would ever consider spending money on, if it wasn’t absolutely mandatory in the world of influencers.

Breathe in, breathe out.

In order to give my judgmental talk a little break and say something positive for a change, I’d like to talk about my fav woman on social media and probably the whole fashion world:

Meet Leandra Medine, 27!!, founder of Manrepeller and my personal #girlboss. She’s basically everything I miss with 99% of our so called influencers out there: She’s original, she’s creative, she’s witty, she’s funny and she really is inspiring and different. If you don’t know her already, I strongly advise you to follow her on every channel available – blog, Instagram 1 & 2, Snapchat, podcasts ,tumblrTwitterPinterest, whatever floats your goat..  – and get rid of some of that pablum of insta slaves you got there instead…

Manrepeller is a humorous fashion blog – because fashion is about fun and experiments, not necessarily just the path of least resistance, remember? Granted, as the name of her blog suggests, she doesn’t only stick to wearable outfits – sadly, if you don’t have giraffe legs, you can’t really pull off wearing a body and a bow without a matching bottom piece, without people begging you to put some clothes on sooner or later. But apart from such variations, there’s really no doubt about why she keeps being recognized for her sense of style. She’s probably one of the reasons why I will never ever be happy with my wardrobe, no matter what and how much of it I buy. Not Chiara, not Kristina and certainly nobody among that Blogger Bazaar family. I’m sorry.

Together with a fun team, she talks about topics in fashion, culture, beauty and all sorts of daily situations and struggles on a daily basis. Always witty, never boring – always personal, never copied. Intelligent and stimulating. How many of the 1k people you follow match such a description? Think about it.

And even if you’re not into reading blogs and spending time reading about other people’s problems and opinions, even her Instagram presence on its own is entertaining, refreshing, funny and worth a follow. No inspirational quotes, no arrangements of bags next to smoothie bowls, no staged pictures in bed, no… you name it. Instead you’ll find funny captions, a potpourri of colors, patterns, an insight into the NYC-life you’d like to beam yourself into and a whole lot of honesty and self-irony.

But enough with my blabla – go see for yourself and enjoy. You’re welcome!

I hope to have given you an idea about what I appreciate in an ‘influencer’ and am happy to hear your suggestions about other people to crush on in a similar way…

Free yourself of that pablum, trust me.



P.s.: If my opinion offends you, please check out my disclaimer. If it doesn’t – why don’t you go and check out @girlcasm on Facebook, follow and or spread the love? 🙂  Also, feel free to contact me for a free #girlcasm bracelet. xoxo

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DIY: Pom-pom-pom

You know how you sometimes check your closet and f*cking hate every piece of clothing it hides – like, with a passion? How do I deserve such a boring pile of clothes? Who even made me buy all of these? Why can’t I just swap all of it with a bunch of Chanel bags and Valentino dresses? I HATE ALL OF YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME??? 

That’s me, every single day.

Having one of my daily fits, one day my eyes fell on this poor Zara blouse. What a tacky piece of boredom you are, I thought to myself, about to rip it from the hanger, tear it with my teeth and throw it in the trash. Stupid relict of pastel-obsessed days. You look like stale salad tastes. 

But you know how sometimes your DNA catches up with you and you suddenly bethink yourself of your roots? I’m too much of a jew to throw a perfectly fine blouse away. I mean, there was a time when I had probably spent 20 euros on it – and never worn it. For a good reason.

Sell it? No way, ever heard of revenue and expense? Also, it’s see-through and I know the boy loves anything that involves a sneaky insight.

Experiment it is. Exciting. I went to buy pompoms in various colors, quickly decided to go for a green-purple combo and got going.

I’m not gonna lie – it took for f*cking ever to sew all of them on. If you follow me on Snapchat @chaotete – hint, hint – you might have noticed. Really. It took me so long. I didn’t count them, but this is obviously a matter of preference. Use as many as you wish – but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I would still classify this DIY as a lazy slash easy one. I did it while watching TV with the boy, just like my previous ones. It also didn’t involve a lot of material or stuff you can’t find easily. It’s pretty cheap as well. To everybody in Switzerland: I bought the pompoms at Coop.

So go on kids, try this at home. I am absolutely sure you have a neglected blouse at home and if you don’t, Zara will always have your back for boring pieces – just check your typical Instagram account for hauls. You can also go for your black and white combo, of course – I’m not forcing anyone to like colors. I repeat: you don’t have to leave your comfort zone.

Being lazy is ok, trust me.




P.s.: Since I doubt this post will offend you – why don’t you swing by @girlcasm on Facebook and share the love?


Also, yes – I still have some free #girlcasm bracelets left, so contact me if you’d like one.

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Not impressed

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but somebody has to get the job done, right? Today I’d like to let you know that casually bragging about Business Class is so 2000-and-I-don’t-even-remember, probably 2004-2006ish. That’s at least 10 years since it was cool – or more like accepted – to let people know in what environment you chose to get from A to B.

Yes, Business Class is great, especially when it’s long distance and you’re being fed all kinds of snacks and drinks in regular intervals instead of scraping stale goop from some aluminium dish, jammed among strangers and that jerk that won’t put his seat in an upright position.

But you know…after having seen pictures of it on Facebook for the last ten years, even your most broke ‘friend’ will be as impressed about it as he or she is by still getting an invitation to FarmVille.

Is that really what you were aiming for when you asked the flight attendant to take a picture of you, lolling in that super spacious capsule? Or when you took that picture of your glass of bubbly, carefully positioned against the background of business class flight information which just happened to stick out of the seat in front of you? Or when you used #businessclass so that even the biggest idiot among your contacts gets the message about how f*king great your life is?

I mean, of course there’s an audience for everything and if we accept that some people enjoy sharing clothes, cars, watches or whatever on social media, everybody should have the right to share whatever he likes without being judged. But there have to be some rules, you know?

For example: If it’s not your money, you’re kind of not in the position to brag about it.

Like… if you happen to have a rich daddy, it should be up to him whether or not to share it on Instagram – but I think we all know what his stance on this particular question would be….he’d probably be more proud if you focused on your grades or career as much as you focus on being the guy with the biggest bottle at the club. Coming from a business university, I often wonder how some guys are still stuck in the place where we met six years ago, when it comes to recognition.

Same goes for sugar daddies. If you’re 20-something, still a student and not member of a a family we all know, we can’t help but wonder how much c*ck sucking it must have cost for you to be able to upload that casual picture of you and your poodle in front of a PJ. There’s no such thing as a free lunch and everybody knows it.

Also, with people obsessing over discrimination by classes all of the time, more and more people know that there are ways to get that winning picture without necessarily being super well-off. I heard that literally begging for an upgrade is a common thing to do – interestingly enough, nobody ever uses a hashtag for that. I know a guy who considers acting like he had an appendectomy less humiliating than receiving the service he actually payed for. Let that sink in.

Long story short: if you’re in the position to pay more for a more comfortable travel experience, by all means, do it – and talk about it, if you have to. Nobody will ever judge people who work for the things they have. But honestly, if this really was as casual for you as you try to communicate it, you probably wouldn’t talk about it at all. Or when was the last time you posted a picture of yourself brushing your teeth?

So if you happen to have made a great deal, why don’t you share the whole story so everybody can learn something from it? And if your daddy payed for it, make sure you enjoy the experience as much as you enjoyed talking about it.

We’re kinda not impressed, trust me.



P.s.: If you’re offended, please consult my disclaimer. If you agree, why don’t you swing by @girlcasm on Facebook and spread the love and or contact me for a free #girlcasm bracelet? xoxo

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The boy and I, we rarely fight. Even though we’re both equally stubborn and judgmental from time to time, luckily we mostly agree on things – especially the things or people we dislike, turning us into a really really obnoxious couple. But there’s one thing that I have noticed about us where we are completely different: maintenance.

He will totally hate me for this, but let me elaborate:

What he does on a daily basis is: get up, take a shower, put gel in his hair, dry it, put on some pants and a shirt. Like, a button-down shirt. Every. F*cking. Day. He’d rather skip breakfast than his daily routine. He does own a couple of t-shirts, but he wears them in bed or when he works out. Not on a regular day, though. Not even if he’s not really planning to leave the house. God forbid.

Me on the other hand…

I get up and go straight to the kitchen. I prepare breakfast, no matter what. If I have to be somewhere really early, I’ll get up early enough to have the time to eat enough to get me through the first two hours of my day. Everything else is secondary. If anything.

If you follow me on Snapchat – @chaotete, hint hint – you already know this: If I don’t have to go somewhere important, I don’t see a real reason why I should get dressed. In winter, I do put on something over my pajamas so I’m not cold but in summer I literally have no reason to dress properly. Or do my hair. Or put on make up.

Why? Because I can, that’s why. Because I don’t have a job – yet, besides uni – that requires for me to look somewhat polished and trustworthy. Something that will change early enough and last for a long long while. Because I feel more comfortable that way. Cosy and free. Just natural, just me. Maybe it’s because I’m lazy AF, yes, but also because I believe that I’m – still – young enough to look acceptable without a lot of effort.

Because why would I need the extra effort? And for whom? For myself to look at my reflection wherever I walk by a shop window? Right…

I had this thought when I spent a couple of days on Mallorca earlier this month, equipped with a couple of basic clothes, mostly to cover my body for occasions like hotel breakfasts or strolls around town in the evening. No heels, no bags, not even deodorant. Not because I like to scare people off with my natural venom, but because salt water and sun did the job as good as any chemical you’d usually use. And makeup? Nothing beats a tan and a fresh face. Nothing.

But walking around town in the evening, there were so many girls and women, looking like they had spent at least an hour to get ready. For dinner. At a pizzeria. Or drinks from shared buckets with sparklers. With their parents, mostly. On Mallorca. You know what I mean?

And when I came home, I saw all those blog post coming up, of bloggers sharing their visual diaries from their trips to Thailand or other exotic destinations. In their pink Zara velvet pants. With their Valentino rockstud bag. And their curling iron, obviously. And 50 shades of lipgloss?

And I just rolled my eyes.

Yes, I know for some people it’s basically their job to look fake and ‘perfect’ and I know that other people do enjoy pampering themselves, feeling good about themselves, knowing that they put some effort into their looks. But somehow nobody ever promotes how it’s a great feeling to feel good about yourself, knowing that it didn’t take 25 different products, seven outfit changes and way too many f*cks to get you into a presentable state.

I mean, I’m not judging if you’re somebody who enjoys dressing up 24/7 – it’s not like I never use makeup or totally overdress occasionally. Me too, I like a pretty outfit with a matching bag. I also don’t despise personal hygiene, to the contrary. With ‘less effort’ I don’t mean ‘less showers’.

It’s just that I sometimes have the feeling that people don’t even see not changing their appearance on a daily basis as an option. Or that their poor makeup skills ruin more than they help, just like a lot of other fake stuff people do to themselves which I obviously have a clear opinion on…

And I think they are missing out on a huge luxury. A privilege. A brief moment in life that might be over earlier than we think: Youth – the time when literally everybody looks good without a lot of fuzz. Yes, it’s cheesy, but trust me, you’re beautiful without your daily shield of wall color. You don’t look a fraction as hideous without makeup as your silly brain tells you. And whoever tells you differently should perhaps exfoliate his/her skin, set some life goals and contemplate why they have reached this point.

Ask your granny. She’d take your #iwokeuplikethis any time, trust me.



P.s.: Here’s my disclaimer, but you’re not offended anyway, are you? Cool, how about you follow @girlcasm on Facebook or contact me for a free @girlcasm bracelet? Share the love! xoxo


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Less is more

I don’t know about your country, but I went to primary school in Germany, which is where I draw a certain memory from: girls used to comment on their crush’s ‘fragrant’ washing powder. Like mmmmhm he smells so nice of washing powder! I can say that my conscience is clear on this one – I never got the idea why the substance somebody’s mother had chosen to wash that person’s dirty underwear qualified as an attractive feature.

While I’m happy to admit that we were all young and stupid once for one or another reason, I am kind of at a loss when it comes to the question why people seem to keep up this fondness for one of the worst smells there is on earth. I hear of people having preferences in brands, depending on smell, people who can keep washing powders apart, depending on smell and people who seriously prefer whatever has the most obtrusive smell of washing powder over just neutral washing powder.

You know you can always count on me to be honest with you, so here we go: do yourself a favor and switch to washing powder without scent. Smell like yourself, not some cheap-ass toxic substance. If it’s not your health you care about (because obviously artificial scent, especially something as obnoxiously disgusting as the smell of washing powder, is bad – google it if you don’t trust me), you should definitely care about first impressions. Whenever I smell somebody’s washing powder I can’t help but think of low IQs and primitive jokes.

You do know that your clothes won’t be any less clean if you chose something that doesn’t smell like watching bad TV in the afternoon, don’t you? Try it, I dare you.

While we’re at it, I’d like to add that the same goes for cheap perfume, too. I get that not everybody is eager to spend a lot of money on expensive fluids, but sometimes I walk by girls and think – can it be that bathing in cheap-ass perfume day by day costs about as much as using one discreet dash of perfume of better quality? Only that in second case you’d end up smelling like, you know, a person with taste? And in case of doubt – no perfume at all still smells better than what you’re doing to yourself and your environment. Why does it have to be so much it lingers for minutes after you pass some place? You’re not a dog, are you?

And finally, the same goes for body sprays. No matter what marketing teams are trying to suggest with ads showing women running after men who smell of AXE or the like – it is not true. It is not attractive. Full stop. I promise I’d rather have a man smell like a man – one that showers instead of covering up his lack of hygiene, of course – instead of smelling of something that is so cheap he choses to bathe in it. Try water next time, it’s great.

Isn’t one of the best odors in the world the smell of a beloved person’s skin? Pure and clean, without distraction of anything else?

All of the mentioned artificial scents mixed with a hint of cigarette smell and you have it – the most repellent shield ever. Unattractive, headache-causing and absolutely tacky. Keep that in mind.

Less can be more, trust me.



P.s.: If you’re offended, my disclaimer is still in action – if not, you should swing by @girlcasm on Facebook. xoxo


Also… I’m still giving away girlcasm bracelets for free, contact me if you’re interested 🙂




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