Last fall a co-worker of mine taught me how to tie a turban on my head out of a pair of tights! Eccentric, easy and utilitarian! Trust me, it’s especially useful during the cold months to cover up your ears and keep your pretty cranium toasty… and its downright fabulous. Anyways, despite it being 70 degrees and above 50% humidity on a Friday night, I came up with the brilliant idea to wear a turban out in the East Village. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. It was 12am on a Friday night and I was in the East Village, looking like a freak/wannabe hipster / crazy person… albeit a fabulously classy, glamourous freak / wannabe hipster/ crazy person, might I say. The night consisted of getting a round of applause by a passerby, getting honked at and yelled at in a car, and having a few particularly interesting conversations.

Overweight brooklynite man about 26-29: I really like your hat.

Me, while speeding up walking trying to lose this guy: Oh stop. Don’t lie to me right now.

Overweight brooklynite man: No really, I do.

Me, while crossing the street, hoping he wouldn’t cross the street as well: You’re just being ironic.

Overweight brooklynite man, definitely crossing the street unfortunately: What? Ironic? What does that even mean? I really like it. Very 1950s, it looks good. Old school.

Me, finally stopping to make eye contact: You know what? I appreciate that.

Upon realizing that a white man wearing a Yankees hat and some probably FUBU or Rockawear T-Shirt with jeans too big and probably most likely a pair of air force ones was giving me a compliment on my style, I proceeded to turn off the corner to lose the poor guy and his friend. He was a sweetheart. He really was.

Having turned off the street too soon to lose the guy, I was then approached by another guy and his friend who had clearly overheard a conversation I was having with my friend about how I had almost had a near death experience by nearly choking on a gum wrapper.

Very attractive, well dressed man 25-27, probably 5 beers in, upon lurking and eavesdropping on said conversation: What do you want to choke on?

Me, while walking faster and simultaneously rolling eyes: Wow. That was really good timing there, my friend.

Attractive man: I know, I really had to.

Such is the life on a Friday night with a pink/magenta turban on.

Laughs were to be had by all that night… except for me. Hours later upon returning home, I had the most excruciating headache – from tying the tights around my head too tight of course. The next morning I went about my business… until a friend (who’d seen my instagram photo of pink turban) texted me that “someone definitely wrote a Craigslist missed connection about you bby”.

I cannot even BEGIN to describe the excitement that followed. I was studying in the New York Public Library and had to do everything in my power to contain my excitement. I hadn’t even seen the post, it could’ve been a joke, it was possible it wasn’t even about me… BUT CRAIGSLIST MISSED CONNECTIONS?! THIS WAS A DREAM!

You know how young girls dream of the day their wedding is featured in a top bridal magazine? Well, as a little girl (well, teenager) my dream was to be mentioned in Craigslist Missed Connection. not a joke.

Missed Connections is possibly the BEST entertainment there is for anyone looking to spice up their lifefill up hours of boredom and have a good laugh. Read through, you’ll find the posts downright vulgar (not my favorite), creepy/stalkerish (lets be honest now, aren’t they all?), or extremely poetic (my favorites!). I looked online (it didn’t take very long, considering I have NYC Manhattan Missed Connections bookmarked on my browser), and voila! There it was (click HERE for link)- assuming another asian wasn’t walking around the EV this weekend with a pink head thing.

I died. I most likely was the ‘asian w pink head wrap’ walking on 2nd ave. I also know right away this will not work out – he can’t even spell ‘confidence’ and I strongly dislike that he used the word ‘exuded’. Sorry I’m particular when it comes to men on the internet. After confirming with my friends and other people I saw that night, I came to the conclusion that no, this is actually real, and no, no one was playing a mean joke on me by using my ultimate dream against me. Skepticism aside, I am now evaluating what I do know from that night:

1. I was undoubtedly wearing a pink turban on my head
2. Multiple, random people did approach me and comment on my headwear. But no one was extremely attractive (aside from that one guy who made the lewd remark)
3. I don’t know how I walk – but I am very grateful that it appears as if I have confidence (AKA I’m glad I don’t have a Quasimoto from the Hunchback of Notre Dame strut).
4. I am also grateful said person noticed my smile. Not because I’m flattered, or because I’m vain. It’s because my parents paid a lot of money for this smile and I endured years of braces, routainers, fluoride rinses, teeth cleanings, and countless whitening strips to get these pearly whites.
5. 2nd Ave on a Friday night is mecca for drunk people, due to the fact that some of the best bars line the avenue. That being said, this poster was probably heavily intoxicated – thus, his comments on my style and confidence are probably to be taken with a grain of salt. Have you heard of THE MANREPELLER? THE Leandra Medine, AKA my style guru, AKA my idol in all things man repelling.

man·re·pell·er¹  [mahn-ree-peller]

–noun: outfitting oneself in a sartorially offensive mode that may result in repelling members of the opposite sex. Such garments include but are not limited to harem pants, boyfriend jeans, overalls (see: human repelling), shoulder pads, full length jumpsuits, jewelry that resembles violent weaponry and clogs.

–verb (used without object)-pell·ing, -pell·ed: to commit the act of repelling men

–sartorial freedom is yours. You haven’t renewed your birth control prescription since Proenza Schouler’s debut collection but hey, more cash for you. In the battle between finding yourself a man friend and investing in some sweet new shoulder pads, your priorities are perfectly in order. Sure, you may reinvent the “cat-lady” credentials but who cares? Your closet rocks my Missoni printed ankle socks.

-www.manrepeller.com

I’ve embraced my proclivities towards manrepelling. I’ve not only embraced them, but I’ve absolutely embodied them. I am just in complete and utter shock that someone else of the opposite sex would be remotely attracted to such man repelling tactics. It’s not absurd. It’s potentially romantic. Actually, it’s more likely potentially creepy. Afterall, all I’m picturing from this dude who wrote this on Craigslist, is a not 28 (as advertised), but 38 year old man-boy who is more or less 10lbs overweight, has an asian fetish, and enjoys watching the Jets play, but not as much as he enjoys going into Brooklyn alone just to eat meatballs from IKEA and pick up on girls shopping in the furniture section… or maybe I’m thinking of Lutz from 30 Rock.

Either way, ladies, and gents too I suppose – this may just be a testament that as long as you have the confidence and the balls, you can pull off (and get away with) essentially anything, and even turn a few heads here and there.