(No) Sexpectations

I am a disciple of the Man Repeller.

Let me explain. Actually, I will let my guru, Leandra Medine, explain.


To summarize, a Man Repeller is one who dresses with a certain anti-sexual flair.

The guidelines for sartorial Man Repelling are clear. Harem pants (check). Violent jewelry (check check check). Layers (check). Anti-flattering or aggressive shapes, menswear, clogs… “Anti” is the operative word here. It’s about freedom from the pressure of appealing to anyone, ESPECIALLY the male gender.

My sartorial instincts are currently leading me down the path of Man Repelling. I own a black, faux-fur vest. I have more than six men’s white button downs, one of which has a bestudded collar. I made no fewer than four ear cuffs – yesterday.

Obviously, when you’re not trying to appeal to the opposite sex, you’re freer to have fun with your style. The necessity for cleavage takes a back seat to comfort, or to the desire for truly vampy, almost-black lipstick.

But I have recently come to realize that Man Repelling applies to much more than fashion. Man Repelling is an attitude, and one in which I am exceptionally, naturally well-versed.

Confidence, self-respect, spades of sartorial instincts: these are all things a Man Repeller must have. But there is something else, and this is the key element. You have to have nothing to lose.

That’s a dramatic, quasi-melodramatic way to put it. But it’s pretty much the truth. You have to be uncompromising with your style, and uncompromising with yourself. Uncompromising with your standards.

If you think about it, it’s a very efficient way of screening suitors. More realistically, it is a way to justify the lack of suitors.

I have been a Man Repeller since… Well, thinking about, before puberty. My Man Repelling has fluctuated. I have always been a smarty-pants and a know-it-all, so there’s that. I did the whole ear-gauges thing (still kind of do. They’re silver half rings with spiked closures). I’m a classical musician. I wear scarves that are larger than most duvets (and that is only BARELY exaggerating).

My Man Repelling has reached new heights, what with the black fur vest and all (it is the pinnacle of my repelling). I have no interest in appealling to the opposite sex. That is not to say that, should the opportunity arise, I would forcibly Repel the interested party, but I am not going to supress my sartorial needs and, more so, MY PERSONALITY AND MY SELF, to attact someone who is CLEARLY NOT ACTUALLY INTO ME.

Man Repelling insures (maybe not, but it offers a better chance than dressing like a ho from the streets yo) that people who express interest, are actually interested. It insures that the Man Repeller is true to herself. It also means that one has an official title – of Man Repeller.

It makes it easier to do that thing where you only spend time with people who actually like you. It gives you the freedom to wear what you like (and that includes male cologne, yeah, I do that) because, judgement does not matter. It diffuses the ever-treacherous, ever-disappointing Sexpectations.

And, most importantly, it keeps it fresh, it keeps it fun, and it keeps it you.

So get out there, my sons. If Man Repelling isn’t your thing, that’s fine. If the idea of scaring away the few candidates with your ferocity is not appealling, I understand.

But here’s some food for thought. There are three people that I hold to be my Man Repeller icons.

Tilda Swinton is the Beyonce of her archetype, she is successful, she is talented, dedicated and beyond smart – and married to this not-too-shabby YOUNG guy. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1747713/

Liz Lemon, although not a fashion role model in any sense, is CERTAINLY a Man Repeller. She is herself. She doesn’t know how to do anything else. Not only does she have a swingin’ time with James Franco (and his body pillow, oi) but she ends up wedding (and bedding, sha-pow) this hunk: http://img2-1.timeinc.net/ew/i/2012/11/29/30-ROCK-WEDDING_510x317.jpg (Nothing has ever given me as much hope as Liz Lemon)

And, finally, the mother of us all, Leandra Medine, the original, the Queen. She wears what she wants, and always looks fierce. She is never anything but candid in her work. And she is ALSO happily married – to an investment banker, no less.

I’m going to Repel on. I hope this gives you the confidence to do so too. May the Force be with you – and by the Force, I mean the Vagine. Estrogen on, ladies. Estrogen on.


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