Mistress America

I'm walking down the stairs of the picture house, trying to keep my Birkenstocks from falling off of my feet but simultaneously slapping them against every step. This causes the couple next to me stop debating whether they actually enjoyed Noah Baumbach's Mistress America or not. The aged woman behind me could only claim that it 'had a few good one-liners'. That's such a mum thing to say, right? The film had some good one-liners. And it did, buckets and buckets of them, mostly spoken by a dreamy teenage writer in New York called Tracy (played by Lola Kirke), the kind of teenager I like to think I could have been if I hadn't been born in Essex, had liked gin and had invested in a beret.

I knew I was going to like this film from the go. After falling madly in lust with Frances Ha and watching it at least one lazy Sunday afternoon a month, I knew anything Greta Gerwig related was right up my street. Maybe I'm the culture junkie and alternative wannabe they're simultaneously mocking and living through, maybe I'm not. As predicted, I loved it. It was exactly the cosy, awkward yet chic Sunday afternoon Greta Gerwig film I had hoped for; warm colouring, indie soundtrack, bootcut jeans and female friendships galore!

Gerwig's character, Brooke, is what I both love and hate about the film. In an instance I'm Tracy; rendering Brooke an iconic New York funny-woman and admiring her wholly. I love her. Then I see little parts of myself played out across the screen. That relentless optimism of 'things will always work out' that I've come to rely on. The flakiness of a character too scatty to follow through with any of her ideas. (If I had a pound for every time I told someone I was writing a novel, I'd have, at least, a fiver by now...) I hate her.

Like the debating couple on the stairs said, before they became distracted by my obnoxious sandals - it's impossible to tell whether you loved her or not. The audience is left exactly in Tracy's eyes; in love, in disgust and then in admiration once more. Like Brooke, Mistress America is a difficult one to pin down. It's overall charm and familiarity feels like going for drinks with an old friend. Even if that friend is arrogant or egotistical or too big of a dreamer, it's still impossible to dislike them. It is impossible to dislike Mistress America. Watch the trailer below!

PMS

PMS usually stands for Premenstrual Syndrome and is most often linked to a lady's lady-bits. PMS in this instance stands for Perfect Monthly Sounds, and is linked to all the songs that I wish I had helped procreate with my non-lady bits. The songs I wish I had written / sung / discovered, all by women in the music industry, are usually posted in a monthly blog over at Bored Magazine but for one night, and one night only (probably) I've posted it here. (Because you're my favourite! -Don't tell anyone).

July’s sounds have mostly been discovered during the hazy early morning hours, when I can’t sleep and I find myself stuck in the black hole that is the internet. Usually, the songs that made sense the night before because the underlying cowbell spoke to me in a way that nothing else could, do not always make the same sense the morning after. Luckily, these songs stood strong in the light of day, equally dreamy and with no cowbell in sight. (Yeah, I did re-listen to all of the songs to confirm that this is accurate / When did everything get so cowbell heavy? / Can you tell I’m not sleeping?)

Miya Folick / I Got Drunk 

‘But I was drunk and you know how I feel about you.’ Very little explanation needed. For those who have had a few too many brandy-and-cokes and confessed feelings that are more often than not unrequited, this one’s for you. Listen to the entire ‘Strange Darling’ EP for more heartbreakingly honest lyrics, musical journeys and a self-proclaimed (and utterly enjoyable) grunge-folk sound. 

Pixx / Fall In

An absolutely sultry voice and ever so exciting release from Pixx. Nine months since her single ‘A Way to Say Goodbye’, the British singer is finally waiting to birth her debut EP into the world. V. Exciting. Melt into her songs and hear Joni Mitchell, Lana Del Rey and FKA Twigs but at the same time hear something entirely different and new. 

Girlpool / Before The World Was Big

There’s something inherently summer and cutoffs and skateboards about this L.A girl band. I’d exchange my humid yet grey London evenings for a California sunset any day but I think this sound is as close as I’m going to get, for now. It’s that kind of wanderlust and untapped nostalgia that really works. Raw vocals, raw lyrics, raw sounds and cool vibes. Cool.

All Dogs / That Kind Of Girl 

Pop punk at it’s finest, this song packs an emotional punch whilst trying to bring back 2006 in a totally kick-ass and upbeat way. A musical metaphor for majorly dressing up to go to the shops incase you bump into your ex, you know? Or you don’t know and it’s just me that’ll put on a diva shade of lipstick to go get almond milk, just in case. Milk or no milk, the song is fab. 

Ibeyi / Ghosts

After missing out on seeing the sisters play live at Glastonbury, I’ve had their self-titled album on repeat, as if it’s some kind of consolation. It’s helping, a little bit. I suggest that you too should get them on repeat to lead a fulfilling and gorgeous musical existence. Not much to say other than, beautiful. (I don't call myself a writer for nothing).