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Post- magazine, March 8, 2012

Post- magazine, March 8, 2012

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Published by: The Brown Daily Herald on Mar 09, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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let’s play a game
girl meets nudity
claire luchette
ethan beal-brown
arts & culture
going downton abbey
academy antics
caitlin kennedy 
arts & culture
the infnte audience
ben resnik 
remy robert
jennifer harlan
bad sex
Post- Magazine is publishedevery Thursday in the BrownDaily Herald. It covers books,
 theater, music, lm, food, art,
and University culture aroundCollege Hill. Post- editorscan be contacted at post.magazine@gmail.com. Lettersare always welcome, and canbe either e-mailed or sent toPost- Magazine, 195 AngellStreet, Providence, RI 02906. We claim the right to editletters for style, clarity, andlength.
cover // caroline washburngirl meets nudity // madeleine denmanboard? // phil laigoing downton abbey // carolyn shashaacademy antics // marissa ilardi
    w    e    e     k    e    n     d
Sam Knowles
Managing Editor of Features
Charles Pletcher 
Managing Editor of Arts &Culture
Clayton Aldern
Managing Editor of Lifestyle
 Jane Brendlinger 
Features Editor
Zoë Hoffman
Arts & Culture Editors
Anita BadejoBen Resnik 
Lifestyle Editors
 Jen HarlanAlexa Trearchis
Pencil Pusher
Phil Lai
Chief Layout Editor
Clara Beyer 
Contributing Editor Emerita
Kate Doyle
Copy Chiefs
 Julia Kantor Kristina Petersen
Copy Editors
Lucas HuhCaroline BolognaBlake CecilNora TriceChris AndersonClaire LuchetteKathy Nguyen
Staff Illustrators
Madeleine DenmanMarissa IlardiKirby LowensteinSheila SitaramCaroline WashburnKah Yangni
 When Thomas Tisch invites you to vid-chat for “an important announcement regarding the University’s future leader-ship,” you say yes. So it was with supreme disappointment that, with a second note that came as unexpectedly as the
rst, Thomas spoiled the surprise.
Brown, meet Christina Paxson, your next president. Or, as Clay has taken to calling her, C-Pax™. We don’t know much about her, except what the BDH has told us. She’s the dean of Princeton’s prestigious Woodrow Wilson School of International Relations. She studies the economics of ageing. She’s the sister of a proud Brunonian. And then there’s this: In 2006, Paxson co-authored a paper arguing that taller people are, on average, smarter than their peers.
Them’s ghtin’ words. We at Post- would know. Last year, an editor offered his own controversial thesis about height:
“Dude, Brown girls are so tall.” Our mostly female staff fell silent, then rampant. “How could you say that?” “That’s just— so generalizing!” “False. Patently false.I’m not sure why we take comments about our height, or lack of it, so personally. But we do. Post- has been accused, from time to time, of insensitivity to several groups on campus. But I can say, without any doubt, one thing: We value peopleof all heights. Social sciences be damned.
But perhaps now, in light of Paxson’s remarks, is as tting time as any to pay tribute to one of our tallest (and therefore
smartest) members: Julia Kantor, who is leaving us to complete her thesis. Julia joined the publication in the fall of 2009, a full year before yours truly knew what Post- was. She was one of the last
holdouts from the ancient regime—from a time when decisions were made, quite literally, in a smoke-lled room. Julia
has served as Copy Chief for the last two years, and Post- has been a better publication for it.So, as we welcome one tall woman to our midst, we say good-bye to another. Julia, you will be missed! Paxson, welcome to Brunonia.
Nobody puts these babies in a corner. Check out the dirty dancers of Fusion this weekend in their 29th Annual Spring Show: Friday at 8, Saturday at2 & 8, and Sunday at 2 in Alumnae Hall.
I was raised to champion a woman’s right to choose ev-erything except bare skin. Te sanctity o my body and thenecessity o concealing my abdomen were some o the earliestlessons I learned—those, and that I should be a Democrat butalso a Catholic. During my middle school years, I changedor gym class in the bathroom. I wore a pale green suit to my eighth grade graduation, orgoing spaghetti straps and baringmy pit stains with pride.And so I grew. I was aware o the value o long-hemmedthings and the precious secret o my shoulder blades. I I hadto choose the
Sex and the City
character I am most like, Iwould pick the Amish man next to whom Samantha sits ona train rom New York to Caliornia. I’d say my motherhas succeeded in instilling modesty in my dress.An unwanted side eect o thismodesty, though, has been a hy-perawareness o my body andthe way I present it. My sel-consciousness has renderedpublic nudity as horriyingan incident as having my lungsll with pudding. Save or a ewdrunkdrunkdrunk skinny dip excur-sions, I would never choose to strip downpublicly or the hell o it.But in January, I chose to undress with my riend Natalie and 30 Korean women and sit in ahot, damp room. While I was visiting her in Virginia,Natalie decided to take our riendship to new heights.She and I visited Spa World.Te concept is straightorward i you don’t overthink it.You pay $35, you get naked, and you sit in pools o water withother ladies. It is not so dierent rom a public pool, but yousee the things that bathing suits conceal: boobs and so blan-kets o at.Aer stalling by checking my text messages, untying my shoes, and careully peeling o my socks, I ocused on thetask at hand: undressing in ront o a riend. Te task becamemore dicult as layers were removed, my shoulders got tense,and then—like ripping o a Band-Aid, I ripped o my un-derwear!I stood there acutely sel-conscious. Here were my kneesand elbows, and my ribs and my entire spine. I didn’t knowwhat to do with my arms.But it was okay aer that rst 90 seconds when we walkedinto the pool room. And then we were just teeny naked shin a big nudist pool. Most o the other women looked likethey had done the totally-bare thing beore. Something about joining a community o middle-aged, naked Spa World veter-ans makes you stop worrying about your knees’ resemblanceto hunks o SPAM. Tey had seen it all beore—the nipplespointing in opposite directions, the stretch marks and theweird scars. Tey didn’t care.Teir indierence made me eel at ease. Aside rom a spello lightheadedness rom the heat and the constant sel-aware-ness that I was soaking in lth (not unlike being in a bath),it was okay. It was not a Dove body wash commercial,
Girl Meets Nudity 
it’s a spa world after all
claireLUCHEEcontributing writer
music is
forgetting Spotify and embracing Ping.
books is
happy we don’t copy edit John D’Agata.
food is
like what do they put in Jo’s mozza-rella sticks anyway?F*cking cocaine??
booze is
drinking salty Bloody Marys at the GCB,washing them downwith Golden Monkey. the word of your body.
theatre is
TOP TENThings Christina Paxton Was Hiding Under Her Scarf 
Prison tat.An eating club.Katherine Bergeron.Secret Crystal of the TallPeople.Ratty cup.Another, smaller scarf.F*cking cocaine.Spring Weekend lineup.A bust ... of Woodrow Wilson.Stilts.
but I did eel comortable aer a while, adjusted to the amounto fesh presented to me. We had all chosen to be naked, andwe had all chosen to be okay with it and to let toxins leave ourbodies in the process.Being naked at Spa World was a growing experience. Ilearned that public nudity or a specic purpose—like detox-ing—is great. It was initially awkward because I got a totally clear image o Natalie’s bodily details—her curves and what-not. But I already knew Natalie had thighs and a belly button.I learned I was wrong to think getting naked makes you auto-matically closer to a riend. It’s just that the close riends are theones you are willing to get naked with.On the other hand, my mother does not know a thingabout my stay in Spa World. I saw a mother-daughter pair sit-ting in the pool, and I thanked my lucky turtlenecks I was bornto a mother who taught me to champion a woman’s right todiscretion.
Illustrated by Madeleine Denman
flm is
giving the talkingcure to naughty Kei-ra Knightly.realizing that it’sDownton, notDowntown.
tv is

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