What If Miley Were on Our Side?
It's a Fucked-up Time to Be Alive
Every once in a while there’s a perfect storm of subcultural affects and pop culture icons. Like when Rihanna asked the question that was on all our minds: “Who’s gonna run this town?” Or like the time the stars aligned and we found ourselves briefly and beautifully on the same page as Kesha when she rattled off the itinerary of an ideal evening: “Tonight we’re going hard, just like the world is ours, we’re tearing it apart.”
In March, W Magazine published Ronan (who?!) Farrow’s interview with Miley Cyrus and it blew my fucking mind. At first I asked myself: are we not bored of her? Is her style at all meaningful? Is she setting trends? Since when? Never has Miley ever done for me lyrically what others did, but something about this interview made me wonder: what if Miley were on our side?
I couldn’t help salivating at the potential of what gold I would uncover in that heavy, hella-glossed pile of paper. But then we also had two food-stamped Red Baron pizzas and some corn dogs in the oven so maybe it was Miley, but it could also have been the snacks tugging at my appetite.
“It doesn't even look like her,” a friend cooed as he passed me the magazine to free up his hands to roll a joint. Miley, all bedroom-eye-made-up, leeloo-dallas-hairstyled and wearing like a billion goddamn Sterling silver bracelets, clutched a pillow to her body barely covering her a naked hip and dreamcatcher rib tat.