For several days each month, the lives of many teen girls in Nepal are turned upside down.

They're isolated from family and daily routines, and banned from engaging in activities like combing their hair, spending time with family, and even eating their favourite foods.

Why? Because they have their periods.

Now, girls from Nepal are giving the world a glimpse at how "the silence and stigma that surround menstruation" deeply affect their lives as part of a new public awareness campaign from the international charity WaterAid.

Seven teens from the rural village of Sindhuli were given cameras so they could document what it's really like to have their periods in their community. After taking the photographs and participating in workshops, the girls put their work on display to help encourage discussion about the issue.

The goal of the project, according to WaterAid, is to "challenge menstrual taboos and call for improved sanitation for women everywhere."

“Being able to deal with periods in a hygienic and dignified way is crucial to women’s well-being," WaterAid Chief Executive Barbara Frost said in a statement. "It helps women feel that they are able to play a full role in society, no matter what time of the month."

Ahead, a look at what it's like to experience your period as a young girl in Nepal. To learn more about WaterAid and sign its petition to call for better sanitation facilities worldwide, visit this link.

Editor's note: Some captions have been edited for clarity and length.

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Justice for #HandeKader @FELGTB @LGTBNews @hrw @Turkey This world is just barbaric! pic.twitter.com/AFkJerGmYE

— Isabel Fernández (@iclei_isabel) August 19, 2016

People around the world are demanding justice after 22-year-old transgender woman and activist Hande Kader was brutally raped and burned to death in Istanbul, Turkey earlier this month, reports BuzzFeed News.

According to the site, friends of Kader, who was a sex worker and well-known LGBT activist, last saw her getting into a car with a client in Istanbul's Harbiye district; her body was later found charred and mutilated in the posh neighbourhood of Zekeriyaköy and she was identified via prosthetics at the city morgue.

Following Kader's graphic murder, LGBT activists and supporters worldwide have been paying tribute to her and calling for justice online using the hashtag #HandeKadereSesVer, which translates to "Give voice to Hande Kader."

#HandeKader was transgender. She was sexually assaulted, mutilated and burned to death! #HandeKadereSesVer #Turkey pic.twitter.com/COO4nGvSXy

— dilâra ♀ (@DilaraGurcu) August 17, 2016

#Handekader is a trans woman. She is burnt to death in #istanbul, #Turkey. No condemnation from government. #lgbt pic.twitter.com/uUhx1YV0FX

— Murat Çekiç (@muratcekic) August 14, 2016

We demand justice! #HandeKadereSesVer pic.twitter.com/Z1rO0zsn5f

— Reha Aksoy (@rheosta) August 17, 2016

While homosexuality is not illegal in Turkey, discrimination against the LGBT community is still horrifyingly widespread in the politically unstable nation, where an attempted military coup against the government took place just last month. All of which led local LGBT organisations to hold a press conference this past Thursday calling for the rights of transgender people in Turkey to be protected, and the Istanbul LGBTI+ Pride Week Committee to release a public statement mourning Kader and demanding a stop to hate crimes.

"Hande was a person who raised her voice against hate crimes and encouraged everyone to raise their voices too," read the statement, which encouraged all to speak out against homophobia and transphobia. "The only way to stop hate crimes is to raise our voice together against hatred and hate crimes."

In closing, the Istanbul LGBTI+ Pride Week Committee asked supporters to join them in a march tomorrow, Sunday the 21st of August, from Tünel to Galatasaray, "where we will demand justice for Hande Kader." Thousands are expected to attend.

#HandeKadereSesVer.

#handekaderesesver idc what you think about trans people, nobody deserves to be raped, beaten and burnt alive

— venus (@drizzy_72) August 19, 2016

she was raped and beaten up before they set her on fire. do not let the world ignore this. #HandeKadereSesVer pic.twitter.com/7Ok94g2n3T

— 207R57 (@sarahsniehaus) August 18, 2016

The fight for lgbt+ rights and acceptance is far from over. Mourning for Queer Turkey.

Rest in peace sweet angel. #HandeKadereSesVer

— Stevie (@stevieboebi) August 20, 2016

this is absolutely horrible & disgusting. how dare you do something so terrible to a woman who just wanted to be herself. #HandeKadereSesVer

— blaise (@flowerdanieI) August 18, 2016

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Another week in London, another gastronomic mash-up that nobody asked for but everyone’s queuing at. This is a city that now boasts a Chinese/Portuguese ‘ricery’, a Scottish/Italian tapas bar and a joint selling Japanese/Caribbean sushi burgers – because the food scene’s new favourite thing to do is push two cuisines together like Barbies and make them kiss.

But hold onto your paper bib, because here comes the backlash. On the flipside of all that tiring innovation, a new crop of restaurants is retreating into the past instead, with kitschy kitchens, retro decor and menus from the decades taste forgot.

We don’t mean glitzy 50s Americana, either – call it quinoa fatigue, but there’s a growing appetite for flavours straight out of your childhood or the back of your Nan's larder. Potato waffles, chicken kiev, egg and chips, and posh riffs on Angel Delight. Rice pudding was touted as the ‘food of 2016’ earlier this year when Waitrose reported a rise in sales of the milky classic (with skin please), and even Spam is making an unlikely comeback. There’ll be a Findus Crispy Pancake pop-up before the year is out.

So if the brave new world isn’t for you, then how about the old one, drenched in custard? Here are the best places in London to take your tastebuds on a trip down memory lane...

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This article was originally published on The Queerness, a critical collective giving a platform for queer voices.

I want to talk about vaginas, specifically trans vaginas. My vagina, which I received sometime in my late forties. I want to talk about the way it looks, the way it feels, actually feels, there between my legs and the way it exists as a place of pleasure.

Often it is the first thing people ask me about if they find out I’m trans.

“Have you got one?” they say.

“Does it work?” they say.

“Do you have sex?” they say.

I never answer their questions unless we are of course in bed getting intimate. That’s rarely the case so the conversations never happen or never happen with intimacy.

I think it’s a crying shame that I don’t get to talk about my vagina and that other trans women don’t get to talk about theirs. We should have post surgery vagina circles and pre-vaginal classes.

Our vaginas are different, unexplored, created, surgical, magical, mysterious and too often untouched by outsiders. I spent many years dreaming about mine, imagining how it would feel to reach down and discover an opening, to feel right. I had sexual dreams about having a vagina from my teenage years onward.

I dreamed that a hand would slide into my knickers and find a moist slit. That a finger would push in and then a phallus – plastic or real, would push in slowly and deeply and make me gasp.

I carried on dreaming that dream until the night before surgery. The same faintly naive dreams that my vagina would work like any natal female's.

My surgeon told me he would make me look realistic, with a vaginal opening, a sensate clitoris and lips; inner and outer. I was told I couldn’t have sex for at least three months.

For four days after surgery I didn’t have sex dreams as I fell in and out of morphine-consciousness. I only wondered what my vagina would look like once the packing and bandages had come off. People post photographs but they tend to be the ‘butterfly’ ones.

“Look at me they” they say “I’m a beautiful pussy fuck me.”

On the fifth day the packing came out and a nurse, a specialised nurse, gave me a small hand mirror to inspect their specialist work.

“Pleased?” She asked.

“It looks like an angry monkey’s arse” I wept.

“The swelling will go down,” she replied.

The swelling did go down but I had months of problems; tightness, dilation, scar tissue, erectile tissue, peeing, infection. The list goes on. But it’s not the full picture because I love my vagina. I mean I really love my vagina. Which is lucky because it’s one of one.

But I’ve never felt confident enough with it to have sex. It’s still, a few years on, quite painful to dilate, it’s got much tighter and the depth has been lost. It still bleeds occasionally and I’ve stopped having my dreams about simple uncomplicated sex.

I masturbate sometimes and it feels wet, but wet from where? And why did nobody tell me about the wet? What is the substance? And why does it go hard in the very centre of my vagina, hard enough that it feels impenetrable ?

I went to see my surgeon and they are going to stretch me open and have a look. I feel like an old cow, I mean bovine, being checked for calf.

I don’t have my sex dreams anymore about my beautiful puffy vagina, swelling around a finger or a phallus.

I spend too much money on handbags now, a substitute I think, and a temporary measure.

But I’d rather talk about us, about our vaginas, our sex lives and really talk with authenticity, not in a way that aims to mimic or settles for greyness but talk in a way that leads to us understanding our bodies, our surgeries, our desire and our options and limitations in regards to sex. I think we at this point have a duty to open up the discussion for younger trans femmes looking up and rushing towards the ever growing waiting lists without fully appreciating what it may mean to not orgasm. What it means to dilate as an ongoing weekly ritual and what it means to have so many people, medical people, tell you that they don’t know about your vagina. It seems odd but there doesn’t seem to be a map of our sex- lands, no shared knowledge that can answer simple questions.

Like what happens if someone pushes hard inside, will it tear? Can it tear? If I stop dilating will it close up? And where is the lubrication coming from?

I’ve long felt that we should have a grown up system where we encounter our vaginas before we have them, that our questions be answered and problems talked over. In the rush to please a system built on gatekeepers we never stop and say how will it feel to have dreams answered?

I have to reiterate that I love my vagina. I mean really love my vagina which is lucky because it’s one of one.

... And then off we go to fight for the right to exist. We go off into silence, often, and shame about not having sex and not having an easy time.

I have to keep saying that because the truth is that as trans women we are taught, by a largely transphobic history written in chat rooms and on social media by cis men and women, that we are not allowed to own our sex, or even our vaginas really. We have to prove we need one, prove we deserve one and then prove that it gives us a sense of authenticity in relation to our womanhood. So stressful is it to have to walk through this minefield that we never stop and create good healthy spaces to discuss our sex lives, our desire and our surgeries.

Go to any GRS ward and you find women talking at length about their fears, their hopes and their desires, they laugh, cry and support each other. They listen and they are heard.

And then off we go to fight for the right to exist. We go off into silence, often, and shame about not having sex and not having an easy time.

I did some research earlier this year where I asked trans women a set of questions about their vaginas (part of an ongoing series of works called ‘Finding our T spot’), amazingly lots of women said to me in public (social media) that they were entirely happy and having copious amounts of deep orgasms and feelings they had never experienced and a whole heap of sex.

I thought then, it’s just me. I’ll do the survey, but it’s just me, this is only my experience. Only I am having a tough time.

But then anonymously in the survey the same women told stories of suffering in silence and of having such little expectation that they didn’t feel like they could complain. Women, an awful lot, spoke of having very little sensation and of real problems dilating. Of pain and discharge and endless follow up appointments littered with silver nitrate.

It wasn’t just me after all, but we were all alone with these feelings, in isolation.

I reiterate I love my vagina, I really love my vagina, which is lucky because it’s one of one.

I knew, or I strongly felt that my experience must be common, that somehow the dreams that were entirely based on a natal vagina and the surgeon's words preceding surgery (it will look as real as possible) hadn’t equipped me for the reality of my rather unique pussy.

My pussy (see I’m owning it now in colloquial terms) needs dilating and surgically stretching, it lubricates from some unknown place and hurts a little when I stand, it could be hair growing inside, it could be scar tissue. I’m saying this because I want to share it in the hope that we don’t feel such shame and such isolation when our dreams become reality. I just feel that these words need saying aloud.

But I reiterate I love my vagina, I really love my vagina, which is lucky because it’s one of one and I want to find my T spot.

Follow Juno on Twitter (@JustJuno1)

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By a narrow margin of 11 votes, the residents of the Alaskan island village of Shishmaref have opted to relocate to the mainland in the wake of global warming, CNN reports. The Inupiat hunting and fishing community has held out against rising water levels and diminishing shorelines for decades, but even its subsistence lifestyle is becoming unsustainable as surrounding ice continues to melt.

Shishmaref sits on a quarter-mile-wide speck of land in the Chukchi Sea, near the Artic Circle. In the past 40 years, the island has shrunk 200 feet, The New York Times reports. As a result of later freezing, ice fishing for tomcod and whitefish is becoming more sparse. Thinner ice also threatens the Inupiats' access to wild caribou.

But even though its prospective new neighbourhood is just five miles away, moving isn't so simple — and certainly not cheap — for the Inupiat. According to an estimate calculated in 2004, the relocation would cost $180 million (£135 million).

"The problem we've been facing for the last 40 years is there is no money from the federal or state government," Donna Barr, secretary of the Shishmaref Council, told CNN.

Due to that funding gap and the need for fresh infrastructure, the relocation is likely a long way off. When that time comes, it won't be the only Alaskan village on the move. A report from the Arctic Institute identified 31 communities on the verge of climate change-related collapse. In fact, Shishmaref can take notes from Newtok, a village of 300 that has already begun its relocation to a site with a few homes and roads, but no power or sewage.

“Those 12 families will be pioneers,” Aaron Cooke with the Cold Climate Housing Research Center told Alaska Public Media. “They’ll be living in kind of a pioneer existence at the new site.”

While chilly villages like Shishmaref and Newtok may be small, surviving global warming means confronting enormous challenges and leaving a lot behind.

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Clean, green, and serene — that's the new order of the world this week. On Monday, the sun changes costumes, shimmying out of Leo's sequinned unitard and buttoning into Virgo's white cotton sundress. While life might not be as theatrical for the coming four weeks, it certainly won't be boring — that's one myth about Virgo that we'd like to dispel. This earth sign is highly creative, but it also brings out the purists in us all. Skip the fast food, fast fashion, fast anything! When Virgo is ruling the skies, quality trumps quantity. The treasure hunt for the most amazing ______ (fill in the blank) will be so edifying. Harness this solar energy to organise, systematise, and recommit to healthy living goals. Life can be both stable and exciting at the same time.

Forget about winging it this week: On Wednesday, make-it-happen Mars gets checked by taskmaster Saturn, forcing everyone to slow down. As the saying goes, when you fail to plan, you plan to fail. Press pause on those maverick moves and make sure everything is being done by the books. This cosmic coupling can make us feel like we have one foot on the gas and the other on the brake. Frustrating? Yes, but consider the stall a blessing in disguise, helping us build everything on a more solid foundation...one that's built to last!

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Update: H&M just released a second look at its upcoming collaboration with Kenzo — one that teases a very different direction for a fast-fashion capsule.

First off, there are no tiger prints: The piece in question is a short long-sleeved printed dress, inspired by the French brand's archive. The folkloric design features a lot of the patterns we know and love from the label (including the technicolor leopard spots!), but is clearly inspired by founder Kenzo Takada's early work. (He founded what would become his namesake brand in the 1970s in Paris.)

The garment is modelled by 25-year-old musician Anna Lotterud, better known as Anna of the North — another emerging face to rep the highly-anticipated collection.

So excited to tell you that I'm one of the ambassadors for the new @hm x @kenzo collab. #kenzoxhm !! 💞

A photo posted by Anna Lotterud (@annaofthenorth) on Aug 19, 2016 at 3:43am PDT

Stay tuned for even more snipped from the collab leading up to the November 3rd debut.

This story was originally published on July 26, 2016.

H&M's next huge designer collaboration is with Kenzo, and it won't be hitting stores until November. But you can get a first glimpse at the colourful collection — the fast fashion staple have released a few images of the forthcoming collab.

There are, unsurprisingly, animal prints and saturated hues on the docket (both Kenzo signatures), judging by the three shots shared thus far. The proliferation of tiger print is showcased in the campaign imagery on "a variety of artists, young creatives, and activists," per a press release. The campaign features London-based makeup artist Isamaya Ffrench; Amy Sall, NYC-based student, activist, and founder of SUNU: Journal of African Affairs, Critical Thought + Aesthetics; Juliana Huxtable, an artist, poet and DJ also in NYC; and Oko Ebombo, Paris-based musician and performance artist.

As for Kenzo as H&M's latest designer collab? The French fashion house got a major dose of cool-girl cred when Opening Ceremony's Humberto Leon and Carol Lim were tapped as co-creative directors in 2011. Its graphic sweatshirts have made myriad street style appearances, and the brand's high-end riff on the humble basic has gotten the Disney treatment, too.

The collection drops on November 3 in 250 H&M locations globally, as well as online. If Balmainia and the hit parade of designer collabs that the Swedish retailer has rolled out prior to that are any indication, this pattern-splashed pair-up will go fast.

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When I was a kid, my mother would teach me Arabic prayers in the car as she drove us to the supermarket. I’d repeat her words line by line until we reached the carpark, then we’d buy our groceries and practice again on the way back, me eating a bag of Wotsits in the back seat and her driving over rather than around the mini-roundabouts on the return journey.

I found myself doing the same thing with my four-year-old daughter recently (reciting prayers, that is, not driving erratically.) I wanted to re-create that memory of being in the car with my mother, to experience that sepia-tinted moment from the other side of the table.

When we were next at the mosque, I watched my daughter smile when she recognised, and could repeat by heart, the prayer that the imam was relaying over the speaker. But then, a few days later, she returned from pre-school and sheepishly told me that she’d spoken to her friends about what I’d taught her and none of them knew Arabic.

I told her not to worry and explained that it’s okay for her to do her own thing as best as I could before I pressed play on Frozen again. While we watched Elsa serenade us once more with details of whatever the hell it is that she needs to let go of, I remembered being at my daughter’s pre-school committee meeting a few weeks earlier where her teachers mentioned in passing that they had to follow a government policy designed to protect children from the risk of radicalisation by picking up on cues that might signal the embryonic stages of extremist behaviour. I got the impression that they thought it was a bit ridiculous but I still thought to myself: my kid is walking around her nursery bellowing the Islamic equivalent of Hallelujah to a bunch of tots in dress up corner and Ofsted are hunting for child terrorists... what have I done?

I joke now but I did feel uneasy about it at the time. It made me consider how the Muslim habits that I find to be harmless could be perceived by others as alarming; the innocuous misconstrued as noxious. After all, it was only a few months ago that a nursery reportedly threatened to place a four-year-old boy on a de-radicalisation programme after his teachers’ thought he’d drawn a picture of a cooker bomb instead of, what was in actual fact, a cucumber.

Today Muslim people are thrown off planes for looking a bit sweaty and saying the word “Allah”, primary school children are identified as “future extremists ”, women who want to dress modestly could be potentially criminalised for choosing to wearing burkas and burkinis, immigrants are vilified and dehumanised in racist propaganda and Islamophobia has become a hulking beast which feasts on a daily news agenda ripe with anti-Muslim rhetoric. All of this makes me want to keep my child at home and never let her out of the door.

Muslim women are the most economically disadvantaged group in Britain – they face discrimination based on their name, faith and appearance when applying for jobs

More than anything, it makes me ask what her future will be like. Muslim women are the most economically disadvantaged group in Britain. According to a new parliamentary report, they face discrimination based on their name, faith and appearance when applying for jobs and the fear of that prejudice puts them off applying for certain roles from the outset. This form of racism is the most worrying kind because it quietly chips away at opportunities for economic success, tramples on self-confidence and distinguishes hope. It’s more guileful than those in-your-face racist moments, like those occasions when people yell slurs at you on the street, because no one quite wants to believe that something so ‘unsporting’ could ever occur in Good Old Blighty.

I feel overwhelmed by my duty to protect my daughter from this distressing atmosphere – it’s almost a physical sensation. Something happens to my heart when Islam is portrayed negatively in the media for the millionth time – it thuds to the ground and the rest of my body curves around it, hunkering down like a fleshy, futile shield. I feel sick worrying what will happen to my tiny child, who thinks unicorns are called sweetcorns, when she is faced with this in later life. Will her personality and her confidence be strengthened, shattered, broken or worse?

I ask a friend who has a three-year-old son how she feels. “I work hard to make sure my son remains confident and has positive self-esteem,” she tells me. “But the constant negative attitude found in the press towards Muslims and Muslim men in particular makes me feel as if the media is undoing my efforts. Our positive role models are few and far between.”

However, BBC journalist and mum of three Sabbiyah Pervez explains that there might be some hidden benefits to being a Muslim parent in this trying climate: “I only really started learning about my faith and then subsequently my heritage after 7/7. I had no identity until then. And I think as parents raising kids today we can’t afford to do that to the next generation because they will be scrutinised and questioned... questioning is good. It helps you develop into a critical thinker.”

To love this religion that everyone else appears to loathe she’s going to have to be a Super-Muslim

I know my daughter will have to be extra perfect, doubly kind and unreservedly compassionate to be the antidote to the hideous misconceptions about Islam that seem to have become the norm. To love this religion that everyone else appears to loathe she’s going to have to be a Super-Muslim. And I feel ill-equipped and unprepared to be the one to teach her how to do it. So I try to take her to spend time with her Muslim cousins because there’s strength in numbers and comfort in familiarity. I tell her that of course she doesn’t have to say prayers out loud, she can just say them in her heart. I make sure she spends lots of time with her grandparents, who are brimming with Islamic knowledge and are wonderful examples of confident, kind-hearted Muslims. Her grandma has given her a money box and teaches her to split her pocket money into three – a part for spending, a part for saving and a part to give to someone in need – and I’m grateful to have that extra layer of parental support and secure scaffolding.

The other day, my sister asked me: “Is there any point in trying to make our kids good Muslims when no matter how much we teach them they will still have to live in an Islamophobic climate? Isn’t it like washing a fish clean and then putting it back in dirty water?"

My mother adjusted her hearing aid and chimed in: “Your children are not fish! Your children will be lights in the darkness! And people are always drawn to the light.”

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I’ll be honest here: I haven’t pushed a thumb-sized wad of cotton wool up my vagina since Shakira’s "Hips Don’t Lie" was number one. It’s not that I’m not thrilled to my very core at the idea of shelling out a fiver every month for the pure pleasure of not turning my gusset into the outflow of an abattoir. And it isn’t that my heart doesn’t sing at the opportunity to bury the odd metric tonne of bloodied cotton in landfill or see it flush out into the sea to stopper the blowhole of a passing dolphin. And it’s not that I don’t think the tampon tax isn’t a charming and entirely fair way to earn yet more money from women’s bodies. It’s just… I don’t know. Tampons, like hair mascara, trainer socks and Walkman radios feel like something I left behind a while ago. For comfort, cost, environmental impact and handiness when travelling I’ve been #teammooncup for years now. And had little-to-no intention of ever going back.

But then I moved to Berlin for the summer. Germany; the home of rye bread, bratwurst, bumbags and, you’ve guessed it, the probiotic tampon. And I wondered – could this be the thing that pulls me back in? Is this vaguely yoghurt-sounding concoction what my genital life’s been missing? Am I missing out? After all, my modern combination of soap, semen, sweat and bicycle saddles could well have stripped some of the natural flora and fauna from my vag. Like most women, I get mild bouts of thrush from time to time and, while it’s easy to treat, perhaps there’s more of a grassroots solution. And so, dear reader, I headed down to my nearest Apotheke to give these probiotic little wonders a whirl.

Things seemed, initially, destined for success. The most common brand of probiotic tampon here in Germany is called Ellen, which is basically my name backwards. The tin was also like something from a cosmonaut survival kit – all shiny silver capsule and stay-fresh foil. At six euros for 12 they weren’t cheap, of course. But then, perhaps you get what you pay for. After all, the makers of Ellen claim that "the targeted delivery of certain probiotic lactic acid bacteria that maintain the balance in the natural vaginal flora, can prevent infections."

Apparently, the healthy pH balance of the vaginal mucosa should be between 3.8 and 4.5. I’ve never yet put a dipstick up my hole but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if things have got out of whack up there. Also, according to the Ellen website, in a Swedish survey of 2,900 women who used ELLEN ® during their period, 87% were convinced that ELLEN ® has supported the vaginal flora. How this is measured isn't too clear; I like to imagine some sort of Springwatch -style questionnaire. But the same study also found that, after using 16 tampons, 69% reported improvement of their symptoms; less itching, less smell, fewer cases of vaginosis altogether.

The way they work isn’t terribly complicated: you put the tampon where tampons go and, once it reaches body temperature, the bacterial carrier liquifies and is released into your vagina. You don’t need to move a muscle.

As if by magic, just three days after investing in my new silver bullet of probiotic tampons, my period arrived to put things to the test. Opening the packet I was surprised to find that probiotic tampons look a lot like regular applicator-free tampons. I don’t know why, but I was expecting something more like a cross between a yoghurt-coated brazil nut and a test tube. However, these were nothing more than cotton on a string.

I’ve never found tampons particularly uncomfortable but I was aware, for the first day at least, that I was wearing one. And, once things got properly underway, I spent much of my daily 10km run worrying that I might max out my new accessory and start bleeding across my sports shorts. But the most annoying thing, of course, is remembering to carry them in the first place. As a mooncup user, I’m completely out of practice at having to pack a box of tampons every time I leave the house. Usually, all I have to remember is to empty it when I go to the loo. And so, on day three, I found myself turn tail at my local U-bahn train station because I realised with a sinking heart that I’d forgotten to transfer the capsule box of Ellens from one handbag to another. Still, I stuck with them for the full five days.

As for the probiotic benefits, I’d struggle to say I really noticed any tangible difference with old Ellen. I didn’t get thrush, sure. But I didn’t actually notice things down under turning into a thriving rainforest of lactobacilli and supersonic vaginal mucosa either. Sex didn’t feel particularly better and judging by all firsthand sensory measures, things ticked along pretty much as per.

Of course, in truth, tampons are a license to print money. As Nora Ephron wrote in Heartburn, if you want to get rich, invest in something that people buy once and throw away. Tampons are expensive, disposable and provide some solution to the nigh-on essential need to stop blood dribbling down your thighs. Probiotic tampons may do less harm to the natural bacterial balance of your vagina than regular tampons, but isn’t that a little like saying low carb doughnuts are slightly more healthy than Krispy Kremes? I still find it annoying that we have to pay for them and have them rattling around the bottom of our handbags, and even for a world weary woman like myself, they’re not the most pleasant thing to stick where the sun don’t shine.

So thanks Ellen, it’s been fun. I’m glad we had a chance to hang out. And I’m pleased that you care. But I just don’t think this will work long term. Sorry.

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When magazines and fashion editors enthuse about the latest trends and must-have products such as fur-lined loafers, intricately embroidered coats and beautifully cut culottes, it's sometimes easy to forget the importance of a basic T-shirt. As the basis of pretty much every wardrobe, a good tee is the most versatile and crucial component of your sartorial repertoire, whether it's worn with jeans and trainers, under a sharp suit, a slip dress, or teamed with dungarees.

Yes, you could just buy an array of T-shirts from Primark for under a fiver, but you'll look and feel far better splashing out a little more on a quality tee that can last years and years. Finding The One is tricky as you need to factor in shape, fit and fabric, so we've trawled the rails for you and found the real deals.

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Last June, I was on a swing through California when I had the opportunity to do a small town hall in Los Angeles. Those are actually my favourite kinds of events. Big rallies are exciting, but I much prefer having conversations with people — hearing directly from them about what’s on their minds, then working together to think through what solutions might (or should) be available.

That night in L.A., I met a young woman named Chrissy Chambers, who went through an awful ordeal. Her ex-boyfriend secretly taped himself sexually assaulting her. After they broke up, he posted the video online without her permission or knowledge on more than 30 pornography sites. She said that the experience made her feel like she’d been “stripped of her dignity.” No one should have to endure something like that.

So Chrissy turned her personal humiliation into a powerful call to action. She organised nearly 200,000 people to petition Congress to strengthen laws against “revenge porn.” And now, the Congresswoman she petitioned, Rep. Jackie Speier, has introduced a bill seeking to criminalise revenge porn and protect the privacy of women like Chrissy.

Listening to Chrissy speak, I was bowled over by her bravery. After having the most private aspects of her life dragged across cyberspace, you could easily imagine her wanting to move on and forget the whole ordeal. Instead, in hopes of helping other women, she chose to tell her story.

What an incredible moment getting to ask Hillary about a future #RevengePorn Federal law in the US. #CreatorsAskHRC Watch it here (29 mins In) https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3FITPKRwaVw

A photo posted by Bria and Chrissy (@briaandchrissy) on Jun 28, 2016 at 9:32pm PDT

I’ve seen that same spirit of courage and generosity reflected in so many young women I’ve met across the country.

I see it in Astrid, a young woman I met in Las Vegas last summer, and whom I was honoured to invite to join us at the Democratic National Convention. She came to this country from Mexico at the age of 4 with nothing but a doll, a cross, and the frilly dress she was wearing. Now in her 20s, Astrid advocates for the rights of undocumented Americans all over the country.

I see it in Maxine, a young woman I met in New York City. She was a mom by the time she was 19, and she survived poverty and domestic violence to graduate from college and become a certified public accountant. We spoke together at a major campaign event where Max made a passionate case for young women — especially young women of colour — to get involved in this election.

Women like Chrissy, Astrid, and Max embody the essence of the Methodist teachings I was raised on: “Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, to all the people you can, for as long as ever you can.”

That impulse to do something when you see injustice — or experience it yourself — is something most women can relate to. I felt it myself as a law student spending time in a New Haven hospital with poor children who needed an advocate. I wondered where the justice was in a system that abandoned our most vulnerable citizens.

That question brought me to my friend and mentor, Marian Wright Edelman, a civil rights activist who founded the Children’s Defence Fund. She sent me to Dothan, Alabama to pose as a white parent looking to enrol my children in what was known as a “segregation academy” — a school that illegally refused to admit African-American children.

Well, I had never done anything like that before. They didn’t exactly teach undercover work at Wellesley. But I went toe-to-toe with that Alabama school’s administrator anyway — until he admitted that he didn’t accept black children. And once I saw the kind of research I had done included in a landmark report on segregation, I knew that I could never again watch injustice unfold when I could do something about it instead. So, when I graduated from law school, I told Marian that I would come and work for her.

Just as I felt the need to fight for children’s rights as a young woman, and just as Chrissy, Astrid and Max are waging their own fights today, young women all over this country know that the issues we’re fighting for in this campaign – from alleviating student loan debt, to preserving access to Planned Parenthood and abortion services, to fighting for equal pay and paid leave – are not theoretical.

I want you to know that I see you.

They’re real fights that matter to your lives. You’re out there every day doing something about them. And learning from your efforts will make me a better president.

So, I want you to know that I see you.

I see you making the drive to a clinic 200 miles away.

I see you dropping your daughter off at daycare so you can make it to class on time.

I see you making the case to your boss for a long-overdue raise, even though you may worry about speaking up for what you deserve.

I see the difference you’re making in the world, in your own lives, and in the lives of the people you love.

And if I have the opportunity, I’ll do whatever I can to make things a little easier for you.

Just because you can and do wage these fights doesn’t mean you should have to.

Hillary Clinton is running for president and is the Democratic Party's first female nominee. The views expressed here are her own.

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It’s just after 1am on Friday night and I’m on a train leaving Marble Arch tube station. I’m trying to catch a stream of vomit in a Bag For Life, rather than let the person being sick do it directly into her handbag. The girl, Megan, is a stranger, so it's lucky she has a friend with her, who pats her on the head and counts down the stations until home by lying and telling her “just one more, babe!" at every single stop. They tumble off the tube at Shepherd’s Bush – after offering me the bag back and screaming “thank you!” as the doors shut.

Welcome to the Night Tube, everyone!

The Night Tube opened in London this past weekend, running from 12.34am to 4.30am on the Central line (Ealing Broadway to Leytonstone and Loughton/Hainault) and Victoria line (Walthamstow to Brixton) every ten minutes or so (or 20 between Ealing Broadway and White City). Just three years (and several strikes and false starts) after Boris Johnson promised us round the clock tube transport, Sadiq Khan has finally made it happen.

The mayor of London is to ride the first night tube on Friday evening when the much-delayed project finally goes into service. #tube #oxfordcircus #oxfordcircusstation #londonunderground #LondonIsOpen #mayoroflondon #NighTube

A photo posted by Oxford Circus Station (@oxfordcircusstation) on Aug 19, 2016 at 12:14pm PDT

The current Mayor of London gave the first official Night Tube train a test run on Friday night, shortly before I did, clambering on at Brixton at 12.34am on Friday, and commenting that it’d be useful for middle-aged clubbers like him coming home after a late night out with his “missus”. (I can’t bear it. He’s too adorable.) The service only runs on Fridays and Saturdays at the moment, but the plan is to expand the service to other days, and other lines (the Jubilee, Piccadilly and Northern), later this year.

When I set out to ride the Night Tube over the course of Friday night, I was expecting mayhem. Remember when they banned booze on the tube and everyone got smashed off their face in defiance on the last day it was allowed? I was expecting something similar: late night parties in carriages, makeshift clubs on the platforms, and a very stressed bunch of guards (I was honestly very worried for them). But when I hopped on the tube at 7pm on Friday, things felt normal; no sign of early revellers, just girls comparing lipsticks, couples on dates and crowds of tourists.

As the actual, official Night Tube kicked in after after 12ish, it was, well, quite empty. A man reading a newspaper, someone in gym gear, one girl who looked like she needed to leave her night out so she could put her trainers on. Admittedly, things start to pick up around 12.45am; a hockey bro who'd had so much to drink was stretched out over three seats, a girl whose night started when it was 22c outside looked like she was now regretting her white crop top. Oxford Street, the only interchange between the two lines running late, was boiling hot and busy. It was pretty rowdy, too: two girls on the platform almost gave a worried looking Community Support Officer a heart attack by screaming and whooping as the train pulled in, standing close to the edge of the platform. I also spot three drag queens with incredible make up alighting, and when I get on the train, the carriage is a river of beer.

The Night Tube. Shot for @bbcthree

A photo posted by Toby Ziff (@tobyziff) on Aug 21, 2016 at 10:43am PDT

Marble Arch was also chaos circa 1am, and the stop where my sickly friend Megan was helped from a bench onto the tube, deciding (at the last second) to try and jump out of the door, missing, bouncing off a pole and ending up slumped in a pile. Three minutes later, we were into the Bag For Life/ vomit situation, while a slightly tipsy couple patted her back and assured her that "we've all been there. We've all done it," which was actually kind of heartwarming, especially when everyone introduced themselves.

I got off at the end of the Central line – White City, which smelled strongly of sick and was totally empty aside from around six helpful London Underground employees – and headed back in the other direction to Tottenham Court Road. It was around 2am and it was packed: I spotted my first uniformed police presence and two girls in orange and purple wigs who looked like they went hard, then really had to go home. Crowds of people got on and for the first time in my entire night, every seat was full. At St Pauls, the tube driver announced "this is a Night Tube service" and somewhere down the carriage, a cheer went up. I also noticed a higher-than-average amount of people holding McFlurrys.

It seemed the Night Tube was only really being put to good use in central London, because when I got back out of Zone 1, and towards Stratford, everything went quiet again. The carriage was full of tired construction workers, men in suits, girls wrapped up in massive coats slumped against the seats. No-one was making eye contact. It was still boiling hot and a friend who was elsewhere on the Night Tube WhatsApped me with a conspiracy theory: They’re pumping up the heat to make all the drunk people sleepy, not rowdy.

The Victoria Line was similarly empty: Highbury and Islington was eerie and there were maybe six people on the platform at 2.15am. The novelty of being on a tube at night had fully worn off. Nobody was talking and an announcement told me that there was a signal failure between White City and Holborn, which meant that if you wanted to use the Central line Night Tube, you'd be waiting a long time. I headed back down south to my tube stop in Brixton, through a now very subdued Oxford Circus. The tube was silent apart from a couple of confused tourists with wheely suitcases and two men clutching beers and hugging each other.

#nighttube @transportforlondon

A photo posted by Neiliyah (@neiliyahstagram) on Aug 21, 2016 at 6:48am PDT

When I called an UberPool to take me the final fifteen minutes to my house (yes, I’m that lazy), my co-rider Tom was confused. “What, the Night Tube is actually happening? This weekend? Why did I get a taxi from central then? Did everyone know about it?” Tom wasn’t the only one who appears to be in the dark about the Night Tube: fewer people used the service on launch night than London Underground expected: a mere 50,000 people compared to the 4.8 million that use it during the day. Maybe Londoners, after three years of delays, just didn’t trust the Night Tube not to be a hopeful mirage, or maybe the fact that London’s clubs and pubs are shutting at a frightening rate means we’re all already at home by 12.30am.

On Saturday night, I actually need to use the Night Tube for real, because I couldn’t face the torturous journey from my friend’s house party to home without it; it’s normally 70 minutes on the night bus if you’re lucky, or a £35 Uber (and it’s the week before payday). I took it at about 1.30am, and guess what? It was amazing. It was quick, quiet, and apart from the fact that it was roasting hot, made my life a lot easier and cheaper. By this point I was fully subscribed to the conspiracy theory that it’s overly hot to make the people who’ve had six white wines (like me) sleepy, but I managed to stay awake to get off at my stop. No Uber surcharge, no fights on the bus. Honestly, the Night Tube is a life changer... As long as you’re not left holding a bag of sick.

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Direct from Paris, the Gucci Gang, comprised of Angelina, Thaïs, Annabelle, and Crystal (who are all under the age of 18) is today's more fashionable version of yesterday's BFF4L-type squads — hold the friendship bracelets, add skate hoodies. And though you probably haven't heard of them — admittedly, we stumbled upon the group on Instagram about a month ago — they're a prime example of today's ultra-woke, deliciously judicious youth.

If you're not already having flashbacks of your own high school friend group, perhaps it's easier to relate to them individually. Like most squads, the Gucci Gang has an unofficial leader — it's Angelina, who at 15 is the most outspoken and most followed, and has already landed on the cover of L'Officiel. She possesses a great talent for not giving a fuck, but is also the kind of teen who makes eye contact when she speaks. Next, you have Thaïs, also 15, whose Parisian aesthetic cleverly contrasts her open ears and open mind. There's Crystal, the youngest, at 14, and arguably most eager to make shit happen. And finally, Annabelle, 16, who is their secret weapon of sorts, the member who may not say much, but packs an unapologetic sense of humour, if you can get her to crack a smile. All of these young women are bonded, as their culture would have it, by being so French and anti-French at the same time.

Thanks to French icons like Françoise Dorléac, Sylvie Vartan, and Françoise Hardy, the Parisian woman is her own conundrum. She's dramatic yet poised, lovable yet absurd, and impossibly perfect. It's a misinterpretation people are hell-bent on mimicking, which is why books like How to Be a Parisian Wherever You Are exist, and are so popular. It's why so many of us conflate being "Parisian" with being "French," when they are not the same thing. But they are. But they're not.

This task of assuming the "French girl" role — which, thanks to the aforementioned clichés, we're led to believe French women are born into — is of no interest to the Gucci Gang. When it comes to fashion, for example, the idea of "effortless French girl style," to them, at least, is a thing of the past, a paradox, or at least unattainable bullshit. They're not phased by price tags nor hype ("Vetements is a joke" and "Sandro, it's old Paris," Angelina says), they know where to find style when they need it (in Paris, private parties and thrift stores are apparently where it's at — not the streets), and unlike their name might suggest, they have no qualms with admitting to not wearing Gucci all that often (or many designer goods at all, for that matter).

In fact, Gucci, the fashion label, has nothing do with their name: "This girl in high school's email address was called 'Gucci bella,' and we started calling each other 'Gucci bella,'" Angelina explains. "And then we thought, Shit, why don't we just call ourselves 'Gucci Gang? '" Finishing her sentence, which happens often in this group, Thaïs followed, "We put it in our Instagram bios, and then during our first interview, they asked if we call ourselves the 'Gucci Gang' for fun. Then it just blew up."

Yet as uninteresting as they'd like to present themselves (that's the self-deprecating Parisian in them), their coolness is seriously unavoidable. Between them, they boast over 50,000 followers; their #nofilter posts include photos from the front row at Paris Fashion Week; they host exclusive parties, share behind-the-scenes footage from photo shoots, and make Paris look like a playground of teenagers breaking with French tradition. They spend their time sifting through thrift shops, like Emmaüs, Kilo Shop, and Free’P’Star, which may seem like a quintessential teen activity, if these weren't the exact places Vetements mastermind Demna Gvasalia claims to get his inspiration. (Of course, he's also looking at kids like the Gucci Gang, who hang out in the 20th, 6th, and 4th arrondissements, neighbourhoods populated by young people of all different backgrounds — the type notably left out of Gvasalia's runway casting.) Thus, the Gucci Gang is in a league of their own.

They judge you a lot in Paris, it's a judgmental city

On a recent trip to New York, the girls found their answer to the often heated discussion between fashion folk: Parisian versus New Yorker style. "In France, everything is taboo," Angelina says. "Everything, really. It’s true. The other day, we were walking around in the city, I was wearing an orange dress and Thaïs was wearing these super-short shorts, and we were saying we would never wear this in Paris. Never in the world. Guys here, they will talk to you like, ‘Hey, you’re cute.’ But in France, it’s more like, ‘Bitch, look at that dress.’" Crystal adds: "They judge you a lot in Paris. It's a judgmental city."

Obviously, the girls haven't spent enough time in New York to get their first "fucking bitch " on the subway, but nevertheless, it's a sad-yet-helpful perspective that degrades the romantic image of Paris and New York as sublimely melancholic cities. That's been happening long before the Gang's time, of course, turning tradition on its head and making it one's own, but they're still piercingly what-you-see-is-what-you-get. Their mere presence amid Paris' climate of monotony and institution is a sign of progress.

So, what is there to learn from four young women who just go with the flow? Especially when there's no method to the madness and no secret French girl formula to follow? Apart from admiring typical luxury designers (Céline, Amélie Pichard, White Project, Grace Wales Bonner, and Gucci, duh), the Gucci Gang's unique identity includes other fundamental components: They've got the tenacity that comes with the youth of today's obsession with the internet (and its unlimited access to anything at any time), they possess a rawness that French culture hasn't seen since the days of Jean-Luc Godard and La Nouvelle Vague ( or even earlier, the revolutionary time that was narrated by Simone de Beauvoir) and they're uncensored, which is the only thing that's going to tie American and French youth together.

Surprisingly, they set limits to their power (yes, we'd call it power). And they're brutally honest about their age, their haters, and their "fame." "It’s easy to hate us, actually, because we are not doing something, we’re not really doing anything," Angelina says. "Whenever you get a little bit of attention, work, and money, people are going to hate you — if you are 25, 16, 50 — people hate when you’re successful. We are not successful, but that's a part of success. And we’re making money. But we didn't ask for all this attention. We are just friends and we like to do things on Instagram."

If I was a normal kid, I would hate us, too.

Crystal notes aggressive Tweets the girls receive: "It’s not even that [people are] mad at us; it’s hate, real hate. It’s personal shit and all. It’s crazy." Thaïs interrupts: "I want to say something. I want to say something to all [of] the people saying fake things and all that. They need to understand that we are like 16." Sure, they may be young, but that doesn't change the fact that they're seated front row at fashion shows alongside industry influencers. Angelina (remember, she's the leader), isn't blind to that fact: "If I was a normal kid, I would hate us, too."

All of that, then (the followers, the haters, the je ne sais quoi 'tude) would make the Gucci Gang a piece of fashion's future. What started out as an innocent pact between friends has, beyond their strongest grip, turned into something worth documenting. The primal virtue of friendship (and girl power) is perhaps what makes the Gucci Gang — and, frankly, Generation Z — so strong. They don't need affirmation from anyone but themselves; and if they happen to gain international recognition along the way, so be it. Because if you ask them to describe what they are, they'll tell you plain and simple: "We're best friends."

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In the immediate aftermath of the Brexit vote, many of us said we'd had enough of the UK. Feeling shocked and desperate, leaving the country seemed like the only hope for young progressives. Pub chats became opportunities to brainstorm dream destinations in which to live our new lives.

Well, it seems some of us really are planning to emigrate after the Leave campaign's victory – and they've set their sights on New Zealand.

The country is preparing for a "British invasion", according to the New Zealand Herald, as immigration inquiries from Brits hit a record high after the Brexit vote.

More than 10,500 people from Britain have registered their interest in moving to New Zealand on the country's immigration website since the referendum, the newspaper reported. There were just 4599 registrations from the UK over the same period last year.

In a typical month, around 3000 Brits interested in studying, working or investing in New Zealand will register with the website.

However, somewhat tellingly, on the day of the referendum result, 998 British people registered their interest, compared with just 109 the day before.

Professor Paul Spoonley from Massey University said Brits interested in New Zealand were "tired of a narrow-minded Britain". He told the New Zealand Herald: "New Zealand is very different, it is multicultural, very tolerant and it's got a good lifestyle and a more temperate climate."

He added: "Migrants move for lifestyle reasons as much as they do for economic reasons, and New Zealand has a pretty good deal on offer."

According to another academic, the surge in interest mirrors the 1980s when "political refugees" emigrated to avoid Margaret Thatcher's Tory government. Professor John Morgan, a British expat and academic at the University of Auckland, told The Guardian: "New Zealand is really appealing for Brits because it’s a similar size and culture."

He also said New Zealand manages to "avoid the worst trappings of modern, consumerist culture".

For many of us, New Zealand mostly brings to mind rugby, sheep and The Lord of the Rings. But the country has much more going for it, and there are some very legit reasons why someone might want to emigrate there from the UK.

For a start, there's far more space. The country is roughly the same size as the UK but it has a population of just 4.7 million, compared with our 64 million. New Zealand is also known for its laid-back, outdoorsy lifestyle (post-work hike, anyone?), and its more moderate climate.

Oh and it has superb wine. Need we say more?

Last year, 4549 Brits gained residence in New Zealand, 21,999 gained work visas and 1388 student visas, the New Zealand Herald reported. Numbers that look set to rise far higher in the coming year.

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Have you ever had to explain feminism to someone who just doesn’t get it? One of those friends or relatives who, for all their good intentions, says things like, “I’m not a feminist. I’m a humanist! I believe in equality for everyone.” From an etymological standpoint, this almost makes sense, but it misses the entire point: By definition, feminism stands for equality for everyone. It aims for that goal by focusing on the rights of women, because our societal framework — our laws, our systems, our cultural standards — simply doesn’t function for women the same way it does for men. In terms of gender, the framework holds male as the norm, and everything else as the other. It’s not that men cannot suffer or even that they’re given special treatment. They’re simply given the treatment we all should receive. That’s why it’s so deeply frustrating and revealing when someone digs in their heels against feminism, or refuses to acknowledge that male privilege even exists. They are wilfully ignoring a prejudice. Why?

Among women, thankfully, I don’t often find myself faced with this question. But there is one issue that seems to arise with an alarming frequency, often met with anger and confusion. And if we claim to care about equality, then we must acknowledge this inequality, too: thin privilege.

What’s your gut reaction to that term? Defensiveness, anger, hope, curiosity? Before stepping further into this subject, I think it’s important to recognise where we’re all coming from. When I hear the term “thin privilege,” my first response is anxiety. I feel anger and interest and hope as well, but first and foremost, I feel nervous when the subject comes up, because I am not a thin person. Illogical as it may sound, naming another group’s privilege feels almost like picking on them. The thing to remember is that privilege isn’t about us as individuals. It’s about the system we all live inside. It’s no one’s fault, yet it is everyone’s responsibility.

“Acknowledging that you have privilege is not saying that your life hasn’t been difficult,” says Melissa Fabello, renowned body-acceptance activist, academic, and managing editor of Everyday Feminism. “It's simply acknowledging which obstacles you have not faced.”

As a thin person working in the realm of body activism, Fabello frequently affirms the obstacles she herself hasn’t faced. For example, “when I walk onto a plane, I don’t have any thoughts about whether or not I'm going to be able to sit in the seat,” she says. Going to the doctor, she doesn’t deal with automatic assumptions about her health. “It's always, ‘Okay, let's treat whatever issue you came in here for.’”

Fabello offers these examples with no caveat or defence. That’s a rare attitude when it comes to any topic about our bodies — particularly women’s bodies. Because, for one thing, thin privilege doesn’t protect her from other harmful experiences and damaging beliefs. We live in a world that scrutinises and judges women’s bodies, period. Furthermore, “our current cultural beauty ideal for women is this weird skinny-but-curvy thing,” she says. The beauty standard has evolved in the past few decades (“in the latter half of the 20th century [it] was very stick-thin,” Fabello notes), but it hasn’t become any more flexible or generous. It used to require visible hip bones, and now it demands curves — but only in the “right places.” By its very nature, a beauty standard is exclusionary, and women of all sizes are vulnerable to it. “That’s an issue of women's bodies being seen as public property. That’s an issue of women's bodies being seen through the lens of the male gaze,” says Fabello. “It is not about size discrimination, which is a separate issue.”

In fact, this new twist in the beauty standard may be feeding the ever-growing elephant in this room: skinny shaming. While it is an entirely different topic, we cannot have a conversation about thin privilege or size bias without contending with skinny shaming. And that’s a problem.

While things like privilege and bias are systemic, shaming happens on an interpersonal level. It may be within your family, your peer group, or even your broader community. It’s simply a different form of harm. “Oppression isn't one, two, five, or one hundred people saying something bad about your body or making you feel bad about your body. That’s not oppression,” says Fabello, “Oppression is something that is woven into society so that it is inescapable.” That doesn’t make body shaming of any kind invalid or harmless — and no one is arguing that. Yet, many thin people still present skinny shaming as a counterpoint in an argument that isn’t happening.

“I would say nine out of 10 times, thin people only complain about or bring up the concept of skinny shaming as a way to derail a conversation about fat shaming,” says Fabello. They’ll offer evidence as if to say that their experience is exactly the same as a fat person’s. “You know, ‘Well, I'm so thin that when I go to the doctor they tell me I just have to gain weight.’ Or, ‘I can't shop in the average clothing store either. I have to buy kid's clothes, because they don’t make clothes in my size.’ They come up with these counter-examples, which then makes it a difficult conversation.”

Of course, anecdotes like this just don’t add up against the basic, big-picture facts: The world does not hold thinness and fatness as equal. “We are all socialised not to want a fat body,” says Fabello. But stating the obvious is a fruitless tactic when faced with someone like this. If you can’t acknowledge these basic truths, “you’re not actually trying to learn or understand. You’re just on the defensive.”

We are all prone to that defensiveness. It’s a knee-jerk response when someone checks our privilege for us (see: #AllLivesMatter). This is why the system hurts us all so deeply: It perverts our empathy into something fearful and selfish and utterly nonsensical. When thin people argue like this, Fabello points out, they’re saying, “‘Well, what about me? I'm also shamed for my body, so therefore thin privilege can’t exist and fat oppression can’t exist because I have this experience.’”

That is why body positivity isn’t just about accepting your own body. It’s about actively acknowledging others’ — particularly those who don’t benefit from your own privilege. Absolutely, it begins with self-acceptance. “We all need body acceptance,” Fabello reaffirms. “Everybody wants to have their own pain acknowledged and everybody should have their own pain acknowledged in whatever appropriate way there is.”

For her, that means being mindful of the room she’s in. “If people are hurt, then I think people need to have that conversation to heal. But I think that it should be had within one privileged group and also with context.” Imagine an able-bodied person walking into a room full of quadriplegics, complaining about her broken arm. Even better, imagine a straight, cis, white woman walking into a room full of queer, trans quadriplegics of colour — and complaining about her broken arm. When in doubt, remember to look for and note all the privileges we cannot see — or which we’ve been conditioned not to see.

It’s not an overt maliciousness, this blind spot in our vision. Shaming is overt. Privilege, like prejudice, is something so old and so ordinary; it’s the mottled lens through which we see everything. It’s our idea of average. “And whenever we have an idea of an ‘average person,’ it's always someone who is the most privileged.” The world is built around this idea of a person, and everyone else is an exception to be accommodated. Some accommodations are more easily made than others; the left-handed kid needs a lefty desk, so the teacher runs around looking for one, apologising to the student because, of course, that’s only fair.

When it comes to something like size, it’s different. “You go to a restaurant and the table is nailed down to the ground,” says Fabello. “There's this assumption that the blank-slate person who things are created for is a certain size.” It’s a bias you might not notice unless you’re pressed right up against it. When you’re sitting comfortably, it takes effort to notice — and even more effort to question.

But really, it’s not that hard. The problem is that we take the word “privilege” so personally, when it’s not so much about you as it is us. Actively acknowledging your own privilege isn’t saying, “I’m the bad guy.” It’s saying the system is bad. It does not invalidate your own pain, but validates the pain of others — which is just as real, though not as recognised. In voicing that injustice, you are not giving up your seat at the table, but demanding a table at which all of us can sit with comfort and be heard.

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Often there’s a fine line between fascinating and repulsive — as Kanye West proves. Within the gray area, popping pimples falls somewhere between Yeezus and pulling gunk out of your shower drain. Check out Sandra Lee, MD, a dermatologist in Upland, CA, who goes by the alias Dr. Pimple Popper for proof. Her YouTube and Instagram accounts each have over 1 million followers, who watch her videos of the cheesy, lumpy, pussy, gritty, and goopy substances she extracts from the faces of her patients.

Dr. Lee has tapped into an audience that can’t get enough of our urge to purge — whether we’re vicariously enjoying it on Reddit or doing DIY dermatology in real life. “I think watching popping is similar to seeing a scary movie or riding a roller coaster for some,” she says. “You get a rush of euphoria and excitement.”

The problem with popping, squeezing, and picking is that we know we can do some serious damage and make problems even worse. Yet we just can’t keep our hands off. So before you start digging into your skin problems, you should learn what’s happening to your brain chemistry and how you’re damaging the structure of your skin.

Why We're So Hands-On With Our Skin

When you have an Everest-sized spot, the reason you have to pick it, to paraphrase George Mallory, is that it’s there. “In the moment, people feel like they have to do something,” says Amy Wechsler, MD, a dermatologist and psychiatrist in New York City. “The occasional popper or picker thinks they’re making themselves better — they think they’re helping.” In other words, we’re trying to be problem-solvers — or more like control freaks, Dr. Wechsler says. The immediate gratification of seeing stuff ejected from your pores feels productive.

The satisfaction of extracting a blemish releases dopamine, which activates the brain’s reward center, explains Heather Berlin, MD, a neuroscientist and assistant professor of psychiatry at Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City. “There’s a cycle of anxiety or arousal before the act and a sense of relief after,” she says. So there’s a physical release of pressure from the extracted blackhead or squeezed whitehead, as well as a mental sense of calm and pleasure. It’s hard to fight that combo.

Some people go beyond the occasional pop and develop serious habits. “There is a spectrum of behavior that ranges from normal urges to pick to disorders like acne excoriée and Skin-Picking Disorder, which are related to OCD,” Dr. Berlin says. When the behavior is interfering with your daily life — your job, socializing, relationships, health, sleeping — you’ve veered into clinical territory.

Often a lack of impulse control is to blame. Dr. Berlin explains that those dealing with OCD may have an underactive prefrontal cortex, which serves as the brakes for the brain. If your prefrontal cortex is slow to react, your brain has a harder time resisting impulses — so much so that some people can’t pass a mirror without looking for something to pop.

Most of the time the act is so pleasurable, that there is no impulse to stop, Dr. Berlin says. If popping feels good and you’re seeing results, why would you stop? “The people who feel guilty are the ones who think the behavior is abnormal — that’s who comes in to see me,” she says.

When Popping Becomes A Problem

Picking isn’t a crime. In fact, Dr. Berlin says it’s an absolutely normal behavior. (From an evolutionary-biology standpoint, we want to remove bumps from our skin because they could be parasites or infections, she explains.) But the problem is that we treat popping and squeezing like we do watching Gilmore Girls — it’s a challenge to stop doing it.

“The issue arises when you keep picking and ultimately cause more harm than good,” says Joshua Zeichner, MD, director of cosmetic and clinical research in dermatology at Mount Sinai Hospital. “The problem is that when you don’t see the result you want, it’s easy to keep going — and that’s when the damage happens."

Worst-case scenario: You cause an open wound or infection. “I’ve seen this many times,” Dr. Wechsler says. Now, you’ve extended your healing time and set yourself up for scarring and more breakouts — it’s a vicious cycle.

Like the proverbial iceberg, most of the blemish is below the surface. The clogging and inflammation that’s causing the pain and swelling lies deep inside the pore. “Squeezing can cause more inflammation, push dirt and debris further down, and rupture the follicle — you’re causing collateral damage,” Dr. Zeichner says. “The effects of squeezing are the worst when you’re not getting the contents out of the skin, so you squeeze more.”

Inflammation, from the original breakout or from squeezing, causes damage and scarring. “Your body creates a ‘patch’ to address any skin damage,” Dr. Zeichner explains. “You produce new collagen, but it’s not organized and smooth — it’s thick and disordered. It doesn’t look like normal skin, and looks like a bump or depression.” Too much damage disrupts the connections between skin cells, he says, so the body tries to reconnect them with scar tissue.

In the attempt to shield your skin from more damage, your body also creates pigment in response to inflammation — much like you tan after UV exposure, but in a more localized way. “If you have more red pigment in your skin, you’ll have more residual redness,” Dr. Lee says. “If you have a darker skin tone, you’re more at risk for post-inflammatory hyperpigmentation.” But there’s no way to predict the exact way your skin will respond. The only way to avoid scars is to be hands-off.

How To Handle Your Popping Urges

“My job is to give you nothing to pick,” Dr. Wechsler says. So your best coping mechanism is to see a professional to figure out how to clear up your skin. But even Kendall Jenner has the occasional zit crisis, so it takes some effort to avoid Pimple-gate.

“Throw out your magnifying mirror,” Dr. Wechsler advises. “Nobody looks normal under a magnifying mirror, and you don’t need to get that close.” This way, you’re less likely to find "faults" to pick at.

Dr. Wechsler also suggests some behavior modification — limiting time in the bathroom and putting Post-its on the mirror that say “Hands off” or “Leave it alone.” For more extreme measures, Dr. Berlin suggests treating a popping problem the way you might treat a smoking habit — wear a rubber band around your wrist and snap it when you have the urge, or reward yourself for every day you go without popping.

“I tell patients to apply a spot-treatment cream, or cover the area with a Band-Aid when they are at home to remind them not to pick,” Dr. Lee says.

Simple distraction also helps. Celebrity aesthetician Renée Rouleau sells a toy that busies your hands and prevents you from poking at your face. Other derms suggest worry stones or Silly Putty as diversions. But perhaps the most satisfying skin-popping surrogate is found at Staples — take out your frustration on a roll of bubble wrap.

For those who really need a fix, there are always Dr. Pimple Popper’s videos. “Sometimes watching the video can bring the same satisfaction as actually popping,” Dr. Berlin says. Dr. Lee says you don’t have to be a popper to benefit from her cathartic videos. “I think my videos make a lot of people happy in general,” she says.

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Stranger Things is the standout show of the summer. The homage to '80s horror and thriller movies has viewers binge-watching — and then quickly making their own theories as to who and what is going on with the dreadful monster. It remains the biggest mystery of season 1.

But this one fan theory (which we mentioned before) seems to be the most fleshed-out and convincing yet.

Spoilers ahead.

You ready?

Eleven is the monster. She, like the Demogorgon in Dungeons & Dragons, has two opposing sides. In the game, the Demogorgon literally has two heads — one destructive and one deceptive. If we follow that same model, Eleven would be the deceptive side and the monster the destructive one. The theory, solidified by a convincing video via UpRoxx, points out that we first meet the monster when Eleven is isolated in that creepy pitch-black room. The monster could easily be a manifestation of Eleven's own evil side.

This theory accurately plays into the whole theme of dichotomy on the show. The real world is sunny, colourful, and bright. The upside-down world is bleak, ashy, and decrepit. Total opposites.

When Eleven has her final one-on-one battle with the monster to save her new friends, she lifts her hand to harness her powers. In return, the monster does the same, as if mirroring her body's motions. Is this because they are mirror images of each other? Is this why Eleven turns to ash herself? Did she give herself up to the monster, a.k.a. her dark side?

As the video says, "She couldn't destroy the beast without destroying herself, because it is part of her."

In one scene, she also literally declares, "I am the monster." Subtlety was never her strong suit.

Watch the full video, below, and prepare to be convinced.

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Karen Walker has never really gone the conventional route when casting her lookbooks. Instead of a single lithe model smizing at the camera, the designer has tapped some very stylish kids, Kenyan artisans (with whom Walker collaborated on a capsule), and even Toast (yes, the Instagram dog) to personify her work.

For her latest jewellery campaign, though, Walker revisited a casting roster she's used before — with subjects who embody an incredible narrative and are very much in line with her commitment to featuring creative spokespeople for the brand.

Walker's most recent editorial, shot by Advanced Style 's Ari Seth Cohen, is titled "Magic Hands." The photographer previously worked with Walker on an eyewear campaign back in 2013, for which he brought along his frequent subjects Linda Rodin and Ilona Smithkin to model the brand's signature arrow-lined shades. This time around, the campaign takes a different approach to portraiture, focusing on the Advanced Style's ladies' hands.

Why focus on the women's digits? To showcase Walker's latest selection of rings, of course, but also because Walker believes that "hands can be every bit as expressive as faces," as the designer said in a statement. "These Magic Hands speak of a life well-lived," Walker said.

Phyllis Sues and Roberta Haze headline the campaign, and they certainly fit Walker's bill: 93-year-old Sues is a pianist, designer, yogi, and dancer, while 78-year-old Haze surely has some great anecdotes from her time on Broadway and in the New York party scene. (The latter is now a great-grandmother and actress/model living in Venice Beach, CA.)

In "Magic Hands," the West Coast-based women mix and match pieces from Karen Walker jewellery collections past and present. Statement rings from this latest range are paired with classic arrow bands. Sues' poodle, Nicko, even makes an appearance.

Karen Walker's latest jewellery collection hits shelves August 22. You can check out the full spread on the designer's website.

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Cellulite or no cellulite, your body is beautiful. Cellulite should never be a reason for not whacking on a pair of trusty short-shorts as and when you please. But if it bothers you, there are a few things you can do at home to reduce it.

Firstly, what is it? Basically, it's fat beneath the skin's surface that can pucker the skin and appear lumpy. If this puckered appearance does bother you, there are steps you can take to decrease cellulite, all from the comfort of your own bathroom. Andrea Pfeffer, founder of Pfeffer Sal, London's cult facial salon that specialises in taking proper TLC of skin spoke to us about how to realistically tackle those areas.

"At Pfeffer Sal we focus on skin health inside and out and although we focus on the face, the same rules apply for your toosh!" Andrea is a firm believer in non-invasive treatments that slowly and steadily win the race. "I know it can be tempting to just embark on invasive body treatments but I really believe you can fix most of your skin concerns with adjustments to your daily routine," she added. "In the case of cellulite in particular, I recommend building muscle and increasing the right nutrients to combat it."

Here's Andrea's guide to reducing the appearance of cellulite...

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Dr Vandana Shiva is an Indian scientist, environmental activist and world leading expert on food sustainability. At the age of 63, she has spent four decades studying where our food comes from, who is reaping the benefits of various farming methods, and what certain "developments" in agriculture are doing to the environment. In her new book, Who Really Feeds The World?, Shiva lays the problems with our current food system before us, and it's not looking good.

She starts off by explaining that 70% of the world's food comes from small, independent farms, while the other 30% comes from big, industrialised farms, the kind that will employ chemical fertilisers and use genetic engineering. The problem here is that the energy consumption of that 30% creates a whopping 40% of the world's greenhouse gasses, contributing significantly to climate change.

Now, by Vandana Shiva's own admission, farming and agriculture are hardly sexy topics – they don't make headlines and they're not on a lot of people's agendas. Especially when you live in a city or country where agriculture doesn't play a big part in the economy, or when you can afford a diet of convenience, buying everything you eat from the supermarket. And then there's the fact that it's hard to get people to engage with climate change, because it feels like a remote fear that we can dismiss as having no impact within our own lifetimes.

However, if we continue to source food in unsustainable ways, the negative effects will have more short term impacts, says Shiva. As mechanised farming wins out over farming by hand, more small farmers will be displaced, lose their homes and jobs, and become economically unstable. As processed or modified foods become cheaper and more prolific than organic foods, our diets will lead to more obesity, cancer and heart disease. And as food generally becomes more of a competitive commodity, hunger will spread among the poor.

And so, bleak as it may seem, we are at a sort of tipping point, whereby we must decide whether we are going to take more responsibility for our food choices, our farming methods, and our collective eco-footprint. Granted, a lot of this responsibility falls on the heads of big corporations and governments. But what can we as individuals do? To find out, I picked up the phone to speak to Vandana Shiva in India.

Hello Dr Shiva. Firstly, was there anything while you were growing up that made you want to study the environment?

Well my father served in the British army but when he married my mother she convinced him to leave and he became a forest conservator. My mother was an inspector of schools in what became Pakistan, and wrote a book on feminism under Gandhi. If my father hadn’t have brought her across the border, I may never have been born. They were both hugely ecological, plus I grew up in the Himalayas, trekking with my dad, so even though I chose to be a physicist and went to university to train in atomic energy, this ecological tract was always in me.

If you trained to be a physicist how did you get into environmental activism?

I became involved even as a student in the first big environmental movement of India. It was called the Chipko movement, against logging in the Himalayas, which was eventually banned. Later, I was working for the Ministry of Environment in India and they asked me to do a study in my home valley on the impact of mining , so I came back and did the study and we stopped the mining. I said, “Well if one study can do so much, then I should dedicate my life to research!” And so I started the Research Foundation for Science, Technology and Ecology. Every vocation of mine since the '70s has been shaped by the environment; as a scientist I didn't want to work on the patriarchal paradigm of knowledge for power and domination, but the service of the earth and humanity.

I’m passionate about nature, justice and the search for truth – which is what science should be about

You’ve written over 20 books on the environment and agriculture. Why did you decide to write this book, which is a sort of overview of food sustainability today?

It made good sense to take stock today because it was about 20 years ago that genetic engineering was promised to be the next miracle in agriculture after the Green Revolution. But 20 years have shown us it's not really working. Genetic engineering has given us super weeds, super pests and more than that, so much democratic structure and real science has to be destroyed to keep pushing GMOs. Labs have been shut simply because their research has shown that there were health impacts from genetic engineering! I’m passionate about nature, justice and the search for truth – which is what science should be about. The book is intended to speak the truth about the last 20 years of industrialisation and GMOs, from my experience on the ground and from speaking to farmers.

The book essentially warns of the dangers of industrialised farming – what should we be most afraid of?

Corporations only want to gain from the industrial model, which involves chemical inputs, fossil fuels, and the patenting of seeds to sell to farmers. We’ve lost 300,000 farmers who’ve committed suicide after globalisation of cotton farming in India. It’s not right! One generation of agriculture should give rise to next generation, one generation of breeding should give rise to next generation; the industrial system is not developed from within the field of agriculture itself but developed from war. The chemicals it uses were used in concentration camps; the pesticides have origins in poison gasses and nerve gasses and that’s why they continue to do harm.

There’s a fantastic book called Molecular Vision of Life, which works on the archive of the Rockefeller Foundation and looks back at how engineering humanity to adapt to industrial system of farming was the most important aspect of biology. It started as eugenics and went on to be manipulation of plants. Most of the same chemical companies were making chemicals for war, but they’re also the ones that make pharmaceuticals. 75% of the diseases we have in society today are related to food – to toxins in food or nutritionally empty food – as more kids get cancer, obesity, depression, the more profits pharmaceutical companies make in selling their drugs. It's win, win, win... Which is why this machine can’t be stopped. The only countervailing force today is the people – and how we can make healthy choices and shrink our footprint in the way we gain food.

I work with women and I see leadership of women in agriculture of the future

You have a chapter called "Women Feed The World"... which they do, since more women work in agriculture than men, statistically. But you also say we need to focus on a "female model" in agriculture. What does that mean?

The masculine model of agriculture is based on domination, militarisation and monoculture; for example the idea of patenting seeds to sell to farmers, or the idea of using chemicals that were extermination technologies used in the extermination caps of Nazis. I really don’t think that’s where our food and agriculture system should go. Which is why I work with women and I see leadership of women in agriculture of the future. Women are left to take care of so many responsibilities – they work the field, care for the seed, take care of babies; they have by nature the ability to think through diversity, what women bring to agriculture is the conservation of biodiversity. We can’t allow our bodies and the earth to be destroyed and devastated by a violent system, we need a peaceful system that nourishes our earth and nourishes our bodies.

A lot of our readers are based in the West – what can we do to improve our diets or support more sustainable types of farming?

I don’t think we can meet this challenge as dumb consumers – we have to be what I call active earth citizens, which in when you know you’re sharing the planet with other beings and that any chemical that’s killing bees shouldn’t be used in our food, and any chemical that’s giving cancer shouldn’t be in our food. The beautiful thing about the boycott of poisons is that it improves our wellbeing! But we have to spend that much more time cultivating the alternative.

I think we're in an exciting moment, the industry told us agriculture can only be done in the large farms of Midwestern America, but everyone’s realised food can be grown everywhere – even in cities. A brilliant French film called Tomorrow has amazing footage of England, town to town, growing food locally, streets becoming gardens. The success of this is just exploding. It’s a joy. Because it should be a pleasure to grow food. It’s not just a product, it’s about connecting back to the power it brings people. I feel it’s tragic that England is only growing grass... I don’t see grain in the fields of England, so we need communities of farmers and city dwellers to connect.

And finally, I do think we have to start becoming far more democratic. You just had a vote for Brexit... the real vote we need is a vote to exit the poison system, which would mean your taxes, your leadership and your policies should favour the growing of healthy food.

Who Really Feeds The World? is available here.

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