The faces and bodies that so many of us put forth on our social media accounts is usually not the reality of the situation. It makes sense – why show off anything less than perfection when it’s within the realm of photoshopped possibility? That’s resulted in a dangerous disconnect, however, between what the world thinks of us versus what we feel about ourselves. Simon Dunn, seen in his glory here, here, here, and here has recently been bravely defying the notion that our Instagram accounts are entirely indicative of who we are. He made a powerful post revealing what he had been going through, and it was striking both in its honesty and the way it upended all that some of us had thought of him.

“The online persona I show you is all photoshoots, parties and magazine covers. This hasn’t always been entirely the truth. Earlier this year, I found myself back in Australia, living in a country town in my mother’s spare room and financially broke.

Having to rebuild my life at the time felt like a monumental task. I honestly didn’t think I could do it. I stopped looking after myself, drinking most weekends away, stopped training, all things which compounded the low point I was in. It honestly felt all the years of hard work had only led me back to where I began. For the first time in my life I’d felt anxiety, which was something new, scary and very overwhelming at times…

The Simon you see online is the Simon I want you to see, may it be my pride or the influence of social media, but it’s not always as it seems. Life is a series of ups and downs, just remember – there’s always light at the end of the tunnel no matter how dark it may seem!” Simon Dunn

It’s a vital reminder that even the most seemingly perfect people can use a check-in now and then. It doesn’t need to be a full-blown intervention or 5000-word hand-written letter – just a simple reaching out to ask how someone is doing can make a difference. The world needs more of that – and much more of Mr. Dunn in all his inspiring form.

Swatch watches were all the rage when I was in 7^thgrade. It was the dawning of my sartorial awakening, when I first started to pay attention and refine my sense of fashion. I’d already had a few quirks and skirmishes with what I liked to wear versus what I was expected to wear versus what everyone else was wearing. I longed to fit in just as much as I wished to stand out, to be part of something as much as being popular for being different. The right Swatch would be a sign of status, and a sign of knowing what was in style. I just had to find the right one.

Studying the Swatch catalog, I pored over the more colorful selections – and on each page they showed one large one paired with one smaller one. I didn’t even know that the difference was that one was meant for men and one was meant for women – that’s how young and uncultured I was. The ways of the watch were as foreign as the gender connotations attached to each. Maybe that’s also how genius and untouched by cultural sexist norms and restrictions I was as well. Such gender distinctions were not part of my cultural vocabulary. If I liked something it had nothing to do with whether it was designed for a man or a woman. (And everything I liked tended to be traditionally feminine.) Children don’t see such things until society imposes its ugly and onerous design.

When it came to choosing which Swatch I wanted, part of me was drawn to the garish Harajuku models of mashed up colors and designs – the gaudy embodiment of the neon-saturated 1980’s – but I worried that such a selection would not wear well with the passing of time. For all my budding love of crazy colors and flamboyant statements, I was (and remain) a pretty simple guy when it comes to everyday accessories, particularly for something like a watch. A simple black option, with a white face and simple numbers in the smaller size was what I ended up choosing. I liked the smaller one because it fit my slender stick of a wrist better. It was also more elegant and unobtrusive, and would work with any and every outfit.

Like my first and only pair of saddle shoes, I was excited to wear it. That excitement was short-lived, as a classmate asked if it was a women’s watch. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of me – she had only the slightest smile which I couldn’t determine to be sinister or sweet, and I didn’t know what to say. She left it alone when I said I just liked it better than the big one. But the shame spread over my reddened face regardless, and, more insidiously, crept into my heart where it took root and sent out an invasive vine of inhibition and shyness, like some pretty but destructive wisteria. It joined similar vines, intertwining and creating an impenetrable mess. I’ve never forgotten that moment. There aren’t many times in life when you can actually experience and realize the end of childhood innocence as it’s happening, but that was one of mine.

Kira and I held our first Friendsgiving in Boston this past weekend – a pleasant reminder that we can still start new traditions even at our advancing age. Having both been through a few things this past year, mostly we were just thankful to be together again, and when I hugged her goodbye, I held it a little longer than I usually do. I may or may not write a more detailed post on what we did – nothing too spectacular, but that’s the beauty of our time together – what’s simple is true, and good. At this time of the season, and in such a roller-coaster of a year, we arrived at a few major and sobering realizations, but that’s another story for another time. For now, feast your eyes upon some pretty berries we found along the way, and indulge in this weekly recap as our holiday season takes off. A lot can happen in a single week… good and bad.

First, the fall went up in flames.

A glimpse of my ass in the front door. 

Pineapple upside down disaster.

November chill.

Licking the cream off my finger. 

Shirtless male celebrities & some Speedos. 

The big event was our trip to Savannah, which began in bittersweet fashion, haunted with its charm and beauty, and concluded on an ambivalent note. 

Vivacious Enchiladas Verdes via Pati Jinich.

A meme fit for Andy.

Madonna breaks her own record.

A few choice words from a favorite author.

A variation on Gram’s walnut cookies ushered in the holiday season in quiet yet sweet form.

Hunks of the Day included Thomas Doherty, Fabio Fognini, Jamie Dominic, and Sam Heughan.

Sometimes a meme says it all.

I can’t say I quite remember 1975, given that it was the year I was born. 

Does anyone remember anything prior to four or five?

The 80’s are when my memories began being made. 

But Andy recalls 1975 quite fondly, and I know he pulled hijinks like this.