kristina villarini

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#NYC – Join Me for Breakfast?

Super stoked, honored, humbled and *excited* to be joining Hannah Wolf and Kelly Fitzpatrick for this conversation on visibility in the workplace. Especially at this critical moment in our movement’s lifespan.

We have a lot of work to do, but breakfast is a good start. Tickets are here:

Hope I see you there.

Home for the holidays

This year is the first in a while where I won’t be giving my mother a present to open. I completed a bucket list item for both of us earlier this year when I took her to see Marc Anthony at Madison Square Garden during his “Legacy” Tour.

That’s an interesting name because I think about legacy a lot. I think about what people will say at my funeral. I think about what people will remember me for if I don’t have children. I wonder what my parents will have wished I did. I wonder if my brother will greet me at the pearly gates when my soul leaves my body. I wonder if I will be scared when the end comes.

Digital moves so fast that people forget their legacy. Digital is very much like life, it moves quickly, but nothing is forgotten. Think about the template of a life you’ve lived: you either built it and made your own way or tried to follow someone’s else. The “market” is similar to that in many ways–some savvy digital folks make a viral thing and suddenly became a source for desperate brands trying to harness it.

The thing is, there’s more to this game than a good tweet and a bright smile. 

There’s a sweet science.

You see, a very long time ago when I was a lowly digital consultant with a dream, I promised my mother that I’d take her to see Marc Anthony in concert. It was largely symbolic, but meant a lot to both of us. He is her favorite artist, and it was what she played when I would do chores as a kid on the weekends. 

Taking her to the concert meant more than nostalgia. It meant I was fulfilling a promise, and that I had not forgotten what I said to her. It meant the things that mattered to me then, still mattered now, and that she mattered.

Of course, seeing Marc meant I had accumulated the excess, the access, and the freedom she had always wished for me. It meant I had a disposable income. It meant that as a QPOC, I was okay. It meant I had “made it,” even for a short time. 

But the lesson here is simple, who you are and what you stand for, matters. Whether it’s IRL to your mom or to someone you’ve never met on Instagram. The social currency that you’re willing to sacrifice for likes, little hearts, and RTs has to be parallel to what you’d be willing to give up for real, true, love 24/7/365.

So while you’re posting in 2019, think about whether it’s about you, who you really are and if it’s true to your legacy. And if it is, it doesn’t matter how fast digital moves, it will never take it away from you.

Thank you, maybe? Forgotten graciousness & Carly Rae Jepsen

The line snaked through the record store and down the city block. It was as if someone cut a hole in a tankship and decided to sell vinyl LPs and vintage posters inside.

Brooklyn’s Rough Trade Records was an Anderson Cooper-sized eye roll bookended with exclamation points in response to the oft asked “Is the record store dead?”


Our turn was next.

The giant E•MO•TION curtain fell from the ceiling, slightly lopsided, hastily hung, all artsy.

The pint-sized pop star and Canadian hitmaker, Carly Rae Jepsen, was shaking hands and posing for photos in front of the drapes. Catching a glimpse of each interaction, it was an easy 30 seconds, max. There were no photos in landscape versus portrait or one with duckface or a “just a couple with the flash on.” No one was going to tell you that you looked great during or after.

It was an assembly line. You took your signed CD, your Baked by Melissa CRJ-themed confection, and you walked back out into the concrete jungle of Williamsburg(h).

“It’s so fast,” a friend said, appreciating the efficiency.

“It’s almost our turn. Do you know what you want to say?” I asked, eyes on Carly Rae, who with the release of her brilliant third album E•MO•TION had become my newest audio obsession-slash-larger example of total disappointment in the ears of the world.

“Hmm. You say hi and thank you, right? What can you really say in ten seconds?”

It was our turn. She greeted us with “Hi” and a friendly nod, individual handshakes, and a generous smile. I watched my friend tilt a bit to speak to the diminutive star.

Even after what had already been hours of this, she looked happy to see us.

Before it was all over, I knew what to say.

“Your music brought us together.”

Carly Rae smiled again, this time, a little differently as she put arms around us for yet another photo. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Cameraphone button pushed. Cupcakes acquired.

It’s not lost on me that over a year ago I waited in line to see a musician I think is underrated, in a place that the music industry doesn’t understand.

It was only four years ago that music critics were having a similar conversation, and it was I who wasn’t quite paying attention.

In 2012, The Guardian called “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen, the “best song of the year.” MTV Hive said about Kiss, the body of work that enveloped that sonic Frankenstein, “Kiss is the best pop album of the year, and nobody is listening.”

Therein lies the part that I cannot seem to get—Carly Rae Jepsen puts out really good records, she’s young, she’s likable and she understands her place in the digital realm.

Best of all, her music brings people together.

In 2015, on a cold November night in New York, I joined over 1,000 people in what could only be called ‘a let’s drink alcohol and sing E•MO•TION party’ that Carly Rae Jepsen just so happened to also perform at.

That’s pretty much how it went for an hour and fifteen minutes. If you haven’t heard the record, standouts include the Sia-penned “Making the Most of the Night,” which is a breathy quick paced gem and “Run Away With Me” presented in the first of the links above.

Do not be mistaken, when CRJ said: “I have a very 80s album on my hands,” she was spot on. You can hear Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, Prince, intersecting with Paula Abdul, Samantha Fox, Africa, and maybe even a bit of Christopher Cross. It is the best kind of musical synergy: of the moment, dance-worthy, and rooted in the tradition of bubblegum pop–a little tease, a little taunt.

So… Who is responsible for her success, or perceived lack thereof?

Is it the label and their marketing and publicity teams, who didn’t do enough promotion?

Is it the audience who refuses to buy it, and also won’t go to a show?

Or is it all about timing?

These are the questions I struggled to answer on my own while writing this, but not just with CRJ. I couldn’t really answer them without turning the lens inward. When I wrote about music every day for a year, the thing I hated most was writing album reviews. I didn’t mind the travel, the sleeping on hotel room floors, or the late nights with bands. I didn’t even mind the egos.

It always felt shitty to diminish someone’s work, even if I knew I was telling my truth. Maybe I was young and naïve.

But that’s not Carly Rae Jepsen’s problem. It’s not a question of airplay. The accomplishments of “Call Me Maybe” alone read off as a wish list for any artist in pursuit of the holy grail of Top 40: [Read in Casey Kasem’s voice] #1 in 15 countries, 13M sales globally, the biggest-selling single of 2012, over 710M views on YouTube, nine weeks at the top of the Billboard 100.

Some may strike up “Call Me Maybe” as a fluke, simply the unpredictable intersection of pop boldness and an unexpected co-sign from another Canadian destined to dominate international waters, Justin Bieber. Those folks could not be more wrong.

A well-versed musician, who first perked ears after placing third in 2007’s Canadian Idol, Carly is the least contrived of this generation’s breed of pop stars. Unlike her contemporaries, who have found their niche pushing the boundaries of sex, drugs, rock n’ roll and TMZ, there is something delightfully secretive about her music. It’s full of discovery and flirtation. It feels good to listen to, not churned in a lab with fake doctors.

When David Byrne speaks of the digital revolution, and he does often, he takes aim at streaming applications like Spotify, Tidal, and Pandora. There’s this kind of unwinnable tug-of-war happening, in which the musician and the artist stand on opposite ends, pulling at the very cores of their soul like two lovers who know they have overstayed their welcome, but the Uber is taking so damn long. Byrne’s tone is an interesting one, it’s a disappointment in the consumer rather than the music industry that screwed everyone over so badly that they now need these platforms to survive. He also can’t believe that we don’t get it. Sure, a smaller act can flourish via digital because they’re probably not making any living at all from their music! The opportunity that someone can listen to you at all is better than the alternative.

Perhaps popularity is the barrier for entry in this new world of music? It’s nearly impossible to remember a time before Beyonce was Sasha Fierce, and the minute-by-minute evolution or from some vantage points, oversaturation by artists via fragrances or brands of tennis shoes. It seems the opposite can hold true as well… Iggy Azalea had superstardom nearly within reach, but repeated public displays of sheer ignorance left her on the outside looking in.

It was Spotify’s Discover Weekly that put the tunes off of E•MO•TION on my radar in the first place. To circle back to Byrne’s theory, he is right–my multiple and continued streams of that record didn’t do much to secure Jepsen’s financial future. But it is what made me dive headfirst into buying her album on release day, securing the wristband that allowed us to meet the lyrical maestro in person.

When Carly Rae Jepsen wrote the list of whom she wanted to work with for E•MO•TION, she pulled across genres, and it showed. Perhaps E•MO•TION was there to prove a point. If Kiss is what she could do with two months, it’s no surprise that she could put forward a masterful effort with two years’ notice.

The new, uncharted waters of performance seem made for Carly Rae Jepsen. The 30-year-old is the bridge to all of the things people our age and our parents say they miss about music.

Maybe you are not listening because she sang “Call Me Maybe.”
I think it’s time to reconsider.

As I revisit E•MO•TION again for this piece, now with the incredible companion piece of E•MO•TION Side B, and a new song of summer, “Cut to the Feeling,” there’s now a 25-song galaxy full of line crossing, longing, desperation, near deal-closing and the high and low tides of desire.

Her music isn’t a product, it’s her. She too is a bit wispy and unsure of herself.

Some of the pieces I read after her last record dropped described it as “buzzworthy” and “surprising.” But her consistency is only surprising if you, like me four years ago, were not paying attention.

What makes Carly Rae Jepsen different isn’t the timing OR the tunes, it’s the frailty that her music is wrought with. The vulnerability, the sacrifice, the humanity continues to be a central theme. She is living–we are too. There’s a chance that all of this could be wrong, that this isn’t the right person for you, that this isn’t a once-in-a-lifetime love affair. And depending on the day, she’s probably right.

It’s never a simple web that CRJ weaves.

There’s a nuanced risk involved, almost like the risk of openly admitting to being a Jepson fan/stan—it’s a guilty pleasure that’s worth every penny.

So I’ll just hurry up and say it: Thanks, CRJ.

Re-Post: KV interviews Chris Guillebeau

Today, the world should rejoice. Friend of the site and all around awesome guy, Chris Guillebeau, released his newest book today: The Happiness of Pursuit. If you haven’t bought it, walk to the local book joint (one of my personal faves is Strand in NYC), and tell ’em “I’m tryin’ to cop that new Guillebeau joint, b.” Not only will they not understand you, every single time I’ve ever tried to pick up a book there on the first day, they’ve never had it, so you’re probably double-screwed.

Anyway, I’m reposting the first time Chris and I chatted below. It is hard to believe I knew that guy back when he was publishing his FIRST book. Time flies.

Enjoy. And congrats, Chris! (If you can, head to Brooklyn tonight and celebrate the book’s release with him.)


Enjoy my conversation with the creator of one of my favorite blogs EVER, The Art of Non-Conformity, Chris Guillebeau. Chris is a fantastic blogger and story-teller, and if you have not read his blog, you’re really denying yourself one of the best reads you’re going to have provided by the Internet. On September 7th, he will be publishing his first book (based on the same name) and he will begin his book tour in New York City, which is something I’m incredibly stoked about.

Kristina Villarini (KV): You’ve written guides online that are well-loved and incredibly insightful. What was the motivator to publish a title?

Chris Guillebeau (CG): One of my first motivations with AONC [Art of Non-Conformity] was to write a book. Over time, I realized that I greatly enjoy blogging and other means of quicker communication— but I still think there’s something special about a “real” book. I can’t think of a lot of blog posts that have changed my life, but I can think of plenty of books that did.

KV: When you began AONC, did you believe that it would be something that resonated with so many?

CG: Not at all! I started by writing about my travels. I’m a slow learner, but eventually I figured out that I’m not a great travel writer, and not everyone cares about travel. Once I started focusing more on motivations and how to change the world while doing what you want, the readership became a lot more engaged.

KV: The story of your blog began with a simple goal: to visit every country on Earth before you reach age 35. How much of your daily routine is driven by goals?

CG: Good question. I’d say that maybe 75% of my daily routine is goal-driven. I pretty much know what I want to do and what it will take to accomplish it at most times. But it’s important to say that I’ve chosen the goals—it’s not like I’ve been pushed into something I don’t want to do just for the sake of an arbitrary goal.

KV: Was there ever a time, whether during your many layovers or stays at terrible hotels, that you ever felt overwhelmed or an incredible resistance to the work you were doing? How do you keep from breaking down?

CG: Continually. I think most of us struggle with fear and insecurity to a certain degree, but we’re encouraged to put on a brave face and pretend to be fearless. I’m definitely not fearless, and often think about giving up. The difference is that I’ve learned to not make decisions out of fear, fatigue, or resistance. I’m doing something that is personally meaningful to me, and nothing worth doing is ever easy.

KV: You anticipate meeting your original goal of seeing every country, with the exception of any difficult trips (Belarus?). What is the next step in your life after you reach, what will most certainly be a milestone?

CG: It will be a milestone, certainly, but I don’t plan to stop traveling after I’ve visited every country. I appreciate travel for the sake of travel itself. After I achieve that goal, I expect I’ll keep going places, meeting people, writing and hopefully encouraging those who care enough to follow the journey.

How to find your purpose and meaning

This should be pretty obvious, right? I lose my job, need cash to live, and launch a freelance writing career that presents me with increasingly high-profile opportunities and the sizable audience I want.

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