All Posts By

Jennifer Coté

The Dear Hunter

My dad carrying me on his back through the woods of Massachusetts

My parents met while teaching at a school for deaf boys, which meant both that they were fluent in sign language and liked a certain degree of quiet. This last bit has always been particularly true of my dad, a man who’s been known to disappear for whole days on nature trails and has read every single Russian or French novel that’s ever weighed in at over 1,000 pages. Fittingly, my sisters and I bonded with him over mellow activities in our childhood – be it through exploring Boston’s Arnold Arboretum, dissecting the characters of “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” or taste testing pizzas all around New England. Another quiet obsession he tried to draw us into long ago was that of deer hunting, err gazing…

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The Hipster's Guide to Indifferent Exercise

Cognitive Dissonance

Why I Write

August 18, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Why I Write

Typewriter, flowers and coffee – I wish my writing set up looked like this

It can happen somewhere as simple as a doctor’s office or cafe, but all it takes is a glimpse of medical scrubs or chef’s whites and I’m a goner. I drift into a daydream in which I wake up to morning sun as gentle as lemonade and a kitchen sink that isn’t full of dishes, and then I pack a thermos of soup for lunch and ride my bike to work in a neatly starched uniform. At the office, I file things away the moment they cross my desk, make a difference in people’s lives for hours on end, and then maybe rehearse for a community theater production of “Pippin” before biking home for dinner. Once I get to this point in my fantasy, an optometrist usually jars me awake with, “Now, cover your left eye,” and I look back at him/her with what can only seem like the most psychotic brand of puppy-dog infatuation on the planet. Yeah, that’s right: I fantasize about being an optometrist. I realize this may sound insane, considering many an optometrist, chef, or meter maid out there probably fantasizes about being a writer on a regular basis, but what can I say? I feel there’s something positively dreamy about uniforms, office hours and designated stopping points…

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Trouble for Women

My "When Harry Met Sally" Career Moment

Happy Holidays, Yo

July 30, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Sweet Nothings

Almost Home

Doesn’t Sarah Maingot’s photograph of warm socks and breakfast make you instantly feel at home?

What makes a place feel like home? Is it the freedom to eat breakfast for dinner whenever you please, the smell of your favorite shampoo, or simply the people you share it with? I remember spending childhood summers at my cousin’s house on Cape Cod and I fondly recall all the strange yet wonderful sensations that told me I was far from my own home. For starters, there were vast backyards of running space unlike anything that existed in Boston, the excruciatingly itchy bites of beach flies, and the pruned fingertips that came from afternoons spent in the deep ends of swimming pools. One such deep end belonged to my cousin’s grandmother, and – because back then I found this concept of swimming pools outside of the YMCA let alone in someone’s home particularly exotic – I would plead with my cousin to spend whole days “backyard swimming.”

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New York Minutes

The Hipster's Guide to Indifferent Exercise

Southern Comfort

June 21, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Sweet Nothings

Southern Comfort

An old VW Bug painted like the state flag of Texas, which I spotted on the streets of Austin a few weeks ago

Once upon an abandoned parking lot in 2005 there lay a dead bird and an industrial-sized snow scraper atop sweltering Texan asphalt. It was the middle of March and I had just moved to Austin three days prior without a single job prospect or acquaintance as far as the eye could see, and this mammoth snow scraper had become my weapon of choice in lieu of a knight in shining armor on speed dial. About an hour earlier, I’d set out to Home Depot with the simplest intention of buying an extra can of “Orange Rose” paint so I could finish my living room walls, but the universe had other plans… Just as I was turning onto a highway access road and hitting the accelerator, no less than 30 young birds alighted off the ground at a nearby street corner. I’m sure there is a mathematical equation that could explain how my speed times their velocity and the gusty winds equaled fatal contact, but who needs numbers when you’ve got visceral dings, splats, and oozes of green slime?

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The Dear Hunter

LARKSTORM Cover Reveal

Coffee In Motion

June 3, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Sweet Nothings

Maternal Instincts

My mother swinging me around, giving me a unique view of the world at an early age

Although I’m not a big fan of Mother’s Day and all its Hallmark-Crown glory, I couldn’t help thinking of my own mom whenever I saw the maternal-themed balloons, bouquets and jewelry billboards this weekend. She is not the kind of lady who covets jewels, new clothes or flowers, though, and this means all the gaudy decorations of the world only further remind me of what she’s taught me. Since giving birth, my mother has been a master of making something from nothing – she sewed almost all of my clothing herself, made popsicles, bread and every imaginable other food item from scratch, and even crafted homemade Care Bears and Cabbage Patch dolls for me and my sisters. She was able to camouflage any tight times by turning cash-saving projects into adventures, and yet one thing she never camouflaged was herself and her flaws. My mom taught me that being a woman isn’t just about being pretty and applying lipstick, and she showed me this by example – I don’t think I ever saw her wear makeup, wrinkle creams or something that remotely resembled control-top pantyhose. Instead, she painted her face to play make believe, let us dress her in our own zany designs, and sacrificed beauty rest to drive me to late-night theater rehearsals…

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Cognitive Dissonance

Children, Choices, and Everything Else

Life Lately 2024 Edition

May 9, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Art and Architecture, Sweet Nothings

Oh Baby

Gisele Bundchen and son Benjamin Rein, photographed by Patrick Demarchelier for Vogue April 2011

Images of women and infants have permeated human culture since the beginning time – from cave drawings, to the Madonna and Child, to photos of the Material Girl and her very own brood. These images have whispered subliminal messages to me my whole life, but none quite so clear as the recent photos of Gisele Bundchen and her newborn son in Vogue Magazine. These photos basically scream at me (and any other girl who views them for that matter), “Motherhood is sexy, and you are not a real, sensual or whole woman unless your womb bears forth babies.” Perhaps I’m being a tad dramatic and this isn’t exactly the message Vogue was trying to convey, but why would they have renowned fashion photographer, Patrick Demarchelier, capture Gisele bra-less and caressing her own pregnant belly (and post-baby-skinny riding a horse on the beach with a bare midriff) if they weren’t trying to sexify motherhood? Not only does Vogue’s sexification of Gisele and Child stir up an array of emotions and primal urges in me, but it makes my practical side ask this simple question: are airbrushed glimpses of motherhood really what our society needs right now?

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My "When Harry Met Sally" Career Moment

Life Lately 2024 Edition

Cognitive Dissonance

April 18, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Inspiring Tidbits, Love

Glances

My fiancé and I sharing an afternoon of glances with the amazing Jamie Conlan

Great loves, friendships and rivalries are all made up of a billion glances – when you understand this, you grasp almost everything there is to know about visual storytelling. Sometimes these glances are through flickering candlelight, over cups of coffee or amidst the clacking of light sabers, but, no matter the locale, they are the heart of any emotional tale. On the first weekend of April my fiancé and I romped around our backyard with a photographer who I quickly learned understands this concept better than anyone. This incredibly talented shutterbug is Jamie Conlan, a guy I’ve known for several years as someone who can get my love talking for days about German cars and taco stands, and he remained the very same guy when he wielded a camera in his hands last weekend. Not once was I aware of him posing us or shushing silly conversations; he kept us rambling away with each other, rolling eyes, punching arms, keeling over in laughter, and even making psycho eyes at our dog. And, I eventually realized there was a stealthy method behind his casualness – while my fiancé and I were goofing off, Jamie was busy capturing genuine moments in time.

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Fly By Yearly

Two Feet

Trouble for Women

April 11, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Movies and TV

Girl Power and Popcorn

Rosie O’Donnell and Meg Ryan indulging in popcorn and old movies in “Sleepless in Seattle” (1993), courtesy of TriStar Pictures; mind you, this flick doesn’t make my list of girl-power classics

Do you ever need help psyching yourself up to conquer the world or just make it through the workday? I know I sure do, and this is one of those weeks when I’d really love to feel as though my life is set to an upbeat soundtrack not to mention feel my to-do lists are capable of being tackled in montage form. Although I have nary a spare second (between plotting a cross-country move, planning a marriage and searching for jobs), my psyche is demanding that I carve out a few hours to indulge in empowering, Motown-pulsing movies tonight. Making the time almost seems like the easy part, however, because very few films of this ilk are actually geared toward my demographic (a.k.a., that pesky 49.76% of the population that is female). While there are thousands of go-get-’em-tiger movies for men (such as, every single “Rocky,” sports movie or war flick), it’s hard to find films about women that get the “you can do it” attitude just right. The few movies led by females often focus too heavily on the romantic stories or don’t pay love interests any attention at all. I used to think the latter was what it took to make a good girl-power movie, but I’ve since changed my mind; negotiating the waters of sexual politics is key to any female’s coming of age, and learning to love yourself with or without a man is a crucial part of becoming a woman. With this in mind, here are my top movie picks for when you want a little girl power in your life…

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Makers

Better Than Bromance

Not Your Grandma's Christmas Movies

February 24, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Kitsch Fixes, Love

Kitsch Fix #21: Concrete and Roses

Steel rose sculpture on Park Avenue with a taxi cab and church door in the background

While kitsch is often defined as something that panders to lowbrow/popular tastes, it can also simply mean art that appeals strongly to sentimentality and emotion. Going off this latter definition, I’d say Will Ryman’s current public-art instillation on Park Avenue is the most glorious display of kitsch I’ve seen in a while. The installation features 38 giant rose sculptures that loom on steel stems about two stories above this famous Manhattan street, and the artist himself calls the work his “love letter to New York City.” The roses crawl with painted insects and there are also 20 larger-than-life petals scattered along the Park Avenue Mall between 57th and 67th Streets. It really is a sight to behold on a chilly winter’s day, and I loved the contrast between the biting New York cold and the surreal images of blossoming springtime. If you find yourself in the big apple before March 31, I highly recommend checking out these steely blooms.

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Glances

By Candlelight

February 16, 2011 by Jennifer Coté

Sweet Nothings, Travel

New York Minutes

My ice skate with the Rockefeller Center rink in the background

New York is a a city of dreams, and I’m not just talking about the ones that belong to Jay-Z and Alicia Keys. I, for one, always dreamed of living in the big apple and becoming a Broadway actress, and – although my aspirations eventually changed – the city has still played a pivotal role in my life’s dreams. About six years ago, my mom and I traveled to New York City for one last breath of roasted chestnuts before my big move to live in Texas as a bartender and aspiring novelist. That was a tremendous time for me because Austin turned out to be where I became an adult, learned to rue 80-hour work weeks, discovered the art of screenwriting, earned my MFA, and found true love. For this reason, it is only fitting that just one day after officially deciding to build a life for ourselves in California, my fiancé and I spent a sweet Valentine’s weekend in NYC…It seems dreaming does indeed come full circle in this city.