Lindsey Smith
(she/her/hers)
Lindsey Smith is a 3rd year majoring in sociology and philosophy on a pre-law track. Outside of Iris, she is a member of University Dance Club and is a certified personal trainer. In her free time, she can frequently be found trying to squeeze in a workout, making coffee at Starbucks on the corner, and cuddling her cat.
Let me preface this article of critique by saying that I really wanted to love the series.
My cat died on Father’s Day, so I wasn’t able to get my dad a gift. To make up for it, I am writing this piece as a show of love – Happy late Father’s Day, Dad!
Like many other pet owners who acquired a new pet too soon after losing one, I have had to grapple with the guilt of loving the new pet when mourning the old one, which was nowhere near finished.
when sunlight hits foggy glass just right
prints reveal themselves, oil smeared into smiling faces
The red dress I had planned on wearing to my boyfriend’s winter formal, coincidentally, happened to be the same shade of red as the back of my throat. That is, as I was about to discover, the portion of it that wasn’t covered in white stripes of bacteria (lovely, I know).
I knock, gently, on the door, but there is no answer. Perhaps I am at the wrong address.
To be honest, I was quaking in my boots over writing this feature. Miriella Jiffar is far from a scary person, but doing her talent justice is quite a scary feat.
I was in Sephora over winter break, looking for a new perfume, when a couple of girls who could not be any older than 11 shoved past me to get to the Sol de Janerio display.
Back in high school, I did not care at all about the holidays.
Dearest,
I watched from the top of the staircase tonight as you gripped the railing on the way down, knuckles white and still bony from the years you let me hold them.
As I watch Bridgerton edits on TikTok, I once again ask myself, “Why do they get to dress up and go to balls, while I have to dress up and go to frat parties?”