New York City-based Alex Catarinella has worked as a freelance fashion writer for the past ten years, and as a full-time masochistic mess for about 8.5 of them. An insufferable millennial, a fame whore, a sexually compulsive bipolar, a soul rejuvenating Buddhist, a dedicated hedonist, a delusional dreamer, a lost gay soul, and, somehow, a happy-to-be-alive survivor – he’s been around many a city block. And sketchy alley. Part self-help, part-self sabotage, the now thirty and better-ish Alex details in a five-part salacious/spiritual/sometimes sad series of essays about how the former unconvincingly closeted musical theatre major managed to get past the VIP New York City “fashion world” ropes, making a trainwreck of an entrance.

Vaguely, it was all very sex, drugs, and rock bottoms. Spoiler alert: there’s a lot of famous name-dropping (he ugly cried in front of Cara Delevingne, Courtney Love saved his life), but Alex also omits and/or changes the names of some individuals for their protection… and also for his, because confrontation results in him having panic attacks and he cannot afford to be sued considering the whole underpaid freelance fraudulent fashion writer thing.

Trigger warning: He is probably everything you hate, which probably means you’re projecting because you’re a judgemental, dead inside millennial just like him. Anyway, the now totally evolved Alex believes that it’s important to occasionally stare at yourself in the mirror, without taking a selfie and without worrying about the Instagram likes. If what you’re seeing is a mess, get out the Windex. Because, affirmation, you ARE a somebody, whether you’re on the VIP list or not!

Alex might hate himself once this is published. He believes happy endings are overrated, anyway. He’ll settle for stable.

Follow Alex on Instagram @acatinheat, and our illustrator João Victor @mirror_dsoul. Stay tuned for the first essay, coming soon.