Eating gummy worms in head-to-toe latex outfits. Writing New Moon manifestations in glitter gel pen. Stashing a joint in a Little Mermaid PEZ container. Journaling in a children’s notebook from Five Below while drunkenly watching Bridget Jones’ Baby. Pissing our neighbors off by smoking too much weed inside the house.
This is LISA FRANX COVEN.
Remember when you were 13 and all the cool girls were trying to shop for bras and JLo Glow at Macy’s while you were secretly still clinging to your Lisa Frank journal?
You preferred your grape scented marker to the artificial berry scent of Skintimate Shave Gel.
You preferred sharing a flashlight’s glow under a blanket while spooking your besties with scary stories to the depressing fluorescent lighting at the mall food court.
You preferred silently humping your Tweety Bird pillow in the dead of night to awkwardly navigating a torturous game of Spin the Bottle.
You preferred the sparkle of a glitter gel pen’s impressions on a paper fortune teller to the sparkle of a plastic debit card.
All you wanted to do was skip all the uncomfortable, puberty-related preteen bullshit and fast forward to thirty, flirty, and thriving, not knowing that you’d have to sacrifice the daily pleasures that kept you sane.
A collective “them” comprised of “cool girls” named Jessica or Kate (and maybe your God-fearing parents) told you that you needed to give up all the shit that made you feel good. It was the price to pay for “growing up.” Can we get a fucking refund on our 13 Going On 30 wishing dust?
We imagined boyfriends but didn’t expect fuckbois.
We imagined paychecks but didn’t expect student loans.
We imagined creative abundance but didn’t expect the cost of a weed budget.
We imagined eating dunkaroos for dinner but didn’t expect to need a Lactaid.
We imagined canopy princess beds but didn’t imagine paying rent.
We imagined a stacked retirement fund but didn’t imagine the climate change apocalypse.
Somehow the life that we’ve built for ourselves is missing all the magic that we took for granted at 13. We wanted to create a portal to a new nostalgia, to revisit the glitter and neon and rainbow, to reclaim the joy of doing shit just because it felt good.
In a series of images, interviews, essays, and collages, we’re making our inner angsty teen self proud by celebrating all the shit they told us to leave behind in the process of developing into functional adult. Let these images transport you to a stoner Lisa Frank paradise, filled with artificially sweetened snacks, hidden treasures from Five Below, THC-infused adventures with your bestie, and a trip to Chili’s that doesn’t throw your whole allowance out the window.