Elizabeth Wurtzel's piece in this week's New York magazine should be mandatory reading for every woman in their 20s. (And 30s, if they still have Hello Kitty gear lying around their apartment. And so many do...)
Wurtzel, who was a media darling in the 1990s for writing about her assorted mental disfunctions and pharmaceutical adventures, admits that at age 45 she has no savings, no partner and basically no stability in her life. (She was kicked out of a West Village sublet and now lives in a strange duplex in Chelsea.)
It's one thing to be a "feminist", but it's another thing to be an overgrown teenager.