Jamie Peck is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn. She was a former Impose contributor long before she added Vice, Jezebel, MTV Hive, Paper Magazine, The New York Press, and Marie Claire to the resume. Much of her work crosses paths with music journalism, female perspective, and personal experience but at times gets investigative (she’s particularly proud of her piece on Ibogaine in December’s print issue of BUST). She’s also been known to deeyjay and throw the occasional DIY party under the name Toxic Shock Syndrome.
Line of Work
My main gig at the moment is an event listings column called “The Daily 5” that runs seven days a week on NewYork.com. I also do local music and culture coverage as well as write hot takes on various subjects for The Village Voice, New York Observer, and Myspace. The most impressive publications I’ve written for are probably The Guardian and Wondering Sound, but I’d feel weird saying I “write for them” because I’ve only written a few things for those outlets so far. I also spend a decent chunk of time each day looking for work and trying not to feel like a total fraud/failure.
I realize this is probably bad on multiple levels, but I don’t really have one. If I have something big due the next morning or if I’m writing up some nightlife coverage, I’ll write all night and sleep all day. No matter how hard I try to make myself into a morning person, I’ve always felt sharper at night. For the most part, I’ve stopped beating myself up about it and started arranging my life around it. It does fuck my chances of writing about something in “the news cycle” on the days I’m up all night, so whatever I spent all night writing had better be good and pay decently. (Dear potential employers: if I ever get on a staff, I will drink tons of coffee and be totally fine!)
Whatever Rite Aid makeup is left on from my first application six hours ago, Hair by Psst dry shampoo, also from Rite Aid.
On a non-all-nighter day, I roll out of bed around 10am, make myself a cup of Earl Grey, and start working immediately. I wait until I’m starving to make breakfast. I’m lucky if I brush my teeth before 3pm. I’m almost 30 and I still suck at basic things like that. I will say that my personal hygiene has vastly improved from when I was writing seven blog posts a day with nary the time for a laptop-free bathroom break.
Leaving the house is a special occasion for me, so on nights I’m covering a party or a concert, I can look nice, if slightly the worse for wear. I realize working on the couch is bad for my back, but I do it a lot anyway.
I typically have one of two “work looks:” the “I Went Out In This” and the “Shameful Comfort Junkie.”
Fake leather jacket from H&M (pictured with pillow above), overweight cat (from my friend who couldn’t keep him anymore), shell-shocked expression (from any number of things).
On days I do not leave the house, I wear loose-fitting tank tops and PJ pants, or, if it’s hot, no pants. It’s been chilly lately so I’ve been rocking this Snuggie that I bought online. My boyfriend makes fun of the peace signs but whatever. It was the cheapest slanket I could find.
I also have a few loose-fitting dresses that are halfway between nightgowns and actual clothes. They’re soft enough to sleep in but I can run to the bodega for juice without looking like I’ve totally given up. My old roommate refers to them as my “house dresses.” They’re a compromise I make with myself. I haven’t been wearing them as much since I moved into a place with just my boyfriend.