EDITOR’S NOTE: Twenty five visuals. Seven days.

A woman covered head-to-toe in paint. A creature that spent somewhere around ten hours in makeup. Lambs, bunnies and a pig whose animal wrangler didn’t show up. A Bugatti hanging from a fucking crane...

And somehow, that isn’t even the tip of the iceberg folks.

For Trippie Redd’s NDA, director Austin “Salty” Simkins and his team were tasked with building an entire visual universe around the album. Twenty-five songs, twenty-five visuals, shot over seven days. Not only did they pull it off, the end result is fucking incredible.

So, I took it upon myself to call my good friend Salty (who, by the way, is busy getting ready to release ANOTHER 24 visuals on top of the twenty-five he just did. . . . thats a whopping nearly 50 music videos in 14 days 🤯) to find out how the hell they pulled it off.

Here’s what his psycho/creative/genius ass told me:

INTERVIEW:

MISFITZMAG: Okay. First of all, watching these visualizers, I just kept thinking to myself, “This shit is insane.” Second of all, wait, you already shot another twenty four visuals that are about to roll out?

SALTY: Yeah. We basically just did it. We shot twenty-four for the album that comes out right after the one we just dropped. So that should come out in like a week.

MISFITZMAG: So you basically made forty-nine videos in two weeks.

SALTY: Yeah. In terms of shooting time, we did twenty-four in six days for this next one and twenty-five in seven days for the one before. So roughly forty-nine in less than two weeks.

MISFITZMAG: Okay, take me back to the beginning. Trippie comes to you with a project like this, did he already know he wanted a visual for every song? How did this whole thing unfold?

SALTY: I was actually on another job in Alabama doing a rollout for a country artist. Someone from her team is also Trippie’s manager and cousin, and she saw the way I worked on set. She basically pulled me aside while I was doing that rollout and was like, “I’ve got an artist who wants to work with you.”

Then she told me it was Trippie Redd, and I was like, “Dope.”

Everything happened really quickly from there.

I got back to LA and had a call with Trippie. He was like, “I want you to shoot this. We want to do visuals for every single song.”

And I’m sitting there thinking, That’s twenty-five songs.

I didn’t have much time to conceptualize it, either. He wasn’t going to send me the album. I had to come listen to it in person. So I flew to Miami and basically had two, three, four days to conceptualize the whole thing.

MISFITZMAG: Watching it, these sets really do feel like their own little worlds. Where the hell does something like that even start in your brain?

SALTY: Honestly, it comes from a bunch of random things.

For example, there’s this album packaging I created that got held up at Customs, but we’re going to use it for the album that’s coming up. I was sitting in the Delta Lounge and saw this lollipop wrapper on the computer. I was like, Hmm. Since his album is called NDA, it’d be pretty crazy if I did a condom wrapper for the album packaging.

SALTY: So, in theory, we’d make this bigger-than-life condom wrapper that the vinyl would fit inside and create that shock factor.

In terms of conceptualizing everything else, I don’t know. Sometimes it just comes to me, or I’ll look through references. The biggest thing was honing in on the aesthetic of this dystopian world. Once I found that world, everything started coming from there.

MISFITZMAG: Was there something specific that inspired the world itself? Was it hearing the music and immediately visualizing it, or were you pulling from somewhere else?

SALTY: It was kind of inspired by old Rick Owens and edgier fashion brands, more of that heroin-chic aesthetic and what they might potentially do for a fashion show. That felt on-brand because Trippie likes dressing in a lot of archival pieces.

Stylistically, I wanted to see something more desaturated in this concrete world. So it became this melting pot of his style, my style, and what worked sonically with the album.

MISFITZMAG: Out of all these mini worlds you built, did you have a favorite?

SALTY: I really loved the cat hea

d on the robot arm. I loved that. And I loved the creature girl eating the chicken wing.

MISFITZMAG: YES. She was literally my next question. What the fuck was that, and what inspired her specifically? Because she might be my favorite.

SALTY: We basically wanted to create something really weird and out of this world. We wanted to bring in this creature element and do something off-putting . . . something that isn’t typically shown.

Read more

“What do you want to be remembered for?”

That was just one of the many questions that recently kept resurfacing inside my restless mind, despite my many unsuccessful attempts at shoving it back down. Per usual, I tried to silence it, drown it in endless scrolling and to-do lists, only for it to continue to rear its ugly head at 2 a.m. after an 18-hour drive back home.

Read more

We asked women what oddly specific things men do that turn them on… and here are 100 of our favorite answers:

Read more

Disclaimer: I am not an actual scientist. Read at your own discretion

You swore you were done. You deleted the texts, maybe even the photos. And then one night, one weak, wine-soaked, just this once night. . . you ended up back in that bed. And the worst part? Despite the endless squeaky bed frame, It was delightful.

We’ve all been there. Some of us more recently than others. Cough Cough.

Don’t beat yourself up.

It’s not a character flaw.

It’s literally neuroscience.

(And no, this is not your sign to text them.)

SAY HELLO TO DOPAMINE AKA DELUSION

Every time you’ve hooked up with your ex, your brain releases dopamine. That’s the same chemical responsible for pleasure, reward, and yes… addiction.

So over time, your brain started associating that specific person with feeling good.

Meaning when you go back:

It’s not just that specific moment you’re in.
Your brain is literally projecting a full highlight reel of every time you’ve felt good with this person. Your brain is like “Oh yea, I suddenly remember ALLLLLLL of it.” (honestly kind of impressive)

So you’re not just having sex.
You’re reliving every time it ever felt good before.

On the beach. On the table. In his red beat up toyota corolla.

The problem? Your brain can’t always tell the difference between “this person is good for me” and “this person once made me feel really, really good.” It just knows the pattern. And it wants to repeat it. (Again, again, and aaaaagain.)

Read more

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR:

I first shot with Claudia Tihan back in 2020, (back when we ran around on an actual pirate ship… check it out HERE) and somehow, that feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.

So needless to say, I was excited to finally catch up with her.

From tan lines to bucket lists to the little things that make her feel like herself again, here is what Claudia Tihan has been up to.

MISFITZMAG: First off, I miss you. It’s been years (since June 2020 to be exact). What have you been up to?

CLAUDIA:
Honestly, I feel like as I get older, time just goes by faster and faster. I can’t believe our last shoot was in 2020. It all feels like a blur.

I’ve been keeping busy traveling, and I also started my own “perfect tan line” bikini with my friend who owns Hoaka Swimwear. I’ve really taken the time to understand what it’s like to truly be happy alone.

For most of my life, I associated happiness with being in a relationship or chasing male validation. After my last relationship in 2023, I completely shut men out of my life, and I’ve honestly never thrived more. I’ve gained a level of confidence that feels unmatched.

I also felt a bit lost when it came to social media and had to take a step back, but I’m happy to slowly come back to it and rediscover the love I once had for creating.

I lost my soul dog in the summer of 2025, and that sent me into a really isolating grieving process. After about eight months, I finally started to feel like myself again. I try to be gentle with myself and remind myself that grief comes in waves.

As I get older, I’m focusing more on the present moment, the people who uplift me, and most importantly, my health.

MISFITZMAG: What feels the most different about your life now?

CLAUDIA:
Honestly, how normal and peaceful it feels.

Read more

NOTE FROM EDITOR:

Say hello to Lindsey Lugrin.

Founder and CEO of Fuck You Pay Me, a platform making sure creators actually get what they’re owed… and in our opinion, a masterclass in being completely unapologetically herself.

So when Lindsey said yes to letting us spend the day inside her world, we knew it wouldn’t be curated. It wouldn’t be polished. And it definitely wouldn’t be boring.

From Hinge messages, dick replicas, and all the chaos in between, trust us when we say… you’re not going to want to miss this.

⸻

9:34 am

It’s April 29 2026.

No big launch. No existential deadline. Just me, my brain, and whatever happens today.

woke up from a dream where my mom said “I have more bad news” and then i woke up before finding out what it was which feels… rude

i’m sweating because i fell asleep in a hoodie

my dog is curled into my stomach like the little spoon

petting him and thinking about how grateful i am before my brain starts doing its thing

taking a second t

o pray before i get out of bed

⸻

9:42 am

done praying

back to snuggling

checking texts

the guy i went on a date with Monday wants to see me again 😌

texting him my availability for date 2 while peeing

multitasking queen

Read more

When choosing the next SHAGMAG shoot to reminisce on, it was hard to pick. Mostly because only a few can keep up with the last one.

But I ended up landing on Issue 17 with Celina Smith.

For many reasons. The first being, well… Celina Smith. Duh. She was one of the sweetest most down to earth women I have ever met, and the perfect person to do this insane shoot with. Not once did she question my sanity during this shoot. (Although she would’ve had every right to)

The second being that this is the shoot where I got to shoot a machine gun in the desert topless. Like, where else in the world am I ever going to be able to do that again?

Well… now that I think about it, I guess I could do that again. Here at MISFITZMAG.

Anyways, I digress.

The inspiration for this one was Mad Max.

We rode four-wheelers, shot guns, graffitied tunnels, explored an abandoned airplane hangar, and flashed one very lucky train conductor.

What I never shared about this shoot is just how much went on behind the scenes. Turns out, you can’t just shoot machine guns or make things explode without having a whole stunt coordination team on standby. I’m talking stunt production, an armorer, medics, etc… the whole shabang. You know, just in case something goes wrong.

But what could possibly go wrong with two girls running wild in the desert with machine guns?

Thankfully, the day went smoothly. Well… besides the guy I was dating at the time coming to set, only to make a scene and leave because I wasn’t giving him enough attention.

I’m sorry… can you not see I’m busy?

(Needless to say, I broke up with him after that, but that’s a story we’ll save for another day.)

Anyways here’s me and Celina:

Read more

In a world of endless noise and overstimulation, what does it take for art to truly stop you in your tracks?

Austin William Simkins, also known as “Salty”, has always been drawn to that edge. Inspired by the fearless gaze of Helmut Newton, his work doesn’t ask for your comfort. It asks for your attention.

“What art means to me is tension,” Salty told us. “It should make people uneasy, force a reaction, pull something out of them they didn’t expect. Art isn’t safe. It’s confrontational, emotional, sometimes controversial. I’m drawn to the female form and architecture. Softness against structure. Humanity against something built to feel permanent. Placing a nude woman in front of a church felt timeless to me. It feels like power.”

In this series, Salty turns his lens on model Helena Schlesinger, and the result is exactly that. Quiet defiance. Raw beauty. And a woman standing unapologetically before something built to demand reverence.

One thing is for certain, whether you find it sacred or scandalous… Austin has surely succeeded.

Read more

While visiting Austin, Texas, I had the chance to sit down with my friend Johnny Manziel. We started discussing all of life’s highs and lows… and at one point, mid bite of mashed potatoes, I leaned over the table and said “Ya know, we should do a proper interview. People should really see this side of you.”

To which he laughed. Shrugged it off. Then eventually agreed, only on two conditions:

1. The interview would be casual, conducted at his friend’s house.

2. He was able to wear a balaclava.

And so here you have it folks.. an unfiltered, raw interview of me and Johnny Manziel eating pizza, playing fortnite and as us southern people like to say “shootin’ the shit”.

INTERVIEW:

JULIA: Do I, Julia Rose, have your permission, Johnny Manziel to voice record this conversation?

JOHNNY: Yeah, of course you do. This is a free flowing conversation that happens in life between friends. This is experimental.

JULIA: Mhm. And you’re gonna also play Fortnite while we talk?

JOHNNY: Yep. I am a great multitasker.

JULIA: Alright, here we go. . . I wanna start with the beginning.

JOHNNY: Sure.

JULIA: How do you think your early childhood years shaped you?

JOHNNY: It taught me a lot about family, leaning on people.

JULIA: How so?

Read more

001: THE ROOFTOP RENDEZVOUS

By: Anna del Gaizo

My phone dings.

It’s dark out. Fuck. Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.

I fumble for my phone and squint.

The battery is dangerously low. Texts stacked. From Zoey: “Party tonight! Come with me? It’ll be fun.”

She calls to coax me.
“Okay, sure,” I grimace. “But I need a bit. I just woke up.”

She laughs. “Oh my god.”

“I knowww!” I sigh. “I’ll shower and get dressed.” Reach for an Adderall and break off an orange shard. Then pop the rest.

“I can pick you up in, like, an hour? You’re on the way. ”
I don’t ask where the party is. Could be a house in the Hills, could be a

bar in Silver Lake. I don’t care, I paint the town red.

Either way, I have nothing to wear. I put on a buttcheek-skimming Mirror Palais slipdress, straps like dental floss. No bra. New Cosabella G-string cause you never know. Clip goes the tag to the floor. Vivienne Westwood boots. Balenciaga City bag.

Finishing touches: Smoked-out lids. Overlined lips. Tousled bedhead.

It’s givin’ hair, face, ass, titties.

The ride is short, like fifteen minutes.

The Uber door swings open. I unfold onto the sidewalk. With six extra inches of high heels, I’m mostly limbs.

Zoey slinks out behind me. We’re giggling about nothing. The Escalade lurches off down Santa Monica, relieved to be rid of us.

I look up and see the building I moved out of two months ago.

I’d only taken that apartment because I had to leave his place in Venice. Funny, he wasn’t my ex until I moved in with him.

“Oh, shit,” says Zoey. “Didn’t you live here?”

“Yup!” I pop my lips. “Well, let’s see what the fuck is going on here tonight.”
We sail to PH3 with four girls in bandage dresses, legs gleaming with shimmery body oil, smelling like vanilla. This is going to be a B-list kind of night. We chirp in confirmation we’re going to the same place.

The doors open. Thumps and bass spill into the hall.

I’m feeling like a taunt of trouble walking in. That’s what guys always say. “You’re trouble!” Most guys are losers.

It’s muggy up here. A regular party, but the air is thick with sweat and vape smoke.

I feel him before I see him. He catches me off-guard.

I expected to get a little (or a lot) drunk, snort some free coke, flirt for fun, maybe fuck a random, but I didn’t expect him.

Suddenly I’m alert. Maybe the Adderall is kicking in. Across the splotched room—vapes and Solo cups, fabric, flesh, and haze,—his eyes land on me.

My stomach flips. So cliché. Knees waiver like little traitors.
I let a guy with too much jewelry and not enough of a mustache pour me a tequila soda. Laugh even though he’s not saying anything funny.

I’m hyper-aware of my nipples through my $695 wisp of silk and lace. I hope they’re hard and I hope he sees them.

I send an almost-bored look in his direction. I can barely contain my excitement. Where’s Zoey? Is she seeing this? She’s probably in the bathroom cutting lines.

He looks older. Broader. Harder. Better. Yet kind of wrecked. Good. He didn’t expect to see me, either.

I shift back to the dude, still talking about real estate or crypto or both. I feel like a fucking schoolgirl.
But I’m not.

He starts sauntering toward me. Confident—or is it arrogant—as ever. I pretend I’m not anticipating him. Want to pull out my phone, seem busy, text Zoey “Guess who’s here?!” But he knows me too well.

“Hi.”
“Hi.” I flash my eyes. Take a swig. Glance around the room.

He smells like warm skin and Le Labo Noir 29. Reminds me of the bad decisions I’ve made. He’s one of them. I love making bad decisions.

We stand too close. Not touching. The air between us is obscene. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says.

“How could you? I didn’t know I’d be here either,” I wink. “Since when do you go to parties in West Hollywood?”

He doesn’t answer. For the first time, maybe, I don’t care. I’m all good already, so moved on, it’s scary.

This is more exciting than the times we actually fucked before (descreating hotel rooms on vacation, bent over toilets in bathroom stalls in grimy dives, clutching sinks inn fancy restaurant restrooms, torturing my nextdoor neighbors from dusk til dawn, sucking his cock in near- empty movie theaters, escalating makeouts and road head and quickies and all-day fuckathons and...).

“Rooftop?” It’s in between a question and a statement. “Sure,” I shrug like it’s inconsequential.

It’s balmy up here. The air doesn’t have that usual post-sunset LA chill. I recognize the stainless-steel grill and fugly cushions.

He steps closer. Face to face. In my preposterous shoes I’m almost his height.

I feel enormously imposing. I think I might evaporate. “I miss you,” he says.
I smile. “Oh, yeah?”

Read more

What the fuck is up MISFITZ.

It has officially been two weeks since we launched, and I thought spilling a little behind the scenes tea from our first ever photoshoot would be a fun way to celebrate.

First off, I want to say THANK YOU.

To each and every single one of you who subscribed and is reading this right now. Because of you, we hit top Substack charts last week (#1 in Rising Culture and #2 in New Best Sellers)

Like… WHAT!!

I have so many goodies in store for you this month including:

• A photoshoot of us catching up with one of our favorite features

• A messy erotic fiction story by an iconic writer

• an interview you are definitely not going to want to miss. (HINT:
  He is probably the messiest athlete you can think of.)

• And also some fun stories from you, our readers.

We’ll also be kicking off our paid subscriber chat, so keep an eye out for that.

Alright.

Without further ado…

Let’s get MESSY.

Read more

Read more

NOTE FROM EDITOR:

You’ve seen the headlines.
You’ve seen the controversy.

But what you haven’t seen is the full story.

Exactly seven years ago (March 1, 2019), Julia Rose built SHAGMAG into a digital disruptor that blurred the lines between rebellion, sex appeal, and modern media.

It exploded fast. Scaled faster. And then, almost overnight, it was gone.

In the pages that follow, Julia speaks candidly about ambition, chaos, control, identity, losing seven million followers in a blink, and what it means to build again but this time without the mask.

Inside, you’ll also find exclusive, never-before-published photos from pivotal moments in her journey and stories that capture both the madness and the woman behind it all.

“This isn’t a reinvention. It’s a reclamation. And it’s only the beginning.”

I. The Beginning

Read more

As I type this there is officially less than 24 hours until launch day. There has been such a whirlwind of emotions leading up this so i thought i would document them in real time.

(If you’re reading this then that means… mama we made it!!)

9:44 am

woke up to my neighbors dog barking its head off. Considering throwing a spoon of peanut butter over the fence but I don’t have any peanut butter or spoons to spare at the moment. also had really really weird dreams of Adam Sandler and one of my exes from over 10 years ago playing leap frog ??? I blame mercury drinking gatorade.

9:52 am

Read more

“What does rebellion look like in 2026?”

Read more

It didn’t feel right launching MISFITZMAG without first paying respects to my first love: SHAGMAG.

As cliché as it sounds, I do believe SHAGMAG walked so MISFITZMAG could run. Hair blowing in the wind, guns blazing, fully in her glory.

Read more

One night after hearing yet another horrid story about how another Joe Shcmo went ghost on a girlfriend of mine, I went home asking myself “why in a world where we are more digitally connected than ever. . . does it feel harder to find real, genuine connections?

It seems to me, we want to be close to people but only just close enough so they see what we want them to see and nothing more.

We aren’t losing intimacy because we became damaged. . . we are losing it because we became careful.

Read more