As you all know, whenever I sit down to write I always end up doing everything but. Today I decided to spend countless hours online shopping. I went through my onslaught of emails from various stores and inevitably end up scrolling through hundreds of shops on Etsy.
I gave in and bought these two awesome prints from Nan Lawson’s shop and can’t wait to add them to my inspiration wall.
I just saw this post on Stuff Hipsters Hate (a hilarious site) about hating being asked about what they’re wearing. Although I’m not a hipster, I too hate being asked about what I’m wearing. I always get a question about an accessory or article of clothing. Especially when I wear a headband I get asked if I’m an Indian, Rambo, working out, or what its purpose is, or what was my inspiration.
Why can’t I just wear what I want to wear? How does it affect anyone else? My method of getting dressed is not unlike that of a 5 year old child who wakes up and decides she wants to wear a tutu, cheetah tights, and a tiara (I own all of the above). So to answer the question- I’m inspired by 5 year olds. There doesn’t have to be a reason for what you’re wearing. I like it and I felt like wearing it.
Do I ask you why you’re wearing the same striped shirt, faded dad jeans, and Aldo dress shoes like every other person in the vicinity? Do I ask if you all planned to look like a d-bag together? No. I assume it’s a personal choice.
(I copied and pasted the post below since it’s on Tumblr the post may be on a different page when you click on the link)
Darwin’s theory of sexual selection states that an ostensibly maladaptive trait, a handicap such as a big honking peacock tail, is actually adaptive in that it signals to mates a specimen of exceptional quality. Indeed, because the peacock devoted so many resources to growing such useless and even cumbersome plumage, the theory goes, he who has the biggest feather-fan must be pretty goddamn hardy.
A similar principle is at work in hipster’s selection of attire. Take a reasonably attractive woman and add a hideous pair of oversize grandpa glasses. Still pretty? OK, now throw on a slightly tattered dress shaped like a muslin garbage bag. Still looking good? Toss in some Daria-like boots that appear to be solely designed to make legs look like tree stumps. Plop on an ill-fitting sunhat for good measure. Not cringing yet? Then she must’ve been pretty fucking pretty to begin with.
Like most evolutionary forces, this motivation runs entirely under any given hipster’s consciousness. Therefore, actually questioning an item or items adorning said hipster’s body will short circuit more than a few American Spirits-shriveled brain cells. The h-kid will likely turn it into an opportunity to rue your bad personal taste, responding with a glare and an empathic, “Because it’s cool.” The implication, of course, is that you know nothing of the topic.
I’ve been doing a lot of shopping for the fall lately but I haven’t had a chance to sort through it all yet. So let me start with the small stuff…
I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without a pair of classic aviators (a staple) but I finally got a pair of Ray Bans. I am so attached to them I may turn into one of those people who wears sunglasses indoors. Maybe..
I’m excited to switch to darker nail colors for the fall. (Darker everything actually…hello black clothes!) This is Sole Mate from Essie…
And I’m even more obsessed with this deep cerulean blue (is that a real color?) called Mesmerize, also from Essie…
With names like Sole Mate and Mesmerize…does it sound like I’m looking for something here? Winter boyfriend much?
I’m so excited to be going to The Word Made Flesh book launch party at powerHouse Arena in Brooklyn tonight. The book is made up of photos of tattoos inspired by literature. I can’t wait to get my hands on a copy.
While Hannah was visiting, we spent an afternoon at The Met. We stopped in the gift shop afterwards and while Hannah was looking for postcards, I was in the children’s section playing with the unicorns, princesses, and knights figurines. What this has to do with The Met, I’m not sure, but I clutched the unicorn close to my heart and said, “Oh I really want to take her home!” Hannah told me to buy it and I asked, “But what does it do?” I pictured it collecting dust in all the clutter in my small apartment. “It doesn’t have to do anything,” she answered, “it’s a unicorn.”
And so… I went to The Met and returned with a unicorn. : )
