Archive for the ‘Buy Me This!’ Category

Another Post About Celebrities

June 22, 2017
ML: so
george clooney started a tequila company 4 years ago as a “side project”
with some other rich people
and diageo is apparently now buying it for 700 million fucking dollars
ID: yeah
i saw that
wtf
ML: w
t
f
ID: do you ever just think like
my life sucks
why am i not george clooney?
ML: only 4 or 5 times a day
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I Would Like This Turban Thing

June 13, 2017

That is all.  Thank you.

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FUCK YOU I’M MILLWALL

June 8, 2017

So, as most everyone knows by now, we had a wee bit of the TERROR here in London last weekend.  Not ideal.  But one of the things that always follows terrorist incidents are stories of human bravery.  Case in point: this absolute legend, who, unarmed, charged the terrorists yelling a battle cry of, “Fuck you, I’m Millwall!”

For the Americans amongst my readers, Millwall is a football/soccer club that is, how should I put this: thoroughly disliked.  Their fans are known to be uneducated thugs. In fact, a common cheer they use as a retort is, “No one likes us, we don’t care.”  So imagine how exciting it is for them––whether they’ll admit it or not––to all of a sudden find themselves VERY liked!

My husband and I have, like many others out there, found the story and the tagline pretty amazing.  So the other night, we were joking about making t-shirts with “Fuck You, I’m Millwall” on them, because of course when something is funny, the first thing you should do is make a t-shirt of it.  I was one click away from ordering 400 customized t-shirts (to the tune of nearly 1,000 GBP) when my wet blanket husband decides actually, it would be weird, and maybe we’d have to check with Millwall (even though I wasn’t planning on using the logo) and instead we could think about just having them say FYIM even though exactly two people in the universe (him and me) would know what the fuck that meant.

So fine, even though we were going to donate the proceeds to the victims’ families and other charitable causes, and even though I’m sure Millwall officials would be thrilled to partner with us on this initiative, the project will go on the shelf for now.  But let the record show that this shirt would have been bomb.

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Art Not Ads

January 13, 2017

In New York, a group is embarking on a year-long project to replace advertisements with works of art.  Genius!  The only issue with it, as far as I can tell right now, is that it’s a little within-the-lines (I’d love to see more people take their Exact-o knives to billboards and getting arrested mid-painting session) and not pervasive enough.  I’d prefer that all ads were eliminated and replaced with artwork, but everyone knows I have wild visions for society…

The campaign was inspired by a giant picture of a surgically enhanced ass:

Caldwell was inspired to start the project after seeing an ad for a $1,000 Brazilian butt lift outside of her Brooklyn apartment last spring. She said, “I laughed it off at first, but the billboard was designed to make me feel self-conscious, and I got tired of it. I became determined to fill my life with art that would make people feel anything else.”

An example:

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Reminds me of a few years ago, when I was just out of college, I saw a little piece about an artist, or something, was creating these bumper sticker type things that read, “You don’t need it,” which wannabe renegades like myself could request (for free) in the mail and then smack them onto public advertisements.  I still have my packet somewhere.  While I was walking through the underpass between the A and S trains at 42nd Street I saw these giant iPhone 7 posters, with that instantly recognizable sleek Apple aesthetic, and I thought, “That would be perfect.”  Next time.  (Don’t think I won’t do it.)

Never Gonna Get It

December 5, 2016

To think that a mere month ago I was ogling this very expensive but utterly adorable leopard print bunny clutch:1067196_1_large

And now I can’t even FANTASIZE about it without feeling guilty imagining those hundreds of pounds that could go toward a down payment on that off-the-grid goat farm we might need to buy as the apocalypse looms.  DONALD TRUMP IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.

Bar Luce

October 8, 2016

I know it’s kind of obvious but I love the aesthetic of Bar Luce.  I’m going to Milan in a few weeks and maybe I’ll the guts to steal me a little one of these!
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Shoe Poms

August 24, 2016

A big tragedy as of late was that these shoe pom-poms were sold out.  I swear, sometimes I feel like I live in a war zone, given all I go through…

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I don’t have the best kicks to go with these, though, so…

Find Me!

July 31, 2016

Last week, my husband and I went to visit Mont Saint Michel, an iconic island monastery in the muddy shores off Normandy.  For those of you who don’t know what it looks like––which I can’t imagine is many people––here’s a picture.

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It was the kind of visit that reminds you of why it’s so stupid to call places “too touristy,” which someone did about MSM later that day.  There’s a reason so many people want to see a spot like this one.

Anyway, afterward I was doing a little Googling on the Fraternity of Jerusalem, the religious order that now lives there (the Benedictines were the original tenants, and were invited back in the nineties after exile post-French Revolution, but decided it was a little too bustling for them.)  I came upon the following from an article in the Telegraph.  Guess which part caught my eye:

“After many ups and downs – post-Revolution, the Mont was a jail – a religious presence returned to the rock in the Sixties. It is now maintained by monks and nuns from the Fraternity of Jerusalem. “There are two realities here, spiritual and tourist,” Sister Nathanaël told me. She had travelled widely as a commodities trader before taking holy orders. The realities meet up when Sister Nathanaël walks from her quarters up to the abbey church. She may be stopped two dozen times in 200yd by people with questions (“Is this place religious, then?”) or wishing to have photos taken with her. “The smile is vital,” she said. “And we usually manage it, but not absolutely always.” There are rewards. A visiting Japanese woman had recently been called to Christianity by St Michael. A medium on a retreat had renounced his spirit-contacting activity as displeasing to God.”

I must find this Japanese woman!  If you get this, reach out to me!  I’ll come to Japan to talk to you…

Other things I want: a pink ombre sweater and a French straw hat.  Ugh, I’m such a WORLDLY creature!

 

Sergey Konokov

June 2, 2016

When it comes to acquiring art, I like to go one of two ways: first, buying works by friends, or second, buying pieces that have good stories behind them, whether it’s about how I stumbled upon the artist or the artist’s personal story or whatever.  So for my first significant painting purchase, the story goes: my husband and I were wandering around the Marais neighborhood in Paris.  It was a Saturday, so we couldn’t do much, and it was drizzling rain, so we were both irritable about not having much we could do.  But then we turned right down a street lined with art galleries, and realized an activity was right at our doorstep (so to speak.)  Most of what we saw was mediocre, but the work of Sergey Konokov stood out.  Dark, technically mature (amazing, as the artist is only twenty-one), equal parts Francis Bacon and The Ring (post-tape watching.)  The painting of the dogs fighting would be great in a dining area, just to make your guests feel mildly uneasy during a fancy supper.

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To the Is-Land

May 18, 2016

The New York Times is running a little series on islands this week, and I’m thrilled, but a little sad they didn’t call and ask me to contribute. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by islands: their miniature sustainability, the way they all seem haunted, even the jolly Caribbean ones. I was obsessed with drawing road maps as a kid, and, perhaps because islands were manageably small, I chose to plan out a million different islands, the towns or counties (depending on how big I decided to make it), the cul-de-sacs and stretch of stores. Then I’d decide where my friends would live and where I would live (always the nicest part of town, as I was a bit of a snob then.) I was also enchanted by addresses, for reasons I’ve never quite understood. Even now, when I visit a new place, I pick out the houses I like best, and imagine a card being sent to me at that address. 90 Church Street, Charleston, South Carolina. 36 Quai de Bethune, Ile Saint-Louis, Paris. Ballamona Estate, Oak Hill, Isle of Man, United Kingdom.

I’m so beguiled by islands, in fact, that I paid $500 to be a “fellow” in an artists’ commune on Governor’s Island last summer, even though I could have paid $0 to continue writing from my couch. I even wrote the above paragraph (talk about a pause in rumination) from an empty bedroom (I’m guessing) of a crumbling, plumbing-free house on Governor’s, which is full of decrepit and vacant old buildings (another obsession.) One day a friend came to visit and we wandered around the place, sneaking into buildings with the doors slightly ajar, fantasizing about writing a YA book in which all the tri-state area teens are relocated to an ominous boarding-school-type facility on the island after a nearby nuclear disaster––OR WAS IT?

The issue with loving islands is that eventually, you’ll start to want them to be smaller, more sparsely populated, more island-like. It’s like a drug, except instead of more, more, more, it’s smaller, smaller, smaller. A fondness for Ireland becomes an obsession with the Aran Isles; affection for Venice morphs into a burning desire to set foot on Poveglia Plague Island. Best of all, the Thimble Islands, the improbably adorable little specks in Long Island Sound, so close to where I lived for so long and yet I never even thought to go. With names like Frisbie Island, Little Pumpkin Island, Potato Island, Cut in Two Island, and so on. The coast of Maine? A dream for an islet junkie.

My fantasy of the ideal island home has changed a great deal over the years. It used to be Saint Croix, in the US Virgin Islands, or Aruba––the Caribbean was my jam, before I deemed it too touristy to sustain real life. More recently, it was Governor’s (they say you can’t sleep overnight, but ferry employees do, which might be something to look into.) Now, I’m kind of into islands in this neck of the woods: Isles of Scilly, Blasket Islands (only bunnies live there now), Faroes (which are Scandinavian, if you wish.)  Or maybe I’ll just make like Andrea Zittel and construct my own little island and float off on it.

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Robert Smithson’s “Island Project”