Before I begin, I have to say that winter makes me completely useless. It’s either I am running around nonstop or I am in a fugue state, catatonic and in bed for days at a time. When I go out, it’s so OUT. Last night I was having dinner with my friends (after four days of being in bed) and Drake was at the bar by himself and we had a couple of rounds of shots together. A few things from the encounter that I found amusing:
-He kept referring to me as Miss Novelist
-He said, “Of course you hate having boyfriends, you have to write.”
-I put on my full length mink coat as we were leaving, hugged goodbye and said, “You should get a coat like mine” and he said, “I’m working up to it.”
Anyway… sometimes it’s gauche to talk about celebrity encounters but fame is just so funny. Also, I constantly ask them about books they read or if they will read my book (peer pressure)… the things I do for the publishing industry… Whenever I leave my house I’m always WORKING!
The women in my family love to shop. This is the one thing that unites three generations. Whenever a new season approaches, I’ll tell my friends I have the “shoppies” which is my way of saying I am entering a frenzy where I will buy a number of items in short succession. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Often it depends on whatever else is happening my life. (The more stressed out I am, the more likely I am to add to cart).
I spend about 80% of my screen time on resale sites. I love estate sales, auctions, Japanese proxy websites, and resale apps (Poshmark is my favourite and I browse both Canadian and US, other more shi-shi apps get a lower rating because of custom fees shipping to Canada). It is my most private hobby, because no one is ever witness to how I find anything (plus time spent), and only see what I’ve bought if I wear it out).
My aunt recently told me she’d been thrifting for the first time and had such a thrill finding a “2-ply cashmere sweater” for six dollars. Then added, “But you know the feeling, you’ve been doing it since you were a kid.” My first pair of Chanel pumps were acquired from a vintage store when I was fourteen. They were something like eighty-five dollars and for the time seemed old-fashioned (black patent, small gold CC buttons, a 2.5” heel). I remember wearing them to the Bowery hotel with elbow length pink opera gloves and a pleated, butter yellow skirt worn as a strapless dress (I was fifteen). My next pair of designer shoes I thrifted were black patent Vara flats by Ferragamo. I loved these into the ground because they weren’t completely flat and had a 1.5” stacked heel. Obviously these would be so coveted now but at the time, they really were seen as old lady (which has been my taste all along). I still get upset recalling the Chanel shoes getting stuck in an NYC subway grate that completely cut up the heel.
As a teenager, I was the only one in my high school who came “dressed up.” It was an arts school so much of the dress code was flannel, ripped tights, and doc martens. I’m almost positive twenty years on it’s still the same. My highschool English teacher’s earliest memory of me (which she still loves to bring up) is me coming from my internship at Vice and sneaking into class forty minutes late wearing a fur coat and fur hat (Unfortunately part of my storied life is I was a sixteen year old intern at Vice. It was 2008!!!!).
