03.24.23 (+ an ode to thrifting)
your resident creative’s monthly (ish) digest.
Loving:
Starting the morning with cottage cheese, cherry tomatoes, salt/pepper, and a drizzle of Graza.
The arrival of a Texan spring (marked by the beds of wildflowers everywhere).
Creativity as a means of healing in Ken Meyer’s new documentary, Angel Applicant.
Absolut Vodka X Heinz’s limited edition Tomato Vodka Sauce. So fun.
Running into my favorite food/bev connoisseur, Andrea Hernandez (Snaxshot), at Foxtrot Market.
Hearing Les Binet dive into all things brand-building at SXSW.
SXSW (!!!)
Learning:
"With ordinary talent and extraordinary perseverance, all things are attainable." - Thomas Fowell Buxton
What the future of advertising in a Web3 world could look like.
The meaning behind Salvatore Dalí’s The Persistence of Memory.
Listening:
Lazerburn by Jesse Woods. (the epitome of spring.)
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An Ode to Thrifting
Earlier this month, I had the pleasure of spending a weekend wandering around thrift shops with some dear friends in upstate New York. As we traveled aimlessly, in a state of awe, a state of bliss, for hours upon hours at a time, I stopped to think: what makes thrifting so inexplicably great?
For me, it’s the comfort of walking through a set of bell-laden doors and being immediately met with a blanketing of must, ceramic trinkets, and of course, ironic tees. A reminder of the nostalgia our generation channels more than we probably think. It's in the records we flip through, disposables we take, the lost eras we base our Pinterest boards and Spotify playlists off of. Not to mention the modern brands we gravitate towards just because they emit the same vintagey-feel. (Hello Vacation Sunscreen, hi there Olipop!)
The experience within these shops takes me to a world totally unrecognizable from the one we live in now- or so I like to imagine. It reminds me of exploring my grandparents’ home back as a child. Tottering through rooms filled with hand-painted porcelain dishes, picture frames, and quaint ceramic figurines all housing memories of the past. Inhaling that same blanketing of archival must.
Are these stores our generation’s more accessible (and undoubtedly more affordable) Disney World? When we thrift, we don’t just see this beauty, we’re immersed in it. We explore it up close, from room to room, reaching out to touch whatever our eyes gravitate towards next, the ultimate, mind-numbing, sensorial overload.
Perhaps it's because we’re in our twenties and change is imminent and scary. Grappling with the inevitability of post-grad? A few hours of staring at Victorian paintings and rusty cans of 1920s shave cream ought to do the trick. Learning to navigate a continual and utter lack of control? That rack of silk and satin slip dresses is simply shouting your name. Call it blatant escapism for all I care, but if you’re looking for a fun and sustainable way to briefly tune out the chaos, try exploring a vintage shop with your close companions too. Those ironic tees will be waiting with open arms.