May + 50 Cent + the 101
One Dance season, acting, and a case for editorial.
On Wednesdays I start to get very nervous. I have a commitment to make, not really to anyone but myself. It’s not easy to write a newsletter every week!
does it everyday. Jelly Sandwich was meant (in part) to encourage myself to keep writing because it’s something I enjoy. I did write a book. In my first post I admitted to you, “My shrink says I don’t have a passion that has depth, meaning that I get swept up in an identity that I don’t hold onto for very long. So, I’m starting a blog that may or may not have a lasting impact on anyone, even myself.” Tldr; I don’t want to abandon my writer-self.I find it hard sometimes to stick with something, but then today I found out Eve Babitz also had a station wagon. This isn’t going to be neat and tidy, I’m not sure exactly how to make it so, and my life isn’t either. I hope you’ll stick around.
We are approaching One Dance season. If you don’t immediately know what I mean then I fear it won’t come as naturally to you and your loved ones. I love One Dance season. It beckons a time in my life when I acted so juvenile, by which I mean that summer I ran down Wall Street in the rain (already) to a high rise building near World Trade begging for an unrequited lover to come down and talk to me (he had a girlfriend). I look back on these years so fondly. I knew next to nothing, and surely nothing about myself. I was “lobotomy goals”, not yet in therapy and literally going to Le Bain in my spare time. Clothing from LF still hanging confidently in my closet. The summer of 2016 (before my life drastically shifted that fall) was wondrous. A time when Dimes Square didn’t exist. Williamsburg had not yet become a total cesspool. I loved New York so much then.
Right now in Los Angeles the bougainvillea has started to bloom and the star jasmine has opened up. I baked a cake last night that reminded me of Abraco’s olive oil cake, but with a little hint of lemon. The recipe is from
’s Cookbook, one of my favorite accounts to follow across all platforms. My boyfriend (also named Carter) said to me after eating a bite that he doesn’t understand why I don’t start a baking business (lol). Imagine I started another side gig– just kill me now. Jane of all trades is becoming less and less fun.It’s been extremely difficult for me to admit the things I want in life. Most of all, acting. It’s embarrassing to want something, spend a long time trying to get it, and still end up with nothing. Eventually, I was overcome with what I perceived as profound rejection of self. Soon after my move to Los Angeles to pursue it, I decided to abandon it. Fresh off the heels of a breakup, I thought it would be much easier to become involved in something that seemed to require less effort and didn’t have such a blow on my self esteem.
Recently, I found acting again without anyone telling me to do it. (I briefly speak about the Method here.) I fear so much in wanting to act, but I won’t let that fear overtake my desire and my will to do it. I have never been happier. I have lived most of my life letting people make decisions for me. So much so, that now when I need to make a decision I start to flounder. Usually, I have gotten my way in life through sobbing, weeping, or crying (all different). In Black Swans, Eve compares throwing up to crying (a nod at last weeks letter):
“Finally, I went into the only safe room in the place, the bathroom, and laid down in the bathtub with a large towel and just cried. I cried and cried, enjoying the echo-chamber effect, except that I hate crying really; it’s like throwing up— not my métier.”
I write about and have a career in fashion and that’s ok, but I don’t think anything I do in that space is going to change anyone's life. It might just make other people think I’m cool. But I don’t really care if I die and was cool once. I’ve been dying to be cool for 28 years of my life, but I think it’s more fulfilling to tell a story, and to change someone’s life.
This week someone who I think is very smart said that no one cares about editorial anymore. While I don’t want to believe this is true, I think there is something to be said about it. I find most of my own inspiration from editorial (that’s not new or exciting, a lot of people do). Everyone is a researcher or a creative director, I don’t need to tell you that. The internet is accessible to everyone. I don’t think anyone not working in a creative field would be interested in (or even know what it means) editorial. Actually— I know they don’t because earlier today my facialist said “who goes out and spends $10 on a magazine anymore?”
Most of what we’re seeing in marketing and advertisements come from references of old things; there’s not a lot of new ideas. I love editorial, and I prefer it to working on commercial things, as I assume most people in fashion do. It pays less (close to none), but it’s much more fulfilling (IMO). Below are some of my favorite editorials, new and old.
It’s so easy, so accessible for all men to dress this way. Why don’t they? This image can heal an entire population.
Recently I’ve heard a whole lot of this out of NYC:
Even 3,000 miles away I can tell that this is the case. Is this really happening? Or are my friends and I just in closer proximity to it all, being almost 30 and everything.
This post is “too long for email” so that’s a sign that I am maybe rambling. Until the next one…
Kiss!