Up With People

I promised to write this segment about actual consumption, affordable things, Forum-life in the Good Depression, but I can't be bothered. Look at these shoes! I don't really like shoes. I'd like to be barefoot permanently, and I'm quite suspicious of the cultural tendency to pin "shoe mania" on dames. I would, however, shod myself without any grumbling if I could afford Giuseppe Zanotti's $658 stripper platforms, a genre of shoe I've always admired for its gross, fetid, body-glitter-and-country-buffet glamour (especially in traditional Lucite styles!). Get on board.

Up With People

In a purchasing rut/freeze, I still need to affect change in my apartment. So I will buy a couple of yellow sawhorses and some packs of Rit dye. I am not wildly crafty, not a brilliant builder, but I can certainly prop planks. And, personally, I love the inconsistent, drippy, at-home-disaster look of a dress or curtains given a Rit bath.

Up with People

On January 16th, I will buy a ticket for to see Notorious. Petrova got wind of the thing ages ago, when she came across the set in New York. She asked a P.A. what scene they were filming; he replied, "the first time they hear 'Juicy' in the club." The phrase, "the first time they hear 'Juicy' in the club" has been a touchstone for me ever since, a call for excellence. I expect it to be some amalgam of Scarface, Showgirls (Oh Kim, I love your nails. . .), Poetic Justice, and Choices II. Even the preview gets me palpitating . . .

Up with People

I have a confession. In some "foggy London Towne" of early 2008, I told Pillow that I thought it would be "like really fun" to slip into another Great Depression ( . . . or maybe I said "like really sexy"). Oy. Clearly I was mistaken. Newsflash!—poverty is B-L-E-A-K. And Christmas was especially dismal. I tried to lighten up with posts about fictional consumption, fantastic, impossible gifts. 

In 2009, I'm going to document actual consumption, the spoils of the depressed. 

To begin, I will buy some disposable cameras. I love the exchange implied by the object. I love the objecthood of the camera, of the printed pictures one receives in return for it. Also (and this is really naughty), I kind of want to celebrate disposability just to be contrary, just to remark old-fashioned, piggy, 20th century American sloth and waste.