I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I will never be interviewed by Vanity Fair. Which is a shame because I live for their MY STUFF column. (The one where they ask the insanely wealthy to jot down a list of their possessions, which always seem to include Gap T-shirts.) Since I never met a list I didn't like...
WHERE DO YOU LIVE
A 750-sq-foot Big City apartment with gorgeous views and an ugly kitchen.
Calder. Eggleston. Anyone who shoots anything with a Polaroid. Paint-by-numbers from the 1940's if I can find them.
Target. On sale.
Random bits I accumulated while interning at a local shop. Knowing my love of all things ephemeral, they once sent me to a paper goods trade show at the Javits Center. I posed as a buyer and collected years worth of gorgeous samples. I combine them with bits and pieces to make homemade cards.
No gadgets for me, thanks. I tend to blank out when faced with an operating manual. (If pressed, I'll say my iPod, if only for the Savage Love podcast.)
FAVORITE NEIGHBORHOOD RESTAURANT
Yum Yum Bankok. Basil noodles with tofu, please.
If I'm feeling fancy, a sidecar. For hanging with my peeps, a margarita. For daily knockback, a half a glass of pinot gris.
2 obnoxious cats.
Whole Foods' 365 store brand. No parabens.
Gap 1969 organic cotton.
In my head, Converse. In reality, Merrill.
Still looking for my ideal one. Something big and old and menswear-y.
Anyone who sells at Anthropologie.
We stayed in a castle in Ireland on our honeymoon that was pretty friggin' sweet.
Edinburgh. Ireland. Any bakery.
Orange, pumpkin, squash. In other words, nothing I can actually wear.
FAME (for the early 80's grit), PAN'S LABYRINTH (for the awesomeness), RAISING ARIZONA (because son, you've got a panty on your head)
*This is my favorite category in the magazine. The people always list some obscure French brand with lavender or sea kelp...