We almost made a gift guide
Slippery slope from object enjoyer to consumerist pig
It’s no secret that Justin and I are enjoyers of thoughtfully crafted objects and wonderfully woven textiles. One of our presets for recommendations is “Just a Thing” where, aside from the usual longform pieces or skate videos, we’ve been known to recommend pants, candles, sneakers, slippers, and other delightful and durable accouterments.
A month ago, as the Holiday season approached, I asked Justin if he wanted to make a gift guide this year. He did not.
irony of working for ecomm businesses all these years is that by the time I get to thanksgiving week I am so sick of gift guides I can’t even think of them lol
Since then, half of the Substacks in my inbox have shared a gift guide. Several have shared multiple! And I’ve clicked on almost all of them — to see which fragrance my favorite business gossip writer recommends (despite being very happy with mine), which fish spatula the legendary food writer recommends (despite having one that perfectly spatulas fish), which rug the menswear and home goods writer recommends (despite ordering a new-to-me, old rug last night to replace my current basically new rug).
I went to Japan last month — the single greatest shopping destination in the world? — and practiced one of my favorite hobbies: touching very fine fabrics. The denim at Kapital, the wool fleece at Auralee, the knitwear at Comoli, the half zip at Phigvel, the browns at Taiga Takahashi. I left Japan with a refreshed wardrobe and a list of stores to send future gaijin to, hoping they will enjoy the palpable craft as much as I did.
But all this consumerism made me feel icky! How did I get here? And how do I get off of this hedonic treadmill while still staying true to my identity as an enjoyer of fine objects?
For half a decade, I followed a rule I made for myself (I do not buy new clothes) that prevented me from doing more than an above average amount of Grailed/TRR browsing and flicking through racks on the weekends. But this year, I relapsed. Not for slave-made Shein or Zara, but for the aforementioned Japanese soft goods, the fine merino and cashmere of Margaret Howell, the perfectly wide trousers from Studio Nicholson, and family-made linen shirts from It’s a Shirt. Beautiful garments, designed by real people with their hands, that you can feel when you hold them in your hands. But a relapse nonetheless.
The cost of relapsing has not just impacted how much cheddar is packed in my card holder. The cost has also been a digital distraction: to see a list of links and feel compelled to open 10 new tabs with various incense that come highly recommended (despite loving these, these, and these). And the endless cycle that buying things begets: to pull out my puffer for the winter and think, “I’m probably due to upgrade it,” despite the fact that it was an upgrade not so long ago.
There is a term for this, which comes from an essay titled "Regrets for my Old Dressing Gown.”
The Diderot effect is a phenomenon that occurs when acquiring a new possession leads to a spiral of consumption that results in the acquisition of even more possessions
The other title for the essay that inspired this phenomenon is "A warning to those who have more taste than fortune". I guess this, too, is that.
Related rec: Purging
I’ve been on a massive purging kick over the past few weeks. It started with my wife urging me to try to sell an American Girl tent that my daughter had outgrown on Facebook Marketplace. It has steamrolled from there. And the whole process has felt incredibly liberating. It’s just refreshing to be so honest with yourself and admit that you’ll never read that book or wear that shirt and then just let it go. It’s also crazy to see what kind of stuff will just get picked up off the sidewalk. I followed all the proper protocol about submitting a request to have someone drain the freon from some old air conditioners. But after putting them out on the street the night before (that’s actually the protocol) they were gone the next morning. —Justin
Dialectic
This time last year, both underemployed, Jackson and I started a podcast. My goal was to make it to 21 episodes (only 1% make it this far!). We got to 10. Well, Jackson is back. This time, without me. and it’s the most excited I’ve been for a new podcast since Daniel Tosh came out of witness protection for his. This is Jackson’s calling and I’m a proud friend, retweeting from the sidelines. —Andrew
Inside Fallingwater: Frank Lloyd Wright's Architectural Genius
A mini-documentary about a house so iconic that the family donated it (and the surrounding 500 acres) to be a museum. Having just spent a few days upstate, I’m not sure how fun it would be to drive home from dinner at a friend’s house, but waking up here, reading books, slangin newsletters, and getting bit by mosquitos would certainly be worth the treacherous drives. —Andrew
Epicly Later’d: Atiba Jefferson
While I can’t wait to see Eddie Huang’s documentary Vice Is Broke, one holdover from the halcyon days at Vice that I’m glad still exists is Patrick O’Dell’s Epicly Later’d series that serves as a kind of VH1 Behind The Music tale for skateboarders. I was especially glad to see photographer Atiba Jefferson get the Later’d treatment. Atiba is an incredible skate photographer who also happens to be a really nice guy. I had the chance to work with him a few times when I was at Sports Illustrated (if you’ve ever been on a Zoom with me, you’ve seen the photo he took of Hoop Dreams star Arthur Agee hanging on the wall behind me). And I’ve had the chance to collaborate with him a few times on different projects over the years. What I love most about Atiba’s story is that it’s proof that good guys can win. —Justin