If Everyone Thinks It’s Cool, Is It Cool?
Wrestling with specialness
A couple weeks ago, I went to Field + Supply, a semi-annual “modern makers market” in Kingston, NY. I used quotes because that’s how it’s described on the Field + Supply website. It isn’t meant to imply snark toward a pretentious description, even though it may seem that way.
This was actually my second straight year attending the event, and I’d spent plenty of time anticipating its arrival. Field + Supply has a ton of vendors selling the kind of home goods (ceramics, rugs, furniture), clothing (vintage military wear, bags made from repurposed Pendleton blankets), and other knick-knacks that I like. Since it’s an outdoor event, they’re often merchandised alongside equally drool-worthy Defenders and G-Wagons with perfect patina. Sure, most of the items are priced at a level that I can’t justify, even if I can afford it, but I appreciate them nonetheless.
Judging from the crowds, including many acquaintances who I ran into serendipitously, I am far from alone in my appreciation. It was a little bit like Christian Girl Autumn, but for Brooklyn families with upstate homes, a demographic that for all my claims of uniqueness I fall squarely into. That’s what I found myself wrestling with as the day went on. When I’m around lots of other people that are into what I’m into, I start to wonder whether what I’m into is all that special.
I remember a similar situation occurring the first time I went to the Action Sports Retailer trade show in San Diego, where all the surf, skate, and snow brands came to show their upcoming products. This was in the early aughts when sneaker and streetwear culture was not necessarily in its infancy, but in its toddlerhood. Web publishing was still unsophisticated and there was no Instagram. So seeing an entire convention center filled with people wearing rare Nike SB Dunks and LRG skeleton hoodies and the like felt strange.
I think a lot of it comes down to my relationship with stuff. I like stuff, but I don’t necessarily like that I like stuff. And when I’m in a situation with other people that like similar stuff, I tend to want to flex and show how my stuff is special. That is not a tendency I want to fan the flames of.
I also realize that my discomfort could be attributed to that stereotypical criticism that Millennials (even though I’m Gen X) were brought up to think that they are singularly unique and don’t know what to do when faced with the fallacy of that.
But I’m trying to remind myself of what that realization reveals. If we’re not all different, then maybe we’re all the same. Not just in the stuff we like, but in the challenges we face and the feelings we experience. And there’s certainly a comfort in that.
#1 First days at my cabin in the Italian Alps
The latest evolution in my incredibly slow transition to budding outdoorsman is that I’ve been watching a lot of this genre of YouTube, so when I finally become one, I know how to build a fire and what to do with a neatly organized stack of wood.
—Andrew
Lululemon Like New
Barring a small handful of exceptions (and underwear and socks), I have not purchased new clothing in 3.5 years. This is not as difficult as it seems, as second hand shopping is incredibly fun and increasingly online. Though, it can often be difficult when you have a specific need and not just the desire for serendipity. Fortunately, the people behind Patagonia’s Worn Wear also run a Lululemon secondhand site and a new closet is on its way.
—Andrew
Palace Product Descriptions
I believe I’ve written about the beautifully absurd copy that Palace uses for its product description pages previously. Now, they’ve been collected in a book, in partnership with Phaidon. The way that Palace takes the stodgy, overused construct of bullet points and injects wit and humor into it is part DGAF, part Surrealist, and part genius.
—Justin
(Note from Andrew: this tweet gets random likes every week)