This poignant portrait of Miuccia Prada in the NYT reminded me of how I became so intimate with, and why I distanced myself from, fashion. Also: the time that I was so fond of Miu Miu's Spring 2010 that I bought a UO cut-out dress vaguely resembling some pieces from the collection, that I still wear, that if you look closely enough is patterned with small hearts... Mmmhmm.
As it happens I am comfortable with the Michael Laskis of this world, with those who live outside rather than in, those in whom the sense of dread is so acute that they turn to extreme and doomed commitments; I know something about dread myself, and appreciate the elaborate systems with which some people manage to fill the void, appreciate all the opiates of the people, whether they are as accessible as alcohol and heroin and promiscuity or as hard to come by as faith in God or History.
– Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Those final weeks... are blurred in memory, perhaps because our understanding of each other had reached that sweet depth where two people communicate more often in silence than in words...
– Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's
Gaze into the fire, into the clouds, and as soon as the inner voices begin to speak, surrender to them, don't ask first whether it's permitted or would please your teachers or father, or some god.
–Hermann Hesse, Demian
Initially, I watched this trailer because the thumbnail of an article triggered the retrieval of a dream from last night – where I wrote an incredibly mediocre screenplay for Ben Affleck (??? the last time I spent mental energy on him was maybe in 2002 when he appeared in the Jenny on the Block music video...)
Looking back, it almost seems appropriate that I would stumble across a Joan Didion book – that I was recently searching for on Amazon – tucked among walls of cheesy romance novels, in a closed used bookstore, which was only open because the group of enthusiastic card-playing Greek men occupying the shop had forgotten to shut the doors behind them.