Big Box Magic

The Haul, as I recall it

Relishing a challenge, I set out this week, in the thick of August heat, to buy a pair of shorts. Who was I kidding? There were a few sad pairs still begging to be taken home, including one pair so short they really looked like denim underpants. No thanks! Even reliable old Uniqlo was down to a bare one or two. Because I can wear kids’ clothes sometimes, I went digging through the remnants of their kiddie summer wear, and found a tiny stash of nylon cargo shorts in size 13 that worked. Mission accomplished, but only if you can wear teen sizes. Otherwise, you would be out of luck.

The real takeaway is that you can’t ever shop for the season you’re in. Even in Los Angeles, land of shorts year round, the stores were bursting with fuzzy sweaters and woolly skirts. I used to get excited when the new season appeared in stores: It felt like a fresh beginning. But this day fell in the middle of our first heat wave, and I didn’t even want to touch wool, let alone try it on.

Photo by Rajiv Bajaj on Unsplash

I got hooked on fall shopping early, as a tiny tot. I grew up in Cleveland, and while there were nice stores there—big, beautiful, bountiful department stores—my mom, who loved good clothes, ordered our school outfits from Best & Company in New York. We waited for that gigantic box to arrive with giddy excitement, and tore through it like little goblins. These days, I usually buy things one at a time. I miss that sense of abundance and newness, like we were about to remake ourselves with this magical box of clothes.

For awhile, I was doing seasonal pre-orders from Tibi, and when my trunk-sized box showed up, I recalled those days of Best & Company arriving, like exotic cargo from the future. It’s probably not the smartest way to shop, and it seems unlikely that any grown person needs more than one or two new things at a time, but it sure was fun. Thanks, Mom.

A word from our sponsor, which is me:

Substack is one of the millions of subscription-based things that are the modern-day plague (I hate it as much as you do). But that’s what it is, and that’s the way it works. I started this column most of all for the joy of writing, especially about things that I don’t get to write about that much in the rest of my writing life—fashion, memories, travel, the works. I’ve found it really uncomfortable to put up the paywall, even though that’s the way you induce readers to pay for what they’re reading. For one thing, it felt entirely random: Why paywall this dispatch and not that one? Or why slap the paywall in the middle of this? I really don’t enjoy it at all. I fully accept that being a writer or an artist requires a lot more entrepreneurial juice than it might seem—now more than ever, but it’s always been true that when you create the product, you also have to promote it and make sure it gets bought and distributed. The work doesn’t stop at the act of creation. But this subscription-model stuff means that we writers have taken on another piece of the job, namely, being the sales department. Ugh. I’ve been uncomfortable with that role and haven’t done it forcefully. My ratio of subscribers to paid subscribers is below what Substack encourages, because I just haven’t pushed it hard. I have a very nice, robust group of people reading (thank you!) so now I have to figure out the other part of the equation.

I’m considering this as an option, and I’d love to hear your thoughts, and that is to put my Show Notes behind the paywall on every post. That feels purposeful and less random than just throwing up a gate now and then. The truth is that at some point, the pleasure of writing this (which is enormous!) will have to be scrutinized for its sustainability by my CFO, which is me, especially as my (paid) work is mounting (I’ve managed to overbook myself, which is a good problem, but my time is oversubscribed now). I love writing WORDY BIRD. I’d like to continue, so I hope this (possible) new setup is a way to do it.

SHOW NOTES

—I really am digging “Lázar”. I’m not done yet, but I’m fully engaged. The tone is so mature and wise that the author’s youth is just mind-boggling! I think next up will be “Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt” by Ben Reeves. It was already on my list, and then I heard that it’s been optioned and greenlit for a film adaptation. I’d rather read it before it gets overexposed, so I moved it up on my TBR list.

—I just got a pair of Birkenstocks from their collaboration with Ader Error, and they’re fabulous. And the toes are smooth leather (or is it rubber? I can’t remember). This is especially good for me, because I play with my dog by kicking a ball for him, and it’s wrecked multiple pairs of suede Birkenstocks because the toe wears down (and turns black) (and looks awful). So these should be an improvement, plus the little bit of blue stitching is really cute.

—I’m packing for two weeks of travel—Edinburgh (I’m speaking at the book festival; come say hi if you’re there!) and then London. It’s cold and wet in Scotland and blazing hot in London. Carry-on only. Challenge accepted.

—I’ve always used Benjamin Moore paints for my houses, but I couldn’t find the color I wanted there and wandered into Sherwin-Williams, which I’d always held in lower regard. Well, they have a much broader range of colors, including just what I was looking for (thank you, Tarnished Trumpet! And Palm Leaf! And Quiver Tan!). My painter says the quality is just as good, so I’m thrilled. Do not sleep on Sherwin-Williams.

—Thrive makes my favorite mascara. It is what is known as “tubing” mascara, which means it comes off with water in little tubes rather than smearing off. So much better than smearing! No raccoon eyes. I say this with all due respect to raccoons, of course.

—The topic is grim, but the Netflix show “The Bombing of Pan Am 103” is really well done. At times, it’s a little slow, but it details how the investigation unfolded, which is fascinating. I usually don’t like reenactment shows, but this one is worth it.

More soon, and thanks for reading!

xSusan