I’m constantly surprising myself here on Wordy Bird. I’m never quite sure what I’m going to write about, and then something will arise, like a vapor, and I’m off and running. When I first launched this enterprise, I thought I’d only write about fashion, because I love clothes and like thinking about them. But what has bubbled up instead has been fashion-adjacent, memories and observations associated with clothing rather than fashion itself—along with the occasional rant about whales. I don’t have the dedication to find Five Cute Vests You Should Be Wearing Right Now. I will gobble up that information if someone else writes it, but I realize I’m hopelessly in love with telling stories rather than providing service. There are many fashion-adjacent stories, and I will keep writing them, and will keep sniffing the vapors, wherever they lead.
What makes an idea worth writing about? Someone asked me that (via Notes) recently. That’s easy: If you care about a subject deeply, if it stirs something in you, it’s worth writing about. If you find yourself wanting to know more about it, it’s worth writing about. If it tickles you, or confounds you, that’s essential. But is that sufficient? A while back I was having a bad day sorting through sweaters that had been nibbled by moths. I was raging about moths to the friend who was helping me with my ragged sweaters, and he suggested that I write about it. At first I was skeptical: What is there to say about moths except to spew hatred? But I noodled around a bit and realized I had plenty to say, and had fun saying it, and the column almost wrote itself.
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