The lowest point I’ve experienced thus far from working in fashion PR is being asked to send candles to a guy who calls himself a cultural polymath.
Isn’t everyone a polymath by now? The internet makes it so easy to know a little or a lot about everything; the title is hardly as rare as we think it is.
I find that if I stand by someone for at least five minutes they do usually have something interesting to say.
To quote the new age guru-cum-grifter, and former Democratic primary candidate, Marianne Willamson, “everybody knows everything.”
Is there not some truth to this? That there could be some magnanimous vortex of knowledge that remains dormant in ourselves? And perhaps the messy heuristics of our brain which causes illogical short cuts—a symptom of our evolution nudging us to stay alive—obstructs us from accessing this goodwill dust.
Contributing snark to podcasts, releasing vague aphorisms on long sleeved tees FOR A “DROP”, or wearing your socks in such a way that it’s below the knee, but still above the calf. White Sneakers. In Bushwick. Not in Bushwick. A new form of snobbery that has nothing to do with talking about art, film, or books, but everything to do with product, brands, and regional spaces.
You’re not really bi-coastal. From the way you talk about EREWHON, it makes me wonder, do people catch on fire if they step inside of one? Still, I digress, who will save you from yourself?
I desire sincerity.