Monthly Archives: April 2012
The other day I was sitting at home with my boyfriend (I have one. Weird right? …He’ll dump me when he finds out about my massive codependency issues). The thing about him is that he LOVES cars. He actually needs to buy a new one and has been researching what to buy. I keep scoffing at every car he shows me which got me to wondering what car I would buy if money were no object. The branding of automobiles has so much to do with aspiration and performance. We’re making a statement about who we are by what car we drive. Especially if you live in Los Angeles where everyone’s car payments are higher than their rents. Below are a few cars I’ve noticed over the years. Some I love, some I hate.
For some reason, the Panamera was everywhere in LA, like, minutes after it was released. I kinda like it. I don’t really know why. What it says about the driver: “I must have a Porsche but I’m far too large to fit in a tiny sports car.”
The Porsche 911. This is the classic. I think every man should have one of these in his lifetime. And yes, I realize that’s the most privileged and disgusting thing I could possibly say. Also, the only version of this I’ll ever be able to afford is the remote control version, which I’ll have to lease over a five-year period. What this car says about the driver: “I’m either a total d-bag or someone who likes architecture. And I’m a middle-aged man.”
This Jeep Grand Cherokee is shockingly cute. I never really liked them before but the new ones are much sleeker. And all American. What this car says about the driver: “I’m a bro and my parents bought me this car for college.”
The Aston Martin V12 Zagato. Can you imagine driving this car? I can’t. It’s, like, literally the auto incarnation of Jessica Rabbit. What it says about the driver: “I have so much money that I’m allowed to look this ridiculous.”
Listen, I know it’s super cutesy and whatnot, but I like the Mini Cooper. What it says about the driver: “I am an ADORABLE gay man and I will stop at nothing to have as much fun as is humanly possible.”
Another Aston Martin. I’d want it if I cared about things being fast. But I don’t really. I just care what they look like. I hate myself. What it says about the driver: “I’m have money. So much money. But my mother never loved me.”
This is the Audi TT. I think it’s kind of cute. What it says about the driver: “I’m a sassy middle-aged woman or an older gentlemen who is secure in his sexuality.”
The Mercedes G Wagon. For some reason I’m extremely conflicted about this car. I am innately drawn to it but I also am disgusted at my attraction to it. I love how honest and utilitarian the design is. What I don’t love is that it references military/war/violence because it’s based on a German military vehicle (don’t quote me on that, I made that assessment based entirely on looking at it). Anyway, that basically means when you’re driving this car you’re at war with everyone else on the road, and you subconsciously want to kill everyone. What it says about the driver: “I will kill and mame you, but I will look really rich doing it.”
The Jeep Wrangler is the poor man’s version of the Mercedes G Wagon. For some reason I find it more acceptable. Probably because I’m part of the 99%. What it says about the driver: “I am a deeply closeted homosexual who lives in the midwest.”
This is the Volkswagon Jetta. I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a problem with this car. Its personality is too bubble gum for me. I have a theory about Jettas: If you drive a Jetta you are either a really pretty (but terribly mean) girl or you are a gay, gay man. Apparently I think lots of cars make you gay. Which makes me part of the problem, not the solution. But it’s true, some things make you seem gay. In related news, you’re gay for reading this sentence. Sorry. What this car says about the driver: “Oh my gawd guys let’s go to the beach and drink Skyy Vodka!”
This little Volvo is the cutest. I’d love to drive one if it could fit, like, anything in it. What it says about the driver: “I love buying vintage and I listen to music on vinyl.”
This is the Volvo I want. Mainly because I am a suburban mom from Maine. The XC70. For me, Volvos are the best because they are luxury but they’re not fancy. They look like normalpeoplecars but in fact are quite nice inside. It’s like a metaphor for me, angular and nondescript from the outside, pure gold on the inside. What this car says about the driver: “I want everyone to think I’m down to earth, but in reality I’m completely obnoxious.”
This is the back of the XC70.
How fun does this crazy Mercedes look? I like its big nose. I can relate to that. What it says about the driver: “Sometimes after swimming in money, I like to take a nice drive on the Pacific Coast Highway.”
The BMW 3 Series. For some reason I just can’t do this car. It’s too flashy and purely status-oriented. What it says about the driver: “I wear jeans with metallic flourishes and spend my weekends at sceney clubs with huge lines and girls in strappy dresses.”
This is another car I’d drive. The Subaru Outback. I grew up in a world where 70% of the cars were Subarus and so this car feels like home to me. What it says about the driver: “I’d rather spend my money traveling the world than making car payments.”
The new Fiat. I really wanted to love it, I did. But as Heidi Klum would say on Project Runway, “It looks cheap.” It also looks like it would collapse under the pressure of a raindrop. Not durable. What it says about the driver: “I’m either a European living in the U.S. or I’m an American who likes to look down on other Americans.”
Finally, the most evocative and revealing car. I really admire the Prius for its technological advancement. As someone who spent my youth huddled in the closet, fearing the end of the world due to the melting polar ice caps, I am excited we are moving in the general direction of more efficient vehicles. However, was it really necessary to make this car the ugliest car in the whole world? I don’t think so. Why not move into a future full of emission-less vehicles that are, like, actually pretty? What this car says about the driver: “I care about the environment. But I care more about you noticing that I care about the environment. Also, I want to drive in carpool lanes.”
I kind of can’t believe how many raw (and harsh) emotions I have about automobiles. I took a personality test recently which told me that I’m very emotional (90%) and super judgmental (80%). So please forgive me if I pigeonholed you based on the car you drive. But I have to be honest with you. Everyone else is judging you too. And that’s why you have to embrace the fact that you’re an extremely closeted gay man or a really mean girl. And celebrate yourself. Or just buy a new car and change your personality.
Dear Everyone Who Went to Coachella Weekend 1,
Why didn’t you warn me??? Of course you told me that it was going to be loads of fun, the most exciting experience of my life. What you didn’t tell me was that it would, like, actually kill me. It was a ton of fun and I’m happy I went. But honestly, it was the most exhausting experience of my life. It’s been two days and I still feel like an actual corpse.
The weekend started off in a serene, peaceful manner. We went to the ticket tent to grab our shuttle passes. It looked like this:
Then we went back to our house (we stayed near La Quinta, a beautiful old resort in Indio). The property was super calm and quiet in the hot morning hours.
We did some exploring around the dry landscapes that surrounded the oasis we stayed in.
I even stopped to pose for this cheesy picture in an old gorgeous tree at the La Quinta Resort.
The typography at La Quinta was super cute and hand painted. The hotel is from the late 1920s has a tremendous amount of history to it (the cab driver told me Marilyn Monroe used to hang out there).
We enjoyed exploring and hiking and taking pictures. Everything was so relaxing an warm. And then this happened:
Yeah, so basically Coachella is Spring Break. The above pooldancers were dancing to this song:
It’s totally my new favorite sumer jam.
The performances at Coachella were all incredible. Naturally, my favorite was Radiohead. Florence and the Machine were also good. And the finale with Tupac’s hologram and Dre wasn’t bad either. Listening to “California Love” in a sea full of white people singing along to “in the city of Compton!” while white dancing was one of the most delightful and perplexing experiences I’ve ever had.
Sorry for all this nudity, but I had to keep some journalistic integrity and to be honest, it was so hot (104 degrees) that wearing clothes simply wasn’t an option.
This is The Weeknd. When they came on I was all “who is this?” And then I felt about a hundred years old and everyone laughed and then they asked me to leave. Not really.
It finally cooled off a bit at night, allowing us to stop suffocating and concentrate our hardest on dancing. Which really is the point of life. And Coachella.
The drive home (which lasted about 5 hours because of traffic) was one the of the worst experiences of my life. But it was worth it, because Coachella was one of the best. Now if I could just get my heart to start beating again and regain my will to live.
Remember that one weekend you all decided to go to Palm Springs at the same time? Yes, I do too. It was last weekend. Apparently there is some sort of antiquated gay party out there (“White Party”?) where everyone dresses in white gogo pants and dances on bleachers whilst being sprayed with toxic foam. Or at least I think that’s what happens. Anyway, I went out to the desert because I wanted a nice break from my crazy life (which has been cuckoo puffs lately, hence the sparse posting on here). Some of my friends rented a house that looked like this:
I love how bright and flat the light is in Palm Springs. I also love how every house in Palm Springs comes with free gays in white hats. Yay!
Aqua, my favorite color in the world, feels right at home in Palm Springs.
I actually like this wallpaper in real life, even though it looks like a seeing eye picture here. Remember those? Those stupid messy splatter paintings that were supposed to make 3D images if you stared hard enough. But I could never see the stupid hidden image. And it filled me with rage when everyone else talked about how they could see a seal with a ball on its nose inside all that mess. I hate those things.
I love this little low-slung shelf. It reminds me a bit of a shelf I designed a while ago, but far more practical.
I used to think I hated frosted glass. But then I saw this and I realized I was wrong. Which caused me to wonder how many other things I have been wrong about in my life. Which filled me with fear and worry. And now I hate myself.
So that’s a few things I saw in glamourous Palm Springs. I hope you liked them as much as I did (except those rugs. Disgusting, right?).
Dear Carlo Van de Roer,
Firstly, I love your name. I’m hoping your last name is pronounced RAWR, like a lion roaring. Second, I was browsing 20×200, one of my favorite affordable art sites, when I came across some of your glamorous prints. They basically have everything I need: water, the color aqua, people in bikinis, and dots. There’s really nothing else in the world I care about. Some of your prints are available on 20×200 for as little as $60, which is a total barg if you ask me.
Check out Carlo’s 20×200 Store and buy something. I’m going to…
I was browsing Sonoma County real estate the other day, as I often do, when I came across my dream home. It’s crazy, it’s asymmetrical, it’s made of redwood, it’s in the middle of the forest. It’s everything I want. It’s located in Healdsburg, California, which is an adorable town in wine country. And the price is right ($292,000 vs. neighboring properties for 6 million). It’s on 3.2 acres, has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and is on a road that my sister-in-law refers to as “the most beautiful road in Sonoma County.” Oh, and it’s a total piece of junk and it’s falling down and disgusting inside, which I guess is why it’s so cheap. But that’s the problem with being a designer. Instead of seeing the gross pile of rubble that stands before us, we hallucinate and see the fantasy house that could be. This happens to Emily and I a lot. We’ll show clients a totally disgusting sofa that needs to be reupholstered and completely remade and to us it looks totally beautiful because we’re seeing the final product. But to everyone else it just looks like a piece of junk fit for a hobo. That’s kind of what’s happening with this house. Everyone I show it to looks at me like I’m crazy, but I know I could make this house into something awesome. Here are some images of the house as is:
That sloping roof. Swoon.
The garage just needs a new door and for that basketball hoop to go away.
This is the living room. Total gut job. Needs new crisp white drywall and perhaps some kind of treatment on the ceiling (I’d do wood slats or something earthy). I’d also extend the windows to the ceiling. Why not, right?
I die for these mid-century California lines. Gimme!
Look at this deck. Oh, the glamorous Northern California parties that could be had out there. Dreams.
When I see the above dilapidated Sonoma County house, I am reminded of this glamorous project by William O’ Brien:
Angles + Light = Love
I think what I love so much is how dramatic the shape is. It warms my heart to imagine living in there.
In conclusion, if you’re sitting around wondering what to do with that extra $292,000 you have lying around, please buy me this house so I can make it into the glamorous woodland abode it deserves to be. In return you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that it wasn’t torn down to build a McMansion in the heart of one of California’s most desirable locales. Yay?