
An ongoing digital archive of 1,410 items (and counting) proving that I read, I saw, and I actually paid attention.



“The evening of Wednesday, November 28, 1973, as guests began arriving at Versailles, the palace glowed under a full moon and through a scrim of light snow—the first dusting of the season. Red uniformed, saber-wielding gendarmes flanked the gilded palace gates, along with some four hundred footmen in eighteenth-century white powdered wigs and livery. Marie-Hélène de Rothschild, dressed in green, ostrich-trimmed gown by Yves Saint Laurent and with solitary diamonds pinned in her thick hair greeted guests; brushing kisses on the cheeks of the French and offering handshakes to the Americans.”


“If you do start crying at a bad time, say on a first date at the movies, you might be left with no choice but to go all in: Burst into tears, pretending it’s laughter, and pray it’s your lucky night—and that your date catches a hit of the leucine-enkephalin–induced high as the tears trickle down your face.”





“Once we see that authenticity is a positional good with its own self-radicalising dynamic, it becomes easier to understand a lot of what is going on in the culture. Most importantly, it helps us understand the motivation behind the distinction between authenticity and ‘authenticity,’ or between the genuine form and the fake version. And to repeat, it has nothing to do with co-optation or selling out: it is nothing more than the difference between a form of conspicuous behaviour where the uselessness of the activity remains implicit, and one where its function as a locus of status-seeking becomes cringe-inducingly explicit.”

