It’s funny to find myself nostalgic and grossly sentimental for the city I currently live in. I saw this ring from Henri Bendel in Time Out New York on the train the other morning and had a moment of heart palpitations.
I guess I have a special attachment to the Chrysler Building since dating Kamran, who goes to bed every night with it shining in his window, and since we took this photo in front of it two whole years ago. When I asked my brother-in-law to design a sticker for me and he sent a drawing with a skyline, I specifically asked if he could change one of the buildings to the Chrysler.
I don’t know if I love it enough to special order a $720 gold (gold?!) ring modeled after it, but it makes me sad to imagine not seeing it every day.
I’m interested–are there things in your city you feel this way about?
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No. Not even the Staten Island Ferry.
That’s messed up, man. You can have a COCKTAIL on your way home on that thing. And you get to watch the driver crash into the wooden pylons every single day.
If those things aren’t romantic to you, I’m not sure I can feel okay about continuing to pimp you out to my single lady readers via this blog anymore.
Just because everyone looks a lot hotter on the ferry when I drink my cocktails doesn’t make it a romantic boat ride
I feel like that about everything in Columbus. I would like a purpley-blue, glowing COSI ring, please.
That’s not natural, right? How were we created both sarcastic/ironic and melodramatically sentimental?
I think it has something to do with feeling completely entitled to all of our own emotions while thinking everyone else’s are stupid and trite.
Boy, now there’s an idea for a book.
Since I grew up in Portland (Oregon, not Maine. Please.), land of greenness, lesbians, indie artists and Voodoo Doghnut (if you haven’t heard of it, let’s just say this: Bacon Maple Bar), and now live in a mountain town filled with uber fit goretex addicts, I get nostalgic about hipsters. I know how you feel about them, Ms. E, but seriously, when I see them when I go to Portland, I swoon. I just want to pinch their tiny little buttcheeks stuffed into their teenytiny pants, and pinch their bearded facecheeks. They’re so adorable! All their fancy bicycles! Their ridiculous haircuts!
I won’t begrudge you all this, because I know I’d feel the same way. When I visit Ohio and Tracey and I go to any of the limited hipster hangouts, I’m always amazed at how dated all of the kids look to me. The stuff that’s fashionable in Ohio now was the stuff I was seeing in Brooklyn when I first moved here. Of course, maybe if I moved back to Ohio, I wouldn’t miss any of it, because I wouldn’t know what I was missing out on. So you go right ahead enjoying your lesbos, buttcheeks, and beards.
… My CITY?!
Oh, or did you mean Atlanta? All things peach-related, I suppose.
I’ll bet you’re sooooooooooooooooooooo jealous watching “The Real Housewives of Atlanta”, huh? ‘Cause I know you do.
This mural is probably my favorite thing in Shreveport:
http://megsaligman.com/index.php/millennium
I’ll be honest though: it was a hell of a Google search trying to figure out what the damn thing is called.
I see your melodramatic smalltown mural, and I raise you a much smallertown mural. Not quite as melodramatic, though.
Is that as out in the middle of nowhere as it looks, or are the pictures deceiving?