From the vault: hipster love

When I wrote this, I had been spending a lot of time in L.A., the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs, New York City, and Portland.

At the time, it seemed like hipsters had taken over the world. I felt like I was swimming in a sea of plaid. Bicycle-riding, mustachioed, ironic tote bag-toting art school drop-outs (or honors graduates, more likely) swarmed from their all-white minimalist apartments in droves. And they wanted to MAKE THINGS and SELL THEM TO YOU ON ETSY.

These things would be made of felted wool, or else chunks of wood. They would have owls, whales, or mustaches on them. For these three were the totem symbols of Hipsterism. The sacred trinity of cool.

I think the hipsters are kind of busy making a living now. Some of them had kids and realized that onesies with screenprinted mustaches are just as gross when covered with spit-up as cheap regular ones. Some were successful with their restaurants/goat cheese-making/cupcake shop, and now they are yuppies.

This original post spawned a whole regular column about hipsters for a time, with varying degrees of success. And it was funny, until it wasn't anymore.

Sometimes people ask me to write hipster smack again, but I think that much like the pet rock their day has passed.

What do you think? Are the hipsters alive and well?

From the vault: write what you know

I remember that writing this post made me feel a little sad. I mean, I was anthropomorphizing laundry for Pete's sake (hi Pete!)

I was going to be a writer, an explorer! And the most interesting thing I had to write about was the laundry!

On the other hand, it's kind of a Warhol move don't you think? To take something so benign and ordinary and make it art?

Briefly let's review the flattering comparisons I've managed to make with myself thus far: In post one, I am as funny as Tina Fey. Post two, I am a child-rescuing super hero. Post three, my laundry is art that rivals a post-Modern master.

I swear I am not an egomaniac. Despit heavy evidence to the contrary.

Anyways, anyone who does a great deal of laundry will identify with this post. I hope it makes you smile the next time you open the dryer door...

From the vault: how I made fast enemies with rich people

This post really accurately reflects my "voice".

I have to preface this by saying that everything in the story actually happened to me, exactly the way it is written, during a trip to NYC last year. It's what I made of it that is entirely my own (and won me some enemies).

It was one of those unbelievably sentient moments, where I was exquisitely aware of the evening light, the coolness of the air, the sound of horse hooves on the cobblestones, and the faces of these lovely, strange children in the window overlooking Central Park.

I'm aware that it's a little cruel, but also that it's a little beautiful, no?

From the vault: FASHION HAUS

I know every girl (except for the obviously hot ones) thinks she has lots in common with Tina Fey. Or wishes, for whatever reason. It's hip to be geek, I guess.
But I gotta say, my penchant for self-mockery in this pre-Bossy Pants post is eerily Fey-ish.

You can at least give me this: If Tina Fey is the anti-Hollywood star, then I am the anti-blogger.

Click here to read this old nugget I found under the couch, covered in dog hair and a little bit moldy, but still tasty and nutritious.

Did you read it the first time around? Why didn't you comment then, jerk?

While you were out...

I thought I would take a break from sitting on suitcases and mentally rehearsing how to say "Gracias" as "Grathiath" to say ciao to you.

I have pre-travel butterfly-stomach. Do you get that? It's that childhood-night-before-Disneyland-trip feeling of excitement and nervousness. Also, it's coffee. Way too much of it.



Over the past few weeks a number of friends/clients/strangers have told us that Barcelona is their favorite city in the world. That's a high recommendation. I've found the best travel advice from expat bloggers living in Barcelona...blogs have absolutely changed the way I research trips, and I'll definitely contribute my own two cents when I return.

Until then, I'd like to introduce you to my guest blogger...me. Back when I first started this blog, I was really missing the act of writing and I gave myself permission to spend time doing it. I feel like my posts were much more thoughtful, funny, dense, and interesting back in the day. I'm sure as my life ebbs and flows there will come a time when I'll be a more dedicated blogger again.

So, while I'm away, come visit the weird and wild early days of MODERNHAUS.

A glass of wine makes it better. A lot of wine makes it genius.

SPENDY

Kork-Ease sandals (see more kork ease sandals)

Because I didn't really have a choice. What else am I going to cavort around Barcelona in? Flip-flops for chrissakes??

These bear the sexy name "KORK-EASE". Not hooker shoes, these.

I'm making up the cost by getting everything at the thrift store for a year...oh wait, I already do that!

If I put on one of these:

By Malene Birger top (see more long sleeve tops)

and cover my butt with pretty much anything, I'm golden. Right?

Maybe something unmatched and fun, like these:

Rebecca Minkoff shorts (see more summer shorts)