Summer Activities We’re Super Excited For

It’s getting hot out there and to help us slip into the the “hashtag love summer hate everything else” mindset, we’ve decided to list all the things we’re most excited for this summer 2K19:

Pools

Road trips

Buying expensive sunscreen and forgetting it at home

Sunburns

Backyard barbecues

Watermelon

Playing cornhole

Getting eaten alive by mosquitos

The beach

Summer vacation Instagrams

Summer thirst trap Instagrams

Scrolling through Instagram for like three hours while you sit in the sun

Awkward bathing suit tan lines

Blisters from your new sandals

Trying to sell out-of-season clothing to Buffalo Exchange

Making $2 at Buffalo Exchange

Depression re-watching The Office

Sweating in your car

Sweating on the train

Being sweaty all the time

Chub rub

Rosé

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I’m Trying To No Longer Be A Tchotchke-Person

I come from a family of collectors. My father used to collect Elvis memorabilia when I was a kid, and I remember his whole office was full of it. My grandmother used to collect coffee cups and had a special display case for them. My mom liked to collect anything pirate-themed. My sister collected and still collects soaps. I seem to collect tchotchkes, and with them–dust and clutter.

It has been brought to my attention that some people may not know what the word tchotchke means, and to that I say “what?” Because apparently no one has heard of the Yiddish word for “trinket,” pronounced “chot-ch-kee.” Except these things are trinkets and also they’re less than that. They’re garbage art. They’re matches from cool restaurants and sparkly hair clips and hand-painted little trays and funny lighters and weird shit I’ve been given or found. I would say 1 in 7 of these objects are kept sentimentally and the rest seriously need to go into the trash. These trinkets also seem to be a great hiding place for hair ties, hair pins, dust, trash, and 4-year-old lip glosses.

My collection was keeping my room from being orderly, made labeling moving boxes practically impossible, and gave my best friend Andrew a heart attack every time he has ever had to look at my bedroom dresser. Luckily, I have recently gone through a series of moves both independently and with my family that have enabled me to throw away a lot of the junk I had accumulated (even some of the things I was sentimental about). I’m trying to keep it that way.

There is something so beautiful about a dresser with just a mirror, framed art, and maybe a candle or two as opposed to the 4 pens from Ping Pong in Chicago that I stole, my ex-boyfriend’s iPhone head phones, like 48 crystals of various colors and abilities, and some restaurant mints.

The best example that I can give you is from the iconic Mary Kate and Ashley film, New York Minute.

Ashley opens her closet to calming color-coded minimalism.

Mary Kate opens her closet to…this

I know this is a closet and not my dresser, but the Chex Mix bag and the bra and the umbrella say otherwise (items likely found on my dresser amidst a weird mini-porcelain doll from Solvang, a press pass from the Pizza Experience, and a snow globe that says “Virginia Is for Lovers”.

I’m not doing this for cleanliness, I’m doing this for minimalism. Moving fucking blows btw and I have had to do it 4 times this year, disregarding the countless trips I took independently where I had to haul my jewelry, skincare, and travel candle around the continental U.S. Having less stuff is just a life hack for an easier life if you’re on the move (which I am, all of the time apparently). No, you don’t need to fully “Marie Kondo” your place,  but I am saying having less shit on your dresser and shoved into drawers and on your nightstand could make yours and is making my room/house/life feel less stressful.

My tchotchkes all had an energy. That energy was crowding my life. I even threw away my ex boyfriend’s headphones. It probably had his ear wax in it (nasty) and one of the pods didn’t work anyway.

So I guess this is to say, please stop giving me things. If I tell you I want a souvenir from Seattle, please stop me unless it’s a sweatshirt or one of those Sleepless In Seattle pajama tops. I don’t need to keep restaurant matches unless I’m storing them in my purse (for emergency candle lighting). Don’t offer me gemstone coasters or a sparkly dish for my rings. Don’t give me a porcelain pony or a photo of Hillary Clinton. I am trying to declutter my life and embrace minimalism. I am trying not to be a tchotchke person.