In the 1960s, prosperity and cultural radicalism were symbiotic: easy access to money and other resources fueled social and cultural experimentation, while an ethos that valued freedom and pleasure encouraged people’s sense of entitlement to all sorts of goods, economic and political…With a fifty-dollar-a-month rent-regulated East Village apartment, I could write one lucrative article for a mainstream magazine and support myself for weeks or even months while I did what I liked, whether that meant writing for countercultural publications that couldn’t pay or going to political meetings. When I did have jobs, I didn’t worry overmuch about losing them, and so felt no impulse, let alone need, to kiss anyone’s ass. There was always another job, or another assignment. At one point, while I was living with a group of people in Colorado, the money I made writing (sporadically) about rock for the New Yorker was supporting my entire household.
Since the early ’70s, however, the symbiosis has been working in reverse: a steady decline in Americans’ standard of living has fed political and cultural conservatism, and vice versa. Just as the widespread affluence of the post–World War II era was the product of deliberate social policy—an alliance of business, labor, and government aimed at stabilizing the economy and building a solid, patriotic middle class as a bulwark against Soviet Communism and domestic radicalism—the waning of affluence has reflected the resolve of capital to break away from this constraining alliance.
"I am tired of the cult of youth. The cultural rejection of old age, the stigmatization of wrinkles, grey hair, of bodies furrowed by the years. I am fascinated by Diana Vreeland, Georgia O’Keeffe and Louise Bourgeois, women who have let time embrace them without ever cheating. Society today condems this, me, I celebrate it. For this session of fine jewellery, I imagined a man and a woman who had been together for a long time, faithful to each other and always incandescent with desire."
I suffered a minor bout of rage-blindness when I read Jack Shafer’s post about journalism’s “Marquee brothers” just one week after Bryan Goldberg bragged about the millions he scored to found a website for women. In Shafer’s telling, there is a “brotherhood” of powerful men in media who…
It’s not inherently anti-feminist to sleep with prostitutes and to suck at your marriage. (Prostitution, especially in his case, is consensual, and how many feminists do you know who are terrific at relationships?) I wish people could drop the emotional, projected responses to his extracurricular encounters and realize he’s the most fearless politician when dealing with Wall Street.
1. Don’t apply spray sunscreen near an open flame.
From source: "According to the FDA, there were five reported incidents of people catching on fire and getting burned after applying spray sunscreen. Whether it was a person lighting a cigarette, standing next to a candle or even grilling in the backyard, these five people applied spray sunscreen and reported their skin actually catching on fire, due to the fact that spray sunscreen often contains alcohol or other flammable ingredients."