after brunch at spitzer's with a college friend on sunday, we wandered around the east village, stopped in a few community gardens and then a magazine shop. i had to check for new arrivals. (foreign, fashion) mags are one of my many indulgences (also: peppered beef jerky, jamba juice, taking cabs home from work). and at first, my friend was a bit unsettled from the waste/recycling standpoint of my habit (she just moved to the city after a life in vermont, love!). but there is really no need to ever think i am being wasteful, magazines are my treasure and i adore them all accordingly.
when i was twelve, i snooped around my mom's childhood bedroom in brooklyn (don't ever ask me to house-sit, because i will look through all of your stuff) and came across an old magazine from the early 80's (my aunt's, perhaps?). and my forward-thinking mind decided then to save every magazine thereafter. similar to my reasons for keeping a diary, i imagined that i'd want to look back on them at some point. someday in the future! and now i have box after box (of seventeen, ym, sugar, elle girl, teen vogue, glamour) in my parent's attic. whenever i'm back in connecticut, i'll grab a few to peruse and they're always relevant (even when they aren't).
and so, i've spent the past two nights in, not making a single plan but to stay in my apartment, in my bed, with a massive stack of mags to read. and it feels good to just be, for once.
