12/14/15
Just hanging out with my BFF, Big Bird.
To some, a testament of celebrity is being invited to host SNL, or being asked on The Tonight Show, or gracing the covers of Time or Vanity Fair. To me, the highest indication that you've "made it," is being asked to make a cameo appearance on Sesame Street. They don't ask just anybody to be on there. Consider it: Imagine a parent who has spent the past few months watching episode after episode after episode with his or her child, having repeated the first five letters of the alphabet so many times they've entered that weird space of existential thought in the brain where form and meaning start to disintegrate, and now these letters are beginning to invade the dreams of said parent as big, brightly colored foam with googly eyes, circling round and round while chanting, "This is the letter A! This is the letter B! This is the letter C! This is the letter D! This is the letter E! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" singing louder and louder until the desperate individual wakes up in a cold sweat. It's in a producer's best interests to mix it up so no one loses their shit. Which means only the most interesting, talented, and relevant people get asked to participate.
That being said, if you catch me on the subway platform looking like a muppet and tap dancing in these Jeffrey Campbells, I'm practicing my craft. Because, goals.
Just kidding, I'll probably be standing there concentrating on not falling over into the tracks.
Zara coat and jumpsuit.
Inhabit cashmere sweater.
Anthropologie belt.
Jeffrey Campbell platforms aka how I'm going to die.