Sunday, January 16, 2011

Sloane Crosley: Ruining It For Real Writers Everywhere

I know it's impolite and politically incorrect to indicate that someone who is actually writing and publishing books is *not* really a writer, and so I will avoid refuting the obvious. That said, 32-year-old Sloane Crosley makes me want to holler out the window of serious writing. Single handedly she has made it all the more difficult for serious writers to be taken seriously. I mean, is she that tone deaf and/or blind to her new role as writer (as opposed to her "old role" as publicist)?  Does she not know that never the twain are supposed to meet?  Especially not in one well-clad wardrobe?  Are there no mirrors in her house? The article of which I complain is entitled "What I Wore" (mostly to brunch and drinks, BTW) and appears in today's New York Times' Style Section. I hold it out to you as proof that writing is dead, and Sloane Crosley is holding the stiletto that stabbed us all in the heart. Here's a mind-destroying, name-dropping highlight just for you:
Sunday Jan 2: I went to Elephant & Castle in Levi’s jeans, a Kain T-shirt, Roberto Del Carlo boots and Cutler and Gross glasses. For the rest of the day I read, wrote and watched edited incarnations of movies I actually own on TV. This doesn’t require much in the way of accessories aside from a lint roller for my lap. At night I took a friend to drinks at Old Town and dinner at Max wearing gray Converse, a vest from Les Prairies de Paris and a tote bag from Essex Street Market, with a vintage Balmain scarf of my mom’s tied to it. 
Monday, Jan 3: After splashing coffee on myself at Café Grumpy, I spent the morning at the library wearing a Uniqlo button-down, Reiss sweater, Chloé pants and Prada shoes. I also spent it working. Otherwise, that would just be bad performance art. I had lunch with an editor at Má Pêche, where I got pickled vegetables on my pants. Apparently I have an eating disorder like Ted Striker has a drinking problem. Luckily I was carrying a patent-leather Coach bucket bag that looks like an oil spill and is immune to absorption. 
Tuesday, Jan 4: I had a 9 a.m. breakfast with my friend Elizabeth Spiers at Morandi. As we both work from home, we’ve decided to do this twice a week in 2011. I wore Uniqlo tights, Valentino flats, a polka-dot dress by Lewis Cho and a Burberry coat. Then to the library again, but I left in the afternoon to come home and write in white Helmut Lang jeans and a blue Rag & Bone button-down.
Truly, truly (and for so many, many reasons that I can't go into right now) this makes me sad.


Tena Russ said...


Kay said...

this is as bad as art reviews in Art

Blipfillypicklepoo said...

I had no idea people cared at all about what other people wear each day or that one person could wear so many different things in one day. Glad I don't have to do her laundry. I can't believe this is a column in a newspaper - WOW. Riveting!

Anonymous said...

Maybe it's satire. Some sort of social commentary on ... um ... commercialism and the pinkification of goods and services to better sell them to women?

Yes, yes, it's satire! It has to be. They cut down trees to print this on.

Anonymous said...

Dear god I thought it must be satire too, but after a second reading I am sure that it isn't. It makes me sad too. And perplexed. But mostly sad.

Thank goodness I have my turquoise Snuggie (with sleeves, thank you) to flatter and comfort me.

Juice in LA said...

As I write this comment I'm wearing R&R low rider jeans in dark wash with a smart Michael Kors blazer. I am thoughtfully kicking at my Cole Haan bag with the toe of my red LeBoutain stilettos, truly dismayed that this person is a published author, and yet I can't give my manuscript away as wrapping for a Christmas present.

Makes you almost contemplate slitting a wrist with a studded Jimmy Choo.

Cari Hislop said...

I went and read the whole piece. As I have no idea who any of the people she mentioned are, it's just a list of what she wore while socializing with whoever. I feel exhausted just thinking of all the shopping required for such a lifestyle.

Don't feel sad! Feel glad you don't have her life. I wouldn't want to spend half my life worrying about whether my labels are chic enough for this or that lunch/event. As I've never heard of this writer before your post, I'll now have to go look her up to see what sort of work she does in-between changing clothes.

We should never get discouraged by another writer's success. There are different types of writers for different types of readers. Wish her well because tomorrow she might get ran over by a bus. For all we know she's Bulimic and secretly hates herself. The surface of our lives always offers distorted viewing.

Anonymous said...

Agree, agree, agree but those shoes in the nyt picture are pretty f&*king fabulous. Just saying.

Jody said...

Yes, annoying, but I bet you're not 58 years old! (And I do still have a figure to die for, but big wup. I get nada....)

Enjoyed your rant.