Last weekend I was in Williamsburg, where vintage stores turn into Italian piazzas for a certain type of guy on beautiful summer days. A type of guy who wears old corporate logo shirts ironically and knows the exact era of baseball cap that fits them and always carries a tote bag. Tote bags are inevitable in New York city. Everyone seems to have forgotten that tote bags were supposed to end climate change. They have become the ultimate ubiquitous urban accessory. I know better than not to go on a rant about how each tote needs to be used 20,000 times to offset the overall impact of it's production. That's why my last girlfriend left me. I ranted about her obsession with using tote bags at the grocery store to save the environment.
"Every time my mom took out one bag from the stack, she turned into a magician performing the endless rope magic trick—bag after bag after bag of the same logo, the sheen of the plastic fading, soon to be indistinguishable from its ordinary surroundings."
this was delightfully hilarious
"Every time my mom took out one bag from the stack, she turned into a magician performing the endless rope magic trick—bag after bag after bag of the same logo, the sheen of the plastic fading, soon to be indistinguishable from its ordinary surroundings."
So much Indian mother love in this sentence
This is one of my fave pieces of yours.