I spent a little more time than I expected this morning reading The Cut’s article on The Most Covetable Things from Joan Didion’s Estate Sale. The unexpected bit came mostly because if you got me really drunk I would probably admit to you that I’ve always sort of thought Didion was kinda (whispers) overrated. Amazing pages, terrible fans.

To be a white girl who whispers “I looooove Joan Didion” communicates to me that you are someone who has Very Big Feelings but definitely had a boyfriend in high school, and go around saying “That’s so funny” instead of laughing like a normal person. The Emily Ratajowskis of the book aisle, if you will. And all that is fine! Girlbosses can read! Emma Roberts can have her book club, as a treat! But I have a hard time taking this kind of person seriously. This is obviously not Joan Didion’s fault, but if I’m going to pass on the entire Beat poets because too many men have told me I have to read them, I figured I’d apply the same rule to the female equivalent. Besides, my tastes veer more towards Fran Leibowitz basic.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the auction. I’ll say this about Joan Didion: she had one chic estate. They include fancy things (Celine sunglasses, a set of pink glass teacups) and useful things (reading glasses, a six-piece Le Creuset set). There are also, unsurprisingly, a lot of books. It got me thinking about what I would have for sale in my own estate sale. When I die, which I hope will be soon, who will take off with my twelve hundred fountain pens? My aesthetically pleasing productivity cube? My Timothee Chalamet pinup posters?

With all this in mind, here’s 5 things you’ll find in my estate auction:

1) Empty, decrepit tube of Weleda Skin Food Original Ultra Rich Cream. Also recommended by writer Stephanie Danler, the most aggressively thirsty Joan Didion acolyte I know. Hey, a throughline!
Estimated value: $10

2) The Princess Diaries, books 1-3. Literally tearing apart at the seams, as any well-loved book should be, this is a foundational text for my personality, writing style, and taste in men.

Estimated value: 25 cents.

3) Five broken French presses. This remains my favorite method for making coffee, and yet, even though it is literally fool proof, I truly don’t know anyone who has an intact French press.
Estimated value: $45

4) A CISCO Systems baseball cap from the eighties that I stole from my mom—my most prized possession currently. That is, if I’m not buried with it, because I do love the idea of becoming a skeleton in a baseball cap.

Estimated value: $150

5) Deck of Tarot Cards Curse on your family included!

Estimated value: $300, but the buyer must be a practicing witch so I can ask her questions from the afterlife.

6) Ironically, 6 unused notebooks, 2 of them also black Moleskines.

Estimated value: $1,000

7) Two untouched, never used mates with corresponding bombillas. The metaphor pretty much writes itself with this one.

Estimated value: $50

8) This money bank.

Estimated value: priceless

10) Cursed pile of SEPTA tokens. Every time I think I’ve gotten rid of the last of them, I’ll reach into the pockets of a pair of pants I haven’t worn in years and find another one. A regular monkey’s paw of the 21st century.

Estimated value: negative billion dollars.

Yours in life and beyond,

-M

I recently came to a surprising but admittedly not all that unexpected realization: musical soundtracks are downright delightful work companions in the age of Corona. From Hamilton to Hadestown, there’s something about people singing with purpose that makes me want to actually get stuff done. Chief among these is The Sound of Music, a musical so wholesome it could only be written by two dudes that sound like a touring carnival show. Most old-timey movies haven’t aged well (just look at Gone With the Wind, yikes) but there’s something about the Sound of Music that just feels like a soothing balm for the soul when you’re just Going Through It. This could be because real life is starting to feel a lot like the setting of the movie (mysterious Fed takeover in Portland, hackers wrecking havoc on the world, white women gone wild). It’s nice, then, that when the going gets horrible we can always put on our noise-cancelling headphones and listen to Julie Andrews singing about impostor’s syndrome and getting us through a rainstorm. Honestly, there should be a cult of personality around Julie Andrews. She genuinely makes me want to be a better person.

Here are some lessons I’ve learned from this whale of a wonderful movie:

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• Nobody, not even a nun, is exempt from the joys of gossip.

• It is very easy to tame unruly, rich white children, as long as you have an acoustic guitar.

• Christopher Plummer could get it then and he can get it now. Yeah, I know he’s like 9000 years old. I said what I said.

• Every movie should have an intermission. Are you listening, Christopher Nolan????

• Patterned curtains make extremely stylish clothing.

• Maybe don’t trust a guy who tells you he’s smarter than you because he’s a whole entire year older than you. I think I saw this movie for the first time when I was 12 years old and even then I was not surprised when Rolf turned out to be a Nazi. 12 year old me was like “Yup, that checks out.”

• While we’re at it: Nazis are bad. Like, really bad. Like, maybe the worst.

• Crossing the Alps to claim asylum and avoid capture by the Gestapo is an easy, nay, enjoyable family activity.

• It can be hard but also extremely easy to choose to do the right thing.

• Seriously, fuck Rolf.

Auf wiedersein!

-M