#sevenfirstjobs mania has really given me a lot of food for thought. Ok, not really at all, but it was good for some really bold A to C fodder like strawberry harvester to editor in chief in three steps (not an actual example).
That’s my segue to trying to figure out why at the end of the August Food & Wine’s regional round-up of ice cream there is a short personal essay from the author of He’s Just Not That Into You. “My Life in Ice Cream”‘ (that’s the name of the piece because it’s about ice cream and her life) wouldn’t have even registered as a blog post. Print, though…such veritas.
A. So, she works at an ice cream shop in the West Village as an NYU student and eats ice cream.
C. She owns an apartment in the West Village and is always on a diet and can’t eat ice cream.
There’s a lot of life between those two things. Though honestly, it doesn’t seem as egregious now as when I read the whole thing at the gym and got outraged. I’m convinced exercising has the opposite effect of its intended purpose (clear-headedness? calming?) on me.
Spoiler: Big Gay Ice Cream opens and she starts eating ice cream.
Bon Appétit’s March culture issue presents a full page of A-to-C action: “I Quit My Boring Job So I Could Make…”
Babies would be my answer if asked (no, I don’t have children) but whatever. It’s all well and good, not terribly upsetting or anything. The kimchi anecdote was my favorite, though.
Buying a bodega in Queens is going to be my new response to any life goal-type questioning.
I can’t speak to Mama O’s, but I bought a jar of Mrs. Kim’s last week on Fresh Direct as a whim and I must concede that it’s 10x better than the grocery standard Kimchi Pride. Fresh and effervescent overall, lightly gingery, with a funky, beefy backbone. Sadly, not made in a bodega in Queens.
Rather than periodically start Tumblrs (or even categories) I can’t finish (dishracks, anyone?) I’m just going to talk about my ideas to get them out of my system and move on.
I’ve always been fascinated by what I call “A to C” stories where Style section types seem to emerge fully formed and lauded for non-traditional toiling.
The most recent candidate for my “A to C” treatment would be lingerie designer turned avant-garde confectioner Maayan Zilberman, whom I wouldn’t even have given second thought to if she hadn’t seeped into my consciousness a few years ago when she went gray for Refinery 29 when I was wanting to go gray on purpose too. Obviously she is back to brunette. So am I.
So, how does one become a lingerie designer who makes a living gilding candy cock rings and crafting mentholated Q-tips good enough to eat?
Ms. Zilberman charged $1,000 to $1,500 for her cakes, which she sold mostly to art-world friends…
Creativity, confidence (and free time) are all good, sure. There’s no mystery really, the short profile isn’t opaque, and it’s the reason why the theme would ultimately be boring because the answer is always the same: know rich and/or well-connected people and/or be one yourself. Boring…
The candy is pretty cool, though.