My Apartment, Part 2: I Love My Stuff
Shocking, I know.
Some cute news…
My apartment was just featured on Apartment Therapy!
This is really huge for me! I would actually describe my interior design style as “Apartment Therapy,” by which I mean a mixture of "APT.” by Rosé and the Showtime show Couples Therapy.
Anyway, it’s a very nice feature, and (at least as of now) the comments section is unanimously kind and supportive, which is a rarity on the internet. Feeling very thankful!
I wrote about my apartment previously here:
I think I covered a lot (and you’ll notice a lot of overlap in the photos). But in both that piece and the Apartment Therapy article, I talk mostly about the space in general, and less about stuff. So I thought I’d take the opportunity to talk a little bit more about my possessions, and to post a few more photos.
There is an ethos I often stumble across in Los Angeles that I believe originates with Christ: the ideal man is a skinny carpenter who has meaningful relationships with at least 12 friends. And I agree with that!
But a Christ-y ethos I disagree with is the belief that the fewer belongings you have, the more “pure” you are.
Some people find “stuff” cumbersome - especially those who don’t nest. I guess I can understand it – if you’re rarely at home and feel like there’s always a slim chance you’ll up and move to Vienna, why buy a bunch of stuff you’ll just have to get rid of?
Others reason that the desire for stuff is capitalist, and we should turn away from belongings and instead toward immersing ourselves in nature (which I believe is pronounced “nah-tour,” but I’ve never heard it spoken aloud). I think I would buy into this more if everyone who lectured me about it weren’t so condescending.
Ultimately, I think it’s simply a matter of personal taste, which is why it bothers me when people try to make it a moral thing. Plus, something I came to realize when organizing my apartment is that minimalism is a luxury – the ability to cultivate a neat-looking space comes from having ample storage to hide the unsightly things.
Regardless, the overall vibe - at least in Los Angeles - seems to be that you should be able to state proudly that your whole house could burn down and it would be fine (as long as your Heath Ceramics were insured).
I’m here to proclaim boldly – I love my stuff. I would be sad to lose it all. And when I move, it will be a clusterfuck. I am at peace with this. I love that my home looks like a person with a full life lives there!
One of my beliefs as a writer is that you shouldn’t start a script with a moral you want to impart - you should write a story you want to tell, and let thematic elements develop as you explore the story and the characters.
My apartment is full of little collections, which have come about in a similar fashion. For example, my mom stumbled upon an old book titled “Twink,” and gave it to me as a gift (I was obsessed, obviously). When I found a 1960s McDonalds book called “Let’s Eat Out!” a year or so later, I had no choice but to buy it, and a few purchases later, I had an entire collection of books with gay and/or explicit-sounding titles. I don’t seek them out - they find me!
My collection of vintage magazine covers had a similar origin…
… as did my gallery wall of dead strangers…
…an assortment of vintage packaging…
…my miscellaneous old books…
…and so on.
As the industry continues to move along at a snail’s pace, I’ve gotten craftier, and have made a decent amount of my apartment’s decor, including embroidery…
and faux stained glass.
I mention this in the Apartment Therapy article, but I see my place as “an ode to the everyday.” (For the record, I sent that quote with the assumption that it would end up being the title of the piece. But I guess it was important to note that I hate leaving my home.)
I love physical artifacts of the past for a variety of reasons - they tend to be made to last, there was more attention to detail back then, and they’re often cheaper than buying similar pieces new. I have a lot of old things, but my favorites are the reminders that life in other eras was still mundane, that people have always done what we’re doing now: living.
For example, I bought this page of a diary (don’t worry, I didn’t rip it out) for like $2, and it now hangs in my bedroom:
If you can’t read the print, it says:
“Apr. 8, 1949 - fair weather again. Our folks finally met… evening was a success… I think - don’t know yet. Later Sel took me home. (We necked awhile)
There is so much I love about this - I sought it out because April 8th is my birthday, and bought it because of how wonderfully succinct it was. It’s just… perfect. I can’t really explain it beyond that.
Similarly, I bought these framed prints at an estate sale, which I believe were used in a hair salon:
When people hear the name Marie Kondo, they think of a Japanese woman pushing them to get rid of their stuff, in the hopes of achieving minimalism. But that’s not quite it. What she wants is for you to only keep what sparks joy.
In line with this philosophy, I’ve kept what sparks joy. It just happens to be a lot, because I love my stuff! I was so pleased with this realization that I had custom matchboxes made with a slogan:
Thanks to Apartment Therapy for the nice write-up, and once again to Jess Higgins, who took all the photos!
With full shelves and a full heart,
Johnny
Love this Johnny. Can I introduce you to my nephew. You can be most helpful. He is in Colorado, just came out. Your perspective will be valuable. I can explain more. Email me travelingA380@gmail
You
Your mom knows me. Thanks in advance.