This is the first entry in what could well end up being a series titled What fuckery is this (denoted via post tag). In this potential series, I explore the inner monologues of the models featured in some of the “best” fashion photos I find on the internet. Or something like that. I haven’t really set any strict ground rules in this arena just yet.
The following clever ensemble was featured on Macys.com.
“Oh. Hey. You need a house painter? Because I could totally paint your house. You know. If that’s the kind of thing you need.
See this wall behind me? I totally painted that. I do this technique, you know? It’s like ‘grunge’ painting. Basically I like to take your wall? And make it look like you last painted it 30 years ago. And in that span of time there’s been a flood and fire and smoke damage and also at one point there was a family of rats living behind it and then of course there was that one Christmas a small child was accidentally left behind while the rest of his family went on holiday to Paris and he ended up fending off some would-be burglars and in the process kind of wrecks the place.
That last part was a movie? That wasn’t a movie. A movie from 1990? Who was even alive in 1990?
I’m thinking about copyrighting the word ‘grunge.’ I totally invented that after being inspired by a Pinterest board.
I for sure have a process. I use these bangles to ‘distress’ the wall. It makes the walls look older. And old things are like totally cool, right? Except for my dad. He’s super old and he’s always all, ‘I don’t want to pay your rent anymore’ and ‘I don’t think you should see Braydon anymore’ and ‘Who took a ball peen hammer to that poor wall?’
He doesn’t understand my art.
The patches? I don’t know. They kind of like… came like that. I guess.
Okay, then. I’m gonna leave you this card, in case you change your mind. It just says ‘Mallory’ on it. That’s my name. You’ll know where to find me. Just ask for Mallory. You know? Whenever you need me, just go into your yard and scream my name at the sky. I’ll feel the vibrations in my earrings. And then you’ll hear a knock at the door, and it’ll be me. With my pouty face in yours.
Because house painting kind of totally sucks.”