Mejico here I come again, twice in less than 3 days.. #firstworldcommutingproblems #firstworldairportproblems (at Hungry Jack’s (T1 International))
Come on @rockyfortuna jack that saddle up & slam the bars .. #firstworldpelotonproblem #iphone5 & thanks @mario_pettinato for the live commentary w MsX (at Pie Face)
Where Do The eBay Roundups Come From?
Lately, a lot of folks have been asking me where the auctions in our eBay roundup posts come from. Every week, between two public posts and one members-only Inside Track post, we point you to hundreds of items. So how do we find them?
I use Google Reader to follow RSS feeds – it’s one of the main ways I interact with the web. If you’re not an RSS feed user, I recommend you look into it, as it’s a much more focused way to get the content you want when you want it. Basically, RSS is just a file that lists, chronologically, updates to a website. Usually that means new blog posts or news articles, but it can also mean other stuff. eBay, for example, will allow you to make an RSS feed out of any search so that when something is listed that fits your search parameters, it appears in the feed. Usually a little RSS icon will pop up at the bottom of the search, but you can also use this little trick to create an RSS feed.
I’m subscribed to about 1500 eBay searches. It’s a list I’ve built over many years. I don’t generally search for “Zegna” or “Polo,” but I do search for many, many less-well-known or defunct brands. Sometimes it’s old stuff, like Sulka, sometimes it’s new stuff, like Archival Clothing. Every day, I sift through five hundred or a thousand listings, and whenever I find something I like, I drop it into a Google Doc that I share with Derek and Kiyoshi. Generally, I’m looking for stuff that’s distinctive, wearable (or at least interesting), and with the potential to be a bargain. I also try to pick a little more stuff from the extremes of the size spectrum, so they’ll be a bit better represented.
Sometimes I find an auction for a cool item that seems like it might be coming directly out of someone’s closet. On those items, sometimes I’ll look at the seller’s other auctions – maybe they’re someone with taste. That’s usually where stuff from better-known brands comes from on the list.
Sometimes I’ll also spend some time just flipping through newly listed auctions in the vintage section. If you notice a particularly high number of vintage items some week, I probably killed a slow half hour that way sometime in the previous few days. With vintage, the brand is significant, but I’m really just looking for stuff that catches my eye. I’ve also got a few dozen vintage sellers saved in My eBay who always have good stuff, and sometimes I’ll flip through whatever they’ve got up.
Derek and Kiyoshi both toss stuff into the mix when they come across it, too. Both are eBay shoppers, and as you know, if you find a great item that doesn’t fit you, you want to find it a good home. We also sometimes get contributions from our semi-anonymous friend The RJ Cat, whose lists on StyleForum years ago were an inspiration for ours.
It’s a huge task, but frankly, I enjoy it. It’s a nice thing to do while I’m waiting for an important, or when I want to take a break from my real job.
Come work with us. Don’t see what you’re looking for? Name your job by telling us your story and writing your own job description.
A sneak peek at new colors of the Silk. More to come.
Palace of St. Nicholas.
In the Moon.
My dear Susie Clemens:
I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me by the hand of your mother and your nurses; I have also read those which you little people have written me with your own hands—for although you did not use any characters that are in grown peoples’ alphabet, you used the characters that all children in all lands on earth and in the twinkling stars use; and as all my subjects in the moon are children and use no character but that, you will easily understand that I can read your and your baby sister’s jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters—I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself—and kissed both of you, too, because you are good children, well trained, nice mannered, and about the most obedient little people I ever saw. But in the letter which you dictated there were some words which I could not make out for certain, and one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock. Our last lot of kitchen furniture for dolls has just gone to a very poor little child in the North Star away up, in the cold country above the Big Dipper. Your mama can show you that star and you will say: “Little Snow Flake,” (for that is the child’s name) “I’m glad you got that furniture, for you need it more than I.” That is, you must write that, with your own hand, and Snow Flake will write you an answer. If you only spoke it she wouldn’t hear you. Make your letter light and thin, for the distance is great and the postage very heavy.
There was a word or two in your mama’s letter which I couldn’t be certain of. I took it to be “trunk full of doll’s clothes.” Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o’clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse’s bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, “Welcome, Santa Claus!” Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be. Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say “Good bye and a merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens,” you must say “Good bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell that little Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the west bay window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, ‘I know somebody up there and like her, too.’” Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn’t get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.
People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room-for I shall put it there. If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven’t time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus’s boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?
Goodbye for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen door-bell.
Whom people sometimes call “The Man in the Moon”
Mark Twain’s letter to his daughter Susie, December 25th, 1875
Our Everlane Workshop opened at 74 Gansevoort today: Come touch/see goods, make custom ties and belts, and get patches put on your Cashmere.
And if you’re in New York tonight, come toast with us for our Opening Party.
Come the end of the month, our SF + LA offices are packing up and making a temporary home in New York at 74 Gansevoort—just a stone’s throw from the High Line.
Details of our Work/Shop to follow.
Photos from The High Line.