Issue #150: The (Expensive) Instagram Trap I Fell Into on Book Tour
Assemble your nest with care.
🫐 Blueberry Skillet Cobbler: This weekend, in a fit of excitement around summer produce, I bought three half-pints of blueberries at the farmers’ market. After munching on them all day Saturday, I turned the remainder into a recipe that’s been on my fridge since spring. This cobbler is everything you want it to be—buttery with crispy, golden edges. I’m considering making it again for a casual cookout on the Fourth!
📚 A Philosophy of Walking by Frédéric Gros: In a moment of pure kismet, the book I leaned on most heavily in researching this post, The Extended Mind by Annie Murphy Paul, mentions the only book I felt moved to buy at one of my favorite bookstores in New York, McNally Jackson. The slim collection features bite-sized reflections on walking and thinking, with plenty of references to the philosophers who were happiest on foot.
📺 “The Bear,” Season 3: Though only three episodes into the latest season of “The Bear,” I’ve realized that I love the show for the exact reason some critics can’t stand it. My favorite episodes include slow and thoughtful character studies (like “Forks” in Season 2) and real-time unfoldings of restaurant life, which seems to be the route the latest season is taking. I can’t decide whether to clear my schedule to binge it, or savor each episode.
P.S. You’re probably aware by now (!), but in case you missed it, my novel You’re Safe Here, is out! Read it before our Book Club on Zoom on July 30th at 5 PM, PT.
I had already gone through most of the Checkout prompts by the time I realized the ballet flats I had been carefully considering for my book tour would arrive the day after I left, even with express shipping. On some level, I understood that I didn’t need them. I had already purchased an expensive pair of mules that went with most of my book tour outfits (and blew past my budget), and the flats made even less sense given the fact they wouldn’t even arrive on time. Plus, I had only recently paid-off my big house purchases, and was back on track to save for a van, a longtime goal of mine. But… the influencer wearing them looked so chic. Sure, she’s sponsored by the brand, which indicates that she gets affiliate payments for every purchase and likely received them for free, but didn’t they go with everything? I hit, “Purchase.”
Over breakfast the next day, I considered canceling my ballet flats order, but instead bought sneakers and sandals that would arrive in time to pack them. By lunch, I had added a belt and shorts. Once in New York, I bought a slip dress for my event when I realized the slacks I brought weren’t heatwave-appropriate. Even as I made the purchases, a part of me knew better. I literally wrote a post in March about avoiding the purchase of a pair of mesh Mary Janes for the exact event I bought the mules and slip dress for. The post examined the role of the exact dopaminergic spirals on shopping I was stuck in. The title to my post on buying an Oura ring includes the words, “Even Though I Know Better.”
How is it that we can know better, but keep making decisions that directly contradict that knowledge?
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