Before The Sarcastorialist I worked in an fair-trade button store in East Williamsburg, Brooklyn called "Just For You Buttons" although our business cards said "Buttons Just For You". It was sort of a funny mishap when it happened, but eventually led to our downfall — our sole angel investor, Jans Elkman-Elkman, took the mistake and our laughter as a sign that Just For You Buttons was not a serious business endeavor.
Out of a job, with only my father's weekly additions to my checking account, I sort of hit rock bottom. I switched from Chobani to Trader Joe's store-brand greek yogurt; I traded in my leather couch for a leather love-seat; I even turned off the shower water when I wasn't taking a shower. I spent my days on the corner of Dekalb and Wyckoff, begging for traveler's cheques and gift certificates to Duane Reade. I would flatter passersby with untrue fluff, word cotton candy, "Oh, madam, what a grand purse you have!" or "Wow sir, those pants sure do fit evenly!", and with each word I swallowed a certain portion of my dignity. Then, one day, I couldn't do it any longer. I remembered my days at Unique Thrift Store, and how good it felt to let people know the sartorial mistakes they've made, in only the most cutting and biting way possible. Just then, a man with extra long cargo shorts, an Old Navy polo and New Balances came walking by, hands in his pockets, the sun shining only on him. "Ooh, who is that from the new Tom Ford collection?" I asked. He sort of laughed and, looking embarrassed, walked away. It felt good. It felt better than good. It felt like that time I tried e at Coachella. I was in for the long haul.
So I started The Sarcastorialist. In such a short time it has grown from me posting pictures of people and writing sarcastic remarks to me posting pictures of people and writing slightly harsher remarks. And I hope to get even more sarcastic. So join the fun, comment, friend me, retwit this. Whatever! I love you!
