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I’ve submitted this photo to JPG magazine under the theme “Democracy” and it would be great if you would do me a favor and vote for it here.  I imagine you are wondering why this image should evoke the theme of democracy?  Well, here is my reasoning if you are interested:

There is one major flaw that our society is based on: the Pursuit of Happiness. When you are in the “pursuit of” something, there is an end result which remains the sole focus. It’s become second nature for the majority of the population to think in such a way that happiness will come when this falls into place or that has been achieved.  What’s worse is that people blame their unhappiness on circumstances - being undereducated, an unstable childhood, the wrong partner, not enough money, or just dumb luck. To that end, happiness has become a set of quick fixes acting as a band aid over a gash that needs stitches.

This photo was taken in Sag Harbor, NY where the majority of people have been on the receiving end of fortunate circumstances; they are Hamptonites - the privileged part of the population. The people who are supposed to be living the American Dream. But I have a feeling that most of them are still looking for something that can’t be found in a bottle or needle or shopping bag. Suggested remedy? A realization that happiness should be found in the pursuit itself and not as a final product.

If that doesn’t suffice, then there is also the simple idea that although the Hamptons reek of synthetic boobs, superficial values, and a shiny, botox-induced newness, this hotel dates back to pre-Revolutionary America when this country was first becoming independent.  Seems like the owners have preserved the Dutch colonial look of the place quite well.  Almost as well as the women preserve themselves.

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This is the Red Light District in Amsterdam.  I stayed there for 4 days and this was actually off of the back patio of the bar at my hostel.  I was absolutely not supposed to be taking pictures (notice the sign in the first window), or even be out there past dark, but rules are meant to be broken and I tend to snap them in half.  Especially if it means getting a great shot of sketchy dudes oogling prostitutes.

There are many reasons that I love Amsterdam, but their take on sex is most definitely one of them.  Yes, prostitution seems dirty, but it’s done illegally everywhere that it’s not legal.  And what is dirtier?  Some pimp selling off women on a street corner or legal regulation within the government to keep it safer and cleaner?  I’d go with the latter.

I also love that it’s put out there for everyone to see.  Sex shops, live porn shows, sex museums, and brothels are abundant.  In America, the vast majority of us grow up thinking that sex is dirty and bad and secretive and meant for *marriage*.  I really don’t understand why that is so.  Everyone does it, save certain individuals who abstain because of religious vows - and I can understand that to an extent.  But for the rest of us, what’s the big deal?  Life is meant to be enjoyed, and that is certainly one of the most enjoyable acts to engage in.

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Even on gross, rainy summer days sailboats always manage to look inviting.  That is, until you set foot on one and the rocking puts your upchuck reflex to the test.

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It’s in this image that I can see the appeal of the Hamptons.  In the 48 hours that I was there, I spent more than a fair amount of time in the car (you’d think with GPS we wouldn’t get lost - think again).  There is a lot of things that reminded me of Cape Cod like the shingled and weathered beachhouses, marinas packed with sailboats, and various other objects that reek of summer.  I’ve gotta say, if it weren’t for the wacked out people and unsightly prices for things like parking at beaches that aren’t even that nice, this could be my new summer getaway.  But alas, the Cape still stands highest.

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I spent this 4th of July weekend in the Hamptons at an 8 bedroom “house” that a friend rented for the month (apparently the owner of the place is President of Capitol Records — he was there the first night, but didn’t go out with us because he had to go sign Lenny Kravitz… ridiculous, no?).

Upon arriving 5 hours later than planned, three pasty-white city girls stumble into a house full of tall, thin, exotic beauties from Miami.  Inferiority complex?  Just a bit.  They were all very nice, it was just startling and unexpected.  Plus, I do much better in a room full of men than women.  Big groups of chicks are intimidating in themselves.  Which is one of the many reasons I’m glad that I wasn’t born with a penis; it’s better to be part of the flock of wolves that try to circumvent it.

So after securing a bedroom and lounging poolside for the rest of the afternoon, we got ourselves together and headed to Trata* where my friend’s boyfriend is a bartender.  The scene was as follows: blond, botoxed, middle-aged women dressed like 18 year olds clutching their designer bags and towering on $500 heels.  Labels were abundant.  It was a restaurant full of this.  It was terrifying.  And it was a reality check.

The next day we prowled around Sag Harbor where two girls gave us the card in the photograph above.  The name of the store they were promoting made me laugh.  The Hamptons really are about labels.  Even during the day in this little beach town there was enough Lacoste and J. Crew to make my closet full of Urban Outfitters and thrift duds throw up a little bit.

Best part of the trip?  A guy asked my friend for her number to show her a good time the next time she was in town.  This is the dialogue that ensued:

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Oh no?  Why is that?”

“It’s not really my scene.  These people are on another planet.”

“I used to not like it either, but you just have to ignore them… blah blah blah lots of talk about how great the Hamptons are… it gets better.”

“When does it get better?  After you become one of them?”

Basically I realized that yes, I do want to make a shitload of money (who doesn’t?), but there is no way I will ever become part of that crowd.  Though they make a statment - a very extravagant statement - designer labels aren’t something that I ever want to be commonplace in my life.  Fashion isn’t about having THE thousand dollar dress.  It’s about creativity: taking expensive things, cheap things, new things, and old things and making yourself look good.  At least that’s how I see it.

*I would like to note that the food and drinks at Trata are amazing.  If you go early (7 or so), you can miss the Hamptonite crowd and enjoy an amazing Greek dinner.

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I took this in Nieuwmarkt square in Amsterdam.  This was a much more low-key, out of the way spot with far less tourists than the rest of the city.  They had a small open air market where I bought a sweet Cornelian ring.  This hippy chick was selling some pretty cool jewelry, as well, but I found her badass bike decked out in flowers much more interesting.  As well as her dreadlocks.  If I ever move over there, I will turn into one dirty, dreadlocked girl.

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Yesterday I was doing some photo research under the keyword ‘heart.’  After digging through several pages of pink, kitschy, Valentine’s Day themed photos, I came across one that abruptly stopped me in my tracks.  It was a photo of the neon Erotic Museum sign in Amsterdam.  I clicked on the thumbnail to get a better look, and upon further inspection, realized I had taken a better photo than some professional photographer out there was paid to do.

I dug up the one pictured above, scaled it to be the same size as the online version, sent it to a colleague and asked for a comparison without telling which was mine.  The response I received was as follows, “I would like to believe that yours is the one that is shot at an angle, has good lighting and an actual composition.”

You are correct.  So here is the other photograph (ID# 71497144 by Richard Nowitz on Getty - I assume I must give credit or else run the risk of being sued, but I’m really just trying to prove a point.):

The point I want to make here is either 1. Getty is accepting sub-par images and they need to up their game and be more selective or 2. that I take as good or better photos than some professional photographers (not to toot my own horn here, but I don’t think you need to be a photo critic to see the difference).  I don’t actually know what the selection criteria is for choosing photos to add to their stock library, but I really can’t see why this particular image got into the collection.

As for Mr. Nowitz, I did check out more of his stuff on Getty and his personal website (linked above) and it’s safe to say that his collection is quite good.  I’m going to assume this was a fluke.

Last night I saw Nikka Costa at the Bowery Ballroom.  All I had was my phone to take pictures with, but as you can see, you don’t need a professional camera to capture this chick in action.

She’s like a modern day Janis Joplin, but with a little bit more definition to the frizzy hair and a less raspy voice.  But I’d say her style is most definitely retro with the big hoops, super wide pants, and huge gold belt.

It seems we have something in common as well: we both think that nipples are sexier than cleavage.  (No bra, white shirt.  You put the two together.  Nips everywhere.)

Her band was super tight and she had lots of horn instruments which usually make for a great show.  And a great show it most certainly was.

If she ever gets big, like Madison Square Garden big, I’ll be glad that I at least got to see her on a small stage.  It’s just not the same seeing a live performance in a room with a thousand people who all think they are the Most Hardcore Fan in the room.  Intimacy evaporates.

But I do hope she makes it off these small stages.  The girl’s got some crazy talent.