The Arcades

At Auction October 7-13, 2026 I wrote a profile of one of my design heroes, Joe D’Urso, for the Magazine Antiques (Adam Charlap Hyman brought me on—he was the guest editor for the issue, which is very beautiful—get a copy). It’s finally out in the world. Joe is famous for the high-tech look he pioneered in his minimalist industrial lofts, particularly in New York. He did Calvin Klein’s and Larry Kramer’s apartments in the 70s; before that he worked for Ward Bennett.

At Auction September 30-October 6, 2026 plus Diego Marcon at the New Museum I’ve seen a bunch of dog shit shows this past week and have been forced to remind myself that the baseline quality of work is, as a rule, average. I can’t help feeling like there is a general atmosphere of conservatism in art right now—revanchist painting, retreads of 20th century best hits.

Fashion is, in truth, a war of all against all. And the model of fashion as a straightforward, meritocratic beauty pageant (I will look best in this, I should buy it) is not the only way to win. There is also, I am certain, a kind of negative fashion game whereby we are misled into wearing something that will make us look like shit so that our competitors may pull ahead in the race.

I finally got to see Maddie’s Secret on Saturday, followed by a brief but very good conversation between John Early (writer and director) and Jemima Kirke (who pulled a lollipop out of her Goyard at one point and started sucking; her questions were excellent). If you haven’t seen it—the titular Maddie is played with unwinking earnestness by John Early; she is a Bon Appetit style food-fluencer whose bulimia may sabotage her newfound success.

I have a profile out today in the print version of New York magazine on the painter George Rouy. It’s tied to his big show opening on Thursday at Hauser on 22nd St. The show is quite good. I have more art-critical thoughts that will end up here or elsewhere about the broader figurative turn in painting. The New York piece is about the interests involved in artist success (and how those interests don’t always align). For the record: I like George’s work. I also like George.

I frequently find myself on instagram thinking: now, are you a photographer or a gay guy with a camera?The confusion, which is not a confusion at all, arises because (1) gay guys are delusional and (2) the lo-fi nostalgia of film photography gives cover to what are, in fact, shitty photos. Particularly now, when many of the technical aspects of photography have been automated, it can be harder to see just which ones are the shitty photos.

An interesting feature of living in New York is that I now find things at the airport to be refreshingly affordable: the funhouse-style pricing of everything in NY (iced coffee: $16; can of sofa $4, etc) has made the relative price everywhere else feel like a deal.

I did finally see The Odyssey (and also, randomly, Spider-Man). The two movies have grossed an obscene amount of money.

It was apparently the same temperature and humidity in New York last week as it is in the Amazon. I like it. I’m drawn back to August on Swan Street on the North Shore of Staten Island, where I grew up. Our neighbor Daniel Davis had an above-ground pool, which was a rarity.

I have been transfixed by Rushtok—the annual tradition (dating from 2020) of sororities posting group tiktoks that serve as an advertisement to induce young women to join. The phenomenon is mostly Southern and it offers an unreconstructed fantasy of blonde femininity that I find jarring (admittedly, this is because I live in a downtown bubble of women in futch jorts and Mombasa bags).