I came into writing in my mid-twenties. I wasn’t specifically pursuing it, but it’s one of those life shifts that makes a lot more sense in hindsight. Being a thinker, or very ruminative, is pretty core to who I am. Sometimes in a bad way. It’s how I process the world, and what I’ve always done to soothe and understand myself.

I think of it more as codified thinking. Less about prose, or even finding the most beautiful set of words. To me, that is what I find satisfying about writing. I turned to journaling when I was young. I enjoyed—or I relied on—being able to put things into words. Basically, to be able to talk back to myself.

My mom always talks about how I was kind of a precocious kid, but not in a child-genius way. I wanted to be older and settled and have the questions of my life answered. I used to beg her to take us to a fortune teller. I was too young to have cynicism about that. I was like, *There’s somebody out there who can tell me what’s going to happen?* Through my mom’s retelling, I used to say that she was so lucky because she already had a family and knew what she was doing with her life—everything was settled. She thought that was a strange thing to want at such a young age.

[[1]]

I didn’t pursue writing or creative fields because I was a big athlete growing up, and then I studied business because I didn’t know what else to do. I was pretty lost. I kept picking the safe path, and in my mid-twenties I had a classic realization that I’d made all the safe decisions, but I didn't really know who I actually was. I was working in HR in San Francisco. I was in a long-term relationship. I was living a very particular type of life and everything was in that “good but not quite right” holding pattern. So I decided to change everything up.

After a couple years of trying a bunch of different things, I got a job as a junior editor at [Man Repeller](https://repeller.com/). I moved to New York on the fly. This was March 2016, so I had six months in New York before Trump won. Working in media at the time was interesting because there was this really palpable shift over my first year. I worked my way up, and ended up staying for four years. Every year was such a huge cultural shift. 

I gave them six weeks notice in January 2020, and had my last day just by chance on March 11th—which was the day the stock market crashed, the NBA was canceled, Tom Hanks got COVID and everybody started taking it “seriously.” Freelance budgets were slashed, and this was supposed to be my big freelance leap. So I decided to launch a newsletter called [Maybe Baby](https://haleynahman.substack.com/) instead.

[[2]]

I publish an essay every Sunday, and send out a weekly podcast and recommendations list as well. It ended up being a great alternative path, and I’m fully supporting myself with it now. I’m coming up on two years, and it’s definitely gotten more polished as I’ve worked on it. Originally, my idea was to literally jot down some spare thoughts and share my work. This was in the early pandemic, so nobody was writing anything for anywhere, and nobody was talking about anything except the pandemic.

It was an interesting time to write. I know a lot of people had a different experience creating in that time, and I’m not saying what I made was truly visionary, but I found it really inspiring, for lack of a better word. To walk through an empty Manhattan was just so strange. I mean, that’s the kind of shit you see in movies, and it’s interesting just because it’s so unusual. Writing has always been about finding order in the disorder, so it was just a natural outlet for me during that time.

What I try to do is put words to something I find to be complicated or inscrutable, or maybe existing in the gray space between how we perform and who we really are. The dark in between, the shadowing in between. I think that applies not just to personal identity but also how we exist online as our digital selves, how we exist in our friend groups, and in our relationships with people. I think a lot about biases. I’m really interested in how we dilute ourselves or what we take for obvious that maybe isn’t, or explaining why something we take for obvious is true, and unpacking it, and what that might tell us more broadly. So maybe this is pretty vague, but generally the project of my newsletter is writing about modern life. Oftentimes at the intersection of culture and identity.

[[3]]

Another inspiration for the direction of Maybe Baby is what I wasn’t able to write in my previous job. I got my start in women’s media at a particular type of website with a particular tone. I couldn’t get too political. I couldn’t get too in the weeds with weird sources and anything that felt too serious wasn’t really the tone. I'm still struggling to shrug off that tone and assume a different type of audience.

Another big hump I had to get over was letting go of a particular type of professional career as a writer. In New York, and especially in media and literary circles, there are these kind of big names that are always thrown around. I mean that in terms of publications, but also people. There’s this sense that to be respected, you need to be known in a certain circle or way, and published in certain places. It took me a while to understand that approval from a certain set of people wasn’t actually going to give me what I thought it would give me, and that I had to get more honest about what I wanted out of writing in general.

> It took me a while to understand that approval from a certain set of people wasn’t actually going to give me what I thought it would.

An important process I went through with the newsletter was readjusting my priorities and reshaping my ambition to things that feel a little more grounded and relevant to my life, and less influenced by external forces or check marks on a path. Not that I don’t still feel that tug sometimes, but it is nice to be guided by a more subjective, soft idea of what brings meaning to my life versus validation from the powers that be.

I spent the last year really figuring out how to sand away the friction from my writing process—and also my wellbeing. Telling myself, *You don’t actually have to write a book. You don’t need to read comments from every single person. You don’t owe an email reply to every single person, every lovely person or critical person.* I tried to turn a lot of my pressure valves off and rearrange my life and work in a way that was optimized for my mental wellbeing. That was really, really huge. But the natural caveat is that friction is interesting, and it can be sexy—and I mean that in a somewhat platonic way. To have your work be a little more fast and loose sometimes.

[[4]]

Contentment and complacency are very easy to mistake for each other. I think a lot of life is being willing to sway back and forth. Like periods of being more ambitious and active and pursuing, and then coming back to your comfort zone and relaxing and just being done. I think they’re both really important parts of life.

Now I’m trying to figure out what comes after feeling like I’ve oversimplified. Maybe it’s getting out there and finally writing that book proposal, doing all the press that I’ve been avoiding, and freelance writing. But it could be something else. I don’t want to take other people’s scripts for what it means to succeed or have a full life when I haven’t fully kicked the tires on whether they match me.

Part of that’s also connected to why I’ve been generally less visible online. I don’t post that much anymore. I’m giving so much of myself that I feel this desire to keep something. I’m trying to figure out how to be ambitious in a non-professional context. I don’t just mean hobbies, but I mean what does it mean to build a community with my friends? How do I deepen my relationships in my life and deepen my relationship with my house or my neighborhood or with New York? My work doesn’t just get my ideas, but it gets all of my recommendations, like movies, shows, and recipes. It already gets so much of me that I feel this draw to have things that are really important to me outside of it.

[[5]]

Last year I turned off comments on my newsletter. I definitely had an issue in 2020 where I would spiral anytime somebody left me a mean comment. That was part of the inspiration—to shut off the valve to this immediate public feedback to everything I put out, which meant sacrificing the positive comments as well. It was just sort of like, *I actually don’t think I need this constant barrage of feedback from strangers.*

I became less focused on how I was being perceived, which is such a time and energy suck. Not being on Instagram as much, there’s this part of you that feels less perceived in a bad way. Everybody likes to be perceived sometimes. I laugh all the time about those TikToks that are like, “The people in this coffee shop are the only people I’m going to see today. Everybody better look at my outfit, because I only put it on to get a coffee.” 

I think it’s normal to want to coexist with the people you’re writing for or speaking to in a tangible way. Sometimes I’m doing cultural criticism or making claims that people disagree with, and I think that’s totally fine. I definitely toy with wanting to have a healthy discourse and not feel like I’m speaking into an empty room, which is part of the reason that I’ve been seeking out more of it in my actual life, like talking to other writers and getting an editor and bringing in that outside perspective from people who are known and trusted to me. I also have a feedback form. So if people really have a burning bit of feedback to give me, they can give it to me, but my writing is not like an Amazon product with five or one star reviews under it.

I wrote about this a long time ago when I first shut them off, but it made me rethink how we talk about the term “community” on the internet. A lot of times, it was just shorthand for a vibrant comment section, and I don’t think that necessarily always represents a community. Or, those people might be in community with each other, but they’re not necessarily in community with the person who’s providing the comment section. There are not equal stakes at hand. It made me think about what community meant and how to actually get it in a way that felt more meaningful to me.

[[6]]

I’ve definitely written about drug use here and there, but not how much or how often. I smoked weed in college and drank heavily, but I didn’t really try anything else until after school. I was pretty scared of anything else. Maybe I did do mushrooms once, or a few times. But I remember feeling really nervous about anything else.

It wasn’t until I had this opportunity to go to the Electric Daisy Carnival. The first time I did molly was at EDC, which is so funny. I remember being so scared and googling things like, “What is molly? What are the risks? What are the dosages? What’s happening in your brain?” I remember somebody saying, and it’s so funny that I blindly trusted her, “Your brain is already storing up serotonin and dopamine. Basically, you’re just high on what makes you happy.” I was like, “Oh, okay.”

That was my foray. I was still really nervous about everything, but I loved molly and feeling less control. To give a drug too much credit, I think it kind of changed the trajectory of my life. I just remember feeling like I accessed a side of myself that was a little more adventurous and open to new experiences that were maybe dangerous. Which was never how I thought of myself as a person.

> To give a drug too much credit, I think it kind of changed the trajectory of my life.

![MG 6004](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/5veXiDTCnyig8RftjuP2Kf/27e4464694089cf2bad435251f4a2f94/_MG_6004.jpg)

In hindsight, I’m glad that I didn’t experiment with anything much until I was in my twenties. I feel like I was more equipped to handle it. Not in every way, though. I made a lot of dumb mistakes at that time, like getting too confident about what I could or couldn’t take. But I did really appreciate this new side to myself. I think there came a point really clearly where I started feeling too old for that scene, and I started to see the façade. At these types of music events, there’s this feeling that everybody loves each other and there’s benevolence. But you also notice that when you get there early nobody is like, “Hi!” That’s not there. If you start to think too much about the façade, that need to be high to get along, it starts to feel a little gross.

So I sort of tapered back. At the time I was especially focused on changing my career and I was not partying as much anymore. I’d say if that was my molly era, I’m more in a mushroom era now. I love mushrooms. They’re definitely my favorite high. For me, if I had a choice between being a little bit high on weed or a little bit high on mushrooms, I’m definitely picking mushrooms.

As someone who really favors her sense of self in any given moment, I really like taking small amounts of them. I find that taking a little bit of mushrooms and going on a walk, or even just taking a little bit on a Saturday, a lot of times I forget that I took them. That’s the amount I want to take.

[[7]]

In my earlier life with drugs, I never wanted to take something and have to force myself to feel it. I feel the opposite now, which is that I want it to be so subtle I could forget it’s there—or make use of it. Which is like, are you going to sit on the couch and scroll on your phone, or are you going to put a record on and light a candle and knit, or draw? My boyfriend Avi and I both have little creative hobbies, and we’ll have nights where we try to cultivate an environment where we’re both working on things. I guess that’s kind of a metaphor in general for cultivating a head space for yourself.

If I don’t feel like doing that, I can just chill or exist. I think that’s why I’m not a huge stoner. I wouldn’t describe myself as smoking every day, that’s not me. I probably smoke once a week. But I do feel like I’m starting to smoke more, and I’ve realized that I really prefer indica to sativa. I kind of prefer the chilled out body high to the think-y high. I used to prefer sativa because what I wanted to do was cry laughing.

> In my kind of party era ... I did acid on a nude beach in San Luis Obispo.

In my mid-twenties—this was sort of in my kind of party era—I did acid on a nude beach in San Luis Obispo. I’ve only done it once. I was not nude, but there was only one guy there, so it wasn’t rude of me to not be nude. It’s just funny that it happened to be a nude beach, because I was the highest I’ve ever been in my life. There was an old naked man walking around in the waves, and I was just like, what’s going on?

It was a pretty fun experience while coming up but then things got kind of dark for a while. I think this is really my fear with all drugs: being lost somewhere in my mind and feeling like I’m losing contact with reality. This experience forever scared me because I was so trapped in this other space. Every once in a while I would come to and be like, “Oh my god, I’m on a beach. I’m myself. I’m with my friends.” And then I would go back under. Time was just elastic. I felt like I was gone for years.

![MG 6081](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/7xpSCoCds0oJ9b00Cn8bjQ/5086f4bd546c8930981e1289dfc372b6/_MG_6081.jpg)

I think sometimes when I get high, I can still access that bad trip, and that’s kind of what scares me. Maybe that’s part of why I am such a fan of the lighter doses. I can definitely be kind of a mother hen, like, “Just start low. Don’t take too much.” Sometimes I feel like people think it’s fun to be like, “Oops, I took too much,” kind of in the way where you’re like, “Oops, maybe we should get one more drink at dinner!” But it’s not the same.

But a lot of people don’t mind going off the deep end, so I probably just need to be less of a control freak. I ended up coming to from the acid experience and having a nice time the rest of the night. We went to a music show. I later [wrote an essay about that experience](https://repeller.com/bad-acid-trip-taught-me-everything/), and specifically the idea that because I got over it and was fine, I should therefore be able to talk myself down from a high in the future. This is a really common refrain from drug users in general: when you’re high, just accept that you’re high.

I think it’s a little bit antithetical to what a high is, which is that you’ve lost access or some amount of access to who you were sober. Therefore, you cannot rely on carrying one particular lesson over the bridge. The metaphor of the essay was basically that a lot of emotions are like this. For example, when you’re not angry, you think, “The next time I’m angry, I’ll just say this,” but that’s just not how anger works, or depression, or anxiety. When you’re in those places, the point is that you’re high on that emotion. You can try to talk yourself out of it, but then ultimately, you’re just denying yourself a feeling that you need to process.

[[8]]

I was grateful for the lesson from that high. I guess I maybe don’t regret it. It was very applicable to something I struggle with all the time: trying to intellectualize my feelings. Which kind of brings us back to the beginning of why I write, and the risks of it. How do you make sure that you accept and embrace your feelings?

Since I wrote that essay, it’s the top hit for anybody who googles “bad acid trip.” It’s funny, at least once a month, a really random person who doesn’t follow me or know who I am, who’s just a little bit high, sends me a long DM saying they found my essay and telling me about what’s going on with them, or maybe thanking me or whatever. I call [them acid DMs](https://haleynahman.substack.com/p/80-the-acid-dms). It’s a funny touchpoint I have with people who live otherwise completely different lives from me and probably don’t give a shit about anything I’ve written.

There have been times where I wonder if they don’t even want me to reply, like maybe they’d be embarrassed the next day to see what they’d written me. Sometimes they’re really long. But it’s a really nice little peek into humanity, people in this vulnerable place where their walls are down and they’re maybe feeling a little out of control. It’s sweet to be let into that moment.

![MG 6028](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/2mSbSikHAKjWWaVNh2QXw5/b64b45ca7a4a95f76800d86c3ce31855/_MG_6028.jpg)

*This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. [Haley Nahman](https://www.instagram.com/halemur/?hl=en) photographed by [Nik Antonio](https://www.instagram.com/nik80s/?hl=en) in Brooklyn. If you like this Conversation, please feel free to share it with friends or enemies. Subscribe to our newsletter [here](https://www.gossamer.co/subscribe).*

The Maybe Baby writer on the downside of feedback, getting lost on a nude beach, and becoming an unintentional resource for acid users.

MG 5881

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> Writing has always been about finding order in the disorder.

![MG 5947](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/SJyRIt0jbvnN1dGXnXdQb/2842b5f540f7eaffd65c84b8f4893f5e/_MG_5947.jpg)

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> My writing is not like an Amazon product with five or one star reviews under it.

![MG 5984](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/4SBntvaczyv7WQf6kWBbQA/46957069e1863ae6798a84328c3b04bd/_MG_5984.jpg)

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The Maybe Baby writer on the downside of feedback, getting lost on a nude beach, and becoming an unintentional resource for acid users.


Haley Nahman

I’ve always seen clothes as a beautiful escape from the real world, so working in fashion was what finally got me to come out of my shell. Since I was young, I’ve loved digging through vintage bins at local shops and making my own clothes. If you go to my house, you’ll find *Winning London*-era plaid pants I made without a pattern from whatever plaid they had at Walmart. Or lots of tie dye, lots of t-shirts, always hand stitched. 

Getting dressed in something I feel really confident in makes me feel ready and excited to face the world. I think fashion can give us a way to communicate with each other that side steps things that are hard to talk about. Sometimes “how are you?” can be a really tough question to answer. But “where did you get that?” can lead to a story about a hidden gem of a thrift store in an unknown city. To me, fashion is like a security blanket and suit of armor all in one.

[[1]]

We had a family tragedy when I was five that really impacted the way I moved through the world, and still do to this day. I didn’t relate to kids my age, so I spent a lot of time alone making art in my room. We lived in a small town in Tennessee and both of my parents were artists, so making art always felt like a natural, supported activity in my house. It was just kind of like, “There are supplies everywhere and there’s a kiln and we don’t really care what you do with it.” I still see making art as a form of self-care in that way. 

Because we’d already experienced this big trauma, I made it my mission to try and make my parents happy and be what I thought was a “good kid,” which I mostly took from stereotypes on the few channels we got on rural TV. That meant I probably missed out on a lot of things and was closed off to some things that I now really love.  

I’ve always kind of felt like I’m jumping from one lily pad to the next. My whole life in high school was like, *How am I going to get to New York?* I got this secret job at a boutique in another town, saved up all this money, and got into the NYU pre-college program. I had already bought the ticket and everything when I gave a PowerPoint presentation to my parents. I was like, “Here’s my business plan of how I’m going to move to New York.”

[[2]]
> Being around so many overwhelmingly talented people made me a little self-conscious about my art, and as a result I started to be really secretive about it.

After that, I applied to a bunch of schools and went to the one where I got the biggest scholarship, which ended up being Pratt. That turned out to be exactly what I needed because I didn’t know anybody and I could really experiment and branch out. I feel like at Parsons, they try to make you like a star—the Marc Jacobs people of the fashion world. Whereas Pratt is very much “Here’s how we’re going to get you a job as a pattern maker,” and “Here’s a realistic plan for you.” Stars do come out of it, of course. But it was realistic.

The one negative at Pratt was that being around so many overwhelmingly talented people made me a little self-conscious about my art, and as a result I started to be really secretive about it. I interned at *Nylon* and with stylists like Mel Ottenberg, and after getting a lot of advice from them I switched my major from fashion design to art writing. I started writing for places like *Purple* and Refinery29.

![MS SueWilliamson003](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/6dkrK0VKwuvdOHlx8zw8vX/e79499fce494b0bd0a731cd34373a777/MS_SueWilliamson003.jpg)

After school and a few odd jobs, I ended up at Conde Nast, first as digital editor at *W*, and later as an editor at *Teen Vogue* for both the magazine and website. I loved every bit of it—working on a creative team, brainstorming together, and making this physical object come to life. 

From the magazine world, I moved to branding mostly through a deep connection I had to the founders of Milk Makeup. I just loved that they were making a brand that felt human and not doing any of the normal beauty brand stuff. So I went there in the very early days and helped them refine what they sounded like and how they talked to their customers. Since then, I’ve really loved going into a brand when they’re just starting out and doing the same. There’s nothing I love more than seeing a brand find its footing, become super successful, and have all those initial problems solved. But I’ve learned that after that, it’s easy to get put into a marketing role, which is never what I wanted to do. That’s really not who I am. 

[[3]]

I think that’s how I came full circle back to making things. I never stopped painting, but it’s been something I’ve kind of done in the dark. I started showing my work a lot more in the pandemic. I think there was a certain point where my love and passion for it outpaced my insecurity. It fed itself. It was this snowball effect. I started by [painting Soprano scenes](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAjBZDbgf_a/?hl=en). When I moved to the beach, I started doing more beach scenes or surfing—things I saw. Then I naturally started doing these herbs and flowers, as I was researching those for my own health.

I was going through some medical stuff and looking for an integrative approach to healing. I was growing mushrooms like Lion’s Mane and learning about how incredible mushrooms can be for our health. I was also looking into Ayurveda—traditional alternative medicine from India—and things like Ashwagandha and Moringa. As I was learning about these ancient and natural healing methods, looking in all these old hippie books filled with beautiful illustrations, I just naturally started working these herbs and flowers into my paintings.

[[4]]

I live in a bungalow in Venice Beach, so I don’t have a ton of room for canvas. I used to have a little online vintage store, and had stock left over of perfect pants, perfect jackets. I started pulling them out and painting on them. I enjoyed it so much that the love I had for making these pieces overcame any self consciousness I had for showing my work. I started wearing them out to see what people thought. [Herbs for Relaxation](https://www.instagram.com/herbs4relaxation/) started super organically.

The first pieces I made were jackets. I’d just throw them on as I went to the scary appointments you have to go to when you’re sick, and the work meetings you have to do to keep your health insurance to pay for said sickness. I would put one on at the last minute. It almost felt like a cape. It felt nurturing and calming. That’s why I now say it’s like soft armor for a harsh world. People kept stopping me and asking me about them, and that made me wonder if I could give that comforting feeling to other people. My sister made the website, I took all the pictures, and we had the first collection online within a day. Almost everything sold out and it has just grown organically from there. 

It’s not mass produced and that’s the point. Each piece is hand-painted and slightly different. Right now, I carry a broken size range of 25-38 waist in jeans, and S-XXL in shirts, but there are usually only one of each size and it all depends on what I’m able to find that fits my criteria for a good piece. When I’m painting each one, I think about the magic of someone finding exactly what they want in their size, almost like it’s made for you. I don’t know if that’s how people buy it, but in my dreams they do.

[[5]]

I feel a lot of responsibility with my little brand because I spend so much time in vintage shops and thrift stores and estate sales and I see how much discarded clothing there already is in the world. The last thing I want to do is make more of it. I also feel a real responsibility to my customers. I’m so honored that someone is spending minutes of their life on my website or wearing my clothes, and spending their hard earned dollars buying them. 

There is so much joy that goes into Herbs for Relaxation and I hope people who wear it feel that and take it with them in their day. It feels like a full circle moment for me because it combines everything I love about art, fashion, and self-care, and it embraces the imperfection of a real person making your clothes. There are brush strokes and slight imperfections in the painting, but then the silhouettes are classic and chic. I source very carefully because I know from brand building that, first and foremost, the product has to be great. I go for classic silhouettes, like jeans with a long inseam with a boot cut or slight flare, and great button-ups in primary colors or classic prints. The result is a blend of sleek and human. 

[[6]]

When people tell me they like my clothes, I freak out and I think it’s so cool. I love wearing them, which is probably goofy and nerdy, but I do. I beam when people ask me about them. It’s almost like there’s nothing I would’ve rather done. 

The thing I love most is preparing the package for people. I feel like I’ve waited my whole life to make brand packaging. It’s really evolved from the first batch, which sold really quickly. I try to make it this super special unboxing experience with as little waste as possible.

I fill this perfect little canvas tote that I either hand-paint or I put one of my silk woven labels on it. I love making these “care tags” that explain both how to take care of a piece and some tips for the person on how to take care of themselves. I do try to look at their life. Some people I don’t know so I don’t really have anything to go off of, but if I know someone loves to surf, I’ll be like, “Take the train out to Rockaway and go surfing.” I really try to creep into people’s lives a little bit and see what they love and give them a little reminder. Something realistic because I think we all get enough care instructions on the internet that are totally unrealistic for a lot of people’s lives.

[[7]]

My early experiences with weed were in dorm bathrooms in art school or DIY venues at punk shows in Brooklyn. From always trying to be that “good kid” and hearing on TV that weed was bad, it always felt like something I shouldn’t be doing. I didn’t recognize the privilege I had at the time as a white blonde girl or that the media was weaponizing it. I also didn’t know that it was natural and could be really healing. Looking back, it’s crazy to me how normalized and accepted alcohol is but weed is criminalized.

Someone recently told me there are drugs that help you work on yourself while you’re doing them, and drugs you have to work on yourself after you do them. Mushrooms and weed are the former, while alcohol is the latter. I’ve found that to be true, especially over the last year while working through all this health stuff. I’ve tried a few things, from hyper specific healing blends like Rick Simpson Oil to fun stuff like infused pop rocks, but my very favorite anytime-anywhere treat is a sativa gummy from [Wyld](https://wyldcanna.com/). I also like a [Cann drink](https://www.drinkcann.com/) every once in a while. I love everything from [Houseplant](https://www.houseplant.com/), from the pre-rolls to the oversized matches. Their branding is so inspiring and their [social media is hilarious](https://www.instagram.com/houseplant/?hl=en). And I love [Dr. Norm’s](https://www.doctornorms.com/). He makes these [Crispy Rice Bars](https://www.doctornorms.com/dr-norms-crispy-rice-bars/) which are really good sativa-infused rice krispies. Whatever new infused food thing they have at the dispensary, that’s what I want to try. 

![MS SueWilliamson292](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/3avJRoomTmiOhwqN9sfLVF/8f42b6e6336ddbbcc7d9066261e4b4d6/MS_SueWilliamson292.jpg)

I’m still that shy, overly cautious kid, so I wait until I’m all done with my day job and I don’t have any responsibilities for the day and then I take my gummy and truly relax. That’s my favorite ritual: get off work, take a gummy, and paint my clothes to some George Harrison as the sun goes down and the wind blows the palm trees out my window. I look forward to it all day.

[[8]]

> Instead of sending people flowers, I’ll send them a mushroom box.

Mushrooms have always agreed with me, both the magic and non-magic varieties. I take a fruiting body turkey tail supplement every morning and try to eat a non-magic mushroom with a meal every day. They’re just so potent and I love that the earth makes these things that actually make cellular differences in our body. You could eat a mushroom every single day and it would be the best thing you ate. The mushroom culture right now is so nice. Instead of sending people flowers, I’ll send them a mushroom box. They can just grow their own and I feel like that’s so much more fun.

A friend just gave me some magic mushroom chocolates from a dispensary in Oakland that I’ve been loving. I only take a little bit, but it’s the only time my entire body releases every bit of tension and I can truly relax. There are so many hard things we have to go through in this world, it’s such a gift to be able to take a break for a couple of hours. I’m so grateful to the earth for giving us these things; it’s my mission to reduce my own impact as much as I can to pay it back.

[[9]]

*This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. [Sue Williamson](https://www.instagram.com/suewilliamson/?hl=en) photographed by [Maggie Shannon](https://www.instagram.com/maggiehshannon/?hl=en) in Venice. If you like this Conversation, please feel free to share it with friends or enemies. Subscribe to our newsletter [here](https://www.gossamer.co/subscribe).*

The Herbs for Relaxation designer on clothing as armor, her favorite sativa-infused treats, and gifting mushrooms instead of flowers.

MS SueWilliamson353

> Fashion can give us a way to communicate with each other that side steps things that are hard to talk about.

![MS SueWilliamson145](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/77dWn15E78mwaeXmEzri5g/1936d16a70e235bb0ed838fa638c1655/MS_SueWilliamson145.jpg)

MS SueWilliamson149

![MS SueWilliamson171](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/1PV2ad4TAVl8JwU0IwrZXD/d0f241f554df3ba6a94bce571de2b370/MS_SueWilliamson171.jpg)

MS SueWilliamson181

MS SueWilliamson021

![MS SueWilliamson045](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/5Ik63tm5COCuRYhtv80hoo/d2d046c9a7b6fefb7e9712772205e44d/MS_SueWilliamson045.jpg)

MS SueWilliamson060

> There is so much joy that goes into Herbs for Relaxation and I hope people who wear it feel that.

![MS SueWilliamson106](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/2PpmjYLWchUBabINbZTqFc/bd45deb187d388044c08cec5294e342e/MS_SueWilliamson106.jpg)

MS SueWilliamson117

MS SueWilliamson201

> Whatever new infused food thing they have at the dispensary, that’s what I want to try.

![MS SueWilliamson128](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/5T3IHxSlP9S1ni3JJE5mxT/0623ed8110c668595e277af3a05179c9/MS_SueWilliamson128.jpg)

MS SueWilliamson242

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Sue Williamson

![Farns-Fine-Cannabis-LockUp copy (1)](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/1wxUPwnuaDWIC4UbdCkSO8/3f992bca3b5382a9979b741dbb09bf3b/Farns-Fine-Cannabis-LockUp_copy__1_.png)
![SArMLq7w](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/LVwXAh7cIpg3rMvId9ZLx/8ea9222caf2079f67d9124094232cd83/SArMLq7w.jpg)
Just a short drive from New York City, Massachusetts’ famed Berkshires are the perfect summer getaway destination. The natural beauty, cultural offerings, and fine food are hard to beat. And, of course, there’s the legal weed.

This three-day itinerary—because why wouldn’t you take the day off?—is a blueprint for a successful summer weekend. But don’t let us restrain you—mix, match, skip, and add to it as the mood strikes. And honestly, there’s nothing wrong with not doing any of the below and just hanging around for three days straight.

![IMG 7758 (1)](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/1hrhX2RjVFXdHE0tdEcOb2/93df0230d7e9876cc5c0889a81346df3/IMG_7758__1_.jpeg)

__Day 1__

First, you need a place to stay. While there’s a plethora of [unique](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/25973583?source_impression_id=p3_1655828366_JvnAOk9bxIsy3TN%2B&_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) [houses](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/47359121?source_impression_id=p3_1655828405_PwECwE4M%2Fr3dwbeT&_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) to choose from on [Airbnb](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/34111701?adults=1&children=0&infants=0&check_in=2023-06-04&check_out=2023-06-11&federated_search_id=d9fe7297-aefe-49ff-beac-19025310e29f&source_impression_id=p3_1656362666_x%2BAZVgfbZPkTXX1H&_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2), there’s also some great hotels in the area. The newly opened [Life House](https://www.lifehousehotels.com/hotels/lenox/berkshires?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) in Lenox is a great spot to get away from it all, whereas [The Barrington](https://thebarringtongb.com/) will put you right in the heart of Great Barrington.

Now that you’ve got your accommodations squared away, you’re going to need some weed. Head over to [Farnsworth Fine Cannabis](https://www.farnsworthfinecannabis.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) in Great Barrington to secure some weekend fun in one of the most beautifully designed dispensaries in the country. We highly recommend their house brand cigarettes, which are wrapped with organic hemp paper, feature luxurious 32 mm-long filters, and are available in three proprietary effects that will match any of your moods: __Light__ for a bright and heady lift, __Classic__ for buzzy bliss, and __Bold__ for full-bodied relief. While you’re there, mention Gossamer to any one of their knowledgeable staffers, and get The Farnsworth Flight (a single of each) for $30.

While in town, take a minute to pick up some food for the weekend. At [Rubiner’s](http://www.rubiners.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) cheesemongers you’ll find a vast array of yes, cheese, but also fresh baked bread, charcuterie, and other fancy goods you can get in the city but want to eat up here. Keep going to Railroad Street for a little shopping. Pick up some music at one of the best record stores in the country, [Rob’s Records](https://www.facebook.com/Robs-Records-and-Audio-106586104851365/?ref=page_internal&_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2), or some crystals to ward off bad vibes at the metaphysical supply shop [Crystal Essence](https://crystalessence.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2). You can also stop in at bookstore and gallery space [Familiar Trees](https://familiartrees.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2), which, despite the name, is actually relatively new. For lunch, grab some sourdough pizza from [Baba Louie’s](https://www.babalouiespizza.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) and then treat yourself to a little [Soco Creamery](https://www.sococreamery.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) ice cream because it’s probably hot and you’re beyond city limits where calories don’t count.

Once you’ve had your fill, head due north to Pittsfield, the biggest city in the area. If you’re a literature fan or just really into whaling, check out [Herman Melville's Arrowhead house](https://www.facebook.com/Herman-Melvilles-Arrowhead-123989551008957/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) where the author penned *Moby Dick*.

Nearby is [Wahconah Park](https://pittsfieldsuns.com/wahconah-park/wahconah-history/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2), home of the [Pittsfield Suns](https://pittsfieldsuns.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) baseball team, and the perfect excuse for trying your __Farnsworth Classic__. Being high and attending a summer league baseball game is like a top ten American experience in our book, but your call. Plus more ice cream, and this time served in a little miniature baseball helmet. The great thing about baseball is that you don’t need to stay for the whole game, so head out whenever the mood strikes.

![Whitagram-Image 2 (1)](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/2PWZykejowf4ZIJ75Vmrws/98ce962374431055ee87503710d65414/Whitagram-Image_2__1_.JPG)

__Day 2__

In case you need someone’s permission, let yourself sleep in—you’ve earned it.

Once you’re up, make your way to Lenox. Residents have ranged from Andrew Carnegie to Edith Wharton to more recently James Taylor. First, grab some coffee and maybe a little breakfast at [Haven](https://havencafebakery.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) on Franklin Street. The pace might be a little slower than you’re used to, but that’s fine, right? You have nowhere to be.

Speaking of Edith Wharton, one local highlight is [The Mount](https://www.edithwharton.org/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2), Wharton's home-turned-National Historic Landmark. Even if you’re not a fan of the author, the estate is a wonder and there are lots of rooms and areas that are great for a good ponder (high or sober).

From there, we recommend checking out [SculptureNow](https://sculpturenow.org/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2). There you’ll find the newly opened 2022 exhibition featuring 30 outdoor sculptures, including a botanical fainting couch and a rad blue land serpent (you’ll see). Light up the aptly named __Farnsworth Light__ and stay as long or as short as you like.

For dinner, there’s pizza and small bites at [Brava](https://www.facebook.com/BravaBarLenox/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) if you’re feeling more low-key, or the Mediterranean-focused [Alta](https://altawinebar.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) if you’re feeling high-key. Just don’t spend too long at either as your last visit of the day will be to Lenox’s famous [Tanglewood](https://www.bso.org/tanglewood?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) outdoor music venue. If weather permits, grab tickets on the lawn. Make sure to bring a picnic blanket, some mosquito repellent, and at least one of those Farnsworth cigarettes. This summer’s performances include the Black Crowes, John Williams, and Van Morrison.

![Whitagram-Image (1)](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/3MgW9tx2wsV3YC85ecKWIL/238d0b4d3e3ac09a146240c1790f050f/Whitagram-Image__1_.JPG)

__Day 3__

Good morning! It’s your last day here, so it’s time to be bold. Specifically with __Farnsworth’s Bold__ cigarettes.

It wouldn’t be a complete trip to the Berkshires without a stop at [Joe’s Diner](https://www.berkshireeagle.com/lifestyle/60-years-at-joes-diner-in-lee/article_49e70122-9d9e-5895-9a4c-90036754b1bc.html?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) in Lee. While it’s unlikely you’ve eaten there before, you’ve almost certainly seen this [famous Norman Rockwell painting](https://www.nrm.org/thinglink/text/Runaway.html?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2#:~:text=The%20Runaway%2C%20Norman%20Rockwell%2C%201958,Runaway%2C%20photographer%20unknown%2C%201958.) of a cop (probably verbally harassing a kid) in that very diner.

Once you’ve gotten your nostalgia for an America that never actually existed out of your system, make your way to Stockbridge. There, you can choose to see more Rockwell paintings at the aptly named [Norman Rockwell Museum](https://www.nrm.org/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2), or visit the historic [Naumkeag](https://thetrustees.org/place/naumkeag/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2). Originally home to famed lawyer Joseph Hodges Choate, the Gilded Age estate features beautiful gardens and a Stanford White-designed 44-room Shingle House. It’s one of those things that you can really get lost in, especially when stoned.

Speaking of weed, if you’re going to stock up for your trip home (note: we are not suggesting you do, but if you want to), take a trip back to [Farnsworth](https://www.farnsworthfinecannabis.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2) in Great Barrington. After you do, grab a bite at [Prairie Whale](https://www.prairiewhale.com/?_kx=EYAtfKG6qtrjBCgBryKZfAnz0xhsZBPWmZnQSP5WrCQ%3D.QTsgj2). The farm-to-table restaurant has become a must-visit in the area since opening in 2012, and makes a perfect finish to your long, but still too short, weekend in the Berkshires.

unnamed

*This guide is brought to you in partnership with [Farnsworth Cannabis](https://www.farnsworthfinecannabis.com/).*

The Gossamer x Farnsworth Guide To The Berkshires

I grew up in Two Harbors, Minnesota, which is 20 miles north of Duluth. It’s a tiny little town—like 3,000 people—on Lake Superior. I guess I come from small-town America. Small towns can be good sometimes. It’s good to have that sense of community. My parents are really amazing. They still live there today, and they’re super supportive. They’ve always let me do my thing, which I’m so thankful for. 

Looking back, it was also a bit of a difficult place to grow up in. Not much culture, everybody’s white. Let’s just say I’m glad to be in New York now.

[[1]]

My partner Tanner, who owns the company with me, is from the Midwest as well. We met at the University of Minnesota. We were freshman roommates, actually. It’s kind of a funny story. There was a Facebook page to find your roommate, and you’d make a little post, like, “This is when I get up in the morning”-type stuff. So I posted mine and he messaged me, and there was this instant connection. We messaged back and forth constantly. We went on a few of what we called “roommate dates” to make sure we were compatible to live together. Then it ended up becoming more. We started hanging out every weekend. We lived two hours apart, so we would always go somewhere new and stay in a hotel.

We technically started our relationship a month before we moved in together, which was scary. Our parents were super worried. And Tanner wasn’t even out at the time. He came out to his parents, moved away from home, moved in with his boyfriend, and started college all at the same time. My list was a little shorter, but still, it was a lot. We always say it could have been a really good thing or a really bad thing.

We lived in a dorm room together for a year, and then we ended up getting an apartment off campus. I got a job at a local boutique. Tanner also needed a job, so I recommended him and we ended up working there at the same time. That’s where we both learned of a lot of the new designers and about the fashion industry from the ground up.

[[2]]

If I think about it now, I’m like, *Oh, I had access to practically nothing*. When I was in middle school, even high school, I didn’t really even know of any of the big designers. I probably didn’t know of Gucci until the middle of high school. The brands that were available to me were Hollister, American Eagle—your typical mall stores. I somehow figured out how to shop there, but still style myself in a way that was different from everybody else.

I dressed a little funky, at least for the area. I was inspired by vintage movies because they were accessible to me. I’d watch old Hollywood films, like *Gentlemen Prefer Blondes* and *Auntie Mame*. I remember one time I bought a bunch of chino pants in every color from I don’t know where, probably American Eagle. I hemmed them all and made these little Bermuda shorts out of them. I remember my mom was like, “What are you doing? I spent money on these. You’re going to ruin these pants.” I ended up wearing them all summer. That’s the way I did it. Scrappy and crafty.

My creativity in terms of design really started to form later in high school and into college. While we were working at the boutique in Minneapolis, we moved to New York to intern for a summer. We both knew this was the place for us. After our internships ended, we moved back to Minnesota long enough to pack our things and get out of our lease. Then we moved to New York officially.

> In a way, we created Tanner Fletcher around ourselves—our own aesthetic, the things that we were never able to find or buy.

When the pandemic hit, I was interning at Saint Laurent and Tanner was working for a staging company. On that dreaded March 14th, or whenever it was, we both fled the city and went home. We were freaked out. We didn’t know what was going to happen, if we were going to have jobs. I had been interviewing at a few places, and then that all went down the drain because of COVID. It was scary.

In the meantime, we started making these tote bags. Tanner knows how to make bags by hand. And we were able to actually sell some to six stockists in the U.S. It started as just a side thing. We never thought anything would come of it. Then we were like, “Wow, people are actually buying these. We should try to do something more.” That’s when we shifted to what [Tanner Fletcher](https://tannerfletcherstudios.com/) is today. Our first official collection was Spring/Summer 22, and we got picked up by [SSENSE](https://www.ssense.com/en-us/women/designers/tanner-fletcher) right away.

In a way, we created Tanner Fletcher around ourselves—our own aesthetic, the things that we were never able to find or buy. We knew we wanted the brand to be genderless right away. We started with that bad feeling that came from growing up in a small town, being judged for wearing more feminine clothes or shopping in the women’s department. We didn’t like that feeling. We made it genderless so that we could avoid that at all costs. We really want to be a leader and influence other brands to also take away the gender labels.

[[3]]

My mom and my grandma are the two leaders in my life. They’re very creative, but they would never admit it. But I definitely get my creativity from them. For our Tanner Fletcher collections, I often draw a lot of inspiration from my grandma’s house. Everybody in my family says it needs to be remodeled, and that it’s the ugliest and most outdated thing. She probably hasn’t touched it in 30 years. It’s so mid-century modern, and I bring that into our collections a lot as well. One of our [tapestry materials](https://tannerfletcherstudios.com/shop/p/sandy-tapestry-blazer) is the same pattern as her wallpaper.

Tanner comes from an interior design background and I’m a big fan of interiors. That’s part of why we get along so well. We knew that this would come into the collection aesthetically. We use a lot of interior fabrics, or like that tapestry with my grandma’s wallpaper print on it. We knew we wanted the brand to feel nostalgic, or to have that homey feeling, and for people to feel really comfortable in a Tanner Fletcher outfit.

[[4]]

Tanner Fletcher is kind of our hobbies developed into work. It’s really everything we love the most. We love to antique shop and find treasures and get inspired by them. So it’s fun that we get to do that in our work. We actually funded the start of the business by thrifting, by buying and reselling clothes. We still thrift all the time. My whole closet—I don’t think I have anything new in my closet besides Tanner Fletcher. Same with Tanner.

We have endless ideas. We’re always brainstorming—*where’s it going to go? What is it going to do?* We want to have products available for a customer in every aspect of their lifestyle, including home. Our [Bric-A-Brac collection](https://tannerfletcherstudios.com/shop/bric-a-brac) is made up of the actual pieces that we were inspired by for our ready to wear. Eventually, we’d like to have our own home products. Soon we’ll be expanding into handbags—hopefully within the next year. One day we’ll do shoes. We’re just slowly building it from there.

> When I tell people from my hometown that we can just get our weed delivered, they’re like, ‘I have to track down some teenager to buy it.’

I used to intern at Barneys and they had this section that they started right before they closed called the High End. It was all weed-related products. They had really beautiful pipes and everything you could want. That’s been in the back of my mind as something to add to Tanner Fletcher one day. We might add ashtrays next season. Not new ones, but found vintage ones. Slowly, especially when we have the customer for it, we would definitely be open to doing something similar to what Barneys did, a luxury collection of weed accessories.

The first time I probably tried weed was with our neighbor. Tanner and I had never really experimented with it much before, but he told us about a delivery service that delivers to our apartment. We were like, “How do you do this? What do you recommend?” We had no idea what we were doing, but let’s just say we’re now active customers.

When I tell people from my hometown that we can just get our weed delivered, they’re like, “I have to track down some teenager to buy it.” I was taught that it was terrible, that it was something to stay away from. I remember in middle school some kid was smoking weed and I was almost scared. That’s a little dramatic, but it was probably my first impression. Obviously now my opinion is different.

[[5]]

I think I have it figured out now. In the beginning, I started slow—you don’t want to overdo it. I worked my way into knowing what was right for me. I like a classic joint, or an edible every once in a while. Sometimes both. But our delivery service is like, “You can get a smoothie mix, you can have coffee.” They have everything. We tried their shrooms one time, but it was not our favorite.

Weed gives me a lot of creativity, or it puts me into a mindset where I can let go of the stressors, you know? Because the whole business side gets a little stressful, especially for creatives. It’s helpful to be able to let that wall down and not be so worried about the business stuff when we want to be creative. It allows us to let ideas flow. We will come up with the craziest ideas and edit them down, and one will end up in the collection. I like sativa best for creativity, but if I’m just going to relax, then indica is better for me. It depends on the day.

I bought this book just last weekend while we were thrifting upstate. It’s *The Official Handbook for Marijuana Users* from 1969. It says in the beginning, “Warning, this is not a good book to hollow out and hide pot in.” There’s a diagram in here of how to make a bong, and it says “Pick a groovy bottle.” I love that kind of hippie language. Those are the types of objects we’re inspired by.

[[6]]

I very much like to go to different time periods for inspiration. I’m always looking to the ’60s and ’70s and I really try to put myself in that era. I think there’s a relationship between that time period and what’s happening right now with movements like BLM and Pride. It feels like we’re, I don’t know, on the cusp of all these revolutions happening in our world today. I think that’s why I often go back.

Right now we’re most excited for our resort collection to launch. We feel like it’s our best collection yet. Other than that, we’re just proud to have the brand in general. Neither of us came from wealthy backgrounds or had connections in the city. We’re so passionate and the brand really stems from that passion. We truly built it from the ground up, and we’re proud to have done that without a bunch of resources.

There’s nobody else I’d rather do this with. It’s a little crazy. A little bit of a roller coaster. We usually get along well, and we’ve developed a way to deal with our creative differences so that there’s no bickering. I wouldn’t want to do anything else. We’re kind of like conjoined twins at times. Stuck to each other at the hip, but it works for us.

[[8]]

*This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. [Fletcher Kasell](https://www.instagram.com/tanner.fletcher/) photographed by [Ryan Duffin](https://www.instagram.com/ryanduffin/) in Brooklyn. If you like this Conversation, please feel free to share it with friends or enemies. Subscribe to our newsletter [here](https://www.gossamer.co/subscribe).*

The Tanner Fletcher designer on falling in love with your college roommate, genderless fashion, and finding inspiration in your grandmother’s wallpaper.

RYD1234

> We technically started our relationship a month before we moved in together.

![RYD1532](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/2DlvZ4GtIgzfg3yH6Zl4pB/39f919697e04cd57479b7b33932f0dbd/_RYD1532.jpg)

RYD1511

![RYD1361](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/43Gv7S4EycaawEAOE0B8pb/16aa4b07069be0b689020fc3c14cf115/_RYD1361.jpg)

RYD1490

RYD1544

> We actually funded the start of the business by thrifting, by buying and reselling clothes.

![RYD1485](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/1HW1MgFuopdHG9k24Q887Z/edf551e869351cea5c40ac84fb75b1c4/_RYD1485.jpg)

RYD1396

RYD1478

![RYD1445](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/12ErVbtgnrulfYVRXH0NN0/321787311dae8ef90665768fe615c56c/_RYD1445.jpg)

RYD1305

RYD1413

Fletcher Kassell

When people are like, “Oh, you’re not a chef, you’ve never worked in a restaurant,” I’m like, “Dude, I cooked for Martha Stewart for over 10 years. That’s the most difficult customer you’re ever going to get.” I feel like if I can impress her, I’m pretty confident.

I always loved cooking. It was something I enjoyed doing for fun even as a middle schooler. My dad would let me have dinner parties when my mom was at work, and just make a huge mess. I’ve also always been obsessed with Martha Stewart. I think at a very early age, I identified her as someone who had a lot of the qualities I wanted. I love the idea of entertaining and making things look beautiful. But then I put that to the back of my mind because it didn’t really seem like a career. Instead, I wanted to be an orthopedic surgeon.

So I did that whole thing. I was working at the Hospital for Special Surgery in New York and studying for my MCATS. I loved interacting with patients and a lot of the academic parts of it. And I liked working with my hands, but I didn’t like having to go to the same place every day and being in a room with no windows for many, many hours. 

[[1]]

My mom was an emergency room nurse for 35 years and she said, “If you don’t love it, you shouldn’t do it. You really have to be over 100% sure you want to do this or you’re going to be very bitter and miserable the rest of your life.” I was like, “All right, great. I’m going to go to culinary school.”

When my parents told me I had to love what I was doing, I don’t think they were expecting me to turn down scholarships for medical training to go to culinary school, but I’m so glad I did. They thought it meant I’d be working in restaurants for the rest of my life. But I said, “No, I want to work for food magazines.”

I was totally clueless about how to get into it because it wasn’t really a career that anyone I knew had. I googled “Martha Stewart internships” and there was one available. So I started interning with Martha during the day, and enrolled at The French Culinary Institute at night.

[[2]]

School was nine months long. It was a really crazy nine months, but I think it prepared me pretty well for life. I could survive anything after that. It’s what production schedules are like, so I was well equipped for TV.

The school put a lot of pressure on everybody to work in restaurants. That is their goal—to make chefs. So when they heard that I wanted to be a food stylist, they were like, “This is a bad move. You have to get your restaurant experience.” And Martha had said, “We can’t hire you right now. There are no positions open but we’ll take you on freelance or you can continue to be an intern.” At the same time I was offered a sous-chef position at The Breslin. 

There was this old school French guy who was a total bully but he gave me the best advice of anyone in culinary school. I asked, “What do I do?” And he said, “There are thousands of restaurants, yes?” I said, “Yes.” He said, “And there is one Martha Stewart, yes?” And I was like, “Yes.” He goes, “There is your answer.” There have been many times where I questioned it, for sure, but I’m pretty happy right now.

> The senior food editors would say, ‘We have enough to do. You go to the farmer’s market, buy whatever you want, and if [Martha] doesn’t like it, you deal with it.’

Whenever Martha was in the office, she would want to have lunch made for her instead of going out somewhere because it was pretty slim pickings. But cooking for her was basically the thing that no one wanted to do.

She’d be like, “Oh, we’ll have the kitchen make something” and all the senior food editors would say, “We have enough to do. You go to the farmer’s market, buy whatever you want, and if she doesn’t like it, you deal with it.” Of course, there’s also a huge mythology about all of her preferences and dietary restrictions. I felt like it was a good time for me to come in as this super confident and excited young person. It was an amazing opportunity to go to the farmer’s market and buy whatever I wanted and go to the lobster place and buy the most beautiful fish and just come up with different combinations all the time. But it was totally scary. Sometimes she would come down and eat it right in front of me, which was very intense. 

I would sometimes call her assistant just to check in on what was going on that day. Occasionally you’d hear Martha in the background be like, “I’m in the mood for something light, fresh, and truly delicious.” *Great.* Or like, “This lettuce is too tender. From now on I only want crisp lettuce.” *Okay.* Or like, “I no longer eat tuna from a jar.” But that was it. She was never very specific with what she wanted. I think she liked trying new things.

[[3]]

I lived off her scraps for years. I ate so well. I was getting a lot of nutrients and a well-balanced diet. And I ended up with this repertoire of hundreds and hundreds of salads I’ve made over the years that I turned into [my book](https://www.jessdamuck.com/cookbooks).

My biggest source of inspiration is definitely the farmer’s market. Especially after moving out to L.A.—my mind is blown every time I go. I’m a visual person, so I get excited just seeing all the insane colors and shapes. Also interacting with the people who grow the food and being like, “Hey, what do you like to do with this?” Or, “Why is this thing special?” I’ve always thought having that extra level of connection with food is really important. I pretty recently just started growing my own food. But my mom and grandpa always had gardens, and it makes it feel more special.

> I grew up in a very strange place—Shelter Island.

I grew up in a very strange place—Shelter Island. This is what I might argue is the most interesting thing about me. It’s an incredibly beautiful and special place, and obviously sheltered. 

I didn’t grow up eating a lot of crazy stuff. I was cut off from all pop culture. I’m an only child and my parents stick to themselves, so I really had no outside influences until I started going to school. I still miss all of the TV references from the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, and I’m still catching up on all my movies. 

[[4]]

The North Fork was not cool when I was growing up. It was just farms and towns like Greenport—which is now an amazing place to go for the summer—were pretty run down and very different. I always say it’s an amazing place to visit. It feels like an escape from reality. But when that *is* your reality, it can make you feel trapped. You’re just not exposed to much.

I was, though, exposed to extreme wealth on the South Fork and the Hamptons. I had no idea it wasn’t normal. I knew I did not have it, but I didn’t realize how different and extreme it was from the rest of the world. 

It’s funny, because my parents just came out to L.A. for the first time in 35 years and I took them to my friend [Benny Blanco’s house](https://www.nytimes.com/2022/04/15/style/benny-blanco-parties.html) in West Hollywood. I thought, *They’re going to think this is so crazy.* And they had no reaction. I was like, “Isn’t this crazy? This is Hollywood. Isn’t this what you saw on TV?” And they were like, “It’s a big mansion. Yeah. This is like Shelter Island. The hedges are a little taller.” So it was a really weird place. I think I was very aware pretty early on about that. 

[[5]]

When I was a little kid, my dad had a lawn maintenance business and I would go along with him to his jobs. I basically spent a huge chunk of my early life hanging out with old rich ladies while my dad was cleaning up their lawn. I remember there was one lady who had a castle in Switzerland or something, and she would always bring me back crazy chocolates. They played little games with me and put on music and read things. It was very cool. Instead of hanging out with other kids and watching *Saved by the Bell*, I was eating Swiss chocolates.

For high school, I went to a very creative private school called The Ross School that had a really strange mix of people who for whatever reason were living full time on the East End. It was awesome. It had mandatory breakfast and wellness. So you had to eat breakfast and then stretch before you went into classes. Maybe that’s why I’m not much of a morning person, because I do still need to have my little breakfast routine before I can be a functioning human being.

I spent almost every single morning of high school hotboxing my truck and going surfing before class. It was probably the healthiest and most wonderful routine I’ve ever had in my life. I was getting super stoned, surfing completely blissed out on the water, eating a really good breakfast, and then writing for the rest of the day. I should have just stuck to that.

![Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL2334](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/7J52hbLk1BRl5TrVthT4zw/ff348685b01bc2c83d23a6be49b21b89/Jennelle_Fong_x_Gossamer_Jess_Damuck_Web_Res_MGL2334.jpg)

One of the big questions my editor asked me when I was writing my book—which has many drug references in it—was, “How important are the drugs to your story? Is this part of your identity?” And I said, “Yes!” I’ve always identified as a stoner. That is my personality. It is certainly a part of me and has painted a lot of my experiences and places I’ve ended up.

I think my peak stoner phase was probably five years ago, when I was working with Snoop Dogg and met my partner, Ben. It’s funny because Martha doesn’t smoke weed. I would really love to see that. She’s certainly gotten second-hand high off of Snoop Dogg, which happens to everyone in a room with him. I’ve seen that a little bit. But when I worked on all four seasons of their show, no one else from the Martha team felt like they could go in Snoop’s trailer. It was too much. And I was like, “See you guys later. I’m going in there.” That was the best. Everybody was like, “Please keep it together.” I had been interacting with Snoop for weeks and weeks at this point. But this was the moment I was waiting for.

> I think my peak stoner phase was probably five years ago, when I was working with Snoop Dogg.

The first thing he asked me was, “Do you ever make edibles?” And I said yes. He’s like, “So you mean this whole time you could have been making edible Oreos? Oh man.” But then I found out he doesn’t actually eat edibles himself. He’s afraid of them, which makes me feel like I should be afraid of them too, because they can be so much harder to control. That said, things are getting easier now—my friends at [Rose](https://www.roselosangeles.com/) make wonderful gummies that will not get you messed up.

So we’re in his trailer and there’s this whole crew, and Snoop would light a joint, pass it, and keep passing it down until everyone in there had their own joint. I remember leaving the trailer and going to the wrap party and everybody asking, “Are you okay?” And I was like, “I’ve never been better. I feel incredible.”

We have the same favorite strain: OG Kush. But his weed is so crazy. He’d always give me some to take back when I was done shooting. I remember one time I had a birthday party in New York. There were probably 35 people at the party, and I brought out one Snoop Dogg joint and within 15 minutes everyone slowly got closer to the ground. Then everybody but three people cleared out. They were done. I had one friend take a hit of one of these joints and then eat corn salsa. He was like, “I’m 40 years old and I feel like I’m tasting corn for the first time in my life.”

[[6]]

Weed can be such an amazing thing. It can have such an impact on food and the experience of eating which is really something I’ve always enjoyed. To me, weed is part of creating the whole vibe and experience of a dinner. People come in, I’m probably still cooking, and Ben is out back smoking and filling up people’s wine glasses. It gets you relaxed and a little hungrier. Your eyeballs get a little bigger for everything that’s happening, the music’s on, and you’re suddenly like, “Oh, what’s this song?” It’s awesome.

It’s all about creating that whole experience and not about being as stoned as possible, which I think is sometimes the case when cooking with weed. Like I said with edibles, everybody has a different tolerance. So it scares me to be the person orchestrating this thing that could end up being a really bad experience for somebody. It’s much easier to pass them the joint and let them refuse it if they don’t want anymore.

It’s also hard with food because sometimes it doesn’t hit you for an hour and a half. So if you’re smoking and then chilling out a little bit and eating, that’s perfect because you’re going to be feeling it when you experience the food. When you’re eating it, you might go through the whole meal and then suddenly be like, “Oh my god. I’m now incredibly stoned after I’ve eaten all this okay food.” I’ve definitely experimented with it before, it’s just that all of my experiments have gone wrong. Making edibles that were just way too strong. It’s a science really.

> I literally just have to stick my hand out the window to pick a lemon. It’s my paradise.

I’m very happy in L.A. I moved here during COVID. I came out for a shoot and ended up staying. It was a really easy transition for me. I just started focusing on my garden and cooking a lot, and I was working on the book and being able to be in my own pod. It was a really nice place to do it. It’s almost too obnoxious to mention, but I literally just have to stick my hand out the window to pick a lemon. It’s my paradise. I don’t know what took me so long. 

There are so many things I miss about New York and we still have a place there that we’ve been renting out. But now I realize that the energy and pulse of the city that I thought I needed to survive was just underlying anxiety. I had trouble separating that anxiety from feeling alive. Right now, I’m seeing what life is like without constantly hearing a horn blasting through your window and almost getting hit by a messenger bike or a car.

![Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL1763](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/7vU6wMeW6kXgesgAVjyvIi/372698f4744c85d7cbb8a519c8fd2870/Jennelle_Fong_x_Gossamer_Jess_Damuck_Web_Res_MGL1763.jpg)

The world knows I’m a stoner, but last year was our year of LSD exploration—which L.A. is great for. I’m excited to see what else happens this year. Ben and I have both been experimenting with some lower THC weed because the weed out here is so strong. It’s crazy. Ben had been smoking these things called [Kingrolls](https://weedmaps.com/brands/710-kingpen/products/flower/pre-roll) that are like 62% THC and I think it just stayed in his blood. We’re almost in the latter half of our thirties and we’re trying to figure out a different approach.

Last year, I had two experiences on LSD where I was so scared I cried. One time was a terrible hiking experience. I feel like I shouldn’t even tell that story because everybody will be like, “That was dumb.” Because it was. The other one is when I saw a tarantula in Puerto Rico, which I think shattered every fabric of my being. While that was happening, while I was piecing back together my reality, Ben was swimming in the pool staring at the pool light. He was like, “You got to come in. It looks like a portal.” And I’m like, “I can’t handle you and your portal right now. I’m barely holding it all together.” 

The best thing about the book is how so many people are actually cooking from it and sharing recipes. It was funny, Ben and I were walking my dog, Snacks, in our neighborhood the other day and a woman walked past us, looked, and then stopped. She goes “Oh my god, are you Jess Damuck, like Salad Freak? I love the book. It’s my bible.” And Ben was like, “Well, this is the moment. Everything is going to be different from now on.”

[[7]]

*This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.  [Jess Damuck](https://www.instagram.com/jessdamuck/) photographed by [Jennelle Fong](https://www.instagram.com/jennellefong/) in Los Angeles. If you like this Conversation, please feel free to share it with friends or enemies. Subscribe to our newsletter [here](https://www.gossamer.co/subscribe).*

The Salad Freak author on cooking for Martha Stewart, smoking with Snoop Dogg, and growing up on Shelter Island.

Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL2369

> I don't think they were expecting me to turn down scholarships for medical training to go to culinary school.

![Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL0260](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/6AcroxUMuRNExisVbhsypE/e1a8704746ea5b55ebba6aa923925856/Jennelle_Fong_x_Gossamer_Jess_Damuck_Web_Res_MGL0260.jpg)

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> I basically spent a huge chunk of my early life hanging out with old rich ladies while my dad was cleaning up their lawn.

![Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL2471](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/6xmF397qju5xQBjAUqs5Ae/f3bf5a2165f5690f78461caf754d8088/Jennelle_Fong_x_Gossamer_Jess_Damuck_Web_Res_MGL2471.jpg)

Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL2185

> To me, weed is part of creating the whole vibe and experience of a dinner.

![Jennelle Fong x Gossamer Jess Damuck Web Res MGL0682](//images.ctfassets.net/qal3w7tbm3rt/3iVrdMfRIMj6agxHoXZk6p/4d42dedb8617fdf3b94d781a2a0d65e0/Jennelle_Fong_x_Gossamer_Jess_Damuck_Web_Res_MGL0682.jpg)

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The *Salad Freak* author on cooking for Martha Stewart, smoking with Snoop Dogg, and growing up on Shelter Island.


Jess Damuck

Gossamer looks at the world—travel, design, art, culture, and food—through a green lens.

*This article is featured in [Gossamer Volume Seven: Touch](https://shop.gossamer.co/products/volume-seven-touch). Subscribe [here](https://shop.gossamer.co/products/annual-magazine-subscription).*

It’s a little known fact that a male octopus’s eighth leg is actually its penis. The very name—derived from the Greek word *októpus*, meaning “eight foot”—has led us down the garden path. I’ve lived my whole life believing an octagon has eight sides, my 83-year-old nanna is an octogenarian, and *an octopus has eight goddamn legs*—it’s basic linguistics.

But now, at the auspicious age of 33, I have to accept that I’ve been suckered. There’s nothing “octo” about the male octopus. They have seven tentacles and a specialized limb for transferring sperm. In other words, the eighth leg is a penis.

To put that in context, the name “octopus” is the species equivalent of referring to a human male as a triped. I simply refuse.

This deceptive appendage, called a hectocotylus, was first recorded by Aristotle around the year 347 BC in one of the earliest surviving scientific studies. The ancient Greek philosopher left Plato’s Academy following his mentor’s death, swapping the city of Athens for the island of Lesbos where he spent two years observing the marine life of a lagoon at the island’s center.

It was here that Aristotle, father of Western logic and apparent octopus voyeur, first surmised the use of the octopus’s eighth leg in the mysterious act of cephalopod sex. He was, of course, widely disbelieved. It wasn’t until 1827, some 2000-odd years later, that Aristotle was proven correct.

It’s not hard to see why it took so long for biologists to catch up. The hectocotylus looks and acts like a leg on a regular day. It can bend, it can stretch, it can exert suction. But at the sight of a slinky lady octopus, the hectocotylus can, in some species, stretch to twice its
regular size. If we’re talking ratio to body length, it’s a crime against octopus everywhere that we hold the donkey as the gold standard of gonopodia.

But alas, we must collect our minds from the gutter. As one of the most antisocial creatures on earth, size for the octopus is about survival. While sex for humans certainly has its own set of challenges, sex for the octopus comes with a very real threat of cannibalization.

The fear of being consumed—literally, not metaphorically—by the object of its affection is so great that some species of cephalopod have evolved a mating ritual so stealthy that they can avoid touching their partner at all.

The male argonaut octopus, for example, is so averse to physical intimacy that he instead tears off his penis-leg, sperm clenched tightly in his tentacled fist, and gives it to the object of his affection like some kind of macabre Valentine’s gift. In other words, an argonaut octopus would rather wrench off its own penis than touch another living creature. Is that not the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?

The more I think about it, the more I wonder—are these octopuses desperately lonely? Studies have long proven they have extraordinary minds, but it appears that evolution has dealt them a cruel hand: intelligence and vulnerability in equal measure.

Have their exposed, fleshy bodies made them so terrified of the world around them that they can’t, even for a fleeting second, indulge in the tender touch of their own kind? Do their suckered limbs and bulbous bodies long to be wrapped in the tentacles of another?

Unfortunately, we may never know the answer. More than two millennia after Aristotle’s observations in the lagoons of Lesbos, we still have so much to learn about this wildly intelligent, yet fiercely private creature.

For now, I choose an alternative narrative. One where octopuses are the ultimate romantics, sacrificing life, limb, and loneliness in the quest for love and lineage. In my 33 years of dating, I’ve yet to receive a Valentine’s gift as memorable.

[[1]]

V7 High Minded: Tentacles 2

High Minded: Tentacles

*This article originally appeared in [Volume Four: the Inside issue](https://shop.gossamer.co/products/volume-four-inside). Subscribe [here](https://shop.gossamer.co/products/annual-magazine-subscription).*

Symmetrical stacks of shimmering, rectangular boxes. Holographic labels promising total, complete, maximum, sparkling, advanced, and optic whitening and cavity protection. This is the toothpaste aisle at the supermarket, a candy store of personal hygiene.

Scanning the rows upon rows of boxes puts me into a trance. It’s as satisfying as biting into a frosty ice cream bar. Maybe I’m just a sucker for good marketing. I think my favorite is Crest Complete Whitening Plus Scope, a double helix of mint mouthwash splitting the blue and green box down the middle.

When I was a kid, my mom bought Aquafresh, red and blue stripes of gel sandwiching one of white paste emblazoned across the front like a patriotic banner. That’s the box that probably began my obsession: the supernova graphic behind the friendly Aquafresh label promised to make the monotony of tooth brushing “EXTREME,” while clouds of soft, foaming bubbles scrubbing away at my teeth would burst into “ACTION.” Toothpaste is among life’s most banal necessities, and yet the packaging is pure magic: stare at the boxes for long enough and the goopy paste inside the soft, fat tube becomes a faded memory. Now it’s glamorous, now it’s bursting with freshness.

The packaging didn’t always look this way. In the early 1900s, it was called “dental powder” and came in squat metal tins decorated with ornate labels that pledged to “cleanse” your teeth, to make them “beautiful.” But even then, the labels conveyed a sense of urgency, reminding us to be hypervigilant over the health of the bones protruding from our faces, like tiny tombstones. In the 1950s, “dental powder” turned to “dental cream,” accompanied by “Colgate” printed in *TRON*-like letters on a solid red background. But the product itself remained in flat, one-dimensional boxes well into the eighties: Crest packages were dull, metallic grey, and the futuristic Colgate font of the fifties had been replaced by a more rounded, friendly mark—hardly the slanted, aggressive lettering we see now.

Today, the graphics glitter, and though the same primary colors are deployed across almost every brand (red, blue, white, and sometimes green), they are now more vivid, more blindingly cheerful, like a grin pulled too tight across an anxious mouth. Toothpaste advertising is both scary and reassuring, leaping off the shelf to scream—CLEANS! GUARDS!—at you while declaring that under its care you will be disease-free, you will achieve purity. Every brand—the Sensodynes, Aims, and Arm & Hammers, too—evoke feelings of cleanliness, vowing to repair (rejuvenate, strengthen, restore) what we didn’t even realize had been damaged. Almost every box across every brand features the word “fresh” or a graphic that resembles an exploding firework.

Sometimes there’s an extra flourish to make the toothpaste look professional. Take the Colgate Total box, another favorite: a white pinstripe background breaks up the red block reserved for the logo, and to the right, a shimmery multicolored oval surrounds “Total,” a little gold clock floating behind it. This one protects not just your teeth, but your cheeks and gums too, a police officer for your whole mouth.

Assurances of a clean mouth are one thing, but there’s more at work here: toothpaste packaging creates a deeply satisfying pattern of order. It’s symmetry. It’s organization. There is a simple geometry to the boxes—sharp rectangles, fluid ovals, and neat text bordered by a string of bubbles or a gold stripe. Maybe I have no control over the trajectory of my life. It’s possible that only fate or angels can decide what path I take. But toothpaste offers the illusion of agency. Here is my stubborn message to the universe: I will bring structure and order into my home with this juicy tube of toothpaste. I will scrub my teeth until they sparkle.

This is the strange spell cast by the toothpaste box. Toothpaste packaging isn’t selling toothpaste. It’s selling one of the most appealing and delusional ideas in the world: that what we buy can bring our troubled human brains any kind of peace. That perhaps we are all just one toothpaste tube away from joy.

[[1]]

gossamer philotheus nisch inside toothpaste 2019 copy

High Minded: White Lies

*This article is featured in Gossamer Volume Seven—the Touch issue— subscribe [here](https://shop.gossamer.co/products/annual-magazine-subscription).*

“Wink” belongs to that particular category of words destined to lose their meaning once repeated. Say it twice and it’s no longer a verb but an absurd salad of hard consonants—the sort of syntax drummed up for the sake of a children’s book. It reads like a sound: onomatopoeia for the gesture itself. The actual practice is no less bizarre. Consider your use cases: it’s a mode of ocular flirting; a non-verbal alternative to “I’m kidding” or “I’m lying;” a disconcertingly tender, silent greeting. It can be romantic, sinister, snide, or playful—and a worthy accompaniment to “U up?”

The beloved half-blink is also an undeniable cousin to the twitch. When executed poorly, it appears less like a mode of silent communication and more like a brain malfunction. But miraculously enough, the wink maintains its cultural allure.

Speaking frankly, I am a subpar winker. Shutting one eye seems to require nearly all of my facial muscles—a spasm that appears more cartoonish than sly. Moreover, it would seem that I am left-eyed, in as much as my right winks translate more accurately as sour flinches of pain.

The type of winker I am most pointedly taken with, though, is the wily, subtle kind. The sort of person who folds a wink softly into grooves of dialogue, who makes you wonder if it actually happened in the first place. There’s a certain romance to subtext of all forms: bits of informational embroidery, scrap phrasing. And in New York, where exhibitionism reigns supreme and confrontation masquerades as commonplace rapport, that sort of small, conversational footnote—the wink—often feels all the more precious.

While there’s no definitive biological consensus on the fundamental appeal of the wink, there are some relevant findings. In the 1960s, a biopsychologist named Eckhard Hess discovered that our pupils dilate when we zero in on something to which we feel sexually attracted. Several years later, nonverbal studies researcher Dr. David Givens determined that rapid blinking (or Hugh Grant’s signature eye flutter) operates as a sign of arousal. More recently, in 2015, Match.com polled over 5,600 single people across the United States about their texting habits and a whopping 53 percent said they used the “winky face” reliably when flirting. This is, of course, not the same as the *actual* practice of winking, but illustrated or otherwise, the gesture has its salacious undertones.

The wink isn’t merely amorous in nature. It can be conspiratorial, too. According to body language expert Patti Woods, a wink often indicates shared knowledge. “It says, ‘You and I have a secret we both understand; others do not,’” she explains. And by that token, the gesture is an admission of a mutual, private history.

It’s that thing that happens at parties, in rooms humming with other people, all of them bobbing and weaving and telling secrets. That thing where you meet someone’s gaze—maybe your person, maybe not—from across a chasm of other upright bodies. There’s no particular sentiment being communicated here, no transmission of information. It’s just a quiet acknowledgment that someone else is keeping tabs. You’re seen, therefore you are.

On the subject of across-the-room eye contact, the titular character in Noah Baumbach’s *Frances Ha* puts it best: “It’s this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don’t have the ability to perceive them.” That’s what’s in a wink.

Broadly speaking, as a writer by trade, nonverbal cues aren’t exactly my forte. But this past year, I meandered my way into a form of writer’s block so persistent it felt structurally sound—like I could live inside of it, shades down. I had everything and nothing to say, and for the first time, words seemed dull and flimsy held up against the harder-earned edge of real life. And therein lies the magic of the wink: language can be a game of diminishing returns. We need not have words for everything.

The wink has a special economy. It’s the giddy affirmation of communion, but without the untidy business of language mixed in. It’s romance devoid of clichés; friendship sans qualifiers; a joke that’s all punchline. Or perhaps it’s just a muscular tick.

*Reading this feature would be even better with the actual magazine. Order your copy [here](https://shop.gossamer.co/products/volume-seven-touch).*

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Stoned thoughts on winking, and saying everything in the blink of an eye.

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