15 Things I Cannot Live Without
Disclaimer: This page was made with the lone intent of amusing friends. If you found it via search, I stand by nothing. Unless you are amused. In which case, do reach out.
Pigma Micron pens by SakuraPens are deeply personal, and I would never deign to tell anybody what kind of writing instrument they should or should not use. Instead, I just smirk to myself, like the piece of shit I am, whenever I see some chump scrawling their derivative thoughts with anything but a Pigma Micron. Sweet Jesus, I love these. Come to think of it: if Jesus were real and a fan of correspondence, he’d use a Pigma Micron. They come in every tip width, in every color and have an endurance that borders on supernatural. Most important of all, they just feel right. It’s as if some ink scientist combined the best attributes of a pen, a marker and a pencil to create the excalibur of styli. I keep 3-to-11 of them on my person at all times.
The Best Pocket Tee by Brut ArchivesDo you wish to simultaneously hide your arms and torso while allowing yourself the flirty capacity to show a little stomach on days when you’re really feeling yourself? Then let me tell you about… Boxy. Cropped. Tees. I have spent a modest nation’s GDP trying to find the perfect tee and long sleeved tee, and I have found both at Brut Archives. They’re thick, not heavy. They’re oversized but don’t make me look oblivious to my age. They’re available in an abundance of colors. They’re unisex. And they have a pocket, which feels like an extra bit of armor for my left nipple. If you held a gun to my head right now and told me I had to adopt a permanent daily uniform, à la Fran Lebowitz, this shirt would be part of it.
Metal Pegboards by Wall ControlI have had large kitchens. I have had small kitchens. I currently have a very small kitchen. In any kitchen, I would find a place for pegboards. None of my many previous approaches to kitchen organization, for both the tools I use most frequently and the cumbersome objects that aren’t as easily stored in cabinets, have come close to my current set-up. You can (literally this time) see everything. And whenever I think things might look a bit too cluttered or over the top, I just remember that this system was good enough for Julia Child.
Splurge alert. Two scents in this world are almost guaranteed to calm me down: the tops of sweet little baby heads and alpine forests. Since nobody wants a home that smells like synthetic infant, I spent years hunting for the perfect evergreen candle: piney but not antiseptic, holiday-adjacent but without the cloy accompaniments of most seasonal fragrances and, pivotally, something subtle. My nose is so sensitive, I could have been a sommelier. After many years settling for Illume’s Balsam & Cedar, I was gifted the Loewe Cypress Balls candle. (Thanks, Ida!) It is the platonic ideal. I love it so much that I bought the room spray. Now, at the gentle command of an index finger, I am instantly transported to a campsite or Christmas.
Cypress Balls Home Fragrance by LOEWE
Minute Manager Weekly Planner by HightideOver dinner, about a year ago, I explained my elaborate scheduling system to Adubs and Gordy and watched the light leave their eyes. They weren’t just bored. They were horrified. At the nadir of my problem, I was using two monthly wall calendars, a pocket monthly and a notebook I’d turned into a makeshift date book, as well as Google and Microsoft digital calendars for personal and work matters, respectively. Enter the Minute Manager, a planner that gives me months, weeks, days, room for notes, two pockets and a pen holder. Like so many things that I love — little zip bags! stickers! blouses labeled as menswear! — I found it at Hightide. The Japanese store specializes in stationary but carries much more and has locations at the Row in DTLA and LaGuardia Place in the Village. Go Violets.
Lotion P50 (née 1970) by Biologique RechercheIn January 2025, democracy died, all of my earthly possessions burned in a fire and, insult to injury, the longtime MVP of my skincare regimen was outlawed. The P50 1970 Lotion from Biologique Recherche, already banned worldwide, was pulled from the U.S. market because apparently it’s not “healthy” to rub ethanol on one’s face. Tell that to my vanquished chin acne. It’s called a lotion, but I use it as a toner, because I really don’t know the difference. (How can something with the consistency of water be a lotion?) I’ve used it daily for nine years and stockpiled enough of the original recipe to buy me time. But, come mid-2027, we will say goodbye forever. By that, I mean I’ll be shifting to the classic PF50, which smells less like formaldehyde and will ideally not disrupt the delicate ecosystem of my aging T-zone.
I do not live in a dormitory, nor do I own or operate a yoga studio/new age apothecary. So why am I so horned for cheap Himalayan salt lamps? Because their soft amber glow is the antidote to LED culture, an electromagnetic balm to place in bathrooms in lieu of a night light and on night stands as gentle reading lamp. No two are alike, and I have been found crouched at the back wall of several Home Depots, next to the lava lamps, unboxing a half-dozen of these little fire hazards in search of the perfect crystal. Just remember to unplug whenever you head out of town.
Himalayan Pink Salt Lamp
The Basic Go-Bag by Baboon to the MoonI am almost 44 years old. I have chronic back issues. My my upper body strength is, shall we say, lackluster. Yet it will be a cold day in hell before you catch this moi running around the cursed horseshoe we call LAX departures with a roller suitcase clack-clack-clacking behind me. They are the international calling card for American indifference — for both our fellow man and for aesthetics. I exclusively travel with an extra-large duffle bag that doubles as a backpack. I’m a fan of Patagonia’s Black Hole line, in all sizes, but I go back to Baboon to the Moon’s Basic Go-Bag again and again. Bonus: I’ve never once seen a doppelgänger at baggage claim.
Freesip by OwalaAs a bartender in Northern Michigan recently informed me, the water bottle culture wars are real. This was a diehard Stanley woman. And while she did take strong issue with Hydro Flask and couldn’t even approach the subject of Yeti, she did appear to at least respect my own relatively recent allegiance. I love Owala. After being gifted a “Twist” model by Becca, I discovered that I am a person who likes built-in straws. Not all built-in straws. Just this built-in straw. I have since purchased a 40oz Freesip for my bedside. And a 32oz Freesip for travel. Oh, what a privilege it is to be both hydrated and still learning new things about oneself.
J Manual Coffee Grinder by 1ZpressoDoes it count as doomsday prepping if my only solid plan for the apocalypse is how I’ll grind fresh coffee? This analog gem doesn’t just save me counter space or spare the jarring early morning noise of an electric grinder, it gives me a little workout and a fun addition to the ritual of coffee. It’s also small enough that I can bring it on trips, should I find myself in some destination ignorant to the civility of pour-overs. It’s only once been mistaken for a pipe bomb by TSA agents.
Lip Sleeping Mask by LANEIGEAmy Poehler is a generational talent, but her podcast isn't exactly a reliable source for compelling information. Interviews are an art form, Amy, and let’s just say you’re more Cecilia Giménez than Judy Chicago. Still, I love her laugh, so I listen to every episode. And her repeated endorsement of this glorified lip balm changed my life. As instructed, I apply the LANEIGE lip sleeping mask before bed (I prefer vanilla) and wake up without a hint of chap. I defy the instructions by applying it again before I leave the house every morning, but the results speak for themselves. My days are no longer spent desperately searching for a lost tube of Burt’s like it’s pure heroin. I’m moist. Thank you, Amy.
Infinite small containers, pouches and boxesMy sanity is largely reliant on an elaborate system of small bags, pouches and containers that house my pens, cords, pills, pods, face wipes (Ursa Major, secret 16th rec), snacks, notebooks, supplements and, yes, other even smaller containers. It’s my organizational Russian Doll, without the toxic association of Natasha Lyonne — who is, without question, the most poorly behaved actor I’ve ever encountered. I like Ikigai for pills and utility pouches from LL Bean, Bagu or Patagonia for everything. There’s always something small with a zipper to buy at Muji. And, of late, I’m really into these hard shell cases in various sizes by NÄHE.
Boon Chili OilThe chili crisp boom was fucking annoying. (Not as annoying as Molly Baz’s mayonnaise, but annoying.) One morning we all woke to an Instagram in service of plugging virtually identical, vaguely Asian condiments that promised to add spice and texture to sad white people food. Well, this sad white person tried them all. Most were bland, a few blew out my palate. But one — and no disrespect to the OG, Lao Gan Ma — became a staple of my pantry. I am never without chef Max Boonthanakit’s small batch chili oil. Boon is made in L.A. You can’t always find it, but I generally have luck at Chinatown bookshop Now Serving. In the words of the old lady from the Frank’s RedHot commercials, I put this shit on everything.
Cheap Blankets by Pendleton for CostcoSometimes, it makes me a little sick to think about how many throws I own. Wool. Weighted. Puffer. Waffle. Each one of them rather unnecessary on account of the fact that it tops 80 degrees an average 154 days a year up on Mt. Pasadena. But they make me happy! And I think I like the shittiest ones the best. If I happen upon a Pendleton fleece blanket in some new indigenous-appropriating pattern, God help any he, she or they that tries to stand between me and the Costco checkout. The dog and I are swaddled in one of these plastic masterpieces by 9 o’clock most nights.
Xanax and Cheez-ItsListing the inanimate objects that inform my identity and bring me peace without mentioning this dynamic duo would be an act of dishonesty so grand it borders on fraud. If I ever win an Academy Award, you bet your ass I will be thanking Xanax and Cheez-Its on that stage.
“I wouldn’t be up here without you,” I’ll say, dewy-eyed, clutching the Oscar for Best Adapted Listicle. “Now go to bed. Daddy will tuck you in when he gets home from the Beyonce party.”