Let me tell you guys a story-
There is this awesome light installation near my apartment (as you can see) and I knew I had to shoot in front of it. So minding my own business, just shooting for my petty little blog, a security guard comes busting out of his big, tall luxury building shooing us away. Hey guy, we're not 12 years old. Use your words. He then tells us we need to leave, keep in mind we're a good 100 meters away from him, and he then tells us he'll call the cops. May I remind you, I'm on a public sidewalk, in a public area in THE PUBLIC. I didn't go inside the building, I didn't utilize my fine graffiti skills across the installation- I merely took photos like a tourist. He won't stop being an arrogant asshole, so I decide to go inside the lobby to this DOORMAN and share a few words with him. The conversation goes something like this:
BLOGGER IN BLUE: I'm sorry, what's the problem? DOORMAN WHO TAKES HIS JOB TOO SERIOUSLY: You can't take photos in front of our building, it's private property. BB: We live here. DOORMAN: Oh yeah, what apartment number? BB: Not here, in the building down the street. DOORMAN: Okay, so you can't take pictures here. And anyway, it's inappropriate. There are babies and strollers and people walking around. It's just inappropriate. BB: UM, what? Inappropriate? I'm in a public space, no one else's photo is being taken, I'm on a sidewalk, I look like a tourist. DOORMAN: I don't care. This is private property, you can't do that. I'll call the cops. They will side with me. BB: (laughing) Call the cops? Are you serious? We aren't doing anything but taking photos IN PUBLIC. Go ahead and call them. DOORMAN: You are on private property, you need to leave. If you want to take pictures in the park, you can do that. But not out here. BB: So you're saying I can go take pictures in the park, and still have the building as my backdrop and that's okay? DOORMAN: Yup. BB: Well that's just stupid. Either situations are the same. DOORMAN: You're using the building as your backdrop. It's not right. BB: Okay, this is ridiculous. Do you have a notice of some kind? We aren't shooting a documentary or filming the next SIXTEEN AND PREGNANT... we're taking photos because the wall is pretty. DOORMAN: No I don't have a notice. BB: Give me a contact. DOORMAN: Go ahead- call my boss. He'll tell you the same thing. BB: (giving him MAD side eye) (laughing) Oh. Okay. (takes card and starts to walk out) DOORMAN: Don't do it again or I'm calling the cops. BB: (silence, walks to the installation and finishes the shoot)
I swear, it was like having a conversation with a teenager who's going through their moody-talk-back phase. Relax homie. I may just write the building an email, simply stating that if they would like to preserve their prestigious art installation, here are the following links to provide red velvet ropes to protect such an entity. DOING IT.
Besides all that craziness, I really am putting in the efforts to be more chill. I originally woke up, put a polka dot vintage 60's dress worn as vest, with polka dot shorts, this striped top and a blue mullet sheer top over it and walked to the mirror and literally said, WHAT. THE. FUCK. I mean, don't get me wrong guys. You know as well as I, how much I adore fashion and individuality and personal style but I've reached my breaking point. I love my wardrobe. But I think what I've done now is curated a closet for historical purposes rather than actual pieces to wear. So, cheers to baggy jeans, pumped up kicks and sloppy top knots. I'm diggin' it.