Connect with us

Lifestyle

Writers are competitive. Could I handle my girlfriend’s criticism?

Published

on

Writers are competitive. Could I handle my girlfriend’s criticism?

When I ask my girlfriend about the book she’s reading, it’s a given I’ll spend the next couple of minutes in utter confusion.

Yesterday Ami responded to my query by saying her latest read made her “fall in love with horses.”

The night before, she’d been lost in Andre Gide’s “Immoralist.” I knew the novel was about hidden desires, but I had no idea Gide had taken things into the stable.

After a lot of back-and-forthing, it turns out she was referring to Cormac McCarthy’s “All the Pretty Horses.”

Advertisement

That’s because whatever book I last saw her reading has invariably been finished and replaced by three new books.

She reads six books at any given time. Classics to sci-fi potboilers. The latest bestsellers to ancient Greek poems. And she inhales them at a rate that makes me wonder if she actually has the job she claims to have or spends all day curled up with the Modern Library.

Her “ideal day” is to go to the Iliad Bookshop in North Hollywood, “visit” the cat who sits on the register and prowl the aisles until she finds three books to bring home.

Given that I’ve made my living as a writer for 45 years, you might think it’s wonderful to have a partner who shares an adoration of the written world.

Actually, it’s a torment.

Advertisement

Many professional writers limit their reading. George R.R. Martin and Joyce Carol Oates “quarantine” themselves so other voices don’t creep into their work, as was the case with McCarthy and J.D. Salinger.

Like my literary betters, I sometimes worry that reading distracts me from writing. But unlike them, I live with someone who consumes words at an unimaginable pace.

When I see my girlfriend devour books faster than the popcorn she keeps within arm’s reach, I feel guilty — and envious. It jolts me into remembering how much I love the printed page.

As a kid, my favorite place was library stacks. I’d brush my fingers across the spine of the books, as if they were holy artifacts. But over the years, I’d lost that delight. Nowadays, I spend more time reading friends’ screenplays than I do literature. I began to envy how my girlfriend could lose herself in words just for the joy of it the way I used to.

So, now, when Ami settles in with a book in the living room chair, I do the same. But I’m flustered by how relentless her focus is. How quickly her pages turn.

Advertisement

I know reading shouldn’t be a competitive sport. I really do. But writers are competitive by nature.

I was irritated by how much more she seemed to enjoy reading than I did. The instant she finished a novel, she would extol its virtues and demand we go to the Iliad or the Last Bookstore to get the author’s next offering.

Meanwhile, I was struggling to get through “Ready Player One,” a novel that had been collecting dust for years. Not wanting to be one-upped by my speed-reading girlfriend, I threw myself into it. As we lay in bed together reading, my sighs and muttering about “frickin’ three cliches in one paragraph” caused her to throw sideways glances my way.

I realized this showed a basic difference between us. My girlfriend finds something to enjoy in everything she reads. I, on the other hand, can be nitpicky and hypercritical when I peruse the copy on the back of a cereal box.

Even worse is when she reads something of mine. All I can think is I’m in a wrestling match with all the great writers she cheats on me with.

Advertisement

Last weekend, my girlfriend and I visited the Valley Relics Museum in Van Nuys, a repository of cultural artifacts mostly from the ’80s and ’90s. Ironically, for all my complaints about “Ready Player One,” it had inspired me to suggest the visit. We had a wonderful time, strolling through the aisles and playing the vintage arcade games.

A few days later, lying in bed, I made the mistake of mentioning that I’d written a 2,000-word essay about how the memorabilia — the giant Bob’s Big Boy statue, the cast of E.T., the arcade games — linked to events in my life in unexpected ways.

“I would like to read that,” Ami declared, her eyes not moving from the book resting on her lap.

The way my heart clenched up, you might have thought she was a mugger in an alley saying, “I would like to have your wallet.”

Flop sweat collected on my brow. I was up against her current lineup of Doris Lessing, Ursula K. Le Guin and Frank Norris. That’s a daunting standard to be judged by. And I am so critical, I know I would have torn my own essay apart if someone had handed it to me.

Advertisement

At the same time, I secretly longed to hear her speak about my writing in the same loving tones that she mentioned other writers.

Given that written words are the way I engage with the world, this seemed like a critical moment in our relationship. I read the piece over and over. Although it had been sent to my editor long ago, I made numerous tiny changes.

Finally, I emailed it the next morning and braced for a response.

Per usual, she finished the essay in less time than it takes me to address an envelope. Her judgment was cutting: “Cute, but I’m not into it. So C-minus.”

I cannot communicate how much this hurt. It was like a hundred paper cuts to my soul.

Advertisement

If the person I cared most about in the world despised my efforts, how could I hope that anyone else would like it? Had I been a fool to devote half a century to a craft I was incompetent at? Had I finally been found out?

Stifling my wounded pride, I typed out a measured response: “So what exactly about it weren’t you into?”

Her response confused me even more. “Huh?” was all Ami said.

I looked up her previous email and realized I had misread it.

She had written: “Cute. But I’m not in it. So C-minus.”

Advertisement

And thus I wrote this piece.

As I said, I’m competitive. I simply can’t go through the day with only a C-minus.

The author is a freelance writer in Sherman Oaks. He received an A-minus on this story; Ami deducted half a point because it didn’t mention she’s hot.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

Advertisement

Lifestyle

We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute

Published

on

We’re having a main character summer. Are you? : It’s Been a Minute
Are you ready for a whirlwind summer romance?Making plans to capitalize on summer can get overwhelming – from finding the right spot to hang or feeling comfortable in your clothes in the sweltering summer heat. So what does it mean to approach summer with a romantic joie de vivre?  Brittany is joined by Carly Olson, freelance journalist covering architecture and business, and Garrett Schlichte, writer and chef, to walk us through how to have a rom-com summer where you’re the star.Want more on how to be the best version of yourself? Check out these episodes:How to make friends & get good gossipIt only takes 30 minutes to be a good momSupport Public Media. Join NPR Plus.Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluseFor handpicked podcast recommendations every week, subscribe to NPR’s Pod Club newsletter at npr.org/podclub.
Continue Reading

Lifestyle

Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

Published

on

Vintage-obsessed millennial parents are driving L.A.’s booming kids’ clothing resale market

Kids’ vintage clothing sales are experiencing a remarkable boom at in-person markets and online, where prices for clothes for little ones have shot up on websites including Depop and Poshmark. Millennial parents are looking to outfit their kids in the clothes and TV and film characters they loved (or coveted) when they were kids.

The result? There’s a new generation of kiddos hitting the playground looking incredibly cool. Take Amari Case, a SoCal toddler who spent a Sunday afternoon this spring ambling around a vintage market in a West Hollywood warehouse clad in baggy jeans and a ’90s-era tee emblazoned with the “Dragon Ball Z” character Son Goku.

When she wasn’t scribbling on a Lorax coloring sheet, she’d been cruising around the market with her dad, Aaron Munoz Case, snapping up new pieces destined to make her the flyest kid at the preschool playground.

Neil Wright, from left, Kristine Nite Scalzo and Brandon Rosenblatt, co-founders of Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Advertisement

Showing off Amari’s new vintage satin L.A. Raiders jacket and tiny teal Grant Hill Detroit Pistons jersey, Munoz Case, who was also impeccably dressed, noted that while Amari went through a phase at about 18 months where she wanted to dress herself, eventually she gave up and went back to letting her dripped-out dad dictate her wardrobe.

Munoz Case found Amari’s first vintage piece at the Rose Bowl Flea Market and got the bug, going back every month to pick up something to add to his little’s wardrobe.

Trendspotters and researchers say Munoz Case isn’t alone in his quest. The market for kids’ vintage clothing has heated up precipitously over the last few years, perhaps hitting a boiling point in January when an Eeyore romper from the ’90s sold for over $3,000 on EBay. (It was new with tags, but one without tags still went for almost a grand about a month later.)

The thirst for tiny throwbacks is so popular that first-ever, all-kids market Elemeno — named after the “L-M-N-O” bit of “The Alphabet Song” and where Amari was toddling and shopping — drew 17 vendors and over 2,000 attendees over a single weekend in March. (There are plans for another Elemeno Kids Vintage Market pop-up later this year in New York, as well as plans to bring the event back to L.A. sometime next year.)

1

Advertisement
A child and mom seated.

2 A child wearing an Avirex jacket from the ’90s.

1. Cameron Scalzo, wearing a vintage McDonald’s T-shirt from the ‘90s, and mom Kristine Nite Scalzo. 2. Cameron Scalzo rocks an Avirex jacket from the ‘90s.

Eye Speak Vintage’s Kristine Nite Scalzo, who co-organized the event and is opening an all-kids vintage store in Pasadena this month, says she fell under the kids vintage spell in 2020 when she was pregnant with her son. She’d always been a vintage shopper for herself, so she knew she wanted to pass the passion down to the next generation. She started filling up her son’s closet, and soon enough, she found herself selling her other finds out of a bodega in her garage.

She has a by-appointment space in Pasadena now, where she draws everyone from Rihanna’s stylist to out-of-town moms who make a point to stop by on their way to Disneyland. “The community around kids vintage has really skyrocketed on Instagram over the past six years,” Scalzo says. “We want to know who we’re buying from. We want to know that we’re doing good with buying secondhand. And it’s a hobby for people that can turn into a possible business on the side. Because knowing there’s a big group that’s interested in vintage kids clothes, you can always pass an item [your kid outgrows] to someone else or resell it.”

Scalzo says some parents are out digging through bins at the Goodwill Outlet looking for the perfect piece, while others are content to pay up for, say, a ’90s Simpsons T-shirt or a mini-size Harley-Davidson jacket. Scouring the racks at the Elemeno market, most pieces cost $15 to $40, though there were special pieces pulled to the side in some booths with price tags that could make a parent’s eyes pop. (Think $275 for a set of well-worn Spider-Man overalls from the ’00s or $150 for a pair of Cross Colours denim shorts from the ’90s.)

Advertisement

In kids and adult vintage alike, mint condition is highly valued. No matter the era in which they were raised, kids tend to be messy. They get strawberry juice on their shirts or scuff up the knees on their Bugle Boy jeans. Vintage kids clothes that look pristine are more expensive, and while plain kids clothes do sell, items with characters on them or cool prints tend to draw more attention and dollars.

Brandon Rosenblatt, another of the Elemeno organizers, says he’s had his eye on a specific kids “Back to the Future” shirt for some time, but notes that it typically sells for about $1,000. He’s partial to McKids clothes for his daughter, from McDonald’s short-lived kids clothing brand, noting that he’s even snagged her a vintage official McDonald’s-themed aloha shirt from Hawaii, something he says he’s never seen anywhere else.

1 Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps.

2 Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

1. Siblings Amora and Milo Castilo wear vintage cowboy hats, jackets and chaps. 2. Thalia Castilo and her kids Amora and Milo.

Advertisement

Other collectors, he says, might be a little less obscure, leaning into mainstream characters such as Strawberry Shortcake or from ’80s and ’90s properties including “The Land Before Time” and “Rugrats.”

“A lot of millennials are having kids — like everyone who’s in their 30s and 40s — and they all want to put their kids in the same IP they grew up in,” Rosenblatt says.

“It’s the thrill of the hunt that gets everyone so excited,” Scalzo says. “Once you find that perfect nostalgic piece, you’re like ‘Holy s—,’ and you just want to chase that feeling again and again.”

Mia De La Rosa, a reseller who was at the Elemeno market, says that like Scalzo, she started buying kids vintage clothes when she was pregnant with her daughter, Liv, who’s 6 now, very into everything on PBS Kids and has a closet full of thrifted vintage garb covered in characters such as D.W., the annoying little sister from the ’90s show “Arthur.”

Everything Liv wears is “completely her style,” De La Rosa says. “She dresses herself every day and she gets compliments on what she’s wearing at school all the time.”

Advertisement

Other vintage-wearing kids — and in particular younger ones — might simply be sporting what their parents like or might just like the look of the shirt even if they don’t know what it’s advertising. (An 8-year-old boy at the Elemeno market, for instance, chose to wear a pristine T-shirt highlighting the ’90s Jim Carrey movie “The Mask” because it featured his favorite color: green.)

Derrick Broaster, a vintage enthusiast turned full-time reseller, says that while he chooses to put himself in clothes from the ’60s and ’70s, he outfits his two sons in clothes from the 2000s. (“How Bow Wow used to dress when he was a kid,” he says.)

Although his younger son tends to rebel against Broaster’s vintage picks, opting for whatever Spider-Man shoes happen to be in his eyeline, his older son has leaned in, letting his dad advise him on what vintage pieces could work and what would be the most stylish.

1 Brothers pose for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

2 A family poses for a portrait wearing vintage clothing.

1. Julian, left, and Javier Gutierrez show off their vintage clothing. Javier says his mom always tells him to keep his vintage outfits clean. 2. Mom Priscilla Guzman, clockwise, Dad Javier Gutierrez and sons Julian and Javier Gutierrez enjoy the vibe of vintage clothing. Guzman says she’s been buying and selling kids’ vintage since her oldest son was born eight years ago.

Advertisement

Rosenblatt says a good portion of what vintage finds he sees in the market now has returned to the U.S. from places in Central America and South America or Asia where those pieces were likely sent decades ago after they were donated or given away.

“There’s a real underbelly of this vintage game with rag houses getting access to bulk product overseas and letting people sort through it,” he says. “There are companies now that rip through 20, 30 or 40,000 pieces of vintage clothing a week. It’s a really interesting ecosystem.”

For many kids vintage sellers, finding their stock is just as fun and interesting as getting it back into consumers’ hands. “Anywhere we can find clothes, we’re there,” says Matthew Carlos, owner of Long Gone Youth. He started selling vintage clothes 11 years ago, when he was 15, switched to kids vintage at 20 and has spent the last six years scouring flea markets, websites and swap meets.

“The kids market is definitely growing,” he says, “but I still feel like we haven’t even gotten close to where we can go. It’s just getting popular now, but the more events [like Elemeno] we can do, the more it’ll go mainstream.” Even now, some major brands like Gap and OshKosh B’gosh have recognized the interest in some of their styles from the ’80s and ’90s, moving to re-release the looks in limited runs.

Advertisement
Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Jackie and Frank Oropeza with daughter Rumi Mae shop at Elemeno Kids Vintage Market.

Kids resale is also leaning into streetwear culture. Rosenblatt, who worked in the streetwear industry, says that he’s noticed that a good portion of those interested in kids vintage — particularly, male shoppers — tend to be fans of streetwear brands like Supreme, Fear of God Essentials and Bape. At Elemeno, for instance, a good portion of the parents we saw pushing strollers were well-dressed dads seemingly on solo missions, something you don’t always see at kid-centric events.

“I just want my son to feel like I did as a kid,” said Justin Nguyen, while watching his toddler, Jayden, play with bubbles. “I want him to be happy, carefree and joyful, and I want to be able to spend time with him. My mom and dad were always working, even on the weekends. Now that I’m a dad, taking my son out on weekends to do stuff like this just seems like a blessing.”

Advertisement
Continue Reading

Lifestyle

‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins $150K fiction prize

Published

on

‘Hellions’ author Julia Elliott wins 0K fiction prize

Author Julia Elliott won for her short story collection Hellions.

Forrest Clonts/Tin House


hide caption

toggle caption

Advertisement

Forrest Clonts/Tin House

Writer Julia Elliott has won this year’s Carol Shields Prize for Fiction for her short story collection Hellions. The award honors work by women and nonbinary authors in the U.S. and Canada.

Elliott, who also authored the novel The New and Improved Romie Futch and the short story collection The Wilds, is known for blending elements of Southern gothic horror, surrealism and fairy tale. Hellions, published in 2025, includes stories set against backdrops like a plague-stricken medieval convent, a feminist art colony, and small Southern towns.

“This eerie, eclectic, genre-leaping collection takes no half-measures; every sentence of Hellions crackles or crawls,” wrote the prize jury in a statement. “Here, human folly moves against a backdrop of horror and magic … But for all its wildness, there is tremendous control.”

Advertisement

The prize, named after a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, awards $150,000 to one winner each year. Novels, short story collections, and graphic novels by women and nonbinary authors are eligible.

This year’s finalists included Quiara Alegría Hudes (The White Hot), Lee Lai (Cannon), Megha Majumdar (A Guardian and a Thief), and Sonya Walger (Lion). They will each receive $12,500.

The Carol Shields Prize went to writer Canisia Lubrin in 2025.

You can listen to actor Donna Lynne Champlin read Elliott’s story “Hellion” on the Death, Sex & Money podcast here.

Advertisement
Continue Reading
Advertisement

Trending