169: commentary and concerns, complaints or queries

"If I consume it, I must document it, and therefore, I’m hesitant to consume." A week w/ Natasha Stagg & all her stuff

Previously: on beautiful gowns (and costumes); one or two things about “wuthering heights” (2026); the time made in the mood for love about blade runner

Natasha Stagg is a writer, editor, and the author of the novels Surveys (2016) and Grand Rapids (2025), and the collections Sleeveless (2019) and Artless (2023). I’m not sure when I was first introduced to Natasha’s writing but I know that I was quickly compelled by it, particularly by her bold address of topics others seemed to avoid. Her writing is fascinated with life’s incidents and invested in cracking through the veneer: of daily life, of the art, fashion, and media industries, and the parties that hold those industries together. I respect her opinion, probably because she doesn’t hesitate to go against the grain. Whenever I think I have a grasp on her point of view—that I could guess how she’d feel about this or that—she offers a take that destabilizes my idea of her. Of course, that just serves to deepen my admiration of her work. Her singular approach is well-demonstrated in today’s guest dispatch, in which she breaks her acts of consumption down to the last penny. Here’s Natasha:

So, in an attempt to go in totally blind here, I must admit, I didn’t read anyone else’s entries and took the title of this blog extremely literally. And: I figured that since I list plenty of movies and books on my own newsletter, Selling Out, I would go deeper and list literally everything I consume, every day. It ends up being a lot of crap. You’ll see.

I’ve only listed each thing once, which is why the first day looks crazy. I starred items that I did not pay for, either because they were a gift, something someone else was getting rid of, or a promotional item. If something isn’t linked, that means I didn’t find a match online, but most things are linked, and some of those things are affiliate-linked.

It is a cliché, but days do feel increasingly shorter, with less time in them for pure edification. I’m thinking more about people with daily regimens or those who write long, linked entries here every day. With all there is to do, how does anyone get anything else done? With all there is to buy, it’s no wonder we need to chemically suppress appetites. Sadly, this week I didn’t read-read very much. I have jobs, and beyond that am in constant communication with multiple people about whatever is on their minds.

Saturday

Currently on my CB2 bedframe are a Zinus mattress; a custom-ordered Millaux fitted sheet*; a Company Store down duvet; two Muji pillows and pillowcases; two pillowcases, a top sheet and a duvet cover from French Presse; two pillows from Target; and a pillow* my mother made in the 90s.

Next to my bed is a USM Haller rolling cabinet, which holds a magnetic charger for my iPhone 16 Pro and a magnetic charger for my MacBook Air, which each plug into a USB-C power adapter. On my headboard is an unbranded LED mask*, an Ello water bottle, and this month’s issue of Harper’s*.

I read its cover story by Sam Kriss, “Child’s Play,” and, on my phone, James Deusterberg’s “Silicon Valley’s Favorite Doomsaying Philosopher,” for the New Yorker.

I also read through emails and texts and all the sensationalist news items to which they’ve linked, which would be too disgusting to list. Or too niche, in some cases. I do look at the New York Times and Post headlines daily, heavily relying on friends and roundups to tell me which articles are worth reading in full.

In my bathroom are rolls of Grove Co. bamboo toilet paper, a bottle of Seventh Generation toilet bowl cleaner, a Bath Bliss toilet plunger and brush, a trashcan from Target, a glass from Vintage Thrift filled with applicator-less O.B. tampons, a Carrière Frères diffuser*, EcoTools exfoliating gloves, Cetaphil body wash, a Venus razor and mount, an Ikea squeegee, a Tangle Teezer brush, Paul Mitchell shampoo, Roz conditioner, a caddy from Target, and an Autumn Sonata towel.

After showering, I use Biologique Recherche toner and lip balm, Byoma moisturizer, Drunk Elephant eye serum, a gua sha stone from an open-air market in Mexico City, Odele detangler, Ten Thousand Waves Hinoki body lotion*, L’Oreal sunscreen serum, e.l.f. primer, Old Spice deodorant, Dr. Bronner’s toothpaste, and a Tom’s of Maine toothbrush that sits in a Muji stand.

In my kitchen, a bar of Archivist soap* sits on a holder from Maison Empereur. A woven rug is from a thrift store in Tombstone. I make espresso using a Café Affetto machine, Counter Culture coffee beans, a Sharper Image frother, and Family Farmstead whole milk, in a Pier 1 mug*.

I wear a vintage silk kimono from a Bridget Donahue pop-up and Pearl River Mart slippers until I get dressed in Araks underwear and a bra from their SoHo store, APC jeans from 2^nd Street Vintage, a Vivienne Westwood T-shirt from their Paris store, a Gildan sweatshirt from a Savers in Tucson, a silver chain from a vestibule in Nogales, a Timex watch ordered from the website, Calzedonia socks from their Flatiron store, Adidas Tokyo sneakers from their Midtown store, an Acne coat* from their SoHo store, and a Balenciaga silk scarf from a friends & family sale.

Every day, I read or skim the Substack posts in my mailbox: some combination of letters by Derek Blasberg, Delia Cai, Zoe Dubno, Lena Dunham, John Ganz, Carson Griffith, Zoe Latta, David Lê, Casey Lewis, Whitney Mallett, Kaitlin Phillips, Chloe Pingeon, Liana Satenstein, Taylore Scarabelli, Emily Segal, Stacey Streshinsky, Emily Sundberg, Tish Weinstock, Elvia Wilk, Molly Young, Drew Zeiba, and, amazingly, even more. How on Earth did this happen?

I have leftovers (baan salad) from Thai Diner and wash some dishes with Grove Co. detergent pumped from a glass dispenser and a coconut sponge that sits in its own caddy. They dry in a Pearl River Mart dish rack.

I apply Marissa Zappas Tragedy oil, the last of my Perfumer H Rain Cloud scent, Rare Beauty concealer, Sephora loose powder, YSL lip gloss*, Benetint cheek stain, Valentino highlighter*, e.l.f. eyeshadow, and Maybelline mascara. I use Tweezerman tweezers, a foundation brush, a blush brush, and a shadow brush from Sephora. I spray them with EcoTools brush cleaner.

To dry my hands and to wipe brushes and surfaces, I use tea towels that I’ve accumulated from thrift stores in Connecticut and New Jersey, mostly. I use Grove cleaning concentrates for tile, glass, etc., in multiple dedicated glass spray bottles.

To be clear, I have not spent a dime yet—but haven’t I? Other thoughts: there is too much plastic in my apartment, some of which I’m actively rubbing all over my body; when selecting clothing in my closet, I might unconsciously favor what I have acquired in person.

I get a notification that my T-Mobile phone bill is being automatically charged. It is part of a plan I share with my sister, and my line owes $77.52 this month. Next week, a recurring monthly Venmo payment will send rent to my landlord.

Other automatic charges are subscriptions to Microsoft 365 ($20/month), Google storage ($1/month), New York magazine ($60/year), the New York Times ($1/week), the Criterion Channel ($100/year); an American Express fee ($350/year), a Metrograph theater membership ($50/year), and probably others.

Finally leaving my apartment, I carry a James Fuentes Press tote* someone left at my apartment and an Eckhaus Latta tote* that I got from their Chinatown store with a gift card. It holds a tube of Ourself lip conditioner*, Apple wired headphones, a Gianfranco Ferre wallet, my keys, and Mintia Breeze mints. I transfer these items to whatever purse I’m carrying or my coat pockets if I’m not carrying a purse.

I drop off laundry in an unbranded bag* and am notified by my cleaners that I will be charged upon retrieval. I almost never have cash on me and do not know how to otherwise tip them.

At Whole Foods, I listen to True Anon’s podcast and buy a carton of Driscoll’s strawberries, two avocados, a carton of Vital Farms eggs, a box of store-brand arugula, a hunk of store-brand parmesan, a package of Bell & Evans chicken breasts, and a bottle of Essentia water. My receipt says $37.29.

In the evening, I take the bus, but because I enter through the back and a crowd blocks the card reader, I do not pay. I listen to Nymphet Alumni’s podcast. I am now carrying an Alexander McQueen purse from a friends & family sale.

I see a play, Kramer/Fauci, with Lynne Tillman (look for her collected essays, Paying Attention, forthcoming from Zwirner Books) who was comped two tickets by the director, Daniel Fish.

After, we have dinner at Sarabeth’s in Greenwich Village. I get a glass of the pinot noir and the roasted chicken with sweet potato purée and shaved Brussels sprouts. We split the bill and my half comes out to $58.79 with tip.

I walk to Jesse Hudnutt’s apartment and on the way pick up a bottle of Le Naturel Tinto from Wine Therapy ($19.59 with tax), which doesn’t get opened because we’re drinking martinis that Jesse makes.

I walk home and wash my face with Clinique cleanser and eye makeup remover from Target, drying it with an Onsen hand towel. I use some of the products mentioned above, then add a layer of Aquaphor. I brush my hair and braid it using Scünci elastics, then spray it with a Kristin Ess dry mask. I brush my teeth, then paint them with a discontinued Smile Direct Club whitener and bite a blacklight mouth guard that plugs into my phone for five minutes.

To sleep, I put on a T-shirt bought at a Skinny Puppy concert. As is usually the case, I cue up a website that plays randomized, commercial-free, continuous episodes of Seinfeld. I’d rather not link it for obvious reasons.

I’ve spent $193.19 today.

Sunday

Please assume that much of the products used yesterday are used today, and tomorrow, and every day, until they are gone. Every few days, I do not condition my hair in the shower and instead use a K18 leave-in mask after.

I put on a pair of Soffe sweatpants that I ordered from their site, a Muji turtleneck from the Astor Place store, a Dickies vest that I ordered from their site, an unbranded cashmere scarf I must have thrifted, a Balenciaga puffer from a friends & family sale, and Patagonia gloves*. I’m not re-listing the bags, sneakers, socks, etc., since they are all the same or doubles of the same products.

I’m being asked to write essays lately and feel I’ve forgotten how to do that, or maybe never knew, so I read some from The Collected Essays of Elizabeth Hardwick at random. They’re almost too good, having the unintended effect of intimidation.

I take out my compost using a Repurpose bag, my paper in a Nickey Kehoe shopping bag, and my recycling using a delivery bag from The RealReal. I pick up my laundry and pay $31.20. I use the plastic bag it comes back in to take out more recycling later.

For lunch, I have an arugula avocado salad with dressing I make—garlic, lemon, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, and parmesan, all Whole Foods’ or Wegmans’ store-branded, plus Wonder Valley olive oil—in a Torre & Tagus bowl, using Reed & Barton utensils—thrifted, obviously. Later, I eat a banana.

It’s starting to snow heavily, but the only stocking up I do is a bottle of Beaujolais-Villages and a bottle of lambrusco from Brix Wines. That comes out to $50.08. I stop into Salumeria Rosi but they are closing early, so they give me a free sweetened croissant.

While preparing food, eating it, and cleaning, I usually put something stupid on, such as reality TV or a podcast. Today, it’s a 1996 rom com: The Mirror Has Two Faces, directed by and starring Barbra Streisand.

I make schnitzel with the chicken breasts, Gold Medal flour, eggs, mustard, salt, pepper, and Aleia’s bread crumbs, Graza cooking oil, and Land O Lakes butter, garnished with Whole Foods red onion I’ve been marinating in Unio chardonnay vinegar in a Pyrex container*; and arugula with olive oil and lemon.

I use a Farberware meat tenderizer, the last of a Big Chef parchment paper roll that I swear came with this apartment, a Kama-Asa cutting board that sits in its own stand, a lemon juicer from Union Market, tongs and knives from Chef Restaurant Supplies on Bowery, and a Field Company cast iron skillet*, which I later clean with a Nickey Kehoe brush.

My table, a stand-up floor-length mirror, and a window AC unit were given to me by the person who moved out of this apartment. A floor lamp is from a Salvation Army store that no longer exists. Its shade maybe came from an online wholesaler. My chairs were given to me by a friend who was moving. I’ve added some cushions from Etsy to them.

My overhead lamps are still using bulbs that were here when I moved in and are covered with Tulip shades I ordered and installed. Obviously, all the kitchen and bathroom appliances are part of the rental, but I did buy new window screens from Ace Hardware and get the tub re-enameled using a service in Queens. All the bookshelves were built into the walls already.

I’ve also hired hands from Thumbtack to move some racks and a cabinet, and to install my wall mirrors*, the candelabra sconces I found at a yard sale upstate, and my Copco spice rack. A bench I bought from a friend is covered in a cloth from the Diop African Art stall at the Chelsea Flea Market.

We open the wine with a corkscrew from Kingston Wine Co. and use matches* from the Six Bells Countryside Inn to light Trudon candles* set with Stick-um* in the sconces and a vintage holder from Open Invite. We use Lulu & Georgia glasses and Arabia of Finland dishes from Furnish Green. The floor is swept with Swiffer cloths on a sweeper and a Muji desk broom with dust pan.

We watch episodes of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and read from our own books. Mine at the moment is The New York Stories of Henry James.

Eventually, I put out the flames with a vintage snuffer.

I’ve spent $81.28 today.

Monday

While working, I make lists on pieces of paper: the backs of pages sent to me in the mail about doctor’s bills, book galleys, 1099s, replacement credit cards. I use a Pilot G-2 pen that I bought in a pinch from CVS, but once it’s dead I’ll use up a stash of free ballpoints from restaurants.

My boyfriend installs a free trial of something called CleanMyMac and something else called Disk Inventory X on my computer because it is always full. This seems to solve the problem, so I’ll likely end up subscribing to the former app, which has a few different plans.

I add an egg to my salad, boiled in a pot from Vintage Thrift using a timer from Open Table. While I eat, he hate-reads a dumb take someone has written on Substack aloud to me because I’ve asked him to.

I wear Lululemon leggings under Helmut Lang leather pants, another Muji turtleneck, and Frederic Malle Portrait of a Lady. I take two trains and end up paying twice because a passageway is closed or something, so that’s $6.

I end up late to meet Janique Vigier and Audrey Wollen for dinner at the Odeon. We order oysters to start. I get the plate of the day, eggplant parmesan, plus two martinis. We also share an ice cream sundae. My portion of the bill with tip comes to $79.95, which seems wrong, so I offer to pay for the cab that Janique and I share, which is $23.10.

I change into a T-shirt bought at a My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult concert and Soffe shorts bought at a Dick’s Sporting Goods in New Jersey to sleep.

I watch the newest episode of 90 Day Fiancé: Before the 90 Days.

I’ve spent $109.05 today.

Tuesday

I cut my nails with unbranded clippers paint them with Anna Sui polish* and Sally Hansen Insta-Dri top coat.

With my salad, I eat a handful of Lay’s all-dressed chips, an impulse buy from the last time I was at Target—a store that I hate, but from the links above, you would assume I’m obsessed by. I clip the bag shut with a regular binder clip that I know I got somewhere else—either the office supply store in Union Square or the everything store in Japan Village.

I watch the newest episode of Love During Lockup. The television I watch, by the way, is via streaming services I immediately cancel after paying one time, at various points, for various reasons: AMC+ ($10/month), YouTube TV (free trial), and Netflix ($18/month).

Speaking of obsessions, the making of this list is bleeding into my decision-making. If I consume it, I must document it, and therefore, I’m hesitant to consume. I drink a mini-can of Diet Coke that someone left in my fridge weeks ago, wishing it was a real Coke. No, I’m not a member of a health club and not currently enrolled in an exercise class. Sometimes, when it’s nicer out, I go running.

I wear a Lemaire turtleneck ordered from Ssense and a pair of Calvin Klein jeans* from the 80s, I think, given to me by an old coworker who didn’t fit them… over ten years ago?

Should I add all the art on my walls here, since I am, in a way, consuming them? They are works* by Andrea Fourchy, Ebecho Muslimova, Jacob Kassay, Chris Dorland, Nick Sethi, Joseph Teeling, Aurel Schmidt, Lauren Servideo, my mother, and myself. The magnets on my fridge are from souvenir shops in Berlin, Mallorca, Alcatraz, Paris, Marseille, and Tombstone, and from my sister’s travels.

I’m late for a dinner at Buvette with Megan Nolan, Anika Levy, Sophie Kemp, and Stephanie Wambugu—each of whom have published great, uniquely written novels in the past year or so, which I’ve linked here. The bus is delayed due to snow, so I hail a cab from the stop and end up getting there before anyone. With tip that’s $24.90.

At the restaurant, we get a bottle of the Charbonièrres Grenache Syrah blend, which is of course marked up about 300%, and some of us get martinis; I order the steak tartare. We split the bill five ways, my portion coming to $70.88.

We walk to Sevilla for a party with an open bar. It is celebrating the new issue of Granta,* which is free for guests, but I already have a copy, received in the mail.

Eventually, I get a Lyft home, which is $23.67 with tip.

To bed, I wear a Mary Engelbreit T-shirt, an eBay purchase inspired by a photo of Sinéad O’Connor wearing it. I watch the rest of The Mirror Has Two Faces.

I’ve spent $119.45 today.

Wednesday

Along with my same salad, I eat some Annie’s crackers, another impulse buy. The spout on my water bottle seems to be broken, so I throw it away and fill an Ikea glass* with water that has been chilling in a carafe from Target.

I remember that at the party last night, Rachel Rabbit White told me to read almost everything by Dana Spiotta, so I add Innocents and Others* to my Thriftbooks.com cart. This title may have been the only one Rachel did not directly recommend, but its description is the most appealing. It counts as a free book that I’ve “earned” from ordering so much from the site, so I purchase it and the other I’ve saved, Annie Baker’s The Vermont Plays, which I’m notified has seen a price increase. I qualify for free shipping. My total with tax is $12.17.

Yet another pair of Soffe sweatpants and another band T-shirt, this one a bootleg from a tourist shop in a mainland Greece beach town, of The Cure. I put my hair up using a Machete claw clip. I eat a banana.

I take out trash in a plastic bag* from a bodega purchase. I am determined to not go out tonight because of all the drinking. Anyway, I have work to catch up on, so I do that and talk on the phone and watch episodes of Love is Blind and read Substack.

I’ve spent $12.17 today.

Thursday

I look at various fashion shows as slideshows, which I forgot to mention, I guess, that I’ve been doing throughout the week. It feels impossible to really document everything I’ve consumed without looking at my browsing history, which I’ve conveniently just deleted.

I can tell you that every day, I play the New York Times’ Wordle, Connections, and Spelling Bee, and have an ongoing game of Crossplay with my boyfriend. We watched, with morbid curiosity, the livestream of Clavicular this past week more than once.

I am constantly opening links sent to me and sent to group chats, to tabloid articles and posts on TikTok, Instagram Threads, X, and Substack Notes, restaurant reviews, sales, celebrity sightings, correspondences with potential love interests, but mostly things that people have said and done that my friends and I feel are idiotic, tragic, and/or inappropriate.

Maybe what I read most avidly and often are the texts themselves—commentary and concerns, complaints or queries for advice—sometimes sent as voice notes, usually more engaging than anything else I have going on.

Emails…don’t get me started. My job is to email. I’ve read and replied to and deleted and drafted hundreds of emails. I’ve invoiced and RSVPed and scheduled and canceled and followed up. I’ve sent questionnaires and replied to questionaries. I’ve had hour-long and two hour-long phone calls with my father and my sister and my friends.

My salad supplies are depleted, so I get lunch from Salumeria Rosi: a caprese panini and fresh squeezed grapefruit juice for $28.83 with tip. On the walk there and back, I listen to The New Yorker’s Critics at Large podcast.

In my mailbox are two book ARCs. I eat a banana.

I’m wearing yet another pair of Lululemon leggings, a souvenir T-shirt from Kingston—it says “Jamaica A Winners Choice”—a Cuffy’s sweatshirt from a Plato’s Closet in Poughkeepsie, a Pendleton flannel from a St. Vincent de Paul in Tucson, and Thistles sunglasses.*

I receive an email about a friends & family sale and order a turtleneck sweatshirt from it for $158, tax and shipping to be calculated with invoice. Maybe I shouldn’t name the brand, so as not to give away their markup, even though it is pretty standard, about 250%. I look at The RealReal but don’t buy anything else. I have $998.08 in store credit.

I read Rachel Aviv’s “The Trial of Gisèle Pelicot’s Rapists United France and Fractured Her Family,” on the New Yorker site.

I take two trains to a party hosted by 2x4 at Bar Laika in Clinton Hill, wearing a Petit Bateau T-shirt from their store in Marseille, an Agnès B. cardigan from the store in Paris, and a Marithé + François Girbaud skirt, Emporium Capwell fur jacket, and Ferragamo loafers from the RealReal.

I have one martini and some pierogis with pickles from the open bar. I pick up a 2x4 tote.* The ride there is $3 and the ride back is $3. I listen to the Adam Friedland Show podcast.

At home, I put on a Grand Rapids* T-shirt a relative got me from the airport and watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I change my bedding so that everything is from the French Presse set.

I’ve spent $189.83 today.

You can keep up with Natasha by subscribing to her Substack Selling Out. Thanks for reading!