August 22, 2009
the clusterflock store
The apartment is also the headquarters of a glossy fashion and literary magazine called Dossier, a biannual that Ms. Parrott founded and runs with her business partner Katherine Krause…
The tiny store on the garden level is run by Ms. Krause and Ms. Parrott… It is named for the magazine and is, in a sense, its incarnation as a retail establishment…
“The store is the magazine that doesn’t get published,” Mr. Friedman said.
A great idea. What would be in the clusterflock store?
comments
trucknutz.
bikenutz, taxidermied poodles, cakes, good books, and whisky
Locks of Cooper’s white chest hair.
shaving kits.
can I get a pair of less-than-late-model entry-level-luxury-sedannutz?
Pasties. Goat cheese. Pork.
Marzipan in big-ass tubs, like how they sell manteca in places like El Paso.
Cat toys.
Popsicles.
Texas toast.
Frozen swan heads
On the lam kits
Plastic sticks for proper popsicles
Pussy shavers
K-Mart pregnancy tests
Drumsets for jumping
Illustrated chicken sex manuals
All proceeds go to the International Squirrel Rescue Fund
Cindy, ‘frozen swan heads’ reminds me of a song composed by me and myfriend Ed and his sister Susan back in the wayback. Soon as I can once more post easily, I will post what lyrics I recall.
It is a song about coprophagia. And pretty swans. On the lake.
India: Cat toys? — As: live mousies?
Coprophagia. All the best songs are about it.
Prints, books, albums, documentaries, original art, cakes and litter trays by Clusterflockers. Curated shows of stuff we like, also specially featured designers, musicians, food and cultural products. Things Clusterflockers have made, designed or worked on.
There would also be a hang out area with tea and coffee and a biscuit tin. In-store gigs, events and exhibitions. Weddings, occasionally, with Clusterflock-sourced catering. Perhaps an above-the-shop office area where various Clusterflockers could pool their resources and skills, a kind of one-stop-shop for clients to have their book designed, copyedited, translated, have a website made, garden and vegetable patch consultations, etc.
We would have a compost heap out the back and a live performance every Friday evening. There would be a thrift store element. Vintage clothing would feature. We would hold a raffle for a different Ferrari every month. We would drive around in a cat drawn wagon, publicising the store and giving away crack daffodils for Jesus, in the early springtime.
Your vision is beautiful, Lucy. Perhaps I could lend a hand doing show-windows?
The class of back-in-the-day-Saks. That is exactly what we need, Rick.
And perhaps I could handle the crack daffodil end of things.
They do need careful tending.
Careful tending is something I am almost too good at.
A great plan, Lucy. I’m there just by hearing it. I think we should have a sleeper wines section too, with amazing selections of champagnes (for instance) priced at $15 or less. And we need a section for abandoned animals that need a home, and a person planted in a nice chair right out front to give advice about all matters of taste. That’s where the champagne comes in.
That all sounds very good to me. Though a really good prosecco can be a revelation, I have found.
A good prosecco, yeah. And a gallery featuring the works of (non-human) animal artists. Attached sanctuary/art colony.
Right. Outsider animal artists. Exiled on so many fronts. I know a couple of seriously hot and talented female pooches who would be happy to come and make some guest appearances and lend a little pizazz to the proceedings.
Oh! Could I sit out front in the chair and give aesthetic counsel and cheesy fortunes?
We would be thrilled if you could do that.
Seriously! I could tell people what’s what when you’re talking art — and give them a load of ‘tall dark stranger’ malarkey in the bargain as well.
This is my calling! I live to embellish!
Lucy, when Daryl says champagne, he’s including prosecco and other sparkling wines. Daryl has never been in the Bastille and doesn’t understand these distinctions. He doesn’t even know the difference between Jacques and Yves.
I can ‘read the cards’. For a couple of years I was Swami Renner at school carnivals.
Well, I can read tea leaves.
Ok, Swami Renner and Mystic Sheila can slug it out amongst themselves for position of Chief Charlatan. Just try and keep it out back, by the compost heap.
I will tell people whatever they want to hear. I will stop at nothing.
Swami Renner is shirtless, though.
Should I be Mystic Morag, do you think?
Also, I want to wear a sexy costume that allows me to reveal my armpit hair.
I think Mystic Morag and Swami Renner need to open their own consultancy up the block. I think you two could work the good cop/bad cop thing in a very lucrative way.
Brilliant, Lucy! The Swami gives them his prophet-of-doom routine, and just as they are leaving, all disconsolate, I sidle up and murmur, “What is the matter? You seem . . . sad. Perhaps a cup of . . . tea?”
It’s the stuff that dollar bills are made of.
We’ll make more than enough to pay off the bunco squad. This is great. I have always wanted to be part of a fake swami racket.
Swami Renner’s Spanish is good, and mine is passable, so we could operate a bilingual fake swami racket. Separate fools from their money in two languages!
I am beginning to worry about my potential partner’s scruples, but I can probably assure him that we will make it clear to the suckers that what we offer is ‘entertainment’ only. Of course, I know better. I have no scruples. Lena ate my scruples.
Might I suggest that Lena set up her own consultancy, eating people’s scruples? Word of mouth would spread quickly.
Shall we add to the inventory a package of stick-on apostrophe’s? An instruction manual would of course be included.