The Kempt Five
- Caitlin Ganswindt
- Eric Twardzik
- Jason Wire
Every Wednesday, we’re giving you a deeper look into what makes the minds behind Kempt tick. We call it: The Kempt Five.
First Day of Spring Kicks. “However brief it stayed, spring arrived right on time last Thursday—and I was prepared. Thanks to the boys over at The Hill-side, I was able to procure one of the first pairs of their new shoe collection stateside. A Japanese selvage chambray upper with an off-white sole, just lovely.” —C.G.
Golden Bear for J.Crew. “Making use of our weekend sales report card, I headed over to J.Crew for their sale on top of sale—aka 40% off everything that was already reduced. And I scored big, picking up two jackets for spring—one of which is this Golden Bear Varsity. It was just an obscene steal, fits perfectly and has a delicious sort of shawl collar to boot.” —C.G.
Bad Words. “So maybe Jason Bateman’s directorial debut isn’t going to win any awards. Nor is it going to be added to the pantheon of timeless cult comedies, with the likes of Caddyshack and Animal House. But if you’re in the mood to laugh a little bit and watch an adorable nine-year-old swear like a sailor, it’ll definitely scratch the itch.” —S.P.
Having a Florist. “My girlfriend lives within a couple blocks of no fewer than 10 florists, so I really have no excuse not to bring her flowers around once a month (okay, maybe bimonthly). But that also means that every time I do, I get to chat with a cheerful woman named Sunny who knows my name, tells me about this or that flower (cabbage roses—get to know ’em) and helps me make my girlfriend’s week for no more than a 10-spot. Plus, I get to say stuff like ‘I’m stopping by my florist.’” —J.W.
Saying Goodbye to Jeans. “Last Friday saw me put down my favorite jeans. They’d already been patched up after a complete crotch blowout, which now extended to the thigh. It was time to let go. They weren’t spectacularly rare or expensive—just a pair of dark, slim Uniqlo jeans. But I’d worn them almost every other day for the last 12 months, and the stories of an entire year lived in their dyed cotton. I’d picked them up in San Francisco during a final, unforgettable college spring break. I’d rolled them up and waded through Croatian beaches the summer after graduation. I’d covered them in dust and dirt scaling a national park in Maine. To just throw them in the trash, on top of soggy coffee grounds and pizza crust, seemed too undignified a fate. I pressed them to my lips and gave them a final kiss before letting go. My girlfriend laughed at me.” —E.T.