A Cymbalta fanny pack? Naomi Fry would cop
The New Yorker dopeness-correspondent talks grail-tier antidepressant merch, fake Israeli Gucci & rare luxury-rehab art
Naomi Fry covers lots of subjects at the New Yorker, where she’s a staff writer, but one topic she returns to regularly is sick jawnage: people who rock it, people who make it, people who cop it compulsively. Shia LaBeouf’s epochal 2018-era fits? She was all over them in real time. The rise of Online Ceramics? Naomi reported live from Shakedown Street. The bi-coastal phenomenon that is Cactus Store? Naomi asked a poisonous African euphorbia the tough questions and came away with the damn scoop. More recently she’s written about the new season of Search Party, interviewed Tom Sachs in quarantine and contemplated the weirdness of life on Zoom — links to all below.
But what about Naomi’s non-professional relationship to dope joints? What role do they play in her civilian life? We wanted to know, so we asked her to tell us about a joint she particularly cherishes. She chose a limited-edition sweatshirt made by artist Cynthia Talmadge … commemorating the quasi-iconic defunct Malibu rehab-facility Promises.
Blackbird Spyplane: You only got this sweatshirt recently, right?