What the Nordstrom's catalog thinks my job is really like.
Got my sensible, flat shoes on for this hard day of truck unpacking. Hope I don't get anything on my pants! Too bad about our lift gate breaking. I'm glad I came up with this ingenious pulley plan using eye hooks and rope!
What's with all this excelsior? I used to think that nothing could say "Hi, I'm a huge jerk." better than foam peanuts, but this might be it. It's what soaps and candles are packed in a Pier One to say, "Ooh, I'm from an exotic and far-away place. Buy me. So unique."
This sculpture could use a little premature oxidation from my hands. I made sure to slather them with my Lancome moisturizer this morning.
Now this is just plain stupid. If she falls and whacks her noggin, my dad would just say, "Thin the herd." ***
In case you can't tell, I've never been big on the "glamorization of the gallery worker" trend. It gave rise to a new word, and a terrible TV show. While I do wish that sometimes I could look like this at work, I think this sort of imagery driven by fashion trends and pop culture is belittling to the profession -- the amount of hard, sometimes extremely physical work that goes into putting on an exhibition and the education, internships, and years of networking gets overlooked.
However, my one, true love of print journalism (The New York Times) does a great job talking about the frostiness and sharp dressing of these women as well as their brains.
***This, on the other hand, is fun.