On January 17, 2018, I sat in the coffee shop where’d I’d been holed up for weeks, trembling before my shiny, new laptop—ASUS brand, because I couldn’t, and still can’t, afford a Macbook like I’d wanted. Who knew such financial fuckery would eventually drive my “rebrand?” Anywho…
I was preparing to launch my blog, berating myself for not finishing the introductory piece that I skipped numerous social functions to work on. The ghosts of incomplete essays breathed down my neck as I scrapped everything I’d written and cranked out 934 fresh words to accompany a shoddy photo of me on my fire escape, clad in a faux fur coat and purple leather boots. One of the few uses of my DSLR camera before it rightfully found a new home. “6th & Bainbridge: A Welcome of Sorts.” Post 1 of (now) 38. Nearly $2,000 and countless hours later, my digital stake was in the ground, and mama was ready to build.
The name 6th & Bainbridge came from the intersection of my favorite restaurant, Bistrot La Minette. There was some phonetic charm about it that mimicked the breezy-yet-glamorous air of al fresco French dining. The city was starting to feel like home, and I had visions of sharing my life here with anyone who cared enough to read. It just fit to have a little Philly in the name.
I didn’t have concrete plans for my blog other than a space for sporadic writing, free from creative limitations. But as the year progressed, I found myself oddly dedicated to it’s upkeep. Eyes glazed as a Krispy Kreme, I’d smoke and sip chianti until 1 AM trying to piece together cloudy thoughts on life, love, and the pursuit of ramen. My blog became less about writing and more the proud embodiment of the discipline I’d always longed to demonstrate, but couldn’t quite achieve. I was doing something. And I was doing it consistently. And it felt really good. Like a strong partner who puts their foot down on your childish antics to make you better, my blog commanded necessary personal growth.
I’ve spent the last few months agonizing over my blog’s direction. Because it’s become more meaningful to me than I’d initially anticipated, I decided it’s time to approach it from a creative position that’s true to self. Sixth & Bainbridge felt dishonest. Like Janis Joplin in a pressed Brooks Brothers shirt. Sixth & Bainbridge is conventionally pretty and belongs to someone with an equally conventionally pretty life. I may have plenty to be grateful for, but my gratitude is practiced between hangovers and alarm clock snoozes and anxious breakdowns. As proud as I am for breathing life into something so lovely, 6th & Bainbridge never belonged to me.
The way life tends to come full circle, I found myself back in coffee shops like when I first started this thing, scribbling columns of potential new site names. I was just as unenthused about each one as I was that first blog post that I ultimately canned. Human intuition has this fantastic radar for the contrived. It dismisses it upon contact and holds space for the effortless. I wouldn’t find my new blog name by trying just like I wouldn’t find love on a dating app. It had to happen on its own.
One morning a couple weeks ago, I stood in the mirror applying my face cream—fresh out of the refrigerator where I store it out of both superstition and some immortal memory of learning Kate Moss ices her face every morning. Equate Beauty Collagen Moisturizer Day/Night Cream. Compare to L’Oreal Collagen Moisture Filler. Supple skin for the low price of $3.88 at a Walmart near you. Indeed, I’ve spent a year tending diligently to my skin, albeit with cheap products any Skin Person wouldn’t touch with a 10-foot pole.
And then it hit me. Broke but moisturized.
The first idea I’d liked in months struck me out of thin air. It’s like when you meet someone and it feels like things are moving too quickly, but you need to act fast so you don’t miss your shot. I changed my Instagram handle and bought the domain that night.
I love change. Life’s too short to not reinvent even the smallest pieces of yourself at neurotic frequency. So, what’s to come for the content? More feeling. More art. More life. Refining my thoughts on the human experience and what drives our daily choices in everything from sex to sneakers. I used to like the idea of telling people where they should eat and what they should buy, particularly here in Philly, but my heart’s really in saying, “I feel X about Y and maybe you do, too.”
Broke but moisturized is a nod to the self-aware. It’s simple and playful and vaguely analytical, not unlike my approach to writing. It’s as individualistic as a skincare routine and as universal as laughter. If 6th & Bainbridge was my Beyonce, broke but moisturized is surely my Solange. And we all know she’s the more interesting Knowles.
To new beginnings.