#23: Emily Sundberg
Writer, Illustrator, and Producer Emily Sundberg on Temporary Hair Dye, Éric Rohmer Films, Baths, and more
Cool people like cool things, which is why we asked cool person Emily Sundberg to come on Perfectly Imperfect & spread the hot rec wealth.
Emily Sundberg is a writer, illustrator and producer from New York. She reacts to her news feed in a letter called Feed Me (it’s currently on hiatus because Emily hasn’t had any musings on anything remotely satisfying lately). Sometimes she writes about love, other times she paints about it. She’s currently working on a secret documentary.
Without further ado
I bleached my hair in September, and it’s the most myself I’ve felt in years. It’s probably ironic to make such a paramount and exterior change while in quarantine when few people see me on a day to day basis, but I’m having a lot of fun exploring my range of identities. Pink, purple, blue, and green have all been fun ones so far.
I don’t wear baseball hats. I don’t wear beanies. I don’t wear sun hats. But when stylist Emily Dawn Long designed her knit “Wanda” bucket hat, I was enchanted. Mine is white and bright blue. It’s soft and foldable so I can stuff it into my purse or big pockets. When I wear my mask and hat, I feel like I’m hidden and protected from the world. I also feel a little like Captain Crunch when I wear it. Eric sometimes steals it but he looks really handsome so it’s ok.
I have faith that the working class can unite, and feel hopeful at the galvanization of my friends who have found a set of politics that excites them.
I started a Rohmer binge earlier this summer when I was feeling cramped up, horny, and very far from Cannes. Little did I know all I needed was to hit play on a few of these flicks on Criterion, and all of my needs could be fulfilled. Rohmer’s stories follow the most lovestruck, well-vacationed characters as they wash down kisses with martinis and fill their afternoons with silly games of phonetag and delectable meals. I love love <3
The only face I look at more than my boyfriend’s these days is my own. In the mirror, on Zoom, in my selfie cameras. Like fermenting or trying a new format of the infamous “distanced hang”, skincare is an experiment. Babyfacial is my weekly ritual in vanity. It tingles, it burns, and a day later my top layer of skin flakes off. But it leaves me glowing and feeling productive.
I don’t have one but if you have one I can’t underestimate how important it is that you use it all the time. Ok I have a bath but it’s so small and sad. I have to fold into a pretzel -- a tiny one in the Chex Mix pretzel, not a big Beer Garden pretzel -- to fit and it always feels like it has residue of my aforementioned hair dye. But if you have you use it for me. Spread out. Sprawl. Light candles. What a treat it would be to have a bathtub during a year like this. I’d buy a floating tray, candles, bubbles that would make me breakout. I have to leave this fantasy, it’s making me cry.
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