The Grazing Board, vol. 6

Ding ding goes the dinner bell with inspired appetizers: mermaid necklaces, is Substack Seinfeld, and my "return to the original uncool" summer obsession.

Jun 08, 2025

Hope you are in a snackin’ mood, because I’ve set out a bit of a nosh board for you with thought provoking bits n’ bobs from the creative side of my week. Let’s dig in.

6 minute read.

1. I wanna be where the people are are…

Cosima loves the original animated Disney movie, “The Little Mermaid,” even though I’ve only allowed her to watch certain snippets (it can be intense!) and that was a long time ago. Luckily, as child of the 1990s (born in ‘83), I still know every song by heart. For me, our recent family trip to the Georgia Aquarium, where those hauntingly human-like beluga whales inception’d my mind, has evolved (devolved?) into a current need for mermaid jewelry.

When I’m on the hunt for something specific and whimsical, I turn to Etsy. My cart is overflowing with magical finds—silk sailor rope necklaces bearing golden seashell pendants, chunky chains dangling with ocean charms, and opalescent chokers decorated with incandescent talismans.

The trick will be to pair these treasures with the right outfit, and I see it going one of two ways: (1) This Outfit - toss the unique necklace on with an otherwise “quiet luxury” summer ‘fit of, say, white denim bermuda shorts, a French blue oxford shirt, and woven sandals; or (2) That Dress and That Matching Set - layer the necklace on as another iteration of a print-on-print maximalist look, such as a playfully patterned dress in the same scale or same soft blush pink as the necklace shells. I feel very passionate about this. Here are my favorite finds, linked below:

$78 silk cord necklaces; $36 opal shell necklace; mixed mini-shell necklace

$39 makrame beaded necklace; $15 gold plated shell necklace; $11 scallop and turquoise pendant

$105 chunky clam shell necklace; conch shell necklace; pink beaded shell necklace

2. We’re trying to have a civilization here, Substack!

If a blog website were a Bravo watching basic girl in Murray (C)Hill, then Substack is her NPR listening counterpart in North Williamsburg. Both take themselves quite seriously, the former with her nose in a glossy magazine and an iced hazelnut in hand, and the latter with a musty library book that she hopes you’ll notice her conspicuously reading over her French press. Different, but the same. So I can’t help but giggle whenever I come across a Substack name that reminds me of those old blog names; a sentence fragment or prepositional clause essentially synonymous with “everything and nothing.” Examples (and please note that I am making these up and not thinking of any publication in particular because I read almost none of them [do you have any recs? Leave them in a comment]—this is straight out of my imagination):

apropos … random thoughts … in particular … musings … in review … vis-à-vis … alignments … seekings … just a dash … quick take … wit and whimsy … up and away … time will tell … what will be … daily notebook … findings … if / then … word salad … that said … things considered … this old thing … repertoir … above and beyond … screengrabs … the list …

We are an inch away from live laugh love.

It’s like a Seinfeld episode. “We’re trying to have a civilization here!” Jerry said with disappointment and exasperation when George proposed he have the “ultimate experience” by eating a snack while watching TV while having sex with whatever unlucky gal he was dating. Because you can’t do (or, for Substack, be) everything at the same time.

These daydreamed Substack titles remind me of a game my father and I used to play when I was little, driving through any upscale suburban area with HOAs, but primarily we’d be in Nassau County on Long Island. We’d cruise past a beautifully landscaped little bundle of trees and shrubs framing a large sign announcing the private neighborhood therein: “Foxcroft Landing.” “Turtledove Crossing.” “Deerbrook Way.” We’d riff on them, laughing as they became increasingly absurd: “Ahh, yes, The Labrador Commons of Stone Bridge Hilltop’s High Point Meadows.”

For me, I chose “Stacked” because the website is pre-formated to share a publication as “[title] by [owner].” If I named my Substack “Blaise Barber,” then you would see me in the app and elsewhere as “Blaise Barber by Blaise Barber.” I would feel like we’re in a fun house of mirrors. Since I had to pick something, I sought out a single word that is phonetically snappy (known as the “Spanx” phenomenon) that is not already famously used on Substack and relates back to the actual activity: stacking up communications with you on a platform called Substack. I made zero attempt to summarize anything, let alone everything, about my writing and instead tried simply to snap your attention my way. It’s not in my header at the top of this website, and it doesn’t even matter. I deliberately don’t want you to focus on it. The only thing I want you to know is “Blaise Barber”—I have bigger plans in mind that a one-off newsletter, which I do not want to have its own identity separate from my other channels. That is why I also direct you to the domain I own, BlaiseBarber.com, and then re-point that to Substack’s website, instead of directing you to Substack’s own cumbersome domain, “blaisebarber.com/substack.com.” I don’t want you to think about Substack or a random word I pulled from the dictionary. I want you to think about the brand “Blaise Barber.”

Relatedly, I recently heard a very successful influencer of 16 years describe “niching down” as simply identifying a topic you could enthusiastically talk about non-stop for thirty minutes and still have more to say. That’s your niche. Because “lifestyle” is no longer, she says, interesting, helpful or sellable. You can’t be everything at once. You can’t be George. Or, you can, but someone like Jerry will be triggered. And that’s where I come in.

What is a great Substack title you’ve come across? Let me know:

3. Original “Dad Mode” from ankle down…

As you are likely painfully aware, the “Dad Sandal” was first shoved down our throats about five summers ago and never excused itself from the table. Clunky, ugly, chunky, thick straps, velcro, heavy soles, rubberized, clashing colors, some sort of futile utility function like a contrast top-stitching or an extra padded spot at the back of the ankle… Chanel did it, then everyone did it.

They’re technically hideous. And I love them.

Specifically, the silhouette. There is something refreshing about the jolie-laide (“ugly-pretty”) to sort of relish veering away from the undeniable femininity of a thin strapped, delicate, almond-toe-shaped, ballerina style sandal. Especially if you want to “undercut the cute” in an otherwise very pretty dress, for instance. Three years ago, I bought these Chanel versions and have worn them every spring and summer since, including yesterday, in large part because the Chanel quilting is timeless and the ivory/blush combo is something ubiquitous to my personal closet, so they work with a lot of my outfits.

But I feel a tide pulling back out to sea.

Because while it might feel thrilling to spend serious cash on the perfect iteration of an interesting piece for your wardrobe (how I felt at the time), I wonder if it is actually uncool to continue to do so when everyone is hawking yet another version of the same thing (Valentino, Dior, Prada, Celine, to Tory Burch and Michael Kors and Coach, to Steve Madden and Aldo and Dolce Vita…)

We need to pivot. So, let’s retain the good part (jolie-laide silhouette to temper an otherwise sacarine summer outfit), but ditch the cringe (designer brand upon brand making the same thing for years with huge price tags that everyone [me] buys like sheep; let’s not be a sheep).

The result? I present you with…. The original…. Le Teva. (Took the liberty of making it French for us.)

Teva, as you know, is an outdoor shoe company that was already doing this clunky strappy silhouette for a lonnnng time. But it took note of the Dad Sandal phenomenon and, strategically, recently upped its style.

Bingo. Best of all words. The right silhouette. Cool new colors. No absurd redundant designer vibe.

Nothing is cooler than a return to an original. Think of a girl wearing Levi’s 501s and not the Citizens of Humanity riff on them. (I have both, so no judgment.) Let’s be cool again. Let’s be so uncool that we are cool. Let’s have an “Original Dad Cool” summer. My favorites are linked below.