do I smell a smackdown?

Oh yes, dear Etsians — Etsyhound is back. And the first retail giant to fall prey to another smackdown?

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sit tight

ladies and fellas,

just letting you know that this blog will be, for the most part, static for the next several weeks as I undergo a particularly hellish round of finals and prepare to enter the Real World. no worries, though; Etsyhound will be back with a dogged vengeance.

in the meantime, please check out your local sellers. one of my favorite finds on the site has been from a local Atlantan who met me at the post office a few hours before a big event so that I could buy a sparkly headband. she rocks.

keep on hounding, etsygoers!

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om nom nom… food porn on etsy

Type in “food” in Etsy’s photography section, and there it is: a treasure trove of tantalizing imagery there for the taking, whipping my inner fat kid into a lather. It’s like the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue for people like me–and by “people like me,” I don’t mean the snobby “gourmands” or that awful, obnoxious linguistic pimple, “foodies.” I mean people who just downright love food, plain and simple, whether it’s a truffle risotto or a greasy dive bar reuben. Chow.com calls them “chowhounds,” and after reading their manifesto, I think that’s the best term for this obsession of mine.

At any rate, macro shots of an orange peel and stylistically arranged chili peppers just so happen to tickle my fancy and whet my appetite. Here are a few of my favorite bits of food porn on Etsy. Warning: NSFW (that’s “Not Safe For Women-who-think-a-Slimfast-shake-counts-as-a-meal). Continue reading

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etsy dogs like it ruff

We dog lovers are insane. There, I said it. It’s an indisputable fact that people who purchase apparel for domesticated animals are completely out of touch with reality. I’m just as guilty as anyone else (for evidence, please see Exhibit A, Exhibit B, Exhibit C… that’s probably enough). But a cute pup in a plaid jacket is just adorable. There’s no getting around that fact. Continue reading

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marry me, sawyer. or desmond. or sayid. (just not jack, please)

So, it’s Tuesday night. And for the past several months, this has meant nothing to me. But three years ago, one seemingly innocuous night of the week took on an omnipotent, almost evil significance. No, it was not the night of my Narcotics Anonymous meetings (joke). It was the night of Lost, a nefarious intoxicating substance masquerading as a television show. For the past three years, I’ve tried with all my might to shake the addiction… to no avail. I am its prisoner. Like a toxic relationship, I have stayed right by Lost’s side as it bitch-slaps me with polar bears, sucker-punches me with smoke monsters, and then apologetically caresses me with cheap explanations that only lead to more questions.

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etsy vs. urban outfitters: the smackdown

Ah, Urban Outfitters. Treasure trove of hipster wares. Mecca of ironic graphic tees and neon plastic wayfarers. Purveyor of accessories that make you say, “Ooh, I love that!” and then, “Wait a second, that necklace is $40?” and finally, “Couldn’t I just… make that?”

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craving color: zesty homewares in chartreuse

Being as fair-skinned as I am (the names of my foundations normally use words like “alabaster” and “china doll”), there are a lot of colors I can’t easily wear. Any time I venture into a dressing room armed with a fuchsia dress, a mustard sweater, or an orange tee, I almost always hear my mom’s voice in my head, telling me that something just isn’t “my color.” “Try it in that pretty light blue!” the voice says. The voice is right, though, because trying to don a burnt-sienna dress and not look like a corpse is a pretty tricky thing for a pastey, blue-eyed redhead to do.

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