Sticktoitiveness

Here’s an update about a very silly, ancillary campaign to this blog.

Despite, as mentioned in my last update, finding a large swathe of my first run of stickers missing, pulled down, scratched off and/or, in a couple of amusing instances, profanely defaced, I decided to keep at it. I decided to switch up the design a little — inconsequentially — and continued to furtively smack them up around town. I should re-assert, as this stage, that this is a completely silly waste of time, but I’ve cultivated a taste for it, and fun is in short supply these days, so indulge me.

As before, some managed to stick around (pardon the pun) longer, this time, based on some further best practices gleaned from previous trial and error. Others, meanwhile, continued to vanish from specific spots only a day or so after first being affixed. Why certain points on the map of Manhattan are more diligently preferred (and summarily policed) by the sticker community remains something of a mystery, but that only enhances the challenge. If I could manage to keep my stickers up on certain key streets, …. it was like I won.

This all said, as Blood, Sweat & Tears once so sagely sang, “what goes up, must come down.” It is simply sheer luck — if that’s even the right word — if any of my stupid stickers will stay put for the conceivable future. It’s ultimately a pointless endeavor.

Then the election happened, swiftly followed by all the political drama drummed up by the losing side, culminating with the shameful events of January 6. I probably don’t need to re-hash any of that.

But back on the mean streets of Manhattan, there was suddenly an uptick .. even here in the allegedly liberal bubble of New York City … of propaganda for “The Big Lie.” All around Greenwich Village, I started spying little yellow stickers emblazoned with the laughably farcical legend, “TRUMP WON.” Suddenly, my stickers took on a new purpose, as I demonstrated here.

As such, more recently, if you spot one of my dumb stickers out there, there’s a greater than likely chance that underneath it, there’s a “TRUMP WON” sticker being denied its mission of misinformation. I also started covering up the unspeakable one’s face whenever I encountered it.

In any case, the only reason I’m bringing any of this otherwise juvenile, ill-considered and embarrassing bullshit up now is because I’m now somewhat conditioned to studying the topography of NYC streets as I walk them. I mean, I already was, but my eyes are now trained to seek out stickers — both my own and the work of others — when traversing pavement. I can spy a sticker of mine from practically a block away, at this point. I’m also looking and learning how my peers and competitors are fairing at the same game, constantly trying to unspool the riddle of why some stickers stay put and some vanish instantly.

On Friday, meanwhile, I was returning home from a quick visit to my office down at the bottom of TriBeCa, and was strolling north of Crosby Street (this was the same trek that prompted this post). About a block after I paused at 40 Crosby, I was struck by another sticker that I almost completely missed.

Stuck to a yellow no-parking pylon of some kind was a sticker that, at first glance, looked like the old Canal Jeans Co. logo against a checkerboard field. Canal Jeans used to give away basketfuls of pins with that same design that were invariably later sported on the lapels of every hip kid worth their salt. I still have mine in a mason jar in my closet.

Closer scrutiny, however, revealed different words...

I immediately assumed that this was the handiwork of my fellow NYC blogger, Yukie Ohta of the SoHo Memory Project, who I’ve mentioned many times here (notably here, here and here). I loved the idea of Yukie similarly branching out on the sticker front, especially with a design that spoke so directly to the heart of her whole concept (Canal Jeans was verily a SoHo institution, which you can learn more about here). I also dug the notion of Yukie doing it as, much like myself, she’s otherwise a respectable parent.

I shot Yukie a note, but — it turns out — this was not her doing, which begs further questions which will doubtlessly continue to distract me as I continue to wander these city streets, sticking things on the sides of other things.