Hello! Today, yet another longread about the beauty industry, a short Georgian documentary, a short French novel, a Korean drama about classical musicians and learning about how ~this whole situation~ affects all of us, even hockey players. In other news, I've been writing this tinyletter for a year (oh god... oh no... why...). Thank you for reading!

Article: Addison Rae and the Beauty of 78.5 Million Followers by Vanessa Grigoriadis, published by New York Times Magazine in March 2021
Am I recommending yet another item about the beauty industry? Yes, yes I am, because listening to this for 50 minutes was like a soothing balm for the brain!
In her longread, Vanessa Grigoriadis explores questions of what the beauty industry claims versus what it delivers, and where influencers like Addison Rae and their promise of relatability come into it. At one point, she asks a cosmetic chemist if he feels fed up with false claims. He says, “No, it makes people happy, and how can that be maddening? Yes, you’re being duped a bit. You’re being told a story. But it’s like reading a novel.” To which I say: I wish.

Film: The Trader, directed by Tamta Gabrichidze (2018)
This short documentary follows a travelling tradesman who takes his wares from Tbilisi to rural Georgia. There, he sells them to villagers in exchange for potatoes: pens, boots, scarves, bubbles. Tamta Gabrichidze follows along with a distant but empathetic eye for details, colours and frames. At 23 minutes, this is just a glimpse into small moments of joy, conflict and humour, but it’s a worthwhile one. And because it’s a Netflix production, it should be available wherever you’re reading this.

Book: Aimez-vous Brahms…. by Françoise Sagan (1959)
When I told my mum about a Korean TV drama I was watching, she asked, Isn’t that a book? Aimez-vous Brahms is indeed a book and not just a TV show, but the only thing the two have in common is that people make baffling choices regarding their interpersonal relationships. Here, Françoise Sagan writes about Paule and Roger, a couple in an open relationship. The “open” seemingly only applies to Roger. Paule is increasingly affected by the situation. When she meets Simon, the 25-year-old son of one of her clients, who is about 14 years younger than her, things start to change -- but not for long.
At 144 pages in Helga Treichl’s German translation, this a very short novel whose characters and concerns in many ways felt as dated and curiously unfamiliar to me as if I was reading a Victorian novel, but Sagan’s way of shifting from one protagonist to the next within a single sentence is kaleidoscopic and absorbing, and the sentences themselves were beautiful little gems. As far as I can tell, the English translation by Peter Wiles is only available second-hand right now.

Learning: The NHL's struggles with mental health this season: How players are confronting anxiety and isolation by Emily Kaplan
Guess what? Being alone a lot is bad for the old brain! Finally I have something in common with NHL players.

Other: Do you like Brahms? (브람스를 좋아하세요?)
Sometimes, I like to scroll through Netflix in a despondent manner, marvelling at all the films and tv shows and documentaries that I have no intention of ever watching. That’s how I came across this Korean romantic drama – by laughing out loud at the title. It was a Sunday, a week before I turned a year older, the pandemic wall had reached the dimensions of Marlen Haushofer’s Wall, and in short, I was feeling extraordinarily gloomy. So despite the fact that I rarely watch TV, I clicked play and proceeded to watch 16 hours of very beautiful people being very sad.
It’s the premise that got me: Song-Ah, the worst violin player at a music academy, who decided to study music after finishing a business degree, meets Joon Young, a star pianist who has just returned to Korea for a sabbatical after performing non-stop for several years. The doom and gloom of the classical music industry looms over them, and with it the baked-in questions of talent, hard work and inferiority complexes of various kinds. When I worked with classical musicians semi-frequently many years ago, I was told that being a newcomer is easy, especially if you look good on CD covers, but making a career out of it is very hard. It was interesting to see the industry explored from varying angles of people who have (seemingly) made it, people who are trying to make it, and those who have apparently failed.
When I was done, Do You Like Brahms almost made me want to watch more TV. Is it good? I’m not sure. Was it cathartic? Weirdly, yes, especially if you’re already thinking about talent, nature, nurture and where to get really beautiful blouses. And if you, too, are incredibly awkward in new relationships, boy, is this the show for you.

That's it. Every time I write this e-mail I find new ways to overshare on the internet. Woohoo!