Is Brooklyn losing a step? It’s a fair question to ask we think. Whereas just a few years ago a story coming out of Brooklyn that could be summarized as “Park Slope mom makes jewelry out of baby teeth” would be a story about a mom making actual jewelry out of actual baby teeth, today we see that story, only to find out that the teeth are merely a mold for your standard silver or gold necklaces. Something this boring from the borough that brought us “Hey Kickstart my twee bullshit rainbow birthday party“? Wtf, guys?
The story from DNA Info, which like we said is very disappointing, is that jewelry designer Lisa Hamilton, who describes herself as “a typical Park Slope parent” will accept children’s baby teeth to use as a mold for necklaces or bracelets. It’s important to keep in mind that the teeth are merely used as a mold. You don’t have Park Slope parents wandering around with necklaces made of actual rotting teeth in an attempt to prove their devotion to their children by physically carrying their decay around with them. To which we must ask the question, “Why not? What happened to you, Park Slope parents? What happened to us, Brooklyn?”
The Slope and its parents are supposed to be ground zero for parental overreach, for liberal try hardism run amok. This is such a far cry from the self-mythologizing sex lives of Park Slope moms, from the “boy’s hat” spat, from a three-hour fight over plastic bags at the food co-op. How has our capacity for surprise shrank so small that even a necklace with a single glorified gold tooth is suddenly grounds for a round of “Oh, Park Slope!” all over Brooklyn?
It’s no wonder Fucked in Park Slope is dead, it’s no wonder James Murphy is opening a wine bar for the rich and bored in Williamsburg, it’s no wonder the Brooklyn Flea was ousted from Philly with barely a shrug. We must be boring, and that has to stop. What we consider weird and shocking and even irritating versus what we overlook as tame and forgettable is an important part of who we are as a city and how other people see us as one. Maybe you can’t draw a direct line from Coney Island becoming Myrtle Beach to fake-baby teeth necklaces, but their separate lines run near enough to each other that they eventually cross. Brooklyn, recapture your spirit of joie de what the fuck or become nothing more than an expensive version of Beacon. We say start with giving the syphilitic rabbits back to the Gowanus rabbit lady and letting the chaos unfold from there.
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