For those who don’t know me, which are probably a lot of you who were close to Cool, My name is Stacy Feyer-Salo. I was an old friend of Cool Earthen Thou. Well, ok maybe we were more like good acquaintances for a short period of time, but I at least knew who Cool was since at least the 5th grade. We met in an encounter involving my Limited Too shorts, which were much shorter than my Limited too T-shirt. Cool pointed out that this combination does not necessarily work, and I deservedly received a school full of pointed fingers and the label “the pants-less girl wonder”. Cool also pointed out how I “intentionally” stuck my butt out too far when I walked. Thanks Cool, I know better now.
Anyway, since we first met I have seen Cool transform faster than you can say, “parachute pants”. Cool was a very influential person, transforming many lives, no doubtedly both yours as well as mine. Cool has molded the music industry, the world of fashion [single handedly raising the market value of leg warmers twice in two separate decades] once desolate urban destinations and the diet trend of not only our nation but the world. Cool, more time than once, convinced the average Joe to leave behind their tasteless and boring image and pick up smoking, saving them from a life full of mundane, normalcy. We have a lot to thank Cool for.
Cool was the kind of person you wanted to have around. If cool wasn’t at your party, concert venue, bar, shopping mall or modernly designed, direct trade coffee shop, no one else was either. If cool was wearing high waisted, torn trousers, a neutral colored, over-sized blouse, felt hat and big textured sweater [not to mention a top knot] and you weren’t, it was pretty hard to make friends with anyone who knew Cool. Oh you listen to Coldplay? Well Cool stopped listening to them 7 years ago, so maybe you should keep that little secret to yourself.
Cool and I had some crazy times together. There were nights we stayed out way too late, having too many drinks (only locally crafted beer, PBR or Single malted Scotch Whiskey, of course) and I maybe made some life altering mistakes, but hey, I was somewhat close to Cool, and that made it all worth it.
We didn’t find out about Cool’s death until months afterwards. You see, the night Cool died was the same night we, my husband Jazz and I– he was much closer to Cool than I ever was– had our first child. We were so busy healing, changing diapers, not sleeping and generally losing our minds that we had no idea that Cool was even gone. It was probably timely because Cool didn’t like children very much. “Yes, I understand that kids like tacos, but no, we will not buy high chairs or install a changing table in our establishment because we are a restaurant that all of Cool’s friends are going to. As you can understand, making this place child friendly would really put a damper on our style”, was a common message we subliminally came across time and again (meanwhile the 10 kids eating overpriced tacos at the establishment are sitting on their hip parent’s laps getting guacamole all over their Levi’s and Madewell jeans). I mean, I’m sure Cool would have loved the idea of Willow– especially if she was dressed in clothes bought from Etsy or baby Zara– as long as she didn’t get too close. Parenthood was something Cool never wanted. Getting tied down wasn’t necessarily Cool’s thing.
Now let me be clear, Cool wasn’t one of those heartless, selfish people who don’t want children because they don’t feel they would make a good parent, don’t think they can handle the responsibility of caring for another human being (not to mention themselves), they don’t connect well with children or they are a nun or priest of something. No, Cool didn’t like children purely because of image. It was like being a parent and being Cool was like mixing oil and water, it just wasn’t going to happen. I think we can all applaud Cool for always putting image first, no matter who or what stood in the way.
So goodbye Cool. Goodbye nights of choosing to stay out late. Goodbye friends of Cool and your hair that took hours to make it look like you didn’t wash it. Goodbye coffee shops. Goodbye hangovers. Goodbye hipster dance parties and goodbye hipster bars. Goodbye words like “babe”, “babest”, “gem”, and “swag”. Goodbye Urban Outfitters. Goodbye Miley Cyrus. Goodbye to all of the establishments who refuse to install changing tables [seriously, where is one to change a soiled diaper? On the floor or at the table? Oh, that’s right, parents aren’t welcome here with their children]. Goodbye house shows and desert house plants. Goodbye cocktails we learned about from Mad Men. Goodbye Mad Men. I will never forget all the ways I didn’t quite measure up to you and that I should never wear t-shirts that are longer than my shorts.
Keeping Willow by Stacy Feyer-Salo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.