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I’ve been thinking about how we call scrolling “inspiration” when sometimes it’s just… consumption. Maybe we don’t need more ideas from everyone else. Maybe we need more time alone with our own. A little less input. A little more boredom. A little more life happening without the need to turn it into content. Because somewhere between the things we scroll past and the thoughts we never give enough time to exist, I think we’ve forgotten how to creatively exist offline. So here are a few little ways to find your way back #creativegirls #findingmyself #romanticizeyourlife #digitaldetox #hotgirlsummer Your next idea might already be sitting somewhere in your last conversation. Take something someone said to you recently and let it become a question, a story, a visual, anything. The most interesting inspiration is often already right in front of you. Instead of searching for inspiration on Pinterest, make your own. Spend 30 minutes noticing the colours, textures, little details and beautiful things around you, then photograph, print, cut and turn them into your very own real-life Pinterest board. At the end of the day, imagine you had to put your day on display in a museum. Collect the tiny things that would otherwise disappear: a smell, a sentence, a sound, a coincidence, a laugh, and notice your ordinary day as if you were seeing it for the very first time. Go back to the things you loved before you had an algorithm telling you what to like. Revisit your old obsessions, hobbies, playlists, books, colours and see what still feels like you. Sometimes the best inspiration is hidden in the person you were before you started looking for it elsewhere. GET INSPIRED BY LIVING!!!

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‘Gore Vidal must be one of my more exhilarating interviewees’ writer Natasha A. Fraser. ‘No doubt because he was an essayist at heart, understood the importance of pithy details – “history is gossip,” he rightly reminded - and enjoyed meeting younger folk. I was received in state at La Rondinaia – his majestic white villa set amongst the rocks in Ravello, above Italy’s Amalfi coast – where he lived with his long-time boyfriend Howard Austen from 1972. True, Gore liked showing off but he was also socially gracious: charming, self-effacing and au courant. Renowned for his bon mots and quotes, one led to breaking the ice and our becoming friends. ‘Pretty boys don’t age well,’ he declared. ‘Well, you look pretty, darn good,’ I replied. It was late December 1996 and Gore was a magnificent looking 71-year-old. ‘Natasha, I was never a pretty boy actor,’ he said in that voice of his, described by the writer Rachel Cooke as being ‘as cold and as dry as a well made martini.’ It was a make-or- break situation but I swiftly apologized, fibbed that my occasional nickname was ‘Faux Pas Fraser’ and we then both collapsed into laughter. There were many Gores. In public, he was an ideally suave date, snapped alongside actresses like Claire Bloom, Susan Sarandon and Joanne Woodward. In private, particularly in the company of women, he was Signor Mild: preferring to being amused over being annoyed. It also helped that Diana Phipps, one of his best friends, introduced us, and that our three nightly discussions concerned the film producer Sam Spiegel (1901 - 1985.) Gore had written two screenplays for him: ‘Suddenly, Last Summer’ (1959) and the disastrous ‘Night of the Generals’ (1967). ‘I became famous for working with Sam twice,’ Vidal told me. ‘When asked why I returned, I would say, ‘well, I couldn’t believe him the first time.’’ Read the full story about American writer Gore Vidal with words by Natasha A. Fraser’s (@ticklishtash) in print in our Issue Ten.

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New York gallerist Angela Westwater and her husband David Meitus’ Uptown apartment on Fifth Avenue plays like a graceful foil, the art and furniture unfolding in an elegant, horizontal sprawl. Many of the gallery’s personages turn up on the walls and sometimes around the table—proof that what one does for a living is often inextricable from how one lives. Meitus, who runs a showroom that specializes in mosaics, tile, and other surface materials, was at the time living in Chicago in a noted glass-and-steel house. He was in the market for art, and a friend recommended a downtown gallerist, which led to a Richard Long acquisition and a spark. In 1992, the couple wed— Meitus for the first time, Westwater with a young daughter from a previous marriage. By that point, Meitus had tired of what he calls the “extravagant minimalism” of his jewel-box Chicago place. “Everything had to be perfectly in place all the time,” he says. Their Upper East Side home has a different kind of ease. “We can have fifty or a hundred people here, and after they leave, the house looks the same.” Finding a gem of an apartment helps. In the mid-1990s, when they came upon the eleventh- floor unit overlooking Central Park, it belonged to a Venetian count who had just broken off an engagement. Renovations had been abandoned; there were wires coming out of the walls. As for who would decorate the apartment? “There was no question that Jed (Johnson) was the guy,” says Meitus. Pictured: Richard Long’s “Mud Circle” (2004) hangs in the home office. Read the full profile of @angela_westwater with photography by @cobeyarner and words by @lauraregensdorf in print in our Issue Ten.

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