Dating house nails
So the other night I was at a party, talking to a friend of a friend—one of those special types of New York artists who never actually make any art. The consensus seems to be: Why go to a party that lets everyone in, when you could go to the party that accepts only a select few?
I started telling The Artist about this sweet ER doctor I’d met on Tinder, when he choked on his mojito. ” He was referring to the “elite” dating app that accepts only people in creative industries, unless you’re superhot, in which case: Who cares what you do? To gain access to Raya, which launched in March of 2015, you have to apply, and then an anonymous committee assesses your creative influence—aka your Instagram—and decides whether you’re cool enough to be in the club.
The commonly cited sources used by archaeologists for dating nails have been rendered outdated by later research.
The house is wood-framed with wood flooring and sub-flooring throughout. Though lacking traditional "gingerbread" trim, the fascia is adorned with scalloped escutcheons. At the time, dimension lumber (2 x 4, 2 x 6, etc.) measured the full dimension.The house was renovated in 1995, and carpenters Jim and Hank Carder saved the nails and made the above display.The woodwork in the Victorian-style [A] house was intricate.I shrugged and told The Artist that I just prefer Tinder—I’m a populist, not an elitist, ya know? (Hence why Raya is often called “Illuminati Tinder.”) The app has been growing in popularity, mostly due to press about its celebrity accounts—Joe Jonas, Kelly Osbourne, Skrillex, the hot one from But do we really believe that exclusivity makes something better?I voted for Bernie Sanders in the primaries, that sort of thing. Sure, it’s sort of cool to swipe past lesser celebs while drunkenly prowling for sex on your phone, but you’re probably never going to sleep with those people. In reality, Raya is full of C-List models, social-media managers who for some reason have a ton of arty photos of themselves emerging from the ocean, people named Wolf, people whose bios say things like “racing driver living between Monaco and Tokyo,” and, like, a million dudes who claim to be successful fashion photographers, but in reality have less Instagram followers than some dogs I know.