I am obsessed with F. Scott Fitzgerald.
No, really. Obsessed. I realize this is not particularly original, and makes me kind of like those people who list “the Beatles” as their favorite band and act like it makes them a music connoisseur – nearly everyone loves the Beatles, way to find an obscure band there, Champ.
But I love Fitzgerald. I read “This Side of Paradise” when I was 17, and even though the Amory is insufferable, Fitzgerald’s language stuck with me. I had the same feeling Meg Ryan gets when she sees Tom Hanks at the end of every romantic comedy ever – that moment of, “Oh. Of course. This is my match.” Except, it was with words instead of with a tall, awkward actor.
Since then, I’ve read nearly all of his published works and the collected edition of his unpublished short stories. I stood in awe the first time I saw the exterior of Charles Scribner’s Sons (the ground floor was a Sephora; that may have contributed to my dazed look of joy). I pitched an adaptation of “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” in my freshman screenwriting course (my teacher dismissed it as being too confusing and high-concept – a year later, Brad Pitt started developing it, so thanks for that, Paul Selig). One of the first groups I joined on Facebook was “If I were a flapper in 1920′s France, I’d totally do F. Scott Fitzgerald” because that seemed like the only way to properly express my devotion to him. I would be like a Biebette, except instead of fawning over a prepubescent boy who sings like a lady, I would be stalking an alcoholic who most likely drove his wife to insanity and stole her diaries.
Anyway. Right. The t-shirt. This was all a lengthy preamble to: how do I not already own this shirt? Obsessive fan fail. If there were Biebette-level fans for Fitzgerald, they’d all be making YouTube videos right now about how I don’t love him like they do, and how they’re going to come after me because I’ve so publicly disrespected him.
Oh, and of course ModCloth is selling this shirt, because I didn’t already want to buy half their inventory.
(Unrelated: I totally thought that the song “Somebody to Love” was sung by a girl until I was in an American Eagle and saw the video for it. It’s not just me, is it? Bieber totally sings like a lackluster Britney-knockoff).