I'm your huckleberry.

(probably one of the best westerns of all time)

If there’s one distinct trait that I inherited from my dad, it’s an eagerness for random pop culture knowledge and the talent of becoming obsessed with certain periods of time throughout history. A private investigator by trade, my sister and I spent a good deal of our childhood sitting in our father’s office, which just so happened to also be the backseat of his 1998 White Pontiac Sunfire. Stockpiled on the rear driver’s side floor you were always guaranteed to find the following: a stack of various magazines including but not limited to: Entertainment Weekly (RIP), Vanity Fair, GQ, and Maxim (LOL if we weren’t estranged I would definitely feel bad for outing his Jack Mormon indulgences), multiple hefty sized novels covered in fresh library-grade plastic, a stack of newly released cds from the local Tower Records, and an empty Snapple bottle reserved for emergency bathroom breaks on the job (the less glamorous side of P.I. life). Every week when he picked us up from our grandmother’s house, my sister and I would flip through the magazines, pop in a cd and listen to my dad spout the facts and figures on the various topics he had become a self proclaimed expert in. Throughout my formative childhood years, this rotating collection of media would become my extra curricular pop culture classroom and a gateway to all the pointless knowledge stored somewhere in the back of my brain that only comes out when playing “Trivial Pursuit” on the Switch (which I would highly recommend as it is both extremely low budget and unexpectedly fun).

Despite my dad thinking my angsty teenage phases of various obsessions with bands (the Killers), movies (Lord of the Rings), or books (Mary Queen of Scots) was a direct result of being the child of divorce (read: escapism), the reality was that he possessed a very similar mindset when it came to learning and obsessing over one specific topic. His areas of expertise usually floated in the arenas of Anglophilia and his love of British history, etymology and grammar, and western expansion and cowboy culture, likely a partial side effect of doing years of family history and tracing back our lineage to the first Mormon pioneers who migrated across the United States and laid down roots (stole land that did not belong to them) in the wide open plains of Idaho, Nevada and Utah.

Throughout the years my sister and I have texted each other realizing that these passions of his have managed to seep into our own interests whether we like it or not. I will admit I am a sucker for anything on PBS Masterpiece theater, any english cottage that looks like this (or this or this), and can rewatch this movie every Sunday forever and ever.

Enter: Yellowstone.

Kevin Costner giving us a master class in moody rancher chic pulling off a quilted vest like I never could.

Call it realizing that I, too, love the Wild West just like my father, or the moving to Texas thing or my love for dysfunctional family dramas (Peaky Blinders and SOA forever) but Yellowstone ended up being a delightfully surprising watch during the holiday season. No matter how many people try to “think piece” this show into a soap opera, I will die on the hill that is loving the slow deterioration of the Dutton family no matter the melodrama. I had avoided watching it despite being intrigued by the commercials with the assumption that it was a conservative’s wet dream (ranch setting, “old white male” power vibes), but Taylor Sheridan (who, by the way, didn’t write his first screenplay until he was 40) has an incredible knack for layered story-telling. The politics mixed with human rights issues bubble to the surface in a slow burn that makes you want to buy up all the Carhartt, grab your Stetson and learn to rope in your new home (or town?) on the range. 

As a kid with a very overactive imagination, combined with the years I did obsess over certain book series or movies set in different time periods or fantasy worlds, I find that I still have the same tendencies to want to fully immerse myself in the world of whatever it is that I’m consuming. For my Yellowstone hangover, this meant going down a very large rabbit hole of all things western on Etsy, as I suddenly debated if I could easily morph my sartorial choices in the direction of cowboy hats and leather without resembling the twenty-something Austinite that looks like they’re trying out for the next season of the Bachelor or Joey as the perfume cowboy.

For now, I’ll stick with sprinkling in the occasional fringe, cowboy themed home good and a re-read of Lonesome Dove. If you’d like to live out this western fantasy along with me as I try to fill the Beth Dutton/Rip Wheeler shaped hole in my heart, here’s some cool shit I found around Etsy to start your collection.

My personal lewk if I were living on the Dutton Ranch.

clockwise from top left: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

And some fun finds on Etsy:

clockwise from left: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve

You can’t talk about western culture without including the original inhabitants of this land. While we have a long way to go with both representation and reparations to Indigenous Americans, Yellowstone has done a decent job in beginning to bring to light the need for racial justice.

If you’re wanting to incorporate Native/Indigenous jewelry or textile pieces into your wardrobe, a friendly reminder to buy from Native/Indigenous makers and businesses. Appropriating traditional pieces like turquoise and southwestern patterns (along with tipis, calling it your “bride tribe”, naming things as your spirit animal, and wearing outdated caricatures) is lame. You can search with the keyword of “Native Owned” in the search bar/make sure to read store bios as many list their specific tribe.

left to right: one / two / three

And if all of this simply isn’t enough to get in the yee-haw mood, here’s a slowly growing playlist of country jams called, “I moved to Texas” because I refuse to be one of those people who claims they “listen to everything but country.” Country music bops (some of it, at least) and I am convinced most of those people are lying.

I have no idea if that will embed correctly so you can also check it out here.

That concludes this week’s rambling newsletter. Let me know your thoughts, feelings, and if you end up inspired to buy your own western ranching attire after soaking all of this up. I would also love to hear if there’s any topic/theme/general interest/life question you’d like to see here on Junior Year. Let me know in the comments and thank you for being one of probably five people reading this!

xo Glenn