*The below is a parody post, and was written with no affiliation whatsoever with Gwyneth Paltrow, GOOP or BJ’s Wholesale. In case you were wondering.
Hey everyone, it’s Gwyn, aka GP, aka the Steamer of GOOPtastic Yonis! I hope you loved GOOP’s sex issue as much as I did! The thing is, some of my readers have written in to say that after spending $15,000 on dildos and non-toxic lube, they have been left a bit, shall we say, broke, the poor loves. And while I have no regrets whatsoever, if purchasing the perfect, most healthily lubricated sexual experience has set you back just a bit, and you need to downsize, then never fear, because GOOP is here for you!
You see, I’m no stranger to simple living! I lived on food stamps, and you can see from my photos that all I need to achieve bliss is an open field and simple pleasures, and I found both of those at an Ashram that came to me in a dream recently. Yes, a mystical maid — if I recall, she was half housekeeper, half horse, and she was majestic — appeared to me during my siestina (the most poetic of naps), saying, simply, “BJs Wholesale,” before evanescing. I’d never heard of such a place, and silly old Google wasn’t much help: it told me it was a “superstore” with “locations” throughout “New Jersey” and less funny places for a spoof post on a culture blog to list. I don’t know what any of that means, but once I visited BJ’s Wholesale, everything became clear: it’s an Ashram! For the poor! I’ve curated this catalog that’s both an ode to my own spiritual quest and a plea for you, Impoverished, to buy a bunch of stuff for your own! BJ’s Wholesale is GOOPeriffic!
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Chunky by Campbell’s
Listen. I may advocate the value of a locally sourced radish de temps en temps, but I’m a gal who also knows how to treat myself when the time is right. An ancient guru specializing in something called “shelving” and “cash registers” — his hands withered, but oh, the stories they tell! — at the Ashram I recently visited in Hackensack closed his wise eyes and journeyed deep into his soul’s bidet when I asked him which aisle of the Ashram I’d find my spirit cans in. He conjured up some unearthly force, and this Other Being said, “Aisle 6: Soups and Sauces,” and then journeyed me there! I do believe things happen for a reason, and when I first saw Chunky Sirloin Burger by exclusive soup designers Campbell’s, it was like being nourished back to Me-ness by the most generous cosmic mammary imaginable. I personally refuse to eat any beef that isn’t a prime cut, which is why I’ll only eat tiny burgers floating in canned soup if they’re sirloin. In the past, I therefore thought I’d never be able to eat tiny burgers floating in canned soup. This was troubling. But thanks to Chunky, that anxiety, and so many others, have been quelled. Warning: avoid if planning on doing qigong.
Mop by Generic
I discovered this brilliant new brand called Generic. If you’re after the key to sustainable life, look no further than this stylishly minimalist, label-free mop. Its purposes are bounteous! In fact, I’ve started implementing this mop into every aspect of my daily routine; it serves as a fantastic analogue microphone for when you’re nostalgically practicing for the role you used to play on Glee, it’s a great substitute for prohibitively expensive fencing gear (the wetness will help surprise your opponent, Blythe Danner!), it’s a great low-cal snack, and come nightfall, it makes the best going-out headdress, giving me sort of a down-to-earth, casual Alexander McQueen vibe. I recommend not wringing it dry beforehand, if you’re going for a just-hopped-out-of-the-shower-in-floor-cleaner look.
One of my favorite drinks on a hot summer day is rubbing alcohol. Throw in a wedge of lime and a cocktail umbrella and sit out on the porch tower of cardboard boxes with a group of fun but mild mannered women you sincerely call your friends and just talk. Conversation is so undervalued these days, just like rubbing alcohol. Which is why I can afford it.
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Hold the hotdog, hold the buns. All you really need is the mustard. On a budget, you start to understand what is and isn’t necessary — and I’ve learned through my discount nutritionist, a near-sentient piece of paper who goes by the name of Coupon, that the only truly necessary thing about most “American” cuisine is mustard. I like to smear it across a large plate so it makes a neon yellow crepe, then allow it to sit until it cracks like the photogenic parched muds of Death Valley. I will admit, I have a weakness for fusion cuisine (when it’s done right), and French’s Deli Mediterranean can’t be beat for those who want to feel at once like they’re basking on the beaches of Santorini and eating a plate of mustard.
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One of my favorite things about the Ashram are its transcendent and cutting-edge fall fashions that begin to emerge in early October. At once affordable and conceptual, the breathtaking couture-on-a-dime selections come in such a vast range of thought-provoking options it’s almost dizzying. From a curious, arachnid-infused blue and red spandex suit (for boys) to chelonian “karate gis” oddly named after great Italian painters (also for boys) to breathtaking bee costumes (for girls, environmentalists, and people who’ve just overspent on sex toys), the Ashram is full of philosophically and spiritually challenging fashions that question the very limits of the human form. For anyone who claims the depletion of the honey bee is none of your beeswax, this costume at once says, “Um, yes it is, it’s all of ours,” while also winkingly revealing some leg.
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Gummies by Jolly Rancher
I know what you’re thinking! Candy + Gwyn = implosion of universe. But I’ve been doing a little research, asking the hard questions. I think we all need to take a step back from our gastronomic preconceptions and actually consider that high fructose corn syrup comes from corn or the native american Maize, and the more you think about the mythological POWER of the Corn Mother, the more you realize that eating Jolly Ranchers Gummies is essentially nibbling at the very history of the intersection of food and spirituality. Sour Apple is best, and is what I will call my daughter when I start to disdain her for her successes.
Axe Body Spray
Is it just me or is there something wildly natural about Axe Body Spray? When I stopped being able to afford gasoline to go for my afternoon hikes in Greenland, I thought I’d never be able to smell the crisp vitality of a calving glacier again, and when I stopped being able to pay my rickshaw driver to take me to my porch, I thought I’d never even be able to smell the grassy glory of yard again. Nature felt lost to me, but then I happened upon this bottle of spritzable wilderness back at the Hackensack Ashram, and I feel I’ve returned to Earth. We cannot know for sure, but when Justin Theroux wrote Walden, I think this is what he meant. For those of you who think an armpit’s just an armpit, c’mon! The Earth’s natural splendor — its oceans, its forests, its wellness spas, rest in all of us — and that resting place happens to be what we derisively refer to as the “pit.”
I found this on a shelf, and while I couldn’t find the pricetag anywhere, I realized you can’t put a price on the wonderful Buddhist idea of cyclicality, of “samsara,” and I realized that I’d found the goop that’d inspire me to continue GOOP. Is this the product I’ve unknowingly been searching for all this time? One thing’s for sure: this will be exquisite on arugula.