I remember singing the lyrics to this song when I was young. My friend Zoe had introduced me to the Rolling Stones. She had much older brothers and sisters and her mother was a fashion designer. And her father was a professor with a very handsome British accent. They were an eccentric family. I say this having grown up in Manhattan in the art world. These people were eccentric. Like Andy Warhol eccentric. But they were cool. And I liked Zoe. She was a bad girl. A Risk taker. An adventurer. I was the good girl. Non adventurous. Non risk taker. Until I met her I had never really gotten into trouble. Zoe was fun. Sneaking in to the Church of the Heavenly Rest, on 90th and Fifth, just blocks away from where we lived was fun. Attempting to climb up the bell tower with hopes that we wouldn't get caught was fun. Skate boarding down a couple of streets (after being chased out!) to get an ice cream from the Good Humor Man parked outside the Guggenheim Museum was fun. Zoe was fun. Hanging out and, listening to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and Lilly Tomlin on her mother's bed was fun. Sneaking one of her mother's cigarettes was fun. Singing along to the records while sneaking cigarettes was fun.

And we'd croon... and the lyrics meant nothing to me in my youth... "what a drag it is getting old..."

And as I wandered into the wonderful Jonathan Adler store on Greenwich Avenue today I was immediately taken by these wonderfully amusing canisters. I stood in front of them for a long time. I smiled at the canisters and thoughts of Zoe and our childhood on the 11th floor of 1136 Fifth Avenue came flooding back to me. I laughed at the thought of two pre-teens singing about mother's little helper!

image via The Entertaining House
taken with Instagram

image via Google

Oh which ones should I get, pray tell??!!

XOXO

Jessica

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