I’m Kimberly Ann Hawes — author, visual artist, creator of The MAPLINGS and The Daily FUCKCABULARY, and apparently the woman who decided one creative universe wasn’t enough.
The Unfuckable Times exists because somewhere along the way, I realized I had spent enough time being fucked with by life. Not destroyed by it. Not defeated by it. Just thoroughly inconvenienced by its audacity.
So I started unfucking things.
Art helped me unfuck my life. Writing soothed my soul and my pockets. Creating gave me somewhere productive to put everything that didn’t belong rattling around inside my head indefinitely.
And believe me, there was plenty rattling.
The Daily FUCKCABULARY gives my sarcasm somewhere to go besides directly into the faces of people who may or may not deserve it. I take the absurdities, aggravations and peculiar little human behaviors I notice every day and give them vocabulary. It’s considerably cheaper than bail.
Then there are The MAPLINGS.
They’re the world I want to create for myself: curious, stylish, culturally observant, slightly eccentric and perpetually headed somewhere. They travel. They explore. They dress beautifully. They pay attention. They still believe the journey matters.
So do I.
I love train travel, especially the kind where getting there is part of the story. Give me an old railway station, beautiful luggage, a proper coat and several uninterrupted hours watching the world pass outside a window. I like luxury, but I like it with character. I’m old-school about certain things. I want atmosphere. Ritual. Craftsmanship. Things made with intention rather than slapped together because an algorithm said beige was trending.
That philosophy runs straight through The Unfuckable Times.
This isn’t another website dedicated to pretending your entire existence can be repaired with a morning routine, twelve glasses of lemon water and positive thinking before 5:00 a.m.
We have actual shit to unfuck.
Your mind. Your body. Your wardrobe. Your money. Your surroundings. Your habits. Your boundaries. Your passport. Your expectations. Maybe even that fragrance collection containing seventeen bottles you don’t actually like but refuse to throw away because one of them cost $187.
We’ll discuss those too.
There will be Fragrances, because smelling magnificent is a perfectly legitimate life priority.
There will be Books & Tings, because ideas still matter.
There will be Fuck It, Chuck It in the Bucket, where certain objects, habits, beliefs, trends and assorted foolishness will receive the dignified disposal they deserve.
There will be On the House, because everything useful shouldn’t require somebody to pull out a credit card.
And there will be Unfuck Your…, where nothing gets diplomatic immunity.
Underneath all of it is one idea:
Becoming unfuckable isn’t about becoming untouchable.
Life is going to touch you.
People will disappoint you. Plans will collapse. Money will get funny. Bodies change. Relationships end. Careers pivot. Flights get canceled. Trains occasionally behave like they have somewhere better to be. And every now and then, life will walk straight through the front door wearing muddy shoes without asking permission.
Being unfuckable means you stop allowing every disruption to rewrite your identity.
You learn yourself.
You build standards.
You develop taste.
You protect your peace without becoming afraid of the world.
You remain curious.
You go places.
You make things.
You laugh at some of the ridiculousness because the alternative is standing in Target arguing with a decorative pillow.
And most importantly, you build a life that actually feels like yours.
That’s what I’m doing here.
Art. Words. Fashion. Fragrance. Travel. Culture. Money. Reinvention. Sarcasm. Beautiful things. Questionable observations. And the occasional raccoon, because apparently I have standards but also priorities.
Welcome to The Unfuckable Times.
We have a lot to unfuck.
And by the time I’m finished building this whole damn universe, it is going to be absolutely…
FUCKTASTIC.