Slipping into that floor-length otter, which once belonged to Edward Gorey ("I did some research, found a strange man named Pierre, and convinced him to attend the auction for me") and a pair of Batman-themed Havaianas, Gubler headed outside with the aforementioned shotgun in hand, to snap a few portraits while we scoured his closet. As it turns out, there was hardly a single item that went without an anecdote—that innocuous-looking buttondown with folksy embroidery? It was embroidered in prison and has "someone's real social security number embroidered on the back.” And a lone pair of Uggs we found sitting among his Converse and Vans? Only worn "when sledding."
With Neil Young faintly playing in the background, we explored his place (which he describes "a house that feels like it was made for a Disney princess" and "like a gnome has been smoking a pipe in the house for the last 50 years"). Gubler eventually made the switch over to a full Dior tuxedo and a requisite pair of beat-up Converse (sans shotgun). If we had to attempt to succinctly sum the whole thing up, we would explain it as somewhere between cozy and cottage-like, deliberately kitsch and vaguely macabre—all with thoughtful tchotchkes and sentimental touches woven in. After all, how else do you sum it up when Hanukkah sweaters (complete with velcro flame), cozy reading nooks and skulls manage to coexist, all under one roof? Thought so.
