I usually don't usually go for fluffy, bohemian-chic pieces.
I think the problem with the word 'happiness' is that it sounds fluffy. It sounds like something trivial that we shouldn't be concerned with.
I have a teenage daughter and a 10-year-old daughter. Things are pink and fluffy at my house, with two little dogs. It's pretty funny to be me now. And I'm in on the joke that is my life.
A fan sent me a pair of fluffy winter socks, and I was like, 'Oh, that's cool. I'll wear them to bed. It's cold; it's winter.' But they were worn. They were black underneath, and they stunk, and I hate feet. She was like, 'I'm giving you my favorite pair.'
For one thing, I don't think art needs to be about suffering; sometimes it really seems like it's only the art about pain that is interpreted as profound, and in my work for years I've really tried to deal with subjects that are substantial, not just fluffy, but presented in a more playful, approachable kind of way.
I started riding the whole 'fluffy' train, and it's a cute word and socially a lot more acceptable than someone saying is fat or obese. If you call a girl 'fat,' yo, she'll raise hell, but if you say, 'Aw girl, look at you, you're fluffy,' there's almost a sexy appeal to it.
Well, fluffy shirts are, by definition, very comfortable.
I have a strong say in how my books are marketed, and the covers - I am very firm that I don't want pink and fluffy, or stick figures sitting drinking cocktails. That's simply not appealing to me.