What's your neighbor-Hood like?
What is your neighborhood like? Try this test and find out. Travel to the nearest 7-11 or your local convenience store in the late evening hours and observe. But before I do that might I point out that the mere presence of a 7-11 in a given neighborhood indicates with a fair degree of accuracy its socioeconomic standing. Furthermore the better neighborhood wouldn't have a 7-11 at all, but instead an independent grocer who somehow manages to stay in business; oh, and who also closes at 10pm.
If you live in a good neighborhood you might see high-school aged kids, fresh from a party or just about to see a dick flick, looking for Mountain Dew: Livewire; people who are on a first name basis with Akash the cashier, college aged girls looking for some ice cream; someone flipping through Esquire or GQ magazines; or more likely no one at all.
If you live in a not-as-good neighborhood (in da hood) you might find abandoned condoms and various articles of cast-off clothing in the parking lot; a mature gold digging skeezer with a tramp-stamp insisting to everyone that she's been robbed, but asking you not to call the cops on her behalf. You'll also find that there is always someone at the door asking you for something: a ride, some change (I need that myself), or some bags - as in, "gotsum BAGS man? ... DAMNIT!"
Not the Average Dude |
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Plaster of Paris No Panties
Just when we thought we’d seen all there is to see of Paris Hilton, along comes the opportunity to pick through her internal organs. Brooklyn artist Daniel Edwards — the man who created the statue of Britney Spears giving birth naked on a bearskin rug — is trying to turn the pointless heiress into socially conscious modern art. Crazy? Yes. And also no.
Bull Shit |
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The Wider The (not) Better Tie
The skinny on the best tie widths.
The difference between banker and bassist? About one and a quarter inches.
That’s the width gap between a classic necktie and the extremely skinny style that harkens back to ’80s rock bands—and the fall 2005 runways, which designers flooded with dental-floss cravats. “The fashion community tried to put it on the trading floor, and it just didn’t happen,” says Tom Kalenderian, chief men’s buyer for Barneys New York.
But the tie that was too extreme for Wall Street did end up leaving its mark—in part because other aspects of a fashionable man’s ensemble were also getting slimmed down. “The trend in clothing is more fitted jackets and more narrow lapels,” Kalenderian says. To avoid having their ties look clown-size against the modern suit silhouette, manufacturers had to take a little off the sides.
“We responded by bringing the tie down to about three and a half inches, and it was very successful,” says Melissa Lawrence, senior vice president for sales at Mulberry Neckwear, which designs and cuts ties for a number of labels, including Ben Sherman and BCBG Max Azria. Mulberry’s ties had previously measured three and three-quarters inches wide, almost across the board. A quarter of an inch might seem like an imperceptible shift, but any more could be disorienting to the mainstream customer.
“People are buying these ties and may not even realize [the change],” Lawrence says. “But the look is more clean, and it’s a way to get that more moderate guy into the modern look.”
Some high-end tie makers had a harder time adjusting. “It’s frustrating for us because when you go down to three and a half, you can’t appreciate the fabric,” says Susan Benson, director of marketing for Robert Talbott.
Luckily, there’s still a place for broader fare. Both Kalenderian and Colby McWilliams, vice president and fashion director at Neiman Marcus, report that the seven-fold tie, which can measure as much as three-quarters of an inch wider than the average tie, has never been more popular. Really, says Barneys creative director Simon Doonan, “the only faux pas is to wear a tie that misrepresents you.”
No Tie
You wear it if … you run a social networking site and, unless you’re on your way to a meeting with Murdoch, you abide by the dress code of Silicon Valley’s first coming. “When you think about the dotcom days, there was this era of prosperity—but you looked around and people were dressed as if there wasn’t,” says Jeff Blee, merchandise manager of men’s furnishings at Brooks Brothers.
The Extreme Skinny (2.5 inches)
You wear it if … you’re with the band or, more likely, in the band. “It’s your rocker look,” McWilliams says. “It’s a fashion statement, not a power statement.”
The Skinny (2.5 to 2.75 inches)
You wear it if … you manage ad accounts on either coast or run a graphic design business out of your home. “The person who wears the skinny tie to work doesn’t have to wear a tie to work,” says Kalenderian.
The Trimmed Classic (3 to 3.5 inches)
You wear it if … you favor the close-cut, streamlined suits popular with traders—and you’re built more like Larry Ellison than Hank Paulson. “If you have a big man, and he puts on a three-and-a-half-inch tie, he’s going to look terrible,” says Benson.
The Classic (3.75 inches)
You wear it if … you bought five timeless suits when you made partner, and intend to test the lifetime guarantees. “That guy doesn’t want to think about getting dressed in the morning,” says Michael Macko, vice president and men’s fashion director at Saks Fifth Avenue. “He just wants to have ties that match his shirts, ties that match his suits.”
The Luxury Classic (3.75 inches and up)
You wear it if … you’re a tobacco heir, oil baron, or C.E.O.—or you’re trying to get one of them to invest their money with you. The seven-fold tie, popular with menswear mavens, is as much about plumpness as it is about width. Made from a single swath of material, the seven-fold is “for someone who’s probably not afraid to impress,” says Kalenderian. “They like the idea that someone might say, ‘Where did you get that tie?’ It’s a statement of luxury, an artisan product.”
Not the Average Dude |
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Secrets of sushi
It wasn’t that long ago that the idea of eating raw fish sent shivers down the spines of many Americans. Now, of course, you can find tuna rolls in corporate cafeterias and see chic schoolchildren in New York and San Francisco toting bento boxes for lunch.
Yet while Japanese food is commonplace in the U.S., many people aren’t any closer to eating it properly, or looking beyond the obvious dishes. After all, there’s a lot more to the cuisine than Benihana and Sushi-A-Go-Go. And understanding the terrain is important for anyone who wants to navigate the shoals of the global market—or simply impress the neighborhood food snob.
Whether you’re in Kyoto or in Cleveland, properly appreciating Japanese food means paying attention to the details. We asked three experts in New York—Hiro Nishida, president of Megu restaurants; Jungjin Park, owner of Rosanjin Tribeca; and Shin Tsujimura, executive sushi chef at Nobu Next Door—to give us a primer.
Selecting sushi. Though sushi is considered elegant in the U.S., many Japanese think of it as casual, humble comfort food. But that shouldn’t prevent you from ordering sushi with care. Start with the lighter stuff such as whitefish, and work your way up to richer-tasting sushi, like clam or fatty tuna. You might explore variations on a theme; rather than ordering tekka maki (tuna roll) yet again, try sushi made with chutoro (medium-fat tuna belly), kihada (yellowfin tuna), or, some connoisseurs’ favorite, otoro (fatty belly). Letting the sushi chef select your meal is called omakase; it acknowledges his or her mastery and ensures that you get the day’s best choice. (It’s bad form to ask for substitutions, even if you’re served a “challenging” piece such as uni—sea urchin.) In Japan, don’t order a California or Philadelphia roll at better sushi joints; they’re American inventions, and some don’t regard it as “real” sushi.
Be soy savvy. It’s considered crude to fill your soy sauce dish to the brim; pour just enough to cover the bottom. Dip the fish, not the rice, by flipping your sushi upside down. This action is easier to perform with fingers—also a mark of a sushi connoisseur. Eat each piece in one bite.
Handling the hot stuff. That dab of green putty on your sushi plate is made from the root of a plant found on Japanese riverbeds. Or it would be if it were genuine wasabi. Real wasabi root is expensive, so almost all U.S. and most Japanese sushi restaurants use a paste of horseradish, mustard seeds, and food coloring. Restaurants that offer real wasabi will grate it at the table upon request, but most believe the amount already placed in the sushi is adequate. If you must use wasabi, apply it sparingly to the fish; never stir it into the soy sauce. The condiment’s “cooling” properties are supposed to wash over your mouth after you’ve tasted the flavor of the fish.
Eat gingerly. The thinly sliced pickled ginger, or gari, is meant to cleanse the palate after you sample each type of sushi. Eat a slice between bites, not draped over your sushi or tossed into the soy sauce. Fresh gari is pale pink or even yellowish (red or hot pink gari has probably been treated with a preservative).
Understand kaiseki. If you’re embarking on a business relationship in Japan, you’ll likely celebrate with a kaiseki, a formal dinner that grew out of the traditional tea ceremony. A kaiseki can last two hours or more and traditionally features an eight-course series of small plates of seasonal vegetables, broths, egg custard, and the like. Kaiseki courses strive to be “not too delicious,” according to Park, because a diner is supposed to appreciate the subtle differences between each one—a bland dish has to be seen in the context of overarching flavor, texture, and ingredient themes. Needless to say, this is not the time to ask for extra soy sauce.
Dump the decor. A snazzy interior design might appeal to American diners, but it can have the opposite effect on serious eaters from Japan, where glitz is seen as a distraction from the food. Some of the best restaurants in Japan have unremarkable interiors and nondescript or even shabby storefronts.
Leave room for izakaya. Now take everything we’ve said about Japanese food and toss it. On your second or third time out with Japanese business executives, you’ll likely end up eating at an izakaya—a rowdy version of an American diner—after a more formal meal. “There are no rules in an izakaya—that’s the point,” says Tsujimura. You can order a wide array of food, from toasted riceballs to okonomiyaki (a savory pancake-omelet, drenched in mayonnaise and Japanese barbecue sauce, that tastes better than it sounds). But the food is not the main attraction—alcohol is. Never pour your own glass of beer or sake. Instead, ask someone else to fill your cup and then offer to pour theirs. An empty glass represents opportunity—leave it to the Japanese to turn the old “half empty or half full” chestnut into a ritual.
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Wild monkey sex and sensuality
Our Anniversary is coming again - June 10th... It's like a holiday dedicated to us, planned by us (me), and executed in some fashion or other. Will this include fine chocolate, lacy lingerie, and hours of sex? Consider me game.
I’ve got no time for the bitterness and anti-commercialism, the
trite anti-Anniversary backlash that’s finally becoming passé. Anniversaries are special. If we don’t mark and celebrate
our Anniversaries or special days like this, then they all start to blur together. They’re supposed to
be a chance to shine, to enjoy unordinary days. Lavish love and remembrance upon the ones we love and lust after.
(Personally I don’t wait for holidays to have un-ordinary days, but it’s always fun to have an excuse.) Yes, I'm "that guy" - the one that sends flowers for no reason to my wife - to her office. just because I love her.
The Anniversary day is about affection, passion, love, romance (which is the glamour surrounding love and not the thing itself), wild monkey sex, and sensuality. Treat it like Valentine's Day for god's sake! Enjoy your day of hedonism.
Of course, I bought her some new lingerie - she may not wear it - (Cheeks: "you still think I'm eighteen"). Of course, I'm planning a get-a-away - I'm thinking Napa... wine, fine foods, lusty stares,...
