Monday, August 31, 2009

Nice bum, where ya from?

The other week, my mom and I had dinner at Inakaya in the Times building. We needed to eat pre-Broadway show and wanted to avoid the craziness/overpriced not so awesome food in theatre district. Inakaya, the New York outpost of a well known restaurant in the Roppongi section of Tokyo, is a quirky restaurant. The focus is on the robata-yaki (sunken and hearth-like with minimal oil) style grill. All the staff call out to greet entering customers, announce food being brought to the tables and bid farewell to people on their way out. I have experinced this tradition in Japan- in a crowded, smoky and loud izakya but it does not quite work in the quiet, shiny and cavernous space on 42nd St. Another interesting part of the Inakaya experience is the bathroom where you can find the latest and greatest of Japanese toilets- a super-high-tech model with a control panel that looks like the cockpit of a plane. The toilet seat is heated, and it can pretty much do everything (check the top picture to get a better idea) except take out the garbage.
If you happen to be around 42nd street, need a bite to eat, are not easily suprised (the shout-outs can sound kind of abrupt), and need a quick bidet, Inakaya is worth checking out.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

500 words on a common, household item.

For as long as I have been allowed to slice my own bread, I have always used The Bread Knife. Its has been a constant in the three kitchens that I grew up in; the first in the apartment my parents lived in when I was born; the second, where I first used it myself, in the house where I did most of my growing; and the third in my parents' current home. The Bread Knife is a generic-looking tool, with no distinguishing marks or brand names. It has a white plastic handle, a long, serrated silver blade and weighs just enough so that you can feel it in your hand, but not enough to cause any discomfort while slicing.
The Bread Knife came to my parents as a wedding present; the pearlized handle suggests its intended use as official cake-cutting tool. Immediately, it was pressed into daily service, becoming The Bread Knife. Today, it sits boldly in the center of the wooden knife block, its white handle surrounded by newer Cutcos and dark Europeans. Though other bread knives have been bought, none has succeeded in replacing The Bread Knife, despite its somewhat dulled blade and quirkily bent tip (evidence of its use as a tool for some now-forgotten household repair). The Bread Knife waits patiently, un-intimidated by its fancier neighbours, knowing that it is the knife of choice for slicing bread in my parents' home. It has served us dutifully at luncheons, dinner parties and Sunday brunch. It is solid, durable and trustworthy; sharp enough to slice a bagel yet, in an accidental slip, unwilling to break through its user's skin.
It was with The Bread Knife that I learned to slice bread. (Though, I require a few good years of practice to master the art of slicing, and to finally overcome the uneven cut. Still, if I slice in a hurry, I often end up with an irregular piece.) The Bread Knife has brought much satisfaction to my carbohydrate cravings, be it challah toast with jam, or a baguette sandwich; I have even used it to slice my mom's homemade banana bread.
Despite its success as a cutting utensil, The Bread Knife has also brought its share of strife, particularly to my mother, who for a long time believed that her children would die by slicing bread. It it the source of omnipresent breadcrumbs, which has brought much stress to me. No matter how thoroughly I think I have wiped the counter, my mother always seems to find them. If the Bread Knife sliced sans crumbs, it would truly be the perfect knife.
The Bread Knife, though a seemingly random household object, has a significant place in my family's kitchen, and hearts. It has been with us literally through thick and thin, slicing bread in good times and bad.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Au Revoir, gominyc!

gominyc one of the city's first, and raddest eco-boutiques (founded by Anne Bernstein- a tiny, but fiery woman) will be shutting its little green door for good on August 27th. Sadly, it is the end of an amazing era. Happily, it is a fantastic opportunity to purchase majorly marked down eco friendly clothing (from designers like Bahar Shahpar, Mociun, Feral Childe, Majestic, and more...), accessories and vibrators.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Sometimes you have to show a little skin

Top: Chanel (gift from my Nana)
Jeans: BDG from Urban Outfitters
Shoes: Joe Fresh ballet flats
Bag: Muji

Thank you Nana for giving me this Chanel top (and matching full length skirt). I always thought the complete outfit would be a bit much for me to wear at once (a little too Troop Beverly Hills), but I'm starting to think it would look très bad ass with my vintage velvet Chanel combat style boots or my white Acne Niara wedges. I've been to a few white parties, perhaps I need to think about throwing a Khaki Party? Or, at least pitching the idea to the Gap's PR people.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009


Irene Williams. Cutest.
My brothers' new kicks. Flyest.

James Gilbert. Smartest.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

You Must Hear This

Tiniest Creature (the latest addition to John's MySpace page). This is John's recollection of how the ditty came to be:
This song was written in Costa Rica, while Mir and I were in "isolation" on orders of Dr. Rafael Guerra of San José.
The day before seeing him, we had both been devastatingly sick with flu-like symptoms,cough and loss of appetite. We checked ourselves into a very fancy hotel, with plans to recover as much as possible, then catch our flight out of San José early the next morning.When we woke up, Miriam was in quite worse shape than I was at that time, and thought it would be a good idea to visit a doctor before flying, as she had pain in her ears and wasn't sure it would have been a good idea in her condition, what with the pressure and all.
We took a taxi from our opulent gringo hotel in the suburbs right into the diesel fume reeking asshole of San José to go to Clinica Biblia, which the ever wise, helpful and stern Lonely Planet informed us was the best hospital in town. (Probably right underneath a list of the myriad problems affecting Costa Rica's health system and how it's a shame that rich gringos can pay to jump the queue....but I digress.)
After a short wait, an English speaking Doctor came to see us. He examined Mir and asked her questions about where we had been, etc. He was a laid back and jovial guy, and didn't seem too concerned about her health. When I brought up the ahem...elephant in the room about a certain H1N1 virus, AKA"swine flu" AKA "Influenza Porcina," he laughed and said probably not.
After Mir's examination he told her he wanted to do a blood test to make sure she didn't have a bacterial infection. We waited a few minutes (this hospital was really top-notch) and Mir had some blood withdrawn. As we waited for the results, I began to realize that I wasn't quite the example of good health that I thought I was that morning. No matter though, we have a plane to catch and by god, we'll tough it out.
Dr. Guerra came back wearing a surgical mask, and was holding two others in his hands. He sat down behind his desk and motions for us to sit in the two chairs in front of it. He gave us the two masks and said to wear them at all times. He suspects we have swine flu. He recommends- nay, commands us - to stay in San José for another week, and as the quarantine form he's filling out to the Ministerio de Salud can attest, has the authority to back it up.
We are sent on our way in our masks, though we do take them off as we walk through the lobby of our 5 star hotel. We board the elevator with two members of the Venezuelan football team and try not to breathe on them (there was never any news about the Venezuelan soccer team being taken down by Swine Flu, although recently it was discovered the President contracted it. I suspect the people behind the Honduras coup gave it to him). We began our isolation in, well, isolation in the loneliest 5 star hotel room in Costa Rica,with the worst room service.
After a couple days of watching American TV and eating Gallo Pinto from room service, we decided to move somewhere cheaper. At this point, we were feeling much better and going kind of crazy being stuck with nothing to do. We moved to a private room at a "luxury hostel", the kind of which seems to exist only in Costa Rica. We walked around downtown, had breakfast in the market and marveled at all the terrible fashion (well, Mir did. I am not a snob).
I saw some guitars in the window of a pawnshop, and thought that this quarantine would go better with a little music, so I bought one. We went back to the hostel,drank a bottle of wine, sort of watched an Adam Sandler marathon, and "Tiniest Creature" is what came out.It could be about the tiny flu bugs we got; it could be about Mir's recently born nephew, Henry Solomon; or it could just be swine flu induced feverish visions that popped into Mir's head. I don't know, because this song was written by Miriam. Enjoy!

Monday, August 17, 2009

I left my camera wire at home

so I can't upload any pictures from the end of last week/the weekend (which was amazing) and I just had to write an essay for work so I don't really feel like writing but I do want to mention that Patagonia is pure genius, I am using the Secret to make shit happen, also it is too hot to think again and I love it but I wish I could spend the week at Cape May or at Sarah's cottage.

Friday, August 14, 2009

It's Friday, you ain't got no job and you ain't got shit to do.

I can't stop thinking about this cropped motorcycle jacket from Bona Drag. Its 95$ bucks and real, albeit not amazing quality, leather. Online shopping -so awesome, but so dangerous. If only we could download clothes, like music, to try before we buy.

Saw this play on Wednesday night with my mom (she has been in town all week doing a writing workshop at Columbia University, my mom is the best and I love having her here). The 39 Steps is a hilarious adaptation of Hitchcock's film of the same name. You can actually get half priced tickets for it through TKTS because it is not The Little Mermaid and therefore not at the top of most tourists' list of plays to see. If you are smart and like laughing, I highly recommend it.

Love this painting by Canadian artist Kent Monkman. Saw it on Kimberley Newport - Mimran's blog. KNM is the head designer of Pink Tartan. A successful, ladies-who-lunch kind of line, based out of Toronto.

Jared sent me this link earlier in the week- It is an online gallery of various art dedicated to Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are. I know, with a Spike Jonze movie on its way, WTWTA has gotten a lot of hype lately, but Sendak's book is the bomb - the hype is fully deserved.

It might get loud opens today in NY and LA, and elsewhere on the 28th. The film follows Jimmy Page, Jack White, and the Edge over a year -offering insight into their techniques, influences, and approaches to guitar. I can't wait to see these six string savants* tear it up on the big screen.

* I must credit Flavorpill for the amazing alliteration.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

“Honestly, I never strove to be an Edison”

“The only reason I invented these things was because I didn’t have them and neither did anyone else. I had no choice, really.”
Les Paul June 9, 1915 – August 13, 2009

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I'm the cream of the crop, I rise to the top

On John
Tshirt: Helmut Lang
Jeans: Levis
Shoes: Converse

On Mir
Tshirt: John's old Johannesburg Tshirt
Shorts: Jordache Cut-offs from Value Village in Toronto
Shoes: Canvass sneakers from Urban Outfitters

Hanging out and jumping around Times Square. Really digging the new Strøget inspired makeover. Also really digging John's signature shoe tying technique - kind of like gladiators for men. But not annoyingly played out like gladiators (though, if you're into them, then wear them, throw-away trend fashion sucks). I think the effect is similar to Anne Demeulemeester's lace up booties, and I think its rather sexy, especially with shorts.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Hot, Blue and Righteous

Summer has (finally) arrived. I love this heat. It is the kind of heat that makes it too hot to think. The picture is of a watermelon-lemonade from Bottino. It is a righteous drink. If I were taller, I would surf all summer and have an endless supply of the aforementioned watermelon-lemonade.

Friday, August 7, 2009

We're all pretty bizarre.

Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Hot like Pop Tarts...

Shorts: Polo
Tank top: South African Shop
Glasses: Spy
Visor: A Touch of Hawaii
Shoes: Nike
Jacket: H&M
Cupcakes: Disney Princess Cupcakes!

King Hans- DJ, MC, unicorn lover and party person extraordinaire. Hans hosted a BBQ last weekend. There was a piñata. And, Disney princess cupcakes. Essentially, BBQ perfection.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Suck A Gill

The Back 40 crab boil deserves all the hype. The crabs are delicious (round 3 was exceptionally amazing, piping hot and super succulent), the service is delightful and the experience is plain, old fashioned fun. Plus, Peter's friendly bar tenders serve real mint juleps in proper mint julep cups! Many thanks to Yasemin and Steph who diligently attempted to make reservations week after week.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Flyer than a 85' candy painted regal...

Glasses: Gucci
T shirt: Emperial Nation
Pants: Levis
Belt: G star
Shoes: Supra

This is Rick. Rick and I work together. Rick was born and raised in the Lower East Side. His style is consistently fly.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Wise man say forgiveness is divine, but never pay full price for late pizza...

Pizza, one of the greatest foods in the universe, is having a moment. Pizza is amazing and I think it is great that it is getting so much love. Home made pizza is extra amazing. The above photos are of last night's dinner at my sister and her (extremely talented in the kitchen) husband's house. The perfect crust was crafted on the bbq, a trademark pizza making move in my brother in law's family. The end result, white pizza with fresh ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan cheeses topped with fresh spinach, basil and olive oil was off the hook. As was the arugula and tomato salad. The salad was dressed with The Best Dressed Caesar Dressing- a staple in my mother's kitchen for as long as I can remember and, in my humble opinion, the best caesar dressing in the universe. Dinner was divine. Thank you N, J and H!