Last summer as I sat in Dimes Square with my friend Levi, along came K in The Row double breasted black jacket, Ralph Lauren blue suede wide legged trousers and Manolo Blahnik black sling backs.
This is all according to them when I asked what they wore the day we met. Who else remembers all their outfits like this? K does.
Shy in temperament but never one to hold back esoteric knowledge, K is a tender gem with an outsized brain probing life’s profound questions and vast weariness. We first bonded when the heel of their Manolo Blahnik broke and I rushed off to get them Chinatown slippers. Since then we’ve had endless gin and tonics at Clandestino, drunk karaoke nights at Upstairs and the Goodbye Chinatown video. Now they are back home in the Pacific Northwest, but their ghost haunts me whenever I am in the triangle of sadness that is Dimes.
A go-to for impeccable taste and more importantly the first person to lend a helping hand, here is my dear friend K.
I think a lot about Taoism these days.
With no doubt, humanity has been pushed and tethered into rushing radical ideologies— no news there.
Is there a way to move through life beautifully, joyfully, thoughtfully without oversimplifying oneself to be heard and seen? Can we have it all?
I think about the island within an island that is Dimes Square.
LCD Soundsystem’s “New York I Love You, but You’re Bringing Me Down.” Chris Garneau’s lyric “I live on an island in the middle of town.”
Trips outside of that fish bowl to Florida or Montana have had me blurting out to myself “why does it have to be this way?” Polarities disturb me. Two party systems and binaries in thinking are disturbing.
Resolutely, conversations with friends who enjoy the fruits of life have me pining for pleasures that are clean and speak of ideological beautiful.
I love fashion, but clothes interest me more:
The tank top. An undeniable wardrobe staple has prevailed as the underwear-as-outwear of the 90’s and early aughts— a hangover that makes sense. Sensible feels right for right now while the sociopolitical world is too loud. What does not make sense is a label-for-the-sake-of-label .5k or four figure mark up.
For what?
While people watching with a friend visiting from Paris— I said,
“Let’s go to the baby store!”
instagram: @makie_clothier
The baby store being Makié, a Japanese clothier for infants. Makié also caters to parents, selling curated adult-sized clothing and accessories because caretakers need care too.
There, I found myself immediately and cannot-live-without about Oscalito tank tops. Sensual on the body, outwardly sexual, private, and practical: all that I need.
The packaging, neat: folded in fine white tissue, parceled handsomely in natural chipboard, and labeled proudly in a signature script “Oscalito (pura seta/cotone naturale) Made in Italy.”
Dignified.
In a world of cartoon clowns parading on public view, something of simplified dignity is a soothing balm.
Though Oscalito’s imaging leaves one wanting more— marketing doesn’t always have to be so tight. One should have the wits to believe without being sold a fantasy. Romance is in the living.
My friend and I bought matching fuzzy boucle mittens in angora yarn because life always needs warmth and a sense of humor.
More waxing lyrical about the things we put on our backs:
Always have, always will love vintage
Jean Paul Gaultier but the over saturation of JPG’s internet presence makes me look for an alternative in cost and stealth. Life in the Pacific Northwest with hikes and grocery coops doesn’t support looking like a back up dancer or backstage at Cirque du Soleil.
Vintage Marithé + François Girbaud: Their trousers and knitwear speak of athleticism with a sense of humor and a joy of life. Just edit well.
Albeit, maybe the pulse of Y2K fashion is the undercurrent of bright young things trying to find value in an expression that is virginal. Cue Christina Aguilera’s ‘Genie In A Bottle’.
Why am I attracted to dangerous men?
I was dating a 55 y/o film professor whose bloodline comes from Drakula’s (Vlad the Impaler).
(Red flag— I know)
But, I couldn’t help myself from at least accessing what he’s been projecting onto his pupils. His pupils being apathetic teenagers and equally apathetic, married-rich wives (of course).
Curiously, one afternoon he shared a magazine that made it (culture) make sense: a cover of The Christian Science Monitor featuring a trans artist named Salome.
“… a new cadre of young New York artists who have been raging against a different cause: the cultural rot and decadence brought about by “libtards.”
I do realize that expression is radical and offensive to the woke crew, but given the noise of New York City— it’s loud, it works. Within Salome’s messaging, there appears a collective working towards the restoration of antiquity and biblical-like imagery.
It brings to heart my friend Georgia Kemball in London who sculpts jewelry in forms of angels and demons, mangled bodies in orgies. On commission she repurposes heirloom precious stones into contemporary rings with a Georgian, slightly brutalist influence.
instagram: @georgiakemball
Georgia and I found inspiration in a shoebox of an establishment called Ting’s Gift Shop on Doyer’s St. A spider web in a rainstorm, a corner of a Wong Kar-wai film, maybe.
Perhaps ‘Happy Together’.
As for the aforementioned film professor; he revealed himself to be a man-child with a sly declaration of “my ex-wife thinks I’m a narcissist.” His mask slipped when I refused him sex.
Demons— they live among us.
My enduring obsession with portrayals of the ‘Massacre of the Innocents’ as an allegory for our war-torn times feels better than keeping up with the news. WWIII isn’t what they imagined, but the world is at war. All the while, I think often about Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s marble sculptures that are obsessed with the attack of purity and the ecstatic pain of beauty.
Making sense of violence and faith today feels personal. But, where there is one, there are many.
Anselm Kieffer’s show “Fallen Angels” at Palazzo Strolli makes sense, to me, of humanity in the throngs on conflict.
Laid out on large canvases, Kieffer (79 y/o) depicts motifs of sunflowers and heavenly bodies, rendered in gilt and ash. I’ve not yet seen Wim Wenders’ 2023’s ‘Anselm’, but having loved ‘Pina’—
I’m sure ‘Anselm’ will leave an impression.
But, generations don’t seem to divide a greater connection through art.
A contemporary, younger artist called Allan Gardner (32 y/o) follows themes of loss and beauty. Gardner’s show last year in a Chinatown, NYC gallery used rubbings of tombstones from diseased icons. Marilyn Monroe’s on a tiny rectangular canvas in Pepto pink spray paint with My Little Pony blue glitter. Leonard Cohen’s on a monolith-sized canvas with romantic and dirty lyrics in grey and black glitter. And many more.
Rothko and Sterling Ruby, with a poetic, camp touch. Gay gold.
Allan Gardner on his most recent show at Cob Gallery in London titled ‘Foreverisms’:
“Forever is as easy to define as love. When we ask someone to explain what love is, words normally fail, we resort to memory.”
Pleasures and purpose:
A beautiful life needs beautiful food. I can’t help but recall my best meals, best memories being the most simple.
“It” restaurants feel exhausting.
Nightclub dining— it’s tired. If you want to party, then party. What we need are more shared meals to be languished over with a friend or two for several hours, or perhaps idly.
I furnish my social media with foodie mainstays like Nigel Slater or St. John Restaurant who champion real eating, but rising stars like Cabincorn and Aromecassis charm me.
instagram: @cabincorn
Cabincorn’s Instagram shows off what appears to be a modest hermit-in-the-outdoors approach to food while framing his cooking and eating visually cinematic. Just a simple IG story like, “post hike martini,” speaks volumes of our times. With that comes the rise of “teeny-tiny martinis” in restaurants, asking what true hospitality could be for their patrons. A little bit often, as the Spaniards say— feels good.
Quiet pleasures for one’s own sanctity.
instagram: @aromecassis
Aromecassis comes with portraits of Egyptian cooking. Outside of Tunisian, I’m not too familiar with North African cuisine. Nutrient dense diets like the food of Okinawa (think Japanese breakfast) have been more than just a vibe— way of living. Aromecassis gathers influence from French, English, and nearby Mediterranean cooking in austere but dreamy snapshots. It’s ancient, but refined. A bit “lost in translation,” but shouldn’t social media embrace a globalized world bringing us together?
‘The Taste of Things’ by Vietnamese, French director Tran Anh Hung understands the intimacy in sharing pleasure with an erotic expression of food, sex, and love. ‘Scent of Green Papaya’ by Hung marked a distinctive feminist voice for Asian women. ‘The Taste of Things’ remarks again about the soft power of women for today but in a volume of tenderness and strength that I haven’t seen in years.
And for gender? Maybe the roles we play in accordance to our sex is irrelevant. The evolved way to be isn’t easy. It’s a choice. Take the best from of all gender norms— that’s where freedom lives.
America, you need a change of behavior:
Scott Galloway, Professor of Marketing at NYU, predicts the biggest impact on consumer habits: Ozempic. He proposes with increased accessibility and demand of the drug, “what would a skinnier America look like?”
We know what it looks like already, aesthetically.
Hollywood.
I optimistically turn to what America could feel like and be like.
Don’t come for me— I’m not a doctor.
Nor do I have time to annotate. But, Semaglutides reportedly reduce addictive consumption and aids with ADHD. Consuming for dopamine hits— overconsumption of food, shopping, sex, and drugs. Capitalism is necessary because as a human race, we specialize and trade, but it needs a mass reform.
As Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs suggests that ‘self actualization’ is the apex of a fulfilling human existence; I have hope Ozempic could fast track higher level thinking that we greatly need in the adult population. Faith in a pharmaceutical be damned (Ozempic probably isn’t a soul elevating Kool-Aid). But! Imagine.
‘Accepting the Universe’, a YouTube channel with titles like “You are not your identity,” “Be absent for a while and come back better,” and “On choosing to be free” speaks of an America I’d like to see. The content creator is easy on the eyes, so I’m here to see him using his looks for greater good. More hot nerds pretty please.
YouTube: @acceptingtheuniverse
Depeche Mode ‘Stripped’— “let me see you stripped down to the bone. Let me hear you make decisions without your television.”
A salve for the salt-of-the-earth girlies:
Perhaps adaptogens like L-Theanine and L-Tyrosine could take the edge off contemporary life. A contemporary life that should feel (romantically) modern, but is outright Medieval.
The capture of this otherwise overseen and under looked piece of art beguiles, but in the knowing eyes and gentle smirk suggests that she has something you can never buy. Generations don’t divide a greater connection through art.
All I’ve wanted was a Summer of Love that has been long overdue. But now, give us a quiet Renaissance.
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