Somehow I missed that Michael Phelps had done an underwear ad for Under Armour. I’m not terribly upset missing this one, given that I abhor Under Armour, but Mr. Phelps has been an anchor of this site thanks to his Olympic greatness, so for that we offer this belated celebration of his basket and bulge. He’s had his stuff on display before, in posts like this, and some naked shots here and here. These should only add to his legacy. The Summer Olympics may be over for now, but the Winter Olympics are about to begin again. Stay tuned…
A frigid lucidity greets the New Year. The clarity and clean slate demand something fresh and pure. The heaviness of the holidays now behind us, we are free to move beyond the excess and seek out something simpler. To that end, I’m trying out a classic Frederic Malle fragrance, ‘Geranium Pour Monsieur’. Created by Dominique Ropion, this is at first glance a spring or summer fragrance, but as I occasionally do with some citrus scents, I find winter a perfect time in which to wear it. We need something to break up the claustrophobic weight of the moment. There are more than enough weeks to surrender to the smoky, heavy warm scents of winter; some days you need something to break it all up.
Piercing the cold like a sliver of sunlight through an icicle, the bright notes of ‘Geranium Pour Monsieur’ are a welcome distraction. With a heady dose of its namesake grounding the whole experience, the fragrance also pulls in mint, rhodinol, aniseed and assorted spices to give it just a hint of warmth. It’s as light and breezy as it sounds, which means it’s not the longest-lasting out there, but a mid-day reapplication never hurt anyone. Such freshness is not long for such a brutal season anyway, but this is an instant antidote for the winter doldrums, when your olfactory senses are ripe for a surprising twist.
For me, fragrance is usually reliant upon seasonal influences. This is one of those rule-breakers that can find a place for itself in any season, not unlike Tom Ford’s ‘Oud Wood’ or the exquisite ‘Eau de gentiane blanche’ by Hermes. It depends on the mood and the whim of the wearer ~ a dangerous aspect for most of the time, but here it works.
My obsession with all things CreateTV continues with this post on the fantastic host of ‘Pati’s Mexican Table – Ms. Pati Jinich herself. Because of her, I keep a bowl of avocados on the kitchen table and now a stash of chipotle peppers (in adobo sauce) piled in the cupboard. Better than that, however, is the indefatigable spirit she puts forth on her show (available on Amazon as well). That spirit and grace is like a balm in these crazy times. I can’t tell you how many hours Create has spared me from watching the news – and it’s proved far more valuable in ways both practical and spiritual. Such as the Senor Breakfast Sandwich that Ms. Jinich personally recommended for my first time at the chipotle rodeo, and seen in these photos.
On a frigid morning right before the turn of the year, I stumbled into the kitchen looking for something hearty and warm, with a little extra kick to get me going. This breakfast sandwich, seen on Pati’s site here, was the perfect item. While I’ve always been a big bechamel fan, it was usually of eating them, not making them. This version used the chipotles in the sauce, and that made it infinitely more interesting. It was also super easy. While the sauce was coming together, I turned on the oven and began the sandwich assembly line. At this time of the year we have baked ham overflowing from the fridge, so I used two thin slices of that (so much better than anything found in the deli), then substituted Muenster cheese for the elusive Oaxaca. I added the bechamel and into the oven it went. A couple of quick fried eggs, some avocado, and a sprinkling of salt flowers later, and the sandwich was complete.
The taste that results from such a simple recipe is nothing short of astounding, and while I’ve never been a prodigy in the kitchen, this was definitely a showstopper. And so easy! I’m still in awe that such a thing of delicious beauty came out of our oven.
As for ‘Pati’s Mexican Table‘ I highly suggest you give it a viewing if you need an escape, a delectable recipe, or simply a friendly smile. Her enthusiasm for family, food and friends is absolutely infectious, and her passion for cooking is a joy to behold. On to my next chipotle adventure…
They were a cheap, last-minute addition to some summer party we were having, tacked on to the list of things that I thought of a day or two before the event. Maybe a buck a piece, they were so cost-effective that I could purchase thirty or forty to surround the pool, and the sheer number would have a bit of an impact. Solar-powered too, to ease Andy’s worries about the electric bill. A win-win situation if ever there was one. For all their flimsiness, these little lamps managed to survive into their second winter, in which they still put out their soft light. I’d forgotten about that until they suddenly shown with new radiance in the aftermath of a snowfall. Suddenly, with the surrounding snow reflecting various shades of blue from the darkening sky, the lights took on new beauty.
At first I felt sad.
The lights looked so small in such an expansive sea of snow. Some hadn’t even stored up enough light to blink on. Others were buried in drifts, just the tiniest mound rose to indicate that something was there. It reminded me of how far we were from a summer pool party. I couldn’t quite conjure the feeling of the sun on my back, or the laughter and excited squeals of kids jumping into the water. That had faded with the fall. I struggled to bring it back, and slowly the memories returned.
I pictured the potato vines descending from their perches, the brilliant chartreuse of their leaves never once faltered. I could see the bright blooms of a fuchsia, and the way their tubular form teased and enticed the hummingbirds. I remembered the chirps of chipmunks, the scrambling scuffles of squirrels, and the scary screech of a hawk high in the sky.
The sky was dimmer now, the sun lower. Still, this little light shone through the snow and the dark, reminding me with its sun-like rays that summer would return. Spring would come again. For now, we slept, but the sun will rise, even if it’s a little subdued. There was something calm about the light now. Brighter too, the way it was cradled by the snow, reflecting and glowing more than it could ever be beneath the shadows of the ferns.
One of the the worst movies ever made is also one of my favorite childhood films: Troop Beverly Hills. My brother and I saw it in the theaters (we were allowed to see any movie rated ‘PG’ at that time, and there weren’t a great many Oscar-worthy works with such family-friendly ratings). It was the 80’s, and that decade permeated this very-dated film. I had the luck to catch it airing on television the other night, and revisiting it made me realize how genius it was (in the worst, tackiest ways possible).
The very things that make the movie so insufferable are also the ones that lend it such an 80’s brilliance. First and foremost among these is the fashion. Ms. Long wears a parade of outfits that define the brash garish excess of the era, and on that recent viewing I was in shock by how impressive they were. Awful, yes. Ridiculous, most definitely. But beautiful in a Showgirls kind of terrible way. For that reason alone, it’s worth another look.
My brother has always held a deeper affection for nostalgia than me, but every now and then I’ll catch something like this on television and be transported to a more innocent time. The year of its release – 1989 – was one of the last years where things were so simple and safe. It was one of the last years of my childhood. The lightweight frivolity of the movie was indicative of where we were so lucky to be. Only whimsical wisps of that time remain, and only when I lose myself of modern-day worries and concerns. At such times, in a fur-trimmed robe perhaps, an asymmetrical cocktail dress bustle, or doing a quick version of the ‘Freddie’, I remember the carefree days of our youth.
Finally! A social media sensation that conveniently covers up my holiday belly! I am taking up the #KyloRenChallenge for no other reason than to emulate John Mayer. I’m doing my own take on the proceedings, because I’m guessing that Kylo Ren wasn’t actually wearing a corset. You say tomato, I say tomato. (Guess that doesn’t work as well in print.) Anyway, Happy Kylo Renning! May the force be with you. Send me your challenge pics! (Or don’t…)
Haven’t you had enough of recaps by now? I have. But it just so happens that after days of recaps, New Year’s falls on a Monday, and that’s when we recap the previous week. To avoid any added tumult and trauma from too many changes, I’ll keep that tradition alive with this post. It’s probably one of the most redundant recaps of all, because we just had three major posts that pretty much encapsulated the past twelve months:
But if that’s not enough for your end/beginning of the bridge between 2017 and 2018, here’s a nifty link-fiesta for the previous week. Some good stuff gets lost in the end-of-the-year madness, and I’m as guilty as anyone for glossing over the last week because it does feel like we’ve already had it. Who else is more than ready to move on? One last recap of 2017 and we shall do just that…
Fittingly, final honors of this recap go to the very first post of 2018: this is where you want to be. See you in a few days, when we shall return to the grind of it all, renewed and reinvigorated by the tick-tock of our socially-constructed calendar. Happy New Year!
LADIES AND GENTS, THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU’VE WAITED FOR
BEEN SEARCHING IN THE DARK, YOUR SWEAT SOAKING THROUGH THE FLOOR
AND BURIED IN YOUR BONES THERE’S AN ACHE THAT YOU CAN’T IGNORE
TAKING YOUR BREATH, STEALING YOUR MIND AND ALL THAT WAS REAL IS LEFT BEHIND
WHERE IT’S COVERED IN ALL THE COLORED LIGHTS
WHERE THE RUNAWAYS ARE RUNNING THE NIGHT
IMPOSSIBLE COMES TRUE, IT’S TAKING OVER YOU
OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW WE LIGHT IT UP, WE WON’T COME DOWN
AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW WATCHING IT COME TRUE, IT’S TAKING OVER YOU
OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!
Certain people are a circus party unto themselves. They know how to put on a show without making the slightest bit of effort. It’s who they are. They know how to command attention. They are precise in being admired. Deliberate in gaining adoration. They are killers when it comes to slaying on the stage of life.
They can enter a room like a stroke of lightning, and the atmosphere suddenly sparkles a bit more. Conversely, and much more tellingly, their absence is felt as a somber shift in spirit; on the days they are not present there is a marked and dreary difference. They have a knack of turning the mundane into something magnificent. They make the simple into something sublime. They are the show people who take center stage in whatever form they may manifest themselves.
Call it personality.
Call it charisma.
Call it star quality.
But the truth is you can’t really put it into words.
You just know it when you see it.
COLOSSAL WE COME THESE RENEGADES IN THE RING WHERE THE LOST GET FOUND IN THE CROWN OF THE CIRCUS KING
DON’T FIGHT IT, IT’S COMING FOR YOU, RUNNING AT YA
IT’S ONLY THIS MOMENT, DON’T CARE WHAT COMES AFTER
IT’S BLINDING OUTSIDE AND I THINK THAT YOU KNOW
JUST SURRENDER ‘CAUSE YOU’RE CALLING AND YOU WANNA GO
WHERE IT’S COVERED IN ALL THE COLORED LIGHTS
WHERE THE RUNAWAYS ARE RUNNING THE NIGHT
IMPOSSIBLE COMES TRUE, INTOXICATING YOU
OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW
WE LIGHT IT UP, WE WON’T COME DOWN
AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW WATCHING IT COME TRUE, IT’S TAKING OVER YOU
OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!
“If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity of the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of ‘creative temperament’ – it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
When one is unsure of which way the world is taking, and what path our brethren might go, I find it best to be more of yourself than ever. Some scoff and say we should meet those who are different from us halfway, bending and shape-shifting to fit someone else’s idea of comfort and safety. I’ve always given a grand fuck-off to that kind of sentiment. No apologies. No regrets. This is me. It always will be. There’s nothing else.
As we begin this new year, with a chance for a new beginning, a chance to do it all over again, I rise to meet it – not with a wimper or wail, but a resounding clarion of hope, a beacon of defiance, and an invitation to join in this mad existence.
IT’S EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT, IT’S EVERYTHING YOU EVER NEED
AND IT’S HERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, THIS IS WHERE YOU WANNA BE
IT’S EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT, IT’S EVERYTHING YOU EVER NEED
AND IT’S HERE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, THIS IS WHERE YOU WANNA BE THIS IS WHERE YOU WANNA BE!
Truth be told, human beings scare the fuck out of me. Look at what we’re doing to each other in this country. Look at what we’re doing to each other in this world. And look at what we’ve always done. Anyone with half a brain should shun all of us and go far, far away where no one else is. I feel that all the time. Every single day. Whether it’s social anxiety or simple jaded derision, I feel the distance between us, and most of me only wants to make it greater, to pull away, to hide and seclude. But a small voice inside tells me to keep going. To take a chance. To believe. To hope. That’s the voice I honor here. That’s why I do all the crazy shit I do. I push and defy and force myself into the world. I put on something pretty for the parade of life and I do my best to play a part in it. It’s a battle, and I can’t pretend it’s easy or comfortable or fun, but it’s a battle worth the effort.
We must become better.
WHEN IT’S COVERED IN ALL THE COLORED LIGHTS
WHERE THE RUNAWAYS ARE RUNNING THE NIGHT
IMPOSSIBLE COMES TRUE, IT’S TAKING OVER YOU
OH, THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW
WE LIGHT IT UP, WE WON’T COME DOWN
AND THE SUN CAN’T STOP US NOW
WATCHING IT COME TRUE, IT’S TAKING OVER YOU
THIS IS THE GREATEST SHOW!
The walls can’t stop us now…
Welcome to the New Year. I tip my hat to all of you.
The final installment for the 2017 Year in Review (after Parts One and Two), this one incorporates all our recent holiday events, and the ticking of time from fall to winter. It can be a wonderful ride if you open yourself up to the cozy charms of the season. Even if you don’t, sometimes the beauty seeps through no matter how you resist it. See you all next year!
This was the year that turned many more hairs gray. For that reason alone, I’m ready to call it quits for 2017. We are coming for you, 2018, and we are going to take you like you’ve never been taken before… See you next year.
Our year in review continues, and this entry encapsulates four months, including the big summer break I took for the first time since this website was created in 2003. While it’s a labor of love, it’s still a labor, and that break was integral to its survival. Plus, you won’t even notice that some of July and all of August are missing, will you?
If we are go by the social media monstrosities of Twitter and FaceBook, and the wretched state of political affairs in this country, 2017 was a dark and grim year, best left in the dust in the hope of a better 2018. Throughout the madness, I’ve striven to keep this small section of the internet a peaceful respite of beauty and tranquility, fun and frivolity, with the occasional dose of serious intent thrown in for good measure. I’m not sure I’ve succeeded, but let’s look back anyway. It’s the only way to move ahead. Besides, some of my favorite people appear here, and that’s always soul-enriching.
The 2017 Year in Review begins tonight, so this is one of my last original posts for this calendar year. I call it a gasp because these photos were taken in the harsh light of early day, before I even had a chance to shower or fix my hair. I was heading out to shovel the driveway (another gasp, thank you) but I paused to enjoy the winter wonderland that had arrived just in the St. Nick of time. I’m wearing a vintage parka that I picked up at a huge (70%) discount at Sault in Boston a few years ago. It’s warm and functional, but not as pretty as I’d like. Good fashion is suspended until the return of warmer weather. From here on out it’s Timberlands and hair-wrecking hoods. That’s ok. I need to let my hair down more, to not care about being perfect all the time, to wear my sweats and sneakers to the store. (Gasp again, I own both.) The older I get, the less I care about what others think. And let’s be perfectly honest: I never cared all that much in the first place. A dangerous recipe for any time, but especially troublesome at the end of the year.
PS – Only one small bit of my hair is white because there’s snow in it. The rest I earned in the last few years. I own that. Next up: the recap of all recaps.
The magic of Christmas Eve can only barely be captured by these photos, and even less by anything I might try to put into words. Hope yours was as lovely and warm as ours.
