Spinach

Spinach.

Link

A creationism museum seems appropriate to me because creationism feels more like performance art or a ridiculous archive of the past than an actual theory that anyone would believe in. But hey, people used to think autism was created by a cold and unloving mother, that butter was good for burns and that if you looked at something ugly while pregnant, you’d have an ugly baby.

So before you read on, beware pregnant ladies, who knows what looking at the utter twaddle that fills the creation museum might do to you and your unborn…

Enjoy! 🙂

http://tinyurl.com/c4b4msu

Ode to the Fort Lauderdale airport

Ode to the Fort Lauderdale airport.

Everything Old is New Again

Hi all,

Here is a little something I wrote for Sociology of Style…enjoy!

Posted by Eve Kerrigan Roberts on Feb 11, 2013 in Fashion | 0 comments

The charm of history and its enigmatic lesson consist in the fact that, from age to age, nothing changes and yet everything is completely different.

 

— Aldous Huxley

Mr. Huxley’s quote could easily be changed to replace the word “history” with the word “fashion,” and the meaning would be equally apt. Fashion and design love to visit the past and bring something good back. Sometimes they also bring something bad back (polyester comes to mind). The drop waist can be seen here and there in contemporary fashion, mostly as an ironic nod to the 1980′s trend. But then, the 80′s trend was a redux of the 1960′s trend, and that one recalled the 1920′s dropped waistline. It’s not news that fashion recycles, But, when we look a little deeper we might find that at the source of these collective style choices is a cultural nostalgia. And perhaps this nostalgia is, itself, based on our subconscious relationships to what those styles represent to us.

Branding experts will tell you that consumers have an unconscious psychological association to every item in the marketplace (even items as seemingly mundane as laundry detergent). For example, in America, we relate to our cars not as vehicles, but as icons of freedom and individuality. Of course this extends to the fashions we wear and the styles we respond to. Last year we saw racks of Maxi-dresses and pencil skirts reminiscent of different style caches of the 1960s. Every contemporary furniture store from East to West stocks the clean lines of mid-century modern furniture as well as bold, bright psychedelic patterns. Are these stylistic nods in the direction of free love and hipster aesthetics brought on by a widespread love of Mad Men? Perhaps. But maybe it’s the other way around. Perhaps we can’t stop watching Mad Men and and emulating the styles of its era because subconsciously we relate to the circumstances they represent.

So, hang onto your vintage statement pieces. You never know when a seminal historic event or the cultural mood will inspire you to wear something that may have felt dated before. That something may just be the perfect “modern” accent down the road.

Here are some tips to help you rock the retro and ditch the dust:

Mix your vintage pieces with thoroughly modern looks. Your skinny jeans will look great with that pair of leopard pumps you inherited from your mother. When in doubt, check out a vintage inspired fashion blog.

The true greats never go out of style because they are always relevant. Ballet flats, Fedoras, Pea Coats, Chuck Taylors. You can’t go wrong with the classics of any era. Check out Glamour’s 25 “forever fashion rules.”

Try a vintage flair with your hair! Whether you have a 1930′s finger-wave or a 1980′s mullet, a revamped ‘do will make you look like a fashion original.  Time Magazine listed thetop-ten most iconic hairstyles. See which one fits you best.

 

 

 

Related posts:

The Low Down: 
When An Unlikely Fad Becomes Unshakable Fashion Animal and Nature Totems in Style:
Why does everyone have a bird/bunny/owl/sun on their necklace/t-shirt/wall/tattoo? A Bad Idea, Expressed Poorly: 
A Look at Some Contemporary Style Mistakes DWBH — Cause, well, YOLO

 

 

 

Ever thought about the whole low-hanging-pants phenomenon? Well I have…so I wrote about it. Enjoy!

The Narcissistic (American) Anthropologist

 

Do you ever wonder where some of the best of the worst style fads come from?  Good thing we have my friend Eve Kerrigan at the Sociology of style here to ‘splain what’s up.   Check out this style sociology lesson and more:

The Low Down:
When An Unlikely Fad Becomes Unshakable Fashion

Etiquette Pull_Up_Your_Pants

Atlanta, GA. is an increasingly diverse Southern mecca and hip-hop epicenter with many fashion tastes.

One common trend involves wearing long shorts (or short pants) low and belted well below the elastic waistband of one’s boxers. For women, the look is sometimes modified to expose the thong above the waistline. This phenomenon, popularized by rappers like Ludacris, Marky Mark and Li’l Kim, is typically referred to as “bustin’ a sag.”

Many sources agree that the style originated in prison, where ill-fitting clothes are the norm and belts are not allowed. After making its way from…

View original post 554 more words

The Narcissistic (American) Anthropologist

Sometimes our context leads us in the wrong direction.  Here’s a great piece from my friends at the Sociology of Style.  For the full article (as featured below) and more from Sociology of Style, click here:

http://sociologyofstyle.com/2013/01/13/a-look-at-some-contemporary-style-mistakes/

A Bad Idea, Expressed Poorly:
A Look at Some Contemporary Style Mistakes

 

Fashion is like the id. It makes you desire things you shouldn’t.

– Bob Morris

As 2013 dawns and we clean out the detritus of 2012, many of us are making our way back to the department stores to return some well-intended but horrifying holiday gifts.  This time-worn tradition of bad ideas, expressed poorly, might make us question our good taste and our good sense. But, take heart. We all fall down, sometimes (And when you do, revisit these style emergency antidotes.)

The cargo skirt. Jellies (jelly heels!). Acrylic Cosby sweaters. The maxi-vest. Sure, it’s a matter of opinion, but…

View original post 455 more words

NEEDLE WEAKWRIST

Lance Armstrong. Come on. Is that really his name?

I have always wondered… It’s a bit too “Max Power,” “Dudley Do-right” or “Wes Mantooth” to be true.

And now, with the current sad state of affairs, I am feeling more and more like the fates have been so fickle. I mean, why should he get Lance Armstrong when others are cursed with names like Dick Butkus or Guy Whimper? It just doesn’t add up… Just like Lance’s story didn’t add up. But you know what does add up? The dollar bills in Armstrong’s bank account. And this in spite of his bold faced lies, bullying and self-satisfied, unrepentant douche-baggery. Although, now, to hear him tell it, Lance is “paying the price” for his lies. He will pay some fines, to be sure. It seems likely, however, that the financial impact will be slight since Armstrong is the figure head of a corporation and not just one guy.

The real punishment for his dishonesty is that he is banned for life from the sport that made him famous. Well, tough titty, Lance. I guess you should just go out and buy yourself a mountain bike and start riding for pleasure. Also, I happen to know Austin has the awesome Texas Trike Pilots Pedicab company that might hire you if you need something to do after all of this is over.

I noticed when watching Oprah Winfrey’s recent interview with Armstrong that the caption on ESPN said “Lance Armstrong comes clean.” But did he? can he ever be clean? Of course, America is the land of second chances. We’re a bit like the Catholic church that way. Confess, say you’re sorry, do your penance and you can stay. We all know the Catholic church has taken its hits in recent times and one might argue it is partly due to that very philosophy. But hey, we gave Michael Vick a second chance to make millions of dollars and receive critical accolades playing football after he went to jail for brutally abusing animals for money and entertainment. Shouldn’t we do the same for disgraced super hero Lance Armstrong? He’s banking on it.

To me, in the OWN interview, it felt as if Armstrong was responding to Oprah’s questions more as though he were a casual observer of his own experience than the party responsible for it. (Like “I know! awful, right?”)

When the big O asks him why, after years of brazen defiance and fierce denial of doping, he admits to it now, he initially responds that he doesn’t have a good answer, that his confession came too late. He launches into a wholesale admission of guilt calling himself arrogant and commenting on his ruthless desire to win.

We could all venture some guesses as to why, even if Lance can’t. Perhaps it’s because he got caught? Because he no longer stands to gain from cycling and needs a new media cow to milk? Cynical, I know. But it’s hard not to feel a little cynical in the face of the collective disappointment Lance’s admissions evoke.

When Lance gets tearful when talking about his son defending him, should we interpret that as remorse and forgive him? Or, should we see it as a personal regret insinuating itself into a public issue, and so bracket our misplaced empathy? So many questions.

Let me just say loud and proud: if Lance Armstrong couldn’t win without doping then he shouldn’t have won at all.

EPO, Cortisone, Testosterone and blood doping are banned in professional cycling. Dems da rules. Don’t like it? Do something else.

You wouldn’t step onto the football field wearing a hockey uniform. You wouldn’t decide to play baseball with a new rule that involves hitting a player you don’t like with a bat (although I feel certain that would generate higher ticket sales). You don’t get to make new rules because the old ones were inconvenient, knowing that others (even if they are few and far between these days) are abiding by the old ones.

I’ve heard it argued that doping shouldn’t be such a big deal. I’ve heard it argued that everyone does it. I’ve heard it argued that blood doping especially seems like a silly crime given that it uses one’s own biology for enhancement. I’ve heard it argued that in the future, everyone in every profession will use some form of performance enhancer – Adderall, Prozac, coffee, Kombucha anyone? Well, tell that to Babe Ruth, Walter “Sweetness” Payton and Muhammad Ali.

Look. You can make an argument for anything. You can say Eugenics had some good points. You can say the Nazi party pulled Germany together after a tough economic period. You’d never convince me (though enough were convinced in the past to change the world forever).

Let me be clear. I am not calling Lance Armstrong Hitler or saying doping is equivalent to sterilizing minorities (before you go all crazy with the tweets). What I am saying is that this is more than a conversation weighing the ups and downs of performance enhancers. This is a conversation about transparency and integrity. This is a conversation about one man’s (perhaps undue) influence on an institution and what that influence says about American values. This is a conversation about agreements that have been violated. Lance Armstrong agreed not to use banned substances. He violated this agreement and every other agreement he explicitly or implicitly entered into on the basis of that initial basic contract. As a result, the integrity of his career is cracked beyond repair

Armstrong referred over and over again to these infractions as the result of a personal “flaw.” In fact, he seemed desperate to characterize his crimes that way. Being judgmental is a flaw – one I am guilty of, obviously, or I wouldn’t be writing this. But, to me, a level of arrogance and drive that gives way to years of willful flouting of the rules, calculated deception of the masses and bullying of contemporaries is more than a flaw, it’s a syndrome. Here is one that comes to mind: http://www.mcafee.cc/Bin/sb.html.

Am I being too harsh? Am I jumping on the ungenerous bandwagon of judgment heaped upon our former American Hero? Is that collective judgment borne out of embarrassment and guilt over lionizing Armstrong in the first place? Maybe. But I think Lance will bounce back. After all, you gotta hand it to the guy. He beat cancer and got back on the bike. He won 7 Tours de France – albeit with Cyclist’s Little Helper. He even got on Oprah! But his real legacy? I think we will find that the face of professional sports will be forever altered by this debacle. In the end, I believe Lance Armstrong will have changed the rules for everyone. In the end, I believe Lance Armstrong is going to be just fine.

I’d be worried if his name was Needle Weakwrist.




http://www.facebook.com/TexasTrikePilots

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/terry-newell/lance-armstrong_b_1832707.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Testosterone

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cortisone

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_doping

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erythropoietin

http://espn.go.com/sports/endurance/story/_/id/8855686/lance-armstrong-admits-doping-interview-oprah-winfrey

http://www.funnyordie.com/slideshows/58b662f026/amazingly-unfortunate-names

PSY – GANGNAM STYLE vs. Daler Mehndi – Tunak Tunak Tun – A Celebrity Death Match

Yes. I am going to weigh in on Gangnam Style. I know, I know. That is SO 2012. But I have been thinking about someone else, someone SO 2006, actually, that it makes PSY Gangnam Style seem as current as when he first rode his imaginary hobby-horse onto the scene.

In 2006, I first saw the wonder that is Daler Mehndi’s Tunak Tunak Tun video. While Psy is a global phenomenon, you’ve probably never heard of Daler Mehndi unless you live in Pakistan. That is because he is a man ahead of his time.

In the mini-epic video, Tuank Tunak Tun, the turbaned performer multiplies into four versions of himself, each representing one of the four elements. It is unclear what all of this means in the context of what is, at best, a vague narrative, but what matters is that the central Asian superstar then wows with his unbridled joy and crazy-slick dance moves. The graphics in this video are sheer madness, the resolution is complete crap, but the video and catchy song bewitch me every time.

It occurs to me that without Daler Mehndi, there would be no Psy. I don’t know if either artist is aware of the other, but their infectious brand of swaggering East meets West dance music and their signature, stylized moves make them two peas in an ironically hip dance pod. So, this holiday season, consider including both wacky fun-time guys on your video playlist and get ready to outright steal their groovy moves on the floor (even if it’s just the living room floor and your in-laws are looking on in awkward, fascinated horror).

Gangnam Style In Context: A Global Phenomenon In Appreciation of Irony?

blog post in which I improbably link art, dance, the BeltLine, dog poop, American exceptionalism and politics

Atlanta has this cool thing. It’s called The BeltLine. It is a 33 mile network of multi-use trails developed on the now defunct Atlanta Railroad line that loops around and through all the in town Atlanta neighborhoods. The BeltLine was the brainchild of a Georgia Tech architecture student in 1999 and is intended to lessen Atlanta’s hideous traffic problem (second only to Los Angeles) by promoting pedestrian and bicycle travel as well as to create more green space and encourage redevelopment of urban neighborhoods. You can read more about the BeltLine here: http://beltline.org/progress/progress/project-history/

I am lucky enough to live right smack on this “jewel” of Atlanta, as it is called. I walk a length of it each day with my tiny (and very charismatic) dog, Stevie “The Meatball.”

My cat, the beautiful Gracie, patrols the perimeter of the BeltLine behind our house, marking her territory, killing mice and warring with the feral cats that dominate the landscape like Guidos dominate the Jersey Shore. The BeltLine is basically my back yard.

But the BeltLine is not just home to critters, it is, for a short time each year, the site of the Atlanta Art on The BeltLine festival. Between September 15 and November 11, local artists of all stripes show up to decorate the BeltLine with their particular brand of creative expression. A wealth of sculpture, installation, conceptual and performance art dot the former train line during this two month span. Here are some of the pieces that have been seen around the BeltLine this year, a few of which are on view until Sunday. http://art.beltline.org/gallery/?setId=72157631630198479

Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending two dance pieces that were put on as part of this wonderful program. Both took place pretty much right behind my house so I really had no excuse not to go. And I’m glad I did. I took my little dog and stood in the beautiful autumn afternoon among a pretty big group of fellow art enthusiasts and gawkers. Together we witnessed, in one piece, 6 women choreographed by Tara Hemmer, exploring the space in and around free-standing wooden doorways meant to represent home. Then, we moved en masse a little down the path to see Emily Christianson’s dance piece which ran the gambit between whimsical, intense, sad and thoughtful and which included a group sing along to Tears For Fears.

And there I was, gathered with like-minded artsy types, enjoying these hard-working dancers and the art culture of Atlanta in the unseasonably warm, sun-kissed fall day, surrounded by changing leaves and dog poop.

Yes. You read right. Dog poop.

The whole time I was watching these wonderful, generous performances, all I could think about was dog poop. I watched these girls roll around, crouch and pirouette in the leaves and I cringed. I gazed around at the many spectators perched on hills of wood chips surrounding the performance area, leaning back on their hands and I grimaced. All I could imagine, were the piles and piles of dog poop that I know surrounded them.

I am literally THE ONLY person who picks up their dog’s poo on this trail. This is ironic because I often need to look for my 6 lb dog’s poop with a magnifying glass in order to gather it up and throw it away in one of the many available receptacles the area has to offer.

I recently posted an angry rant on our neighborhood list-serve begging, nay, demanding, that people pick up their doggy-doo after I stepped in a huge, but hidden, pile of crap for the 3^rd time in a week. It is an epidemic. I don’t know what people are thinking. Seriously. But I think not cleaning up after your dog reflects a serious lack of character and an overblown sense of entitlement that has come to be a distinguishing American characteristic.

This gives me pause when I consider the upcoming Presidential election. I think of how many Americans (especially here in GA which is as red as its clay) support a right-wing agenda that favors self over others to the nth degree. Or, I think of how so many of the left-wing persuasion couldn’t be bothered this time around to raise money, donate, make calls or change minds in service of their party, candidate or basic values. It all leads me to ask myself, does a culture of people who knowingly allow their neighbors to step in shit, again and again, even deserve a leader who cares? Does a community of folks who literally shit on the “jewel” of their city even deserve a government that continues to value that jewel? And I think, maybe not.

But, then I remember that this same group of people are, after all, dog lovers. And, some of these people are the very art lovers who come out to events like the one on Sunday. They come out on a fall day for dance and that’s pretty cool. Now those people….I’d have those people over for tea any time. I guess they’ll just have to leave their shoes on the porch.

A letter to Atlanta

Atlanta, we need to talk.

First of all, I want to tell you, you are so beautiful.

You are charming, soulful, lovely and really quite cosmopolitan. You have an attractive mixture of southern charm and city sharpness.

And, you know what, Atlanta? You really know how to show a girl a good time. You know how to cook. Your food rivals that of any major city I have been to and is even better for having low-country influence. You had me at that first fried green tomato. Your cocktails aren’t bad, either.

And, hey, you are rich too! Rich in space, culture, history and business opportunity. Oh, and you are definitely hot. Let’s not forget that.

But, for all your looks, personality, wealth and sex-appeal, Atlanta, there is something wrong. I hate to say it, Atlanta, but you are…well… racist.

Since we got together, I have been told to avoid certain parts of you. I have been told how dangerous you are. I have been told not to take the MARTA and that its absence in certain neighborhoods is a good thing because it brings crime with it, prompting me to ponder whether thieves and murderers take the train to where innocent white people live, stab them, steal their flat screens and then carry them back to their own neighborhoods on the train.

Recently I have come up against some shocking realizations about you, Atlanta. You seem integrated, and in some ways you are the most integrated city I’ve ever lived in, but I don’t think you know how advanced you are. I’ve been told that we can’t live together. We can’t co-exist. We shouldn’t try. I’ve been told that the black people here are “different” than African Americans in other places and, as such, are deserving of the righteous hostility of whites. I have been told of “reverse racism.” The term alone presumes racism rightfully manifests from white to black or from white to minority. But in a city where blacks make up 255,689 of the 416, 474 citizens, it seems like whites are a minority. Yet, the highest paying jobs are still occupied by whites. And the homeless and unemployed are still largely black. I have, in the short time we’ve been together seen an ugly side of you, Atlanta. It is a side that is fearful (never a good quality), a side that is small (even worse) and a side that is (worst of all) ignorant of itself.

Atlanta, if we are going to make this work, you are going to have to start living up to my impression of you. You are, after all, Martin Luther King Jr.’s city. You are a supposed “chocolate city.” And, even though you were not responsible for electing the first African American President, you still want to be known as the metropolis of the South. Well, your attitudes are revealing themselves to be a little more Old South than Metropolitan South and it is, frankly, disappointing.

Don’t disappoint me, Atlanta. Please work at it. Try opening your eyes to your own racism, first of all, because you can’t fix a problem til you recognize it exists. And, just for the record, I’m pretty understanding. I don’t expect you to get it right this minute. I can appreciate a learning curve. All good relationships take work. But, Atlanta, in the words of the great Reverend Al Green, Let’s Stay Together. Shall we?