If you ever wished you could smell like an Alvar Aalto stool and I mean those of the bent wood variety, then your dream might just come true. Commes des Garcons is in collaboration with Artek with the upcoming release of Standard, a fragrance that combines Finnish Labrador Tea, Twinflower Linnea Borealis, metal and rust in the base notes and fennel, ginger, lemon, musk, saffron and cedarwood in the top notes. Should be an interesting one.
Filed under: Design, Fashion, Health | Tags: hair, hiroki nakamura, steez, topknot
Right, so I’m dead set on keeping my hair long, tying it into a topknot-ish thingamajig and trying to keep shaving until I develop a worthy beard someday. Perhaps when I’m 40, I will finally be steezy. Like Hiroki.
Also, the interviewer sounds like one half of the Aunts in The Simpsons when she says “BOWHOWS MENTAHLATY…” in a supergruff voice that gets me cracking.
In the latest footie news, Micheal Owen has broken his wrist in 3 places after signing for Manchester United. The former Liverpool, Real Madrid and Newcastle striker was as stunned as anyone when United manager Sir Alex Ferguson called him out of the blue. Having been linked with Hull and Stoke prior to the call, Owen looked set to retire and concentrate on horse racing instead. However, that’s all set to change now, as he looks to continue his brilliant form on the treatment table, this time in the red, white and black of the red devils.
In the ceremony where he was handed the number 7 jersey vacated by Cristiano Ronaldo, the elated Owen reportedly gripped the pen with a little too much force and slipped, tearing into the contract, whilst dislocating and fracturing his wrist. This latest injury setback is expected to put the dimunitive England hitman out of action until the next club comes along.
Sir Alex was unavailable for comment, although Owen Hargreaves was very excited to “have some company at last”.
I know its all telly and that but its kinda awesome to see a guy skinning and gutting a camel in the sahara and turn it into a temporary shelter. Fuck da haters.
Would you rather breathe your chocolate than eat it? Le Whif is a new product that involves an aerosol spray that puts about 50mg of choc powder in your mouth each time you use it. It comes in 4 flavors, including mint, raspberry, mango and just chocolate. Because the entire amount is so small, you consume a negligible amount of calories. So its basically a device that lets you taste chocolate without having to eat it.
I suppose that this is like nicotine patches for chocolate addicted dieters. Only, most people I know who like chocolate disregard the “sinful” nature of the food and wholly engorge themselves upon the decadence before them, be they Snickers or Varlhona.
The main criticism I have for it is that it removes the soul out of the whole process of eating. Instead of making it a process where nourishment is derived from consumption, it becomes a fallacy. Trading flavor for an empty stomach.
Not to mention the fact that you only utilise your tastebuds in the exercise, removing the need for gustatory action or textural delights from eating real chocolate, which is like hello? the best thing evar?
However, it is an interesting point of view, one that suggests the lightest possible way to enjoy flavor, without actually eating much. You lose almost all texture and feel but you taste something. Which is great if you are inquiring as to the flavor. Not necessarily the overall experience. What if you could turn this into a sort of flavor sampler thingamajig? Like for flashy restaurants where customers get bamboozled when they see a jumble of French terms on menus.
I happened into a Myer downtown today and went to the frag department, whereupon I chanced on Hermes’ Un Jardin Sur Le Nil. Mmm mmm. It starts out bright and citrusy, then falls into a really clean and green phase before settling down into a light woodiness. I really really like this and kept smelling the paper like every 5 minutes. Pity its $130 bucks in Myer for a 50ml bottle.
Which leads me onto my quest to expand my parfum collection. I’ve been obsessed with smelling like a tree for whatever reason, so if UJSLN is the leaves, then I gotta get Commes des Garcon’s Kyoto for the trunk. I scored a sample from Luckyscent a while back and totally miss it now. I must have that dry, smoky, woody, zen calm smell now.
Researching recently, I also came across Morrissey’s fragrance of choice, also from CdG’s incense series, Avignon. Which makes a whole lotta sense since he’s always going on about roman catholic churches and stuff. Also, I’m very intrigued by this new-ish French label, Etat Libre d’Orange, which is apparently available in MeccaCosmetica stores here in Australia. What’s unique is their unabashedly vulgar naming schemes and seemingly outrageous ideas for fragrances. From the relatively mild Jasmin et Cigarette or Rien (nothing) to stuff like Charogne (carcass), Je Suis Un Homme (I am a man), Nombril Immense (giant belly button) and Secretions Magnifique. The latter has notes like adrenaline and blood and it’s actually meant to smell like jism and juice.
A newish food processing technology, High Pressure Pasteurization, uses extreme pressure to knock out bacteria, whilst retaining the texture, color and flavor of the food. The process works by applying a huge amount of isostatic or hydrostatic pressure, which works all around, meaning the food is at the same pressure inside and outside, which is how it doesn’t get squashed to bits. Smaller molecules remain unaffected by the pressure but larger things, like bacteria get vital functions knocked out of them. The biggest plus is its all done with little to no heat necessary. Which definitely helps retain the original character of the product.
I first learned of this from a triangular wedge shaped container of juice at Woolies, branded as Preshafruit. I got the Valencia Orange, which tasted pretty bright and strong. Unaddled by anything else and not heat treated either, it was just pure OJ goodness. Pricier than the rest of the shelf but better. You could tell from the pulp, which seemed burstier than usual. I have to say though, better is marginal at the end of the day. Heat treated or reconstituted juice is ok too you know. I simply think the difference in flavor versus the current price is negligible. That said, I think HPP and fruit/juice has massive potential to be the next new health faddy type thing. Also, I’m sure if it manages to reach more widespread appeal, the price will lower as well.
Another interesting thing is that HPP could well make formerly “unsafe” foods from Europe exportable. Stuff like foie gras or jamon. Not cheese perhaps, since it’d kill the helpful, flavor enhancing bacteria. But it could possibly act as a sort of control mechanism that stops the need to overcook something because of the bacteria present. Which is interesting. You could apply it to eggs, and use it raw safely. Which would make a tiramisu safe even according to the traditional method. Or you could use it on Brie at its peak and have that runny consistency and earthy flavor for a bit longer than normal. So it could be like the stop light for perfectly matured cheese or something.
Its not a cooking method since it cooks nothing but its sort of like a brake pedal or a magic wand that kills bacteria and you don’t need to compromise the otherwise undercooked texture or flavor of something.
Mangalitsa is the new black. I’m talking about some beastly piggies from Hungary. Big, fat, black and hairy, their name actually means hog with a lot of lard. Currently on the menu at The French Laundry amongst other top tier restaurants, its the latest bit of the new craze, which is basically eating a touch more fat than you’re used to.
These pigs belong to the lard type class, which is apparently, some new Pokemon sub-grouping. What we’ve been unfortunately eating all our health-obsessed lives has been the meat type instead, which translates to dry tasteless bits of cardboard. They’re basically more fat than meat and the raising method plus their genealogy means that they have lovely, marbled bits of meat or maybe lovely chunks of fat marbled with a touch of meat.
I for one, welcome our big, fat, black and hairy hog overlords if it means more flavor. Its really exciting to see that the word “lean” is now taboo and the word “marbled” is met with glee. Hope it stays that way and I can have my Dong Po Rou with Deep Fried Lard and Bak Kwa served on a mousse of whipped pork fat and lightened with a lard foam.
Here’s lookin’ at you, babe.*
pic and info via NYT.
I was at work the other day when, hounded by a certain Hitler, I harried to move this fridge around the place for maintenance. All I really needed to do was lift the damn thing up marginally, like a couple of cm or 5 cos the damn wheels were too small. Unfortunately, it came down a little too quick for whatever reason and before I knew it, pain and bright crimson starting lining the edge of my right thumb. A split second later, my left hand clutches and squeezes to try to stop the bleeding.
Whether it was my awkward positioning or simply the sheer bulk and size of the massive fridge being difficult to handle, I can’t say for sure. All I know is, I’d gotten hurt and it was pretty bad. It was a pretty deep cut and how it happened exactly, I have scant idea. After a barrage of expletives, I could see that the top part of my thumb with the nail had split apart from the bottom half, but only at the top end. So it was probably like 1.5 to 2 cm deep. I would later learn from a doctor (who “just can’t resist hand injuries”) that I avulsed my thumb.
So I get help bandaging the thumb up, and ride down to the hospital, which was nearby. I register at the desk and wait, having to fill in a form with a slight bit of disdain peppered with politeness and humor. I just seemed to want to laugh it off and get on with things. The hospital made me wait for something like half an hour before an intern came over to check out the bleeding. I needed an x-ray before they could proceed. At this point, more waiting for an hour or so. In between, the hand fetish doctor came over and checked me out, before dishing out some calm advice to the very luscious intern who was in charge of me. I get the x-ray done and bam, the very tip of my thumb had fractured. Which meant I needed antibiotics but because it was so small, I didn’t really require surgery.
Instead, I got stuffed with a numbing agent (after another hour or so) and stared at my thumb as said hot intern/doctor threaded some blue sutures into my flesh which I barely felt. Blood oozed everywhere, staining this absorbent sheet below and then I got bandaged up with a thumb guard and given 2 weeks off work. I swear I bled more because I had some boobage dangling at me. That and the not wanting to hurt me but wincing as she pulled a needle through my flesh kind of innocence.
Hurting my thumb made ordinary life fucking painful. I mean, the thumb didn’t hurt much if at all, even right after the injury but the number of things that now became so troublesome was immense. I never realized how much I used my thumbs until now. Opening doors, twisting caps off drink bottles, pressing the side buttons on my mighty mouse, holding utensils and cutlery… The list seemed endless. Try wiping your nose with your non dominant hand. Or using one hand to shampoo your hair. Or soaping the left armpit with the right forearm. And keys, motherfucking keys. Opening doors is like horrible.
Without thumbs, we wouldn’t have been able to use and invent tools. Without thumbs, we’d be resigned to pawing and biting at food, probably raw and I don’t mean Charlie Trotter or Japanese. Without thumbs, we wouldn’t be able to show our approval, or hitchhike, or suck. This shit is precious man. Treasure your thumbs ladies and gents. I swear you’ll feel like you devolved without them. I certainly did.
As part of a plan to reduce the size of my man boobies, I have decided to watch what I eat, as much as that is possible. Thank Coke for Coke Zero then, because it doesn’t taste as shitty as diet does. Also, I get fooled into thinking it almost tastes like real coke, only its got no sugar and hence, next to no calories. Man boobies beware!
