Monthly Archives

February 2016

Red Carpet Resilience – An Oscars Reflection

Ports 1961 – 3 9th Ave, New York, NY 10014

Yesterday afternoon before heading home to watch the Oscars with friends, I passed by this red carpet in a store window. Its appearance was so striking and bold that I felt compelled to enter the store just to take a closer look.

How incredible is it to think that something as visually brilliantly bold as this red carpet has been walked on and trampled over time and time again – and yet still remains so vivid and bright.

Ironically enough, now as I look back at this simple snapshot, this red carpet’s enduring vivacity is a reflection of a theme that consistently ran through the entire Academy Awards ceremony last night: the ideals of change, personal presence, resilience, and survival.

Beneath host Chris Rock’s humorous monologues, the flowing gowns, and the shiny golden statues lied a truth, deeply entrenched in multiple acceptance speeches, nominations, and musical performances – that we are constantly stepped on and live in an age where issues such as global warming, discrimination, sexual abuse, kidnapping, and murder are prevalent to our contemporary culture. Hollywood’s A-List strived to bring this reality to our attention:

Last night’s speeches powerfully acknowledged global warming and our active destruction of our Earth and the atmosphere:

Leonardo DiCaprio accepting his Academy Award

During his acceptance speech, Best Actor winner Leonardo DiCaprio asserted: “The Revenant was about man’s relationship to the natural world, a world that we collectively felt in 2015 as the hottest year in recorded history. Climate change is real, it is happening right now. We need to work collectively together…and support the leaders around the world who speak for all of humanity…and for those people whose voices have been drowned out by the politics of greed,” he said, explicitly pointing out a need for change.

Winning a grand total of six awards, Mad Max: Fury Road is an apocalyptic story set in the furthest reaches of our planet years after the collapse of civilization, in a stark desert landscape where humanity is broken, and almost everyone is crazed in fighting for the necessities of life. During her acceptance speech for winning Best Costume Design, Mad Max’s Jenny Beavan also highlighted the danger of global warming, giving a serious warning that the dystopia depicted in the film could become a reality, “if we’re not kinder to each other and if we don’t stop polluting our atmosphere.”

Nominees and winners also brought to light the destructive relevance of physical and mental abuse, as well as sexual assault:

Room was nominated in the Best Picture category and won Brie Larson an Oscar for Best Actress. The movie depicts a mother and son who survive being held hostage and finally gain their freedom to cross the threshold into the world beyond the cage of their captivity.

Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, winning director of Best Documentary Short for A Girl In the River: The Price of Forgiveness, gave an inspiring acceptance speech. Her film sheds light on the practice of honor killings – specifically focusing on a young woman in Pakistan sentenced to death for falling in love, who becomes a rare survivor of the country’s harsh judicial system. In her speech, Obaid-Chinoy noted that the Prime Minister of Pakistan decided to change the law on honor killings after seeing the film.

Lady Gaga performing at the Oscars

The Hunting Ground also received attention last night – a documentary depicting college students who have been raped on campus and face retaliation and harassment as they fight for justice. Making an appearance at the ceremony last night, Vice President Joe Biden proposed a pledge to “change the culture” of sexual abuse and eradicate the notion that the victim is at fault. He then introduced Lady Gaga to perform her original song “Till It Happens To You” – the movie’s anthem and a universal song about loss in life, highlighting the pain of sexual assault. Gaga appeared passionately singing behind a white piano as men and women who were victims of sexual assault joined her onstage with messages written on their arms such as “It’s not your fault” and “It happened to me.” Although the song didn’t win an Oscar, the performance was received with a standing ovation and many tears, both in the audience and on stage.

Lastly, concluding the evening in the Best Picture category, Spotlight took home the gold. The movie portrays the investigations of allegations against different priests linked to more than eighty cases of sexual molestation. The reporters in the movie make it their mission to provide proof of a cover-up of sexual abuse within the Roman Catholic Church. The film not only received critical acclaim and success, but the piece powerfully shed light on the corruption of the Church and the frequency of sexual abuse today.

Overall…

Although these moments from the Oscars last night were linked to tender, dark, and difficult issues that we deal with as a global community, we must take a step back and evaluate the powerful messages of hope, strength, and empowerment that arise from these works. Of course, Hollywood is flawed with a variety of problems – and so is mankind. The issues raised by this year’s winners and nominees such as sexual abuse and global warming still exist, and we continue to get trampled over and stepped on like the red carpet in the store I came across yesterday. But, this year’s Oscars ceremony served as a vivid testament to our strength as a race, even in the face of tragedy – raising awareness of the conditions around our delicate world so we can take action towards a brighter future.

If we reflect back, the mother and son held hostage in Room overcame their kidnapper and escaped into the world, breaking the shackles of their captivity. The Paki girl in Obaid-Chinoy’s documentary endured her family’s abuse and profoundly changed her country’s law with her story of survival. The victims that emerged on stage during Lady Gaga’s performance have survived rape and bravely stepped forward to reveal their vulnerability and their strength. And Spotlight powerfully uncovers the acts of sexual assault in the Church to bring awareness to this cause.

While all of these artistic pieces awarded last night are different from one another, they all project the same promising moral. Perhaps, therefore, Hollywood does not exist for the sole purpose of entertainment and profit. Films also possess the power to reflect and enrich our raging capacity as human beings, to stand up for ourselves and for each other. Because judging by these particular Oscar moments, we all can feel like victims of adversity in one way or another. But together, we gain strength and fortitude in overcoming life’s obstacles. We have the power to spark positive changes that ripple powerfully across the globe. We have a voice and continue to make ourselves heard. We have come this far and will continue to fight for the ideals of integrity and dignity. And in the midst of this all, whether on the silver screen or in real life, we have survived.

Lifestyle

Viva La Brunch

Rise and shine, friends – it’s the early hour of twelve noon; time to seize the day! Shake off that Saturday night hangover, crack open an egg or two, and make yourself that latte. Because today is Sunday, and Sundays are for brunch.

Brunch is more than a meal or a time of day. Neither breakfast nor lunch, but a delectable common ground – a happy medium comfortably in the middle of the two that calls for our attendance at the start of each week.

Indeed, we go for the food: warm bagels and croissants, soft waffles and pancakes oozing with maple syrup, fluffy golden omelets, steaming coffee, and OJ (with a generous splash of champagne mixed in if you’re feeling adventurous). But, we stay for the conversation, the company, and the presence of those around us engaging in the same weekly ritual.

Whether dining with family or toasting with friends, eating in bed with the Mr. or Mrs., or feasting solo – Sunday brunch is a time to converse and connect, with others and even with ourselves.

On this day each week, we’re given the chance to see loved ones around the table, meet fresh faces in line for coffee, and to even spend time refreshingly on our own – to soak in the last bit of the weekend and to reflect upon the coming of the new week.

Regardless of who we’re breaking bread with, food is our common ground, a universal experience that transcends any distinctions that lie between us. While, naturally, we all eat on every day of the week, Sunday brunch in particular elevates what would normally be an ordinary meal to a special event, presenting us with an occasion to come together.

Sitting at Sant Amrboeus West Village today, I looked around and saw multiple exchanges being made between a variety of people as they brunched under the same ceiling: a mother and father trying to get their baby twins to eat (and to stop crying), a couple intimately conversing in a corner booth by the window facing West 4^th Street, a group of girlfriends clinking glasses, and a man on his laptop at the bar peacefully sipping on his mug while making small talk with the bartender.

Ultimately, behind the butter, jam, and bottomless mimosas, are people – people with their own distinct stories that come from different backgrounds, cultures, homes, and walks of life. But as it seems, Sunday Brunch leads us to engage in the same, unified activity collectively.

So, with that – bon appetite and bottoms up! Here’s to a fresh day and a new week, to the savory dishes we eat, and the conversations that come along with them that bring us all together.

Sant Ambroeus West Village – 259 West 4th Street, New York, NY 10014

Sights

Rain & Reformation

The city’s unpredictable weather conditions seldom prevent New Yorkers from taking the streets. Snow or sleet, rain or shine, the city never stops, and neither do its people. We all deal with the same wavering temperatures in the damp concrete jungle, all alike. But if my people-watching for the sake of entertainment has taught me anything, it’s that we’re all different at the end of the day; we all possess personal characteristics that make us distinct from one another.

Our skin color, hair color, race, ethnicity, gender, and even clothing can craft our perceptions of others: dark skin versus fair skin, slender versus full-figured, Gucci dress versus Gap jeans, leather briefcase versus canvas knapsack, flowing blonde locks versus a bun in a hairnet, and so on.

For the most part, we can’t help the way we look; we have no choice but to expose these personal visual traits to the world, like skin color or professional attire. Yet, these visual cues present the space for us to make assumptions and to leap to conclusions about others based solely on their external depictions. We quickly associate people’s physical features with further meanings and implications – like socio-economic status, class, profession, and even personality – and as a result, we resort to a place surface-level judgment.

Nevertheless, maybe there lies the possibility of these appearance-based distinctions blurring and washing away…

Walking down Madison Avenue today, I was caught in the middle of an astounding spectacle: Translucent clouds softly caved in as rain began to fall from the sky, drenching the city. The buildings reflected sparkling metallic hues as colorful umbrellas popped open on the sidewalks, like tulips blooming in the spring. And rather than the different physical identity traits I usually notice each day, I saw the pedestrians around me as blurred reflections in puddles – ambiguous silhouettes against obscuring city lights with their faces hidden in hopes of staying dry.

Suddenly, the rain became a cleansing, equalizing force – a visual cloak of sameness that beautifully fell upon the city and made everyone come across somewhat similarly for the time being. Of course, there is nothing wrong with our unique traits and differences; they make us who we are. Yet, it was refreshing, even just for a few minutes, to see the superficial nuances I normally come across that can divide us, rinse away into the pavement.

Perhaps, therefore, we mustn’t identify others, even strangers, so heavily and rigidly based on appearance. Because once we’re rid clean of our visual differences that sit on the surface – when all that’s left are reflections in puddles, umbrellas and silhouettes – who are we then?

Lifestyle

The Heart of the Matter

Every February 14^th, across the United States and in other places around the world, we celebrate love: Candlelit dinners and walks under dreamy starlight, overflowing bouquets of red roses, packages of lingerie and bottles of sweet perfume, sparkling rosé or bubbling champagne, romantic comedies, and kisses – both chocolate and French, have all become characteristic of Valentine’s Day.

And each year, when this day rolls around in all its romantic, heart-shaped glory, we’re encouraged to share the Hallmark holiday with another person.

Whether a fling or a flame, a sweetheart or a soul mate, Valentine’s Day presents the urge to be with a special someone to truly and fully engage in the occasion. How sweet and lovely…right?

Well…let’s think about this notion, shall we?

What if it just so happens that we don’t have a Valentine on this day – another lover to lock lips with? Perhaps some of us are single, and we choose to spend the night with buddies or girlfriends or – *gasp* – alone…? In this case, for my single guys and gals out there this year, the idea of Cupid’s arrow flying through the air might feel more like a pain in the ass than a dreamy shot at the heart.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a pessimist, and I wouldn’t even call myself a realist. I’m an idealist – a true romantic at heart completely open to the possibility of love, on every day of the year. And I’m not denying the reality that sharing Valentine’s Day with a special someone would make the holiday feel more special and appropriate, for all of us. Yet, I don’t think enjoying the occasion is necessarily contingent upon the presence of another person.

As Nat King Cole croons over tender trumpets in “L-O-V-E,” his classic ode to affection, he sings: “love is more than just a game for two.” Not to take Mr. Cole’s line out of context from the rest of his romantic anthem, but perhaps, in this particular moment, he’s right. Maybe love isn’t solely an experience or a feeling palpable between two people. Can’t one person experience love, by him or herself, without the obligatory presence of a counterpart?

Perhaps Valentine’s Day then isn’t solely meant to celebrate the romantic presence of another in our lives. Maybe beneath the mounds of rose pedals and heart-shaped candies lies a number of alternate possibilities: why not claim the whole box of Godiva chocolates all to yourself, buy yourself the lingerie you’ve been eyeing in Agent Provocateur’s store window, or even pop open a bottle (or a few) of Veuve Clicquot with your close group of friends while watching your favorite rom-com together?

Valentine’s Day is indeed the holiday of love, but the occasion isn’t solely reserved for those in a relationship. We all hold the capacity to open our hearts to love and affection – to others, but also, to ourselves.

So – cheers to embracing the holiday as an opportunity for sweet self-indulgence, and for doing what you love for yourself. Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my romantics out there – taken and single alike.

XOXO,

Lifestyle

Les Souvenirs

It’s so interesting to me that the French word for a memory is “un souvenir.” A souvenir, as I have come to know the meaning, is something, anything, that we take away from somewhere and keep with us. It is physical, tangible, and charming. Always joyous, a souvenir is a physical representation of a happy memory.

Meandering through the West Village yesterday afternoon with my grey puffy coat zipped all the way up and D’Agostino grocery bags slipping through my fingers, I was stopped straight in my tracks as I peered into a warmly lit, chandelier-clad window. And then, right there, even with all that romantic New York charm, not even the cotton/cashmere blend wrapped tightly around my neck prevented the chill of nostalgia that trickled down my spine. I set my bags of nourishment down on the sidewalk and took a step forward for a closer look.

Inside the store were a man and a woman dutifully crafting mountains of sugary, floury, powdered pastries, cakes, and sweet goodies galore, embellishing the window between us. And above the modest store window, framed by fading brick, hung the name of the patisserie on a black awning: “Aux Merveilleux de Fred.” Mounds of crisp meringues and tiny delights wrapped in whipped cream were mixed amongst fluffy brioche breads glazed with sweet sugar and hints of chocolate – all taunting me under glistening pastel light.

I stood there, on the other side of the window that cased these scrumptious confections, and found myself on the other side of a memory. However, this memory, this “souvenir,” was not met with joy and cheer, but rather, brought to light the blunt reality of a now unattainable experience.

My nostalgia transported me back to the streets of Saint Germain and Le Marais, the winding paths of the Tuileries, the lovely Adrienne who worked at my local patisserie, and of course, 18 Rue Tournefort – my address for four magical months as I studied abroad in Paris. My time in the city of romance and sweet indulgence was not merely an academic experience in a foreign country. Language barrier and culture shock aside, Paris was a time of growth and liberation for me. I delved into the fresh newness that the city initially encapsulated, into the cultural ambiguity that sparkled around me, and came out the other side rejuvenated, with a new perspective on life. And while quaint and dazzling sights are significantly symbolic of my time there, the tastes of the city are what truly trigger the memories I’ve held on to from there – my souvenirs.

I felt it would be wrong not to indulge in a sweet little treat, and so I walked into Aux Merveilleux de Fred and ordered a pain au chocolat – only this time, the woman behind the register did not correct me when I pronounced the silent letter T at the end of chocolat like my Adrienne would, every day. Even more disappointing, when I exited the store and stepped back outside, my scrumptious pain au chocolat and I were still in New York City.

I walked home juggling my groceries and halfheartedly eating my pastry, and the truth became as bright and as vivid as La Tour Eiffel at night, (well, almost): I wasn’t in Paris anymore, and I would never be in Paris again in the same context I was a year ago. That part of my life is now a fleeting memory, living only in my mind – and on my taste buds. All that was left were memories, and now, crumbs.

But maybe what has made the memory of Paris so magical and vibrant is the reality that it, like my delicious pain au chocolat, was temporary. If it had lasted forever, if I extended my time there and studied abroad indefinitely, prolonging my “happily ever after,” I wouldn’t hold the same value and appreciation for the experience that I do now. The truth is that the transient nature of life’s events is what truly makes them eternally special. Of course, I wish I could experience my midnights in Paris forever, feasting on all the fresh croissants and éclairs I could get my hands on. But my “au revoir” from the enchanting city was inevitable, like all of life’s momentary events.

As nothing stays the same, and nothing remains forever, we must savor the crumbs. We must hold the memories of these instances in the drawers and shelves of our souls, wrapped in colorful nostalgia, like novel souvenirs. And at the end of the day, when we do find ourselves exploring the comfortingly mundane streets of the places with which we have become overly acquainted, we can find solace in life’s impermanence – in the magic of our memories and our reminiscence. Because, ultimately, no matter the experience, that’s just the way the pain au chocolat crumbles. C’est la vie.

Aux Merveilleux de Fred – 37 8th Ave, New York, NY 10014

Fashion & Style

The Art of Stealing

When I found Hiro Clark’s new t-shirt in black with the text, “Run Like You Stole Something” on it in my size, I snatched it up as soon as I could – not only because of the shirt’s cheeky text, but because the LA-based designer only manufactures a mere twelve of each limited-edition style.

Why was I so excited about such a simple cotton-jersey crewneck tee? Because, honestly, wearing it makes me feel as though I uniquely stand apart from all the other black t-shirts out there that are free of such a bold command printed in white text.

And judging by the smiles, laughs, and even looks of charmed confusion I’ve caught from those who have looked at my shirt, it’s fair to say that I’ve accomplished my goal to charismatically stand out by wearing this top.

But the true thrill of this shirt doesn’t come just from the amusing writing on it, or the fact that only twelve were made; when I first saw the shirt, and whenever I have worn it thereafter, the tee has urged me to reconsider the meaning of the word “steal.”

“Steal” has such a negative stigma tied to it:

When someone physically steals something from a store, the thief hastily (or slyly) grabs an object, and then runs away from the scene of the crime – and as a result, we consider him or her a criminal.

In this sense, we’re thinking of the word “steal” literally, in its mundane, pedestrian form, leading us to look down upon these types of thieves and the acts they commit.

But let me tell you something – we are all thieves.

The style of thievery we might commit on a daily basis, though, isn’t the type of act to be considered a crime or to feel guilty for…

Here’s what I mean:

The barista at Verve Coffee on Melrose in LA, or the bartender at Aria Wine Bar in New York, might have found you attractive and therefore couldn’t stop looking at you. In that moment, you stole her eye.

Maybe you walked into the office in a deep red skirt that hugs your curves perfectly, and Bob in financing couldn’t help but drool. There, you stole a glance.

Perhaps you were a knockout standout in the dance show, and your moves were sharper and bolder than the rest of the dancers. On that stage, you stole the show and the spotlight.

In baseball, the name of the game is to score runs – and to do so victoriously, you’re bound to a steal a base or two in the process.

And in the game of love – whether you’ve just met, or you’ve been dating for a week, or you’ve been married for a decade – sometimes the things we do and say lead us to steal someone’s heart.

So, as I said previously, we may not all be criminals in the classic sense of the term, but we do steal on a regular basis, whether we know it or not. In this regard, we shouldn’t run away from the things we steal, (as my Hiro Clark t-shirt might suggest). We must run with our stolen properties, and embrace them – because ultimately, the spotlights, the glances, and the hearts that we steal are all innate to our capacity as human beings. Our daily acts of thievery make us real.