Babbling Brooklyn

Max and I went to a great Oscars party last night. We ate, drank and commented on what everyone was wearing; good, bad and ugly. I had such a great time I wondered why we’d never done it before. Oh yeah, cos it’s 2am in the UK…

For your viewing pleasure, a couple of my faves and least faves. 

#1 Fave (Alexander McQueen)

Like a delectable raspberry ;-)  (Giambattista Valli)

Pow! (Tom Ford, natch)

Love the forest green. If I age even half as well, Max will be lucky. (Zac Posen)

Oh Meryl. You are one of my absolute favourite actresses, but what?! You’re attending the Oscars, not dressing as one…   (Lanvin)

Like a fish (or should that be mermaid?) outta water. Complete with shiny scales. (Vera Wang)

Not sure about the skin tone/dress tone combo. Slightly too similar… (J.Mendel)

If you do a bit of research you’ll find that half my faves have been slated in the press and vice versa, these women sure know how to divide opinion! What do you think?

To do this weekend: Watch The Artist, Hugo and The Help!

I thought I knew pure joy, but I did not. But on Friday at 12 noon, I experienced an out of body experience so fantastic that I ran around the apartment shrieking like a small child in Dylans Candy Store (that’s a blogpost for another time!)

Any guesses? 

Amazing! Try not to dribble…

The Standard Hotel is where all the fashionistas congregate during fashion week. In normal circumstances, walking around the meatpacking district is like being surrounded by trendy zombies but during fashion week it just goes OFF THE SCALE.

We had our launch party for Boo at the Boom Boom Room which is at the top of The Standard and has 360 degree views of Manhattan. I’m not kidding. It’s as amazing as you can possibly imagine and then some. 

I’m not gonna say the best thing about the party was the loos, but they were incredible (or rather the view was). Imagine having a wee in front of sheer glass, 20 floors up and with Manhattan at your feet. I have never been one to linger but on this occasion it was hard to leave.

There were incredible live performances by Blood Orange, Solagne Knowles (who lives round the corner from us, apparently Jay-Z and Beyonce considering it-bit of local goss for you there) and Spank Rock as well as a free bar serving custom made ‘Boo’ cocktails.

Having worked hard all week to pull the party together at short notice and manage Waris’ diary for fashion week, it was amazing to see it all come together before my eyes, and knowing I was part of it.

Looking out over Manhattan with a drink in hand, watching live performances and chatting to friends, I really had a ‘This is it’ moment. This is living. I’m not just existing and letting life pass me by, I’m really living it. It was a great feeling and it reminded me for the umpteenth time that whatever happens, this has been one of the best experiences of my life. Cheesy but true ;-)

The place. The people.

Courtesy Turn Loose the Art and Billy Farrell Agency.

Just in time for Valentines Day (and fashion week!) the House of Waris managed to pull yet another incredible stunt. Entitled ‘Boo for House of Waris’ we launched a capsule collection comprised of a necklace, bracelet and earrings.The idea was that they are great gifts, not just for your loved one on Valentines Day, but for anyone you love (sister, colleague, housemate, best friend)

In 6 weeks we launched a capsule jewellery collection. From inspiration to design to technical drawings, first prototypes, finding packaging and eventually producing over 300 pieces right here in diamond district of New York City. That alone would normally have taken at least six weeks. Not to mention finding and ordering the right packaging (and then packing ourselves!), finding suitable retailers (online and in-store) and creating media hype. The culmination of this feat (never underestimate Waris) was a star-studded launch party complete with live performances and Boo themed (free!) cocktails at the top of the Standard hotel in with panoramic views over the whole of New York. More on that later. 

It was amazing to see the process and how a product is brought to market, especially in such a short space of time. One of the great things about working with Waris (and in many other creative industries) is that you are able to see a tangible, real result at the end of your hard work, whether it’s strutting down a runway during fashion week or seeing it in actual shops or spotting people wearing your designs out and about.

The below images are not to scale, though that would be pretty bling/ghetto ;-)

Voila!

Brooklyn is the new home of the artisan. Many have realised that there is a renaissance for artisinal, locally produced goods. We already covered the microbrewery revolution in this blog, but in our borough’s post-globalisation microculture, luxury, locally made versions of standard goods can be found everywhere. Just down our street is a shop that sells things only made in Brooklyn - soap, ties, headphones. You pay a premium of course, but you pay for quality, and the smug satisfaction of contributing to the local economy and becoming a kind of philanthropist for lost arts.

However, this movement has taken a scary new direction. Political cartoonist David Rees has given up grinding down pencils to earn his living, instead he is sharpening them up. After years of drawing professionally, David realised he had a genuine talent for sharpening pencils, and so he decided to make a business out of it. Rees charges $15 plus shipping to sharpen your pencil. He will return it in it’s pointy glory, along with the shavings, bagged and categorized for your reference. He will also provide a certificate of sharpening, and grade his own work, so that you know how sharp the pencil is. Don’t believe me? Here’s the website.

David himself has recently relocated to that other concentration of Manhattan hipster/artist overspill: the Hudson Valley (aka “North Brooklyn”), but he has returned to Brooklyn to give a series of talks in support of the release of his new book “How To Sharpen Pencils”, a no-holds barred guide to the mysteries and intricacies of his craft. I attended one out of curiosity and bemusement. Using volunteers he explained basic pencil sharpening, showed us extreme pencil sharpening (behind the head, using the teeth) and read to us the entire chapter on mechanical pencils (Which consisted of just one sentence: “Mechanical pencils are bullsh*t”). He said that it was also very important to don the essential accessory of any artisinal craftsman: a black apron, because “people from Brooklyn know to trust a man wearing an apron”.

It was of course, more stand-up comedy than an actual lecture. But entertaining as David was, he was keen to stress that this wasn’t some meta-joke or post-ironic hipster backlash; this was genuinely his primary source of income. The whole thing was entertaining, but nonetheless bewildering - so just another night in Brooklyn.

Dear all,

Apologies for the blogging hiatus. Things are very hectic in NY at the mo for the Supreme Dream Team aka Max and Steph. We’re so sorry to neglect you, our loyal followers! Trips to Boston, in combination with family visits, NY fashion week and a renewed hunt for fully paid employment have left us with little time to carry on with the things that really matter like blogging. Rest assured we have many blogs post in mind, and we will endeavor to find time this week to write them. So keep checking back!

Much love,

M & S

xx

My day started by being serenaded by a total stranger (her best rendition of Justin Timberlake’s ‘My Love’) and ended with homemade Mac and Cheese (Love ya Max ;-)

In between I saw armies of white fluffy teddies, enough gaudy helium balloons to make a cameo on ‘Up’ and hundreds of single stem red roses. We all know Valentine’s Day is a load of rubbish invented by Hallmark to make us buy things. Regardless, every person clutching their Valentine’s hoard had a little love smirk on their face.

Because however cynical or scrooge-like you are, love will worm its’ way into the chinks in your armour and we all need an excuse to appreciate what we have, today and every day. 

So much hype, so many parties, front-rows, press and endless photos and interviews. All the biggest players in the fashion industry turn out to crane their necks at the newest collections, wearing their most sartorial outfits and thousands of column inches are taken up talking about it. For RTW designers (as in designers that design clothes as opposed to accessories etc) the fashion weeks spanning New York, London, Milan and Paris can make or break their new collections.

Prior to this week, Twitter wasn’t on my radar but it has been fascinating to see people’s reactions to collections in real time and see what’s ‘trending’. Bleurgh, I hate that word but there isn’t a better one!

Born in Singapore and raised in Nepal, Prabal Gurung is our neighbour at the studio in the CFDA Incubator programme and since showing his first collection at NYFW back in February 2009 has gone from strength to strength, even becoming a favourite designer of Michelle Obama. You can see his Fall/Winter 2012 Collection here. It’s only two minutes long so even if you don’t like fashion, I think you’ll be able to appreciate beautiful design and execution of his whimsical, ethereal dresses as well as his sharp silhouettes, metallics and range of textures.

All the dresses knocked my socks off, but I especially loved the intricately-beaded and lace grey dress (worn by model of the moment Joan Smalls-amazonian and fierce!), the full-length white dress (could come in handy in a few years, just sayin’ ;-) and the dress with golden bodice and skirt made from baby swans.

Twitter went beserk for this guy and I can see why. For many, fashion as art is debatable but I think this comes close. 

p.s Anyone spot Anna Wintour?!

p.p.s If you liked the first vid, more here from Style.com complete with NY fashion types…

“In Italian enclave Carroll Gardens you don’t get the feeling that the neighborhood ever took that big of a nosedive; first and second-generation working-class folk at least occupied and maintained their wide brownstones with their unique “garden” frontages, while pruning their fig and pear trees in their backyards. Now many of these owners are either condo-izing their brownstones or selling outright to Manhattanites who realize that Carroll Gardens is perhaps the perfect neighborhood - - decent schools, a centralized park, a 20-minute subway ride to Manhattan, quick access to the BQE and the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, and a ludicrous amount of retail on lower Court and Smith Streets. There are still several old-school Italian shops and eateries that hold their own against the influx of hip restaurants on lower Court Street and the design shops of Smith Street.”

- NotForTourists.com

…and then it all fell into place. The sky cleared, the sun came out and I used the good weather wisely by going to sit in a succession of dark, windowless rooms. I managed to get into four films that day, all of which were world premieres. I even managed to get into to see a film that I actually wanted to see! I did have to make one lift, but it was a pleasant drive up the winding Utah roads to the top of Deer Valley. On the way I mentioned a few films to my boss that I was interested in and he simply placed a call to the sales agents to get me some tickets. Should have done that the first day.

The last film of the four films was at midnight that evening, so I didn’t get into bed until about 3am. My line manager had given me the morning off, but I figured I would try to get into a morning screening rather than sleep. To reiterate, I went to one film at midnight, slept for four hours, and then got out of bed at 7am to get to an 8.30am screening. I considered afterwards that in any other situation this would be behaviour to get one sectioned, but at a film festival it is actively encouraged. At another screening I went to later in the day, the director got up on stage to introduce himself and he simply said: “My name is Sheldon Candis, and I am addicted to movies.” Immediately the entire audience cheered as one. I thought to myself, I have found my people.

My people were out in force at our official company party later that evening, and they were lovely. They were fun, diverse, casual, friendly and they were addicted to movies. I’d been worried about not knowing anyone at Sundance, not having anyone to hang out with. And then I found myself in a room full of 200 people, buzzed on free alcohol and lack of sleep, with 80s hits being played by a man calling himself DJ Mumjeans, all talking about the films they’d seen, and that they were were working on and that they were going to make. I couldn’t fail to find friends. 

My late Christmas present arrived last week in the form of MY FAMILY! Yay! After being away from them for Christmas for the first time ever, it was such a treat to have quality family time without time restraints or pressures. We decided to incorporate a little family holiday so we headed up to Vermont to see what the East Coast could offer in terms of matching Europe. Killington is a ski resort 6 hours north of New York City (on a train with the most beautiful views snaking beside the Hudson) near a small New England village complete with porches and clapperboard whitewashed houses. 

Arriving at the resort it was unbelieveably cold, the kind of paralysing, hits you between the eyes kind of cold. The next morning we awoke to bright sunshine and blue skies and got our gear for our first day of skiing. 

I think skiing is like Marmite, you love it or you hate it. Either it’s scary, against nature and unbalancing or it’s the closest you can get to flying. I love it. Waking up to blue skies, glistening white landscapes and snow-capped trees is magic. Add getting out on the slopes before it gets busy and whizzing down in complete silence apart from the swoosh swoosh of skis on snow and really, there’s nothing better. 

The first day we booked ourselves on a ‘get to know the mountain’ tour. Clearly everyone else knew the mountain or else just knew it was for nerds, but our tour guide (who’s name I forget, Tom, Jules?) took full advantage of our undivided attention. This included explaining, in detail, how to read a map whilst at the top of a mountain. This would kinda have been fine (tho a slight insult to our intelligence, maybe he thought Brits were dense) except that gale force winds were howling around us blowing icy snow into our faces and preventing us from even ascertaining whether we were still alive (or frozen alive), let alone caring about which mountain was the best early in the morning. 

‘New England Powder’ is the name for patches of ice covered by artificial snow. In Killington it’s a hilarious joke. Which we heard countless times. Though it’s takes a couple of times to get it’s a joke (some Americans are not very funny). Killington prides itself on the creation of hundreds of miles of piste all covered with top of the range fake snow. Real dedication. I would probably just give up and move to the Bahamas. 

We even tried snowboarding one afternoon (well, I think I managed half an hour) with varying degrees of success. By which I mean Jules managed to get down the slope without falling over (she’s a woman of great perseverance) and Tom was actually pretty amazing (and even graduated beyond the baby slope). I, on the other hand, was decidedly crap. I couldn’t get over having both my legs pinned to a board that was facing downhill. Suicide. I fell over more times than I care to count and even when I thought I’d got it and was feeling pretty smug, I soon realised I couldn’t stop/turn/etc and had to throw myself to the ground to avoid crashing into the beginner’s class at the bottom of the hill. All I had to show for my efforts was a soaking wet bum, a headache and feeling really achy the next day. Mum and Dad watched us for the first few runs and all I could hear as I lay supine in some highly undignified position was Mum’s shrieks of laughter reverberating round the mountain. Hilarious. 

Although the snow was hit-and-miss and the food left something to be desired (classic substitution of flavour with corn syrup), it was a brill family holiday, complete with fun, frolics, hilarity, family games and in-jokes. Best. Family. Ever. 

For all of you who have your family close, you are so lucky. I hope you appreciate it! When you move across the Atlantic, you certainly do. 

Ask Roulette, a simple concept which could have gone either way really: A stage, in a bookstore, with two chairs, and a screen in between them. One master of ceremonies calls people from the audience to take a turn to sit in one of the chairs. The person arriving (person A) asks a person who is already sitting (person B) a question, any question: philosophical, personal, factual; and person B may answer in any way that they wish. Person B is then aksed to return to their seat in the crowd, while Person A closes their eyes. The MC calls up a new audience member to sit in a chair and ask a question to Person A. And so on.

Or, as the website puts it more succinctly: 

Ask Roulette is an unscripted conversation in which participants ask and answer questions of each other in front of a live audience.

There are three rules:
1) Anyone can submit a question to ask, or just watch
2) You can only ask a question once you’ve answered a question
3) Ask anything, big or small

‘Contestants’ (which I shall call them because it felt very much like a hipster version of Blind Date - complete with a live pianist playing fills between ‘rounds’) included comedians and NY Times columnists invited to participate, as well as randomly chosen members of the audience. I declined to submit a question, fearing blanking under the pressure of being asked. As it was, I of course could have fielded brilliant answers to the questions asked, but I’m sure it’s not so easy when you’re up there.

Some of my favourite questions of the evening (and my answers in brackets):

If you could be a sound, what sound would you be? (The Skype ringtone)

What would you say to Werner Herzog if you met him? (I love you)

Would you rather understand all of the mysteries of outer space, or the deep sea? (Outer space, every time)

If you could pull the plug on the internet, would you? (For one week, yes.)

Why is Newark airport abbreviated to EWR? (Not a clue)

How do you do that with your hair? (Baxter’s Of California Hard Water Pomade)

And my favourite answer of the evening:

Q: How do you tie the the ribbon on top of your Christmas pudding? 

A: I’m Jewish.

The second day I awoke on my sofabed in time to give my boss a ride at 8am. With another pickup booked for 10am, the 9am screening I had acquired a ticket for - my only one thus far - was sacrificed. Instead I went to the Yarrow Hotel for eggs benedict to cheer myself up. It was easily the worst eggs benedict I have ever had in my life (and I’ve had my fair share). As the nicest hotel in town, I’d assumed they’d know how to throw a decent breakfast together, but it was like the whole thing had been squeezed out of a tube directly on to my plate. 

I walked the three blocks back to the car, cursing my luck, texting my misery to Steph, my Sundance dream quickly dying like the snowflakes melting into my coat. It snowed 12 inches that day; visibility was 20m at best. My ABS skidded into action 3 times that day, juddering against my foot at stop signs and red lights.

Sundance tested me for 24 hours: “Are you ready, young Padwan?” it seemed to say. And then at noon, I remembered why I was there. I watched my CEO on a panel in the Filmmaker’s Lounge on mainstreet - a game show style discussion where prominent distribution figures shared their thoughts on how to successfully market and release two hypothetical films proposed by young filmmakers. Suddenly the industry was revealing it’s thoughts to me, sharing the projections for transactional, theatrical, cable VOD, physical distribution, educational; marketing possibilities, focus groups, niche audiences. Providing figures and jargon to back up this knowledge. I wish i could have just injected all of that knowledge into my brain. It was easily the most exciting and educational hour I have spent in distribution. What a shame I can’t remember a word of it.

And after that my ever-wonderful line manager Emily called me: “I’ve got a screening ticket for you. Should be a good one.” And it was. It was called The House I Live In, and it later won the Sundance Documentary Grand Jury Prize (more on this film to follow). Afterwards I had a wee next to Danny Glover, and then I saw Bruce Willis and Rebecca Hall. Award-winning films? Celebrity sightings? Sundance, you came through for me!

After that I went to another screening, where a nice volunteer who explained to me how to get waitlist tickets. We got on so well we actually ended up going into the film together. We also left together after 40 minutes because the film was so bad (FYI It was called Lay The Favourite - avoid at all costs); we laughed about the dialogue and the acting all the way to the bus stop. I never caught her name.

On the bus back into town I made friends with Shaina, an aspiring screenwriter. “Hi, how’s your festival going? What have you seen that you liked?” etc. And then Shaina and I went to a third screening together. We didn’t actually get in because it was full, but no worries, we just went to the pub.

It struck me on the way home how much a film festival is like a music festival. You move between crowds at venues, you wait around a long time, you barely eat, you barely sleep, you meet strangers who are your best friends for half an hour, you talk about a shared passion, you smile to yourself about how insane it all is. I might never have been to a film festival before, but I sure know my way around a music festival. I can do this, I thought. Come on Sundance, what else have you got?