Jeffrey Campbell makes a heck of a shoe. If you’re a woman and don’t know the label, I urge you, get to know the label (and I am no urger). His designs achieve that desirable but almost nonexistent mix of feminine, meets classy, meets tomboy, meets comfortable. It is the shoe you never want to take off your foot that goes with everything you own and looks ever so slightly other. His heel heights are never outrageous either, just enough to give you that boost, physical and emotional, that any beloved shoe provides.
No matter how well-manicured your bush, you still might need oil.
I love beauty products. I rarely have more fun than when I am slathering on a face mask or applying new lipstick or literally anything having to do with creams or oils or tinctures. Maybe it’s the amateur astrologist in me, but I just really like the idea of playing around with potions. But while there’s plenty of different salves to apply to my skin and deep conditioners to put on my hair, I’ve long wondered (or, you know, never really thought about, despite being a huge fan of my vagina and how it works) how to take care of the hair below my belt. Enter: Fur Oil. (more…)
Warning: Languages other than English might be spoken here.
I would never advise anyone to look toward the comments section of an online article to find anything resembling rational thought or constructive dialogue, but that’s mostly because most articles which inspire commenters to crack their knuckles and fire away at their keyboards are centered around inflammatory topics, like male frontal nudity on HBO. And so it was with no small amount of surprise that I read the comments on a New York Times article about the city’s recent increase in dual-language programs in its public schools. (more…)
Everyone knows the rent–and the mortgage–is too damn high in Brooklyn; the days of writing out a monthly check for anything less than one thousand big ones are gone (even if the days of writing paper checks, mystifyingly, are not). And based on a third quarter housing report published by Douglass Elliman, and reported by DNAinfo, it’s pretty evident that we’re now firmly in Scrooge McDuck (aka the cartoon character most likely to drown in a swimming pool of gold coins) territory now: The cost of homes in Brooklyn rose 18 percent over the last year, bringing just the average cost to $856,839. (more…)
A Woman Like Me
Directed by Alex Sichel and Elizabeth Giamatti
Opens October 9 at the Village East
A Woman Like Me, an intimate piece of nonfiction that flows in and out of fictional scenes, makes its hybrid-doc intentions known from the opening shot: a glimpse, lasting just a few seconds, of a behind-the-scenes video monitor on a movie set that’s pitched camp inside a New York brownstone. The movie’s co-director and subject, Alex Sichel, has just been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, and one of her first acts of business after receiving the news is to break out the camera, an instrument she hopes will help her face mortality. The practicing Buddhist travels to both alternative-medicine healers and chemo infusions, powers up the steep stone staircase at Fort Greene Park, and watches her daughter ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. Against the dead-serious advice of her elderly parents, Sichel ramps up her work schedule, fast-tracking a fragmentary film about a woman named Anna, facing the same diagnosis with an equanimity that Sichel wishes she could muster, featuring the actress Lili Taylor.
Earlier this year, Sarah Maslin Nir’s exposé in the New York Times revealed the low pay and atrocious working conditions that exist in many of the discount nail salons that dot New York. Essentially, Nir made all of us who are willing to ignore the price that must ultimately be paid by someone in order to obtain discounted goods and services. Nir’s piece inspired close looks into other New York industries, like dollar slice joints, which thrive on bargain basement prices that are only made possible by underpaying workers. And then today, New York magazine writes about another common and surprisingly affordable New York institution: cheap yoga. (more…)
Like last year’s Two Days, One Night, The Measure of a Man is a triumph of realistic cinema, and a dirge for a blue-collar European worker left stranded after a once-solid job has melted away. Co-writer/director Stéphane Brizé often thrusts us into situations without any prior exposition, then gives the scene plenty of room to unspool as we figure out what’s going on and soak in the atmosphere and emotions. He starts the film in the midst of an intense session between a frustrated Thierry (Vincent Lindon) and an apologetic job counselor. Thierry, we learn, is running out of both money and employment options after being out of work for more than a year, and he has just found out that he wasted months on training that the counselor now admits was useless.
Ad-blocking is, it seems, all anyone invested in the future of online publishing (so not, like, everyone, but somevery smart people!) is writing about lately. And without wading into the various pros and cons of whether or not the blocking of ads will destroy smaller ad-dependent, never-going-to-get-a-significant-enough-number-of-paying-subscribers-to-make-a-serious-financial-impact publications, I can say that ad-blocking has been something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Only not so much in terms of what I see on the screen. Rather, what I have been thinking a lot about lately is how ads 2.0—i.e., windshield fliers and business cards stuck in doorways—have been lately littering my block in such abundance that they’re actually more of a nuisance than what confronts me on a daily basis on my laptop, but there’s no simple program for making these types of advertisements vanish, no easy way to avoid the detritus that now litters the curbs of my streets. (more…)