Reaching an age where major life decisions and milestones come in multiples of 3, I have the pleasure of sharing that she, my soulmate, has gone off to pursue her Ph.D. in New York City. It’s an exciting time for both of us with different opportunities in our own careers.
This photo above by Tommy Ton for Style.com encapsulates how I imagine the two of us walking in the Big Apple. It’s up to you if you want to reimagine this photo with no beard on either person but just as much #swag.
René Lacoste and Suzanne Lenglen of France
After a slow start to the evening, a planet named Venus happened. She beat Roberta Vinci of Italy as easily as one steps on an unwanted bug. Federer’s magic is still there though his critics would argue that he is a step behind at the ripe age of 29.
Tennis is a mesmerizing sport that, in my humble opinion, I would enjoy less without the sound of the fluffy yellow ball being momentarily whacked out of shape for a split second. Have you seen a screen shot of Agassi’s two-handed backhand? The ball is flattened on the bed of strings on his racquet. The sound, along with the rhythmic back and forth, hypnotizes.
Throughout the decades of the Open Era, technology has changed. Wooden racquets soon were traded for the lighter metallic variety. Some would argue that aluminum racquets paved the way for the faster speed at which the ball travels at any given point of a match. Others would say a fitter average professional player is to blame. Evolution of the game has happened.
The more obvious change to the game would be the way players dressed. Women in Victorian England played with long skirts and whale-bone corsets; white linen dresses with droplets of blood was a common sight a Wimbledon. Bless ’em. Playing in dresses was just plain inconvenient.
It does not take an extremely attentive eye that the evolution of the way the men dress in tennis. Bjorn Borg, I am so sure, is the inspiration for Luke Wilson’s character in The Royal Tenenbaums. Here is my homage to men’s tennis.
New York City is a giant ball of energy that cannot be summed up in a few words. The streets hum with the eventual white noise that becomes that backdrop to the metropolis. It is the big city of big cities. Inspiration and aspiration become a two-headed mystical creature, fuelling people’s everyday grind.
The Metropolitan Museum’s permanent collection never ceases to amaze me. The standout exhibition, in my humble opinion is Hipsters, Hustlers and Handball Players: Leon Levinstein’s New York Photographs 1950-1980. I have never heard of the photographer nor of his work. However, upon entering the modest white room in the modern art wing of the expansive museum, it is clear that his work carries the grandiosity that would shame the biggest of installations.
I tried looking for more information on the man and found that there is very little known about the photographer. He lived a very quiet and solitary life, continuously occupied with his work. He refused any prizes or any recognition from his contemporaries, a move so bizarre given the rise of commercial photography and the luxurious life that his fellow photographers led at the time. Here I leave his work to speak for itself, as he has during his lifetime.
The previous weeks have left me with a lot to juggle and my baby, Urban Peanut, has been left with nothing to feed on.
I am currently in New York and it is definitely a city like no other. With so many exhibits at the MoMa, and Brooklyn as a new place of urban exploration, one is left with close to no energy when one needs it the most: on a Friday night.
Muji is easily one of my favourite design stores with affordable offerings, without sacrificing quality of taste. My life in Paris involved coffee, food and Muji. There is nothing with a logo in the store. Subtlety and minimalism are keywords during the conception process of all of Muji items. I am packing up on their refillable pens and stationery. When are you coming to Canada, dear Muji? Good design is for the people!
My holiday is going very well with a trip to a Warhol exhibit in the Brooklyn Museum and a whole day of picnicking in Park Slope. I will let you know how it goes with photos. Brrrrup!!