Friday, September 23, 2011
‘Calyer’ for the Captain Ashore!
I asked Craig Cafton, one of
the owners of Calyer, where he
got the seafaring inspiration for the interior design for the restaurant. He
answered by telling me a story about shipbuilding. The Greenpoint area of
Brooklyn was, once upon a time in the 19th century, the wooden
shipbuilding capital of the US. But when ships made of iron and steel took over
the seas, Greenpoint became the wooden ship dismantling capital of the US. In
fact, many houses in the area were built with the wood from those dismantled
ships. Being passionate about Brooklyn in days of yore, Craig decided to
incorporate some of this peculiar history into the decorative elements of
Calyer. By sourcing boards and fixtures that had already been reclaimed once for
houses a century ago, he’s given them a third life in the new restaurant.
Craig, along with his
partners Josh Cohen and Blair Papagni (who also own another neighborhood
restaurant, Anella), kept true to this vision of creating something seemingly
antiquated while showcasing something decidedly new.
The newly opened restaurant
not only has great décor, it also has delicious food. The menu is the creation
of chef Gabriel Moya, who wanted to utilize the spices he grew up loving from
his native Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico cuisine. This inspiration can be
seen in dishes like Bacala Mousse. I tried the Fluke Tiradito, which is
comprised of fluke slices, an avocado puree, cilantro, and sesame seeds. It was
light yet savory and the mix of different textures were enjoyable on the
palate. The pan-seared bluefish was beautifully prepared (with perfect crispy
skin on the outside) and its presentation could not be surpassed. This is just
two of the many tempting dishes available at Calyer. There is a full bar, with
an assortment of wines and desserts.
Calyer
92 Calyer Street (between
Franklin and West Street)
Greenpoint, Brooklyn 11222
Hours: 6:30-11PM- everyday.
Closed Tuesday. Cash only.
Directions: Take the G train
to the Nassau Ave. stop.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Hats Entertainment: Stephen Jones, Milliner
It was such a thrill to be able to attend the opening of his survey of favorite hats at the Bard Graduate Center this past Wednesday night. Afterward, there was a delicious dinner given by the Bard Center as well. I’ve never felt so naked in my life as when I sat hatless at that table, surrounded by Stephen and his friends and collaborators, like the photographer Justine. (Note: I was hatless because I had a screamer of a migraine- even my very short hair hurt, but I was not going to let this stop me from attending Stephen’s opening).
When asked about some of his current inspirations, Stephen replied that he could be inspired by almost anything, a statement that is in evidence when reviewing his prolific, wondrous and fanciful creations. Do yourself a favor and try to see this exhibition, which is currently at the Bard Graduate Center in NYC until April 15, 2012. It will also be on tour.
Erika Belle with Stephen Jones at the opening for 'Hats: An Anthology' |
Oriole Cullen, curator, in a 'Flower' Hat |
One of my many favorite Stephen Jones Hats |
A Fur Ball Hat (worn by Bjork in London, 2008) designed by Soren Bach. |
A fine feathered hat. |
A lovely woman in a feathered hat and a trompe l'oeil 'pearl necklace' dress. |
Hats and hat boxes. |
Two beautiful woman standing next to the Stephen Jones silhouette. |
Christina Clare Ewald and Fritz Donnelly in 'Take Out' Hats. |
The wonderful Tziporah Salamon. |
Saturday, September 10, 2011
To The Newness of Things
I always think I’m so jaded.
Oh, I’ve seen everything. Oh, nothing could ever surprise me or impress me. Especially in terms of
fashion. Child, boo! I say. I’ve
seen it all and have done it all. I managed to have killed these two birds with
one stone while having a leisurely Sunday brunch in London with the late Isabella Blow.
Or so I believed. Nothing
impresses me more than the possibility of a new fashion mode. Before it
happens. Before it reaches the hallways of the suburban high school and becomes
rote and truly passé. Like the straight-legged jean, now erroneously called
‘skinny jeans’. I first wore them decades ago when they were almost impossible
to find and, if you did, quite expensive to purchase. I didn’t wear them to
signal that I belonged to the prevailing social milieu; I wore them to show I
did not.
When a brave pioneer wears
something that is so new or outré that there is not a word to define what it is
yet, I’m held in awe. This person does not hear your snickers. This person
could care less about your opinion. (This person may be in need of prescribed
psychotropic help, but I do not wish to digress.) I recently saw such a person
walking proudly down a Soho street, wearing what I call a mammy-jammy.
Mammy-jammy is my term for an indefinable article of attire. It
exists as a new sort of thing, a piece of fashion that can’t be constrained by
words like shoe or dress. As an example I can only think of the Comme Des Garcons collection of dresses that were constructed with a built in hump, so
the wearer gave the appearance of being humpbacked. A piece from that
collection was not merely a dress – a new word should have been invented for
it, like drump.
The woman I saw in Soho was
wearing something akin to a dress, but it looked as if she left a bathroom too
rapidly and part of the dress remained stuck in her underwear, and decided to
stay there. Or it gave that illusion, an appearance that few of us would ever
want to sport. It was a blue and white striped affair, very simple at the top
half, that seemed to gather around the mid-thigh like a kind of diaper-bottomed
jumpsuit, but with more fabric draped between the legs. It was a tunic that
gave something more, but I couldn’t tell exactly what was on offer. This
‘jumpsuit’ was worn with simple black oxfords and black tights, which declared
that her outfit was worn on purpose.
I was confused, but I was
also held in a rare light wonderment. And to this young crusader, I must tip my
Philip Treacy hat.
Erika Belle in a mammy-jammy at Agnes B. during FNO 2011. Photo by Patrick Albino |
Friday, September 2, 2011
I Was Never A Hippie
I
was never a hippie. I never wanted to be anything close to a hippie. I hated
the style, the false and dangerous “’love everything and everyone” ethos and
the horrid guitar solos. Blech. Those
people not only needed serious direction, they needed to use soap. The only
time I ever got close to wishing I knew what it was like to be a hippie, was
when I heard Keith Morris sing that he was a hippie in one of the best songs
ever recorded. This song is Wasted,
which was performed and recorded by the seminal punk band Black Flag.
Wasted is 51 seconds
of pure adrenaline fueled joy. It is the perfect marriage of lyrics and music,
if you need music and lyrics to function as a liter-sized espresso shot. It
starts with guitarist Greg Ginn’s heavily distorted crushing chords. The lyrics
are really just an honest lamentation, but they are sung with such urgency that
you find yourself placed within context of the song. Just by listening, you too
become involved. You understand and empathize with what it must feel like to be
completely aimless. Morris even uses hippie idiom, stating “I was so heavy,
man. I lived on the strand.” You can say with authority, because you are now a
participant, “I guess he was, um, wasted.”
Black
Flag – Nervous Breakdown on SST
Records (includes Fix Me, I’ve Had It, Wasted). Artwork by Ray Pettibon
(who also designed the infamous Black Flag 4 flags logo, and is Greg Ginn’s
brother). Do check out this gentleman’s artwork at www.raypettibon.com and at David Zwirner gallery.
Band
members*
Greg
Ginn, guitar
Keith
Morris, vocals
Chuck
Dukowski, bass
Brian
Migdol, drums
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)