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Holy cow! Summer is over. How did this happen? When did this happen? Despite summer being all but over until next year, I am extremely giddy today. Euphoric, even. Its like I am on drugs, without the drugs part. This is what happens when you get the day off before a holiday weekend. You start giggling at anything.
Or perhaps the giddiness is directly proportional to the amount of sugar I consumed — I made myself some sliced mango for breakfast and then topped it off with a chocolate sandwich made on whole wheat challah.
Working for a company located in the middle of New Jersey has it advantages. For one, you can eat French toast from the company cafeteria on the patio, surrounded by REAL grass. I have never worked at a place with a cafeteria, before working at Johnson + Johnson. So I am still enjoying the thrill of eating "in the cafeteria." (I want to schedule a lunch meeting in the cafeteria, but I have not worked up my nerve yet.) Yeah, I know, this is nothing special. But for some reason, I love it...It's cool to have a cafeteria option. Where you can get cookies shaped like butterflies and they give you the option of carrot sticks or pretzel bites with your sandwich.
I have two thoughts for you: macha green tea + deep milk chocolate Don't be deceived by the looks of this bar — it's just a milk chocolate of a new variety, blended with a bit of dark chocolate and forest green macha to deepen the flavor and the color. During your tasting experience, the grassy and bamboo notes of macha tea will begin to rise, followed by nuttiness and ending with a lightly astringent yet rounded finish. Macha green tea is ground fresh from the first buds of the tea plant, giving it dynamic antioxidant power unparalleled by any other tea type.
Holy cow. I bought this Vosges chocolate bar at Whole Foods as a gift for my co-worker Karin, and ended up eating the entire bar before I even give her a square. (It was sooooo good that it turned me into a greedy chocoholic.)
My brother-in-law gave me a belated birthday gift this year of a series of books by Megan McCafferty. Beginning with Sloppy Firsts and ending with Fourth Comings, they detail the fictional life of a teenage girl (Jessica Darling) living in New Jersey. At first glance upon opening the package, I was momentarily like, "um these are books for Young Adults!" as if that ever stopped me from reading something (I will read practically anything so long as its not sci-fi or fantasy. And if that was all that was left in the world to read, well, I would finally read those genres as well.) I read Danielle Steele and Jackie Collins' books out of my mom's bedside table and Das Boot off of my dad's side, when I was in fourth grade. And I still buy Dr. Suess books for myself, now at the age of 33. So there is no reason why I could not suddenly start reading books for teens, since I sort of skipped them when I was a teen.
Anyhow, I got over my age-bias in about two minutes and settled down on the couch with a bag of Haribo Tangtastics and proceeded to read all day. And all night. I finished Sloppy Firsts and moved onto Second Helpings. And I was completely hooked. I COULD NOT PUT THE BOOKS DOWN. I tried to mark my page and walk away. But it was unbelievable. There I was, enthralled with Jessica Darling and Marcus Flutie and her friends, and there was no way that I could stop reading. In fact, I contemplated calling in sick, just so I could plow my way through the remaining two books.
And not since my junior year in college when I stole (or rather, since I worked in the library, "borrowed without actually checking it out," Clockers by Richard Price, have I been so entirely immersed in a book. While reading Clockers, I cut all of my Wednesday classes (a studio and something else) because there was absolutely no way I could go to class without knowing how the book ended.
That is one of the greatest feelings, when a book has such a death grip on you that you are powerless to do anything but finish it, at any cost. I wish I could say that it was a great classic that had caught me in its grasp, but no, it was a series of chick lit novels about teen angst.
Brooke sent me this link of Carol Hummel's Tree Cozy which is in front of the Cleveland Heights City Hall (read other links about it here.) as part of the Sculpture on the Heights arts initiative. This is really funny, since my mother LIVES in Cleveland Heights and never once mentioned to me that there was a tree that was wearing in a knitted jumper in Cleveland. You would think these sorts of things would come up in our conversations, but no.
From Dabbler:
Tree Cozy by Carol Hummel
Hummel has crocheted a cozy for a tree in front of Cleveland Heights City Hall at Severance Town Centre. It is made of brightly colored nylon and synthetic material that will weather the Northern Ohio climate for the two-year term of the exhibition without impeding the growth of the tree or harming wildlife.
For the past two years, Hummel has been working with crocheted yarn as a metaphorical sculptural material. This project involves covering a tree-a natural object representing masculinity and strength-with a cozy-an emphatically handmade blanket representing femininity and comfort.
Scale, color, and material are utilized to create a sculpture that is experienced physically while opening the door for psychological, emotional, and/or intellectual contemplation. It can be interpreted on a variety of levels.
On the most obvious level, it is a piece of clothing, personifying the tree and keeping it cozy and colorful throughout the year, enhancing the beauty of nature as well as the landscape of Northern Ohio.
On another level, the brightly colored crocheted cozy wraps the tree in personal and cultural nostalgia evoking memories of bygone times and places when life was good.
On yet another level, the cozy softens the strong tree form while also emphasizing it. It is meant to simultaneously caress and encase the tree. The cozy covering the tree fluctuates between comforting blanket and suffocating cover-up; it conceals as much as it protects; it hides as much as it reveals.
Hummel, who obtained her MFA in sculpture in 2004 from Kent State University, has an eclectic background educationally and professionally as a photographer, journalist, editor, and owner of a construction company.
We are getting buried under the tomatoes we are getting from the CSA (community sponsored agriculture), so I decided to make a tomato tart for dinner tonight. Of course, this started as a way for me to use up our lovely, organic CSA tomatoes, but then it involved me going out to actually buy more tomatoes because I did not think we had enough, and then the new tomatoes did not match the CSA tomatoes, so in the end I never even used the CSA tomatoes. Honestly, I have no idea how this happens.
My Aunt Marcis and Uncle Charles were in town for Charles' son's wedding. Ben got married in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, which is less than a mile from our apartment. So Marcia and Charles drove over after the wedding to say hi and to see our apartment. The visit was a short one and then we walked my relatives to their car, which they had parked on Dean Street, on the east side of Washington Avenue — the Crown Heights side. And when we got to the car (a small compact, mind you) two other couples spill out of the doors. Two adult-sized couples. And Charles' super sweet sister was one of the people stuffed into the car, and she was a little tipsy and kept hugging me. Loudly. If that's even possible.
I really can only imagine what the neighbors sitting on lawn chairs in their front yards, were thinking about the strange site of six white, inebriated, loudly hugging adults in their late 50s, early 60s, spilling from a compact rental Hyundai on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
It was priceless.
Those are NOT my cufflinks, ok?
My last day in London, I went to Jermyn Street and bought some dress shirt for myself at T.M. Lewin. I already own a bunch of shirts from them, but I wanted some new ones and oddly enough, bought three PINK shirts. Which is weird, because I do not really like the color pink. I keep saying this, but maybe somewhere deep inside, I secretly like the color pink? I really can't figure it out. I like pink shirts, I guess. But that is about it — I am not about to paint my apartment pink. Yet. Anyway, I planned my outfit today to wear my pink flowered shirt and a green skirt and a pink + green striped belt and some cream sandals with green heels.
I have no floor length mirror and this is exactly why I need a mirror. Because I left the house wearing that outfit, and thinking that it was totally acceptable for me to be walking around in public like that. With my shirt tucked in! and my skirt had gotten too tight in the hips (too many Ritter Sport bars) so now it no longer came to my knees but was a freaking mini skirt. The shoes had not been worn since like June, and to clog-wearing feet, wearing heeled sandals is like learning how to walk all over again. And to to top it off, I had to come up with my goals for my review on the 23 minute subway ride from home to work.
Thankfully, by the time I go to the subway my shirt was untucked and the belt was gone. By the time I arrived at work, I had nine! goals scrawled in my notebook.
I think the pink shirt was good luck.
Today, I flew home from Rochester on Jet Blue. I am sure that there are many people who loath this airline after they were forced to sit on the tarmac for like 12 hours straight last year. However, I am not one of those people. Because Jet Blue is great for these sorts of things — flying to Rochester and back with no luggage. Its like the bus (well, an expensive bus with animal crackers), and when you think of it like that, suddenly, its not so bad.
The terminal at JFK is a circus, and hopefully that will become a bit more classy once they move into Eero Saarinen's old TWA terminal 5, late next year. However, that being said, JetBlue has the best snacks to offer for preflight travel. And, which to me is a big deal, they have more beverages to offer than stupid Dasani water. I think Dasani tastes like crappy tap water — um, because it is! — and I would rather drink free! water from a water fountain, except that those don't seem to exist anymore. However, the JetBlue circus terminal offers all sorts of liquid refreshment options — hello, Vitamin Water!, which made me quite happy. That, and the peanut butter and chocolate popcorn. Which made me quite sick, after I ate the entire box in about 15 minutes flat.
Today, I had to drive to New Jersey for a 9am presentation with the global Carefree™ team. I left the house five minutes past 7am, which meant that I was going to be at least 20 minutes late for my meeting. Which was totally not cool. I decided the one way that I could deal with this, since I could not change the fact that the BQE was essentially broken, was to listen to my new Salsa Explosion CD from Starbucks. (I like buying my music at Starbucks, ok? They have some good CDs.) Specifically, track one, which is Che Che Cole by Willie Colón. I put it on repeat and listened to it for two straight hours. Well, actually, for one hour and 40 minutes — because for some reason, I made it to Skillman, New Jersey in record time.
The track would go right here________, except that even after buying Quick Time Pro for $30, for some reason, Blogger's new video player is rejecting my upload. What a pain in the neck.
I came home from London and Kenny had saved an article for me to read, from the NY Times Magazine about how the US will be redoing all of the US road signs in a new typeface, Clearview, to replace the signage in Highway Gothic.
From Leo Burnett in Toronto:
Clearview is a new typeface that will be replacing the classic 'Highway Gothic' font on all the iconic green & white highway signage across the US. The existing typeface has been around for 50 years, but it was chosen without any thought during the rush in the 1950s to expand the American interstate system (it was also adopted as the predominant Canadian highway font). The problem is it has several problems with blurriness and illegibility, especially at night, and that's only becoming a bigger issue as the population ages. Clearview, by making subtle changes, is massively improved. US states are slowly adopting it, and Canadians can also see it popping up on new highway and road signs around Toronto.
The article is a good read on using design thinking, exploration and experimentation to address a complex web of issues (the type needed to be more legible, but couldn't be too different: you don't want a font calling attention to itself when people are speeding down the highway). It also gets into the relationship between public typography, sense of place, and national psyche. And, of course, it provides a reminder that marketers rarely miss an opportunity: Clearview is already AT&T's new corporate font.
But whenever I read articles like this I'm struck by how little you hear this kind of serious design thinking in agencies anymore. I think many of us agency folk have forgotten how to speak about design intelligently. We may have a good intuitive sense of what works, but when pressed on a rationale for our creative choices (typography, colours, layouts), we often can't back it up very well, and the conversation turns to subjective likes and dislikes. No wonder agencies are commodities these days: we've forgotten how to be experts.
Interestingly enough, while I was in London, I kept photographing all of the signage, because the typeface, British Transport, was just so appealing to me. I am sure there is a reason why it was so appealing, perhaps the Gs made me feel happy because of the angle of the descender, or maybe its because all of the signage seemed more legible because the counters had more space inside of them. Whatever the case, I just simply loved their signage.
The incandescent light bulb is being phased out in favor of compact florescent lighting (CFLs), in many countries. If you go to Home Depot you will notice the light bulb aisle is now full of these energy saving light bulbs. I am not sure when this happened — its sort of like when did we go from glass bottles to plastic two liter bottles? I feel like I blinked, and now we are onto something new.
Anyway, we went to Home Depot tonight to buy energy efficient light bulbs for our home. Because, if every American home replaced just one light bulb with an ENERGY STAR qualified bulb, we would save enough energy to light more than 3 million homes for a year, more than $600 million in annual energy costs, and prevent greenhouse gases equivalent to the emissions of more than 800,000 cars. Yeah. So off we went to Home Depot to do our part of being good energy efficient Americans, and spent about $100 in light bulbs. I came home super excited to screw in our new bulbs and start on our path to being really environmentally friendly. So what if our apartment building was built with completely toxic materials? We would have energy-efficient light bulbs!
We screwed them in, and immediately, I was sad. The light bulbs flickered and then began to slowly come on to full strength. And even though we bought the soft light bulbs (after buying the bright light bulbs and having to return those, for which they gave us a counterfeit $10 bill for change), the light was so, so wrong. It was florescent, and there was no way that I could keep those bulbs in my kitchen. Or in my night time reading lamp. I was completely torn. Do I sacrifice my quality of life and happiness for the sake of my planet? Or do I keep the incandescent bulbs and live with the guilt that I am causing green house gas destruction? Cripes. How unfair is that? I mean, what the fuck? Can't they make NICE energy efficient light bulbs? They all are packaged nicely, but can't the light quality itself be improved?
I looked online and found this test, which rated the N:Vision Soft White bulbs as the best of the bunch and according to their raters, even better than incandescent!? Of course, these the light bulbs that we bought at Home Depot. I had given them to my neighbor, but I think I will take them back (they weren't bright enough for her husband!) and screw them back in. Sadly, it is like there are more and more reasons why our house is just not comfortable. I can't get rid of the kitchen I hate, because its new and that would be wasteful. And now I am stuck sticking in enviro-friendly light bulbs so my potential children will not be living in a wasteland of garbage. Sigh.
Today is the day before Rich + Chloe's due date for their baby. This is probably the last time I will see Rich + Chloe before they become parents. Chloe looks so happy and fabulous...it is very inspirational.
I am such the farm girl.
The sheep were actually "baaaing" to one another.
Hello! I am now a vegetarian.
This sign has a double meaning. Does it mean to not fall in love with the animals and start to make names for them in your head, like I was doing? Perhaps this sign is posted in order to keep guests from falling in love with the animals and then staging a boycott against both lamb and veal being on the lunchtime prix fixe menu. Or does it mean to not to bring your dog into the pastures? Hmmm.
This chicken looks so badass. Check out how big his feet are!
We went to Blue Hill at Stone Barns today for lunch, which is located in Pocatico Hills, New York. Their mission is:
Blue Hill at Stone Barns is a platform, an exhibit, a classroom, a conservatory, a laboratory, and a garden. The restaurant will reflect the spirit of the farm, the terroir, and the market. The kitchen will express the humanity and the fervor of the educators, preservationists, farmers, cooks, and servers who learn and work at the Center.
The road ingredients travel from harvest to the dinner table becomes a part of their "character". Simplifying this path changes the taste, often enhancing it. Actively reconnecting the farm and the table creates a distinct consciousness. Through our choices of food and ingredients, we - chefs, waiters, diners - are inescapably active participants in not just eating, but in agriculture. This awareness adds to the pleasure of eating.
In addition to eating there, you can also walk around the farm and check out the animals (sheep, chickens, cows, bees — I am sure there are more, but we only saw those sorts of animals) and the greenhouses growing all sorts of lettuces and onions and other things. The lunch was quite delicious, but I think that the best part was checking out the animals. They seemed so big and healthy and frankly, they seemed really content and happy. Like, wow, this is such the life. Even the sheep dog was completely sacked out in the grass. If dogs snore, he would have been snoring. All of the animals were munching on grass — the pasture had this humming noise of sheeps chewing grass. And even the chickens were even eating grass. They were awfully sweet looking and I have never once considered chickens to be a warm and fuzzy kind of animal.
Check out my new shoes from the Clarks' store on Oxford Street. I was looking for a pair of Repetto ballet flats in black and found these super cute Clarks ballet flats instead. And, they were only £39, which is about $80. I put them on this morning and then spent the entire day looking down to check out my feet.
My jam and barbecue sauce finally arrived from We Love Jam!! I am so going to bake some jam thumbprint cookies and apricot rugelach.
However, the box was full of those peanuts made from cornstarch and I was wondering what I ought to do with them, since we do not have any biodegradable garbage bags. I was loath to put something so earth-friendly into a petroleum product plastic bag, so I dumped them into our bathtub and turned on the shower. The cornstarch peanuts melt under water pressure and in about 10 minutes, there was nothing left except for cornstarch scum in the tub.
Ok, so I am in love with London's proliferation of fruit smoothies. I have had at least two a day since I have been here and I have not had a single diet Coke at all.
It seems like each place I visit, I become obsessed about one particular thing that I cannot find back in New York. In São Paulo, it was the Ylang Ylang soap in my hotel room. (I asked a co-worker to bring more back from me — she went to Brazil a week after I did — and I am already thinking of about what to do when those three bars run out.) In London, its these fantastic fruit smoothies. They have no other ingredients except puréed fruit! How is it even possible to bottle a beverage without preservatives, other than perhaps water?! I mean, these smoothies are in every Super Drug and Boots, and the sell by date is not for a week in the future.
I am also nurturing a small obsession over the raisin scone at Starbucks. I had one yesterday, and went into like six different Starbucks looking for a raisin scone for this morning's breakfast. I need a raisin scone! and I just bet that they are only available here in the UK. Of course. Holy cow. I just checked the nutrition facts, and I think its a good thing if I never find a raisin scone again.
This morning, I bought the above I am Fresh smoothie at the Tesco Metro on Jermyn Street, and I was very excited to taste it. Pear, Apple, Kiwi? I mean, it could only taste scrumptious. I waited until I was really worn out and very crabby from being surrounded by a million girls shopping at Topshop. After getting into a cab, I opened up the I am Fresh, and I felt so...transported... to happy juice land.
Chicken-flavored potato chips? There were also "Peking-style Spare Rib" potato chips. It like British potato chips were at one time freeze dried food capsules for astronauts — the above is the chicken dinner capsules.
It seems like every country I have visited, I have unconsciously bought a package of marshmallows at the grocery store. This is peculiar, since I like marshmallows well enough, but certainly do not LOVE them, and the only time I really ever eat them is when I go to the MoMA café and order the hot chocolate. 
The ubiquitous sandwich aisle. And EVERY single sandwich, whether it is chicken + sweet corn or egg + cress or even the prawn with mayonnaise, had mayonnaise. I so wanted to be able to buy a neatly packed sandwich and feel like I was part of the sandwich-eating club. But no, EVERY single sandwich was defaced with mayonnaise. 
You can get Cadbury Flake and Cadbury Dairy Milk flavored yogurt! — however, I preferred the visual of the the cute snail shaped Little Stars™ yogurt treats. Although, I am not sure snails + yogurt is all that appetizing.
This was interesting: the eggs are kept in the same aisle as the baking goods. No refrigeration whatsoever. So if you are a bachelor, looking to make some scrambled eggs, and you have have never used flour in your entire life, you still have to go to the baking goods aisle to get your eggs. I found this to be an odd placement.
I absolutely adore Schweppes Bitter Lemon soda. It is like San Pellegrino's Limonata on acid. Or rather, on quinine. I first fell in love with the soda in Ghana, where I drank it on a daily basis. Sadly, it is only available in places that were once British Crown Colonies — most of which were places where malaria was problematic, hence the quinine in the soda.
This granola packaging for Dorset Cereals is beautiful! It has a die cut AND a foil stamp. I did not check out the price, but I am sure it was like $10 a box. 
The snack aisle at Tesco puts any US grocery store snack aisle to shame.
My shopping basket: 1imited edition orange-flavored Coca-Cola (only in the UK, sadly. Sort like how Pepsi Cucumber was only in Japan; 1 packet of Haribo Mallow Mania; 1 I am Fresh fruit smoothie; 2 packets of Smarties; 1 raisin sticky bun; 1 packet of Tesco brand dried organic mango; 1 packet of Tesco brand dried organic mixed berries
Spending so much time the past few weeks listening to people talk about their intimate lives, visiting adult toy stores, and buying all sorts of interesting products in drug stores — all for work —, has left me pretty much jaded. There is not much I have not seen or heard. I mean, once you've seen a wind-up penis with feet that hops around, what else is there? However, this afternoon, I saw something that can only be called a "butt plug." Literally, it was an electrical plug with a little pink backside as the plug part. Just when you think you've seen everything...
I had lunch by myself today, at a place called Miso — in Hoxton Square. While I ate my soup, I read John Maeda's new book, The Laws of Simplicity. There is something really satisfying about eating alone while reading a good book.
photo © Chris Hutch
Hakkasan is decidely high-brow and when Meghan and I arrived, the door person took a look at us and promptly told us that there were no tables available for at least an hour. So we told him we would go to the bar. He was like, "Fine. Whatever." in a sort of snooty, I-am-so-above-your-kind-of-people tone of voice. Once inside, we asked at the front desk and we were told that there would be a table ready within 15 minutes for us. So the guy working the door outside was complete and utter jackass. I hope he reads my blog.
We ordered drinks at the supremely crowded bar: something with champagne and fruit for me, a gingery, cucumber-y thing for Meghan. The bar staff were also complete jerks. They would not let me take ANY pictures. And when I nicely asked for the check, they took ten minutes to bring it. Finally, I busted out the rude American, and I was like, "Um, WHERE is my check?!" At this point, I had little faith in Hakkasan and the only thing that was going to bring me around was stellar table service and incredible food.
Thankfully, the wait staff and Chef Tong Chee Hwee from Singapore literally melted my heart with the Silver Cod in Chinese Honey and Champagne. We also ordered tofu in a hot pot (sublime, with pieces of melt-in-your-mouth eggplant) and stir-fried asparagus with lotus root. Meghan and I left the restaurant only thinking about how delicious the food was (the wait staff obviously ate the family meal with the chef in the kitchen before the restaurant opened, while the doormen and the bartenders I am sure must have eaten pre-packaged tuna + pickle sandwiches from Tesco.) and I certainly would want to go back.
Right across the street from our hotel (St. Martin's Lane Hotel, if you were wondering) was a Starbucks. And a Tossed. Which is a salad bar place that makes the nicest tossed salads. I find this becoming a trend: the USA comes up with some not very inventive idea so then every other country in the world takes that idea and makes it completely kick ass, and we are left with the lame rejoinder of saying, "Well, we thought of it first!" Although, I really have no idea who invented the idea of a chopped salad, it sounds vaguely Californian, though. I regress. I went to Tossed to grab a salad today because I had to work for part of the morning, and I was starving. I had the option of having my salad mixed in with whole wheat fusili, which right there won me over. Frankly, I hate eating lettuce. I eat it because its green, its good for me, and it is filling and high in fiber. That's about it. So any salad place that offers the salad fixings on something other than lettuce, well, that is my fantasy, ok? For some odd reason, I opted to get the romaine salad despite the option for whole wheat pasta (I think because the salad was like 10 calories and the pasta was like 250 calories. I am embarrassed to admit that was the reason.), and added in:
Salmon
Sweet Corn
Mozzarella Balls
Pine Nuts
Apple
Winter Squash (this was such a great option!!)
and some salt and pepper. It was so terrific, it made me want to move to London, just so I could go to Tossed every day for lunch. Is it lame to envy a nation because their chain of salad bar restaurants are far superior to ours?
Tonight, when I came back to my hotel room, I was a bit put off by the fact that my room was at one time in the not so distant past, a smoking room. I went straight to the amenities basket and plucked out the French £10 candle. Without any hesitation, I ripped off the cellophane and lit it. And immediately, the room began to smell like some sort of flowery, fruity niceness. I am not a big scented candle fan. Sure, I have bought them, of course. But I don't decorate with candles, or anything. However, this particular candle was perfectly lovely — it gave a nice glow to my otherwise overly designed and therefore poorly planned, closet-sized hotel room and it masked the stale cigarette smoke smell that made me feel like I was sleeping in a frat house lounge.
The candlelight created such a relaxing atmosphere, that I slid under the covers and read my airport novel for a few hours, while eating Haribo jellybeans by candlelight.
My colleagues and I went out for dinner this evening at some small restaurant on Lexington Place in Soho. It is past Wagamama, if you turn right off of Greek Street. Anyway, the restaurant was quite tiny and the food was decently nice. But by far and away, they had the BEST dark chocolate ice cream that I have EVER tasted. It was astoundingly good. Which is why you see a pile of spoons laying next to the glass in the picture above. I wanted everyone to taste how delicious the ice cream was because it was way nicer than you can imagine plain old dark chocolate ice cream tasting, and then I (secretly) wanted to eat the rest all by myself.
I walked into the newsagent that was down the street from our hotel, and this is what I saw:
It was like a Haribo dream. All sorts of assortments that are not even available on the crazy German Haribo site out of Texas...Starmix, Supermix, oh my... jellybeans. Haribo jellybeans are very special. I first bought them in the Metro Station in Paris, and then kept buying them every time we took the subway. I immediately bought enough Haribo foodtsuffs to feed a small nation of sugar starved graphic designers — or at least my closest candy-eating friends. (Dana, Lara, Sheri...party?)
When I met up with Elan this morning, he was like, "Do you want to have lunch with Neville Brody?" I was like, "Sure, ok." But I thought he was joking around. Like if we were in Germany, he might have been like, "Hey, want to grab a coffee with Erik [Spiekermann] and I?" Or, "Hey, let's have dinner with Paula (Scher) this evening, ok?" You know, graphic designer humor and all. However, he was not kidding around...apparently my colleague used to work with him a lot, and arranged a luncheon for my creative director, on which I tagged along.
We went to Neville's office — Research Studios — which is in an old house that used to be a gentleman's club. Which is why the stairs to the ground floor are completely mirrored. It was very down to earth and actually cozy, which is not at all what I expected. For some reason, I expected a very typographically designed office, that sort of looked like his work. The unexpected surprise of it being just very normal and office-in-a-old-bordello-brownstone-house sort of way was rather delightful and pleasant.
For lunch, we walked a block or so down his street to the Mediterranean Kitchen where we had a very unpretentious lunch. Hamburgers and a sandwich for Neville. And I ate my French fries with my fingers in a very grossly American way. It's ok to eat fries with your hands, right? Using a fork is so bothersome, I think. Anyhow, during lunch, I checked my blackberry a few times, and finally the second (and last time, ok?!), Nevile called me on it. I literally started stammering and I was blushing embarrassedly. I was thinking to myself, "Great, I get to have lunch with my boss and Neville Brody, and I come across as a harried, jack-assey American. Nice."
See, this is why we need a mandatory 30 days vacation like the French. Americans just work too hard. Haha.
salad to start
Shrimp and scallops over risotto with a goat cheese sauce. I have issues with cheesy sauces, so this sort of freaked me out. But I ate the seafood parts. I imagined the scene from Airplane (the movie), where the seafood eaters started keeling over.
I flew American Airlines to London, opting for the miles instead of the party-time promised on Virgin®. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that flying business class on American Airlines is nothing at all like flying coach.
First of all, they had comforters! and nice, full size comfy pillows — With little embroidered pillow cases. And the amenity kit was way better than Delta's OR JAL. Shocking, right? Second of all, although the meals were not better than JAL (What can compare with a sea urchin appetizer?), the service was excellent. My host offered me multiple desserts, which I sadly declined; like I suddenly started caring about my weight or something.
