Friday, October 16, 2009
Eco-Lavish Rolls out the Green Runway
Fact: we love Half Past Lavish and anything HPL touches. From Project Red Dress to the Boho Fashion shows, Courtney Russell knows how to put on a show. Check out MM's mini review on Seattle's only green fashion show, Eco-Lavish, featured on Neoows.com, which is kinda awesome.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Ballerinas, Blayne and Bacon
Okay, so this post has nothing to do with bacon, but I AM hungry if that counts for anything. Not the best picture, but here we are in Kimberlee Ibling's costumes for the Seattle Art Museum's Masquerade Costume competition. Her designs are being judged by Project Runway's Blayne Walsh and International Academy of Design and Technology's Fashion Director, Monir Zandghoreishi. After about an hour waiting in a hot, over crowded closet, we went on to perform a small piece on pointe... to techno music. A little awkward.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
September Sabbatical
So, it's not really a sabbatical, but I've always wanted to have one... During the month of September I'll be a little bit MIA because I'll be working on this little number above.
Ballgown hotness. Stay tuned.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Chastising Chase
Rude, rude, rude.Hey Chase, in case you're not aware, 3,000 jobs were lost in Seattle when WaMu tanked, not to mention $5 billion dollars 401ks and stock options. Why don't you just rub our noses in our state's apparent failure.
Another one of their road signs says, "You look like you could use a good bank". Really? Now you're gonna tell me that I look like shit AND have bad financial judgment? Hey Chase, you can go eat it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
More Hipster Ranting in the Rose City
Dear Portland,
I love you, but wtf has happened to you since I left eight years ago? I remember when gutter kids and punk rockers with 12" mohawks affixed with wood glue roamed the gritty streets of Burnside and Broadway... Now Ozone Records where I used to buy band patches and the Liberty Collective where I read zines and slept on the couch (Ps how did I NOT get scabies?) has surrendered to glossy retailers (ahem, American Apparel) for hipsters to buy their stretch pants and eccentric glasses. A damn shame.
Here are a couple fun photos Anna and I took while hanging out at the Crown Room in Chinatown. Neither of these guys did anything to me directly, but I'm still offended by their existence. I mean, seriously? Black socks and cut off jean shorts? 
It's like you're trying to piss me off with your obnoxious, not-so ironic and overly contrived style that cannibalizes all that is original and unique in this world. While it appears that our hipster friend to the right is in a mid-shuffle groove, he is actually about to trip on his own foot, and I maintain that he deserves every moment of humiliation he experienced descending to the sticky club room floor for that abomination of an ensemble.
It's like you're trying to piss me off with your obnoxious, not-so ironic and overly contrived style that cannibalizes all that is original and unique in this world. While it appears that our hipster friend to the right is in a mid-shuffle groove, he is actually about to trip on his own foot, and I maintain that he deserves every moment of humiliation he experienced descending to the sticky club room floor for that abomination of an ensemble. Hate hipsters too? Check out my recent Guide on "Hipster D-Bag Must Haves" here!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Bill Spliting Headache
Sometimes I dread going out to dinner in large groups. Probably because I'm awkward and anti-social, but mainly it's because I always get a little anxious when the server drops the check. I hate being a part of that group that takes 20+ minutes to divide up the bill into six separate credit cards in varying denominations; I think it's tacky and discourteous to the server. Having said that, it is equally unacceptable for a customer service representative to shame and guilt a guest for their form of payment.
A few weekends ago, I went to Tavolata for some D squared action (dinner and drunks, duh) with three friends. We all know my reluctance towards the posh and polished, but Tavolata is legit: clean, simple Italian food in what feels like a concrete fortress with high ceilings and hanging light bulbs--sort of interrogation room style but with an artistic edge. Tavolata is the brainchild of the dudes who brought us How to Cook a Wolf and newest endeavor, Anchovies and Olives (check out my A & O review here). Each of my buds ordered a drink and a pasta dish, and when the check was dropped, we laid down two credit cards to split the bill. Not so obnoxious, right? Apparently for our server it was, and oy gevalt, did he let us know.
After about a 20 minute disappearance act from our server, he returned to pick up the check and upon looking at the bill that noted the varying amounts to charge to each card, he scoffs, and says, "Ya know what guys, I'm too busy to deal with this right now..."
Attitude doesn't go far with my friends, and after a stern but civil response from a member of my party, he violently (srsly, there was a slam on the table!) snatches the bill and tromps off.
Here's the deal: in a perfectly polite world, two separate parties dining together would fight over who gets to pay the bill. Bill bantering comes from a generation who flaunted their generosity to reflect their cultured tastes and suggest their financial fortitude. Unfortunately, the era of this check etiquette is dead. "Going Dutch" is fair for casual diners-- it makes eating out more accessible, which is beneficial for small business restaurants and diners alike. The split check phenomenon is also a result of a gluttonous, self-centered generation; my contemporaries trend in pouring their money into ostentatious vehicles, designer clothing and name brand (un)necessities to show their constituents how they're keeping up in the world-- not at the dinner table. But in any case, so is their right.
While I lament the death of the dinner table tug of war, payment is payment, and last I checked, two credit cards are legal tender. A good server communicates-- if you're slammed, fine! Just let us know--we already waited 20 minutes, and since we're in good company we'll be patient. But telling us that you're "too busy to deal with this" is frankly not my problem, and rule number one in dining etiquette is to never explicitly articulate that the guest is an inconvenience to you. It may be permissible for a fast-paced, cheap diner, but not when I paid $18.00 for six bites of gnocchi.
Despite our server's temper tantrum, each party left a 15% tip on each bill; the server's erratic behavior is not for us to punish or engage. But in the future, Tavolata, since diners aren't going to stop "going Dutch" or splitting the bill, especially during a recession, consider asking the table how the check should come before you drop it on the table. Or, put a sign out on the restaurant's door that says: "No Poor People Allowed".
A few weekends ago, I went to Tavolata for some D squared action (dinner and drunks, duh) with three friends. We all know my reluctance towards the posh and polished, but Tavolata is legit: clean, simple Italian food in what feels like a concrete fortress with high ceilings and hanging light bulbs--sort of interrogation room style but with an artistic edge. Tavolata is the brainchild of the dudes who brought us How to Cook a Wolf and newest endeavor, Anchovies and Olives (check out my A & O review here). Each of my buds ordered a drink and a pasta dish, and when the check was dropped, we laid down two credit cards to split the bill. Not so obnoxious, right? Apparently for our server it was, and oy gevalt, did he let us know.
After about a 20 minute disappearance act from our server, he returned to pick up the check and upon looking at the bill that noted the varying amounts to charge to each card, he scoffs, and says, "Ya know what guys, I'm too busy to deal with this right now..."
Attitude doesn't go far with my friends, and after a stern but civil response from a member of my party, he violently (srsly, there was a slam on the table!) snatches the bill and tromps off.
Here's the deal: in a perfectly polite world, two separate parties dining together would fight over who gets to pay the bill. Bill bantering comes from a generation who flaunted their generosity to reflect their cultured tastes and suggest their financial fortitude. Unfortunately, the era of this check etiquette is dead. "Going Dutch" is fair for casual diners-- it makes eating out more accessible, which is beneficial for small business restaurants and diners alike. The split check phenomenon is also a result of a gluttonous, self-centered generation; my contemporaries trend in pouring their money into ostentatious vehicles, designer clothing and name brand (un)necessities to show their constituents how they're keeping up in the world-- not at the dinner table. But in any case, so is their right.
While I lament the death of the dinner table tug of war, payment is payment, and last I checked, two credit cards are legal tender. A good server communicates-- if you're slammed, fine! Just let us know--we already waited 20 minutes, and since we're in good company we'll be patient. But telling us that you're "too busy to deal with this" is frankly not my problem, and rule number one in dining etiquette is to never explicitly articulate that the guest is an inconvenience to you. It may be permissible for a fast-paced, cheap diner, but not when I paid $18.00 for six bites of gnocchi.
Despite our server's temper tantrum, each party left a 15% tip on each bill; the server's erratic behavior is not for us to punish or engage. But in the future, Tavolata, since diners aren't going to stop "going Dutch" or splitting the bill, especially during a recession, consider asking the table how the check should come before you drop it on the table. Or, put a sign out on the restaurant's door that says: "No Poor People Allowed".
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Manners on the Other Side of the Tracks
Most people are drawn to the sleek and swankedified retailers and dining establishments like those featured on an HGTV remodeling special—the kind of places that artistically smear garnish pesto spreads across porcelain plates and serve foamy concoctions in cute little espresso shot glasses. Not me. I like the spots that have a little uncontrived character. I want to feel comfortable, and I want to feel the real energy of the product without the distraction of excessive, ostentatious décor. Belltown has its share of down to earth eateries and retailers (i.e. Kuhlman, Rendezvous, Lava Lounge, Cyclops, etc), but sometimes on Fridays and Saturdays I want to escape the ubiquity of popped collared kids flashing peace signs and kissy faces in forced camera shots, and for that, there is Georgetown—Seattle’s last frontier of unpretentious propriety.
I’ve written several reviews on various Georgetown retailers, Deco-Modiste Clothing and Helmet Head Salon as two of my favorites, and in meeting these small business proprietors I am refreshingly reminded of why I started writing—before I wrote about the woes of bad customer service.
A few weeks ago I went to visit a friend for a quick and low-key dinner at Smarty Pants on Airport Way. Barricaded by the mainlines of the BNSF Railway and Union Pacific Railroad and virtually decapitated by the I-5 overpass, Georgetown’s insular “business district” stands untouched by time as most of Seattle’s surrounding hoods have fallen victim to gentrification. Unlike Belltown, it is unaffected by the commercial demands of tourism and trendy consumers; what seems to have survived here are industries beckoning back to classic, mid-century Americana and a community that wholeheartedly embraces them.
Like its neighboring custom car shops, Deco-Modiste runs its business like back in the old days. As in the era of hand-stitched clothing, Kimberlee Iblings designs, pattern drafts and constructs each accessory and article of clothing on site. And like Helmet Head, this business is not owned and operated by some big business MBA who commutes from Bellevue—they’re local Georgetown residents who drink beer at the 9lb, ride Harley’s and live for what they do. Housed in charming turn of the century brick buildings with humble décor, these old-school small businesses unintentionally exude some serious curb appeal --the only difference here is that the charming aesthetic matches the proprietors’ attitude.
It wasn’t any different when we strolled through the doors of Smarty Pants. The interior was simple and modest—the only ornamentation is the mounted motorcycles, a classic Georgetown motif. Serving mainly sandwiches and other wheat products that are tough on people with gluten allergies, my friend’s options were limited. She ended up ordering the common bread substitute—the lettuce sandwich—but our burly bartender was empathetic, compassionate and a problem solver. Driven by his own initiative, he counseled with one of the cooks and upon his return he kindly offered to hold a sealed package of gluten free bread in the fridge for her next visit, which she could purchase at Carleton Grocery. He also recommended a visit to Specialty Beer & Wine down the street because it serves several gluten free ciders and beers. It may seem like an insignificant gesture, but the story here is not just about a sandwich. It’s about listening to your customers and going above and beyond for their patronage. Sometimes good service is all in the subtleties.
I challenge Belltown to get in touch with its own industrial roots and loosen up a bit. What’s on the walls is not more important than who is sitting at the bar stool.
I’ve written several reviews on various Georgetown retailers, Deco-Modiste Clothing and Helmet Head Salon as two of my favorites, and in meeting these small business proprietors I am refreshingly reminded of why I started writing—before I wrote about the woes of bad customer service.
A few weeks ago I went to visit a friend for a quick and low-key dinner at Smarty Pants on Airport Way. Barricaded by the mainlines of the BNSF Railway and Union Pacific Railroad and virtually decapitated by the I-5 overpass, Georgetown’s insular “business district” stands untouched by time as most of Seattle’s surrounding hoods have fallen victim to gentrification. Unlike Belltown, it is unaffected by the commercial demands of tourism and trendy consumers; what seems to have survived here are industries beckoning back to classic, mid-century Americana and a community that wholeheartedly embraces them.
Like its neighboring custom car shops, Deco-Modiste runs its business like back in the old days. As in the era of hand-stitched clothing, Kimberlee Iblings designs, pattern drafts and constructs each accessory and article of clothing on site. And like Helmet Head, this business is not owned and operated by some big business MBA who commutes from Bellevue—they’re local Georgetown residents who drink beer at the 9lb, ride Harley’s and live for what they do. Housed in charming turn of the century brick buildings with humble décor, these old-school small businesses unintentionally exude some serious curb appeal --the only difference here is that the charming aesthetic matches the proprietors’ attitude.
It wasn’t any different when we strolled through the doors of Smarty Pants. The interior was simple and modest—the only ornamentation is the mounted motorcycles, a classic Georgetown motif. Serving mainly sandwiches and other wheat products that are tough on people with gluten allergies, my friend’s options were limited. She ended up ordering the common bread substitute—the lettuce sandwich—but our burly bartender was empathetic, compassionate and a problem solver. Driven by his own initiative, he counseled with one of the cooks and upon his return he kindly offered to hold a sealed package of gluten free bread in the fridge for her next visit, which she could purchase at Carleton Grocery. He also recommended a visit to Specialty Beer & Wine down the street because it serves several gluten free ciders and beers. It may seem like an insignificant gesture, but the story here is not just about a sandwich. It’s about listening to your customers and going above and beyond for their patronage. Sometimes good service is all in the subtleties.
I challenge Belltown to get in touch with its own industrial roots and loosen up a bit. What’s on the walls is not more important than who is sitting at the bar stool.
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