Comments(0) Friends, Fashion & Food is no more—as of Feb. 10, 2011. I moved. Read my new blog here. It’s called, Amerivanity—the same content with a new face, name and location.
… and let me know what you think!
Comments(1) One of my good, like-a-sister friends is getting married this summer—135 days to be exact. I’ve been outspoken against the marriage since the proposal, but my complaints have fallen on deaf ears. Turns out, though, my opinion is valuable when it comes to bridesmaids’ dresses.
Aside from the groom, one of my issues with the bride is that she is only registered at Target. We were shopping together at home over Christmas. I tried to get her to register at Restoration Hardware—no luck; at Pottery Barn—no luck; I suggested a few of our department stores—she already has her china; we passed Williams-Sonoma, one of my favorite places in the world, and I begged her to register. I was again turned down.
So last week I was in Target picking up a few things and I remembered the registry issue. I’m “trying to be supportive,” so I knew it’d be in her best interest that I didn’t see the registry. However, on the way out, I couldn’t help myself.
The machine spat out her simple, four-page, blue, registry papers and my eyes started scanning away. Nothing overly-impressive was on the list. Most things weren’t any pricier than $60; and the average cost was probably in the neighborhood of $30.
I sneered at a few things I would never personally have purchased at Target over the hallowed, Williams-Sonoma. But then I noticed, “coffee pot.” I don’t remember the price tag, but it was cheaper than a decent coffee pot should cost. My eyes darted back to the left at the description and there I saw it. They had registered for a four-cup coffee pot!
The coffee pot I have in my dorm room for just me is a five-cup. Now, I understand some people don’t like coffee as much as I, but it’s what a four-cup coffee pot says. First, you can’t use it at a dinner party. My dad’s pot is a 12-cup and we usually brew it twice after dinner parties.
I was blabbering all of this in my friend Karissa’s ear over one of our victory breakfasts last week and she told me to make it a blog. So thank you, Karissa, here it is. But Karissa made a good point, and it’s that a four-cup coffee pot is, in some ways, unwelcoming. How many people are you really planning on having in your home when you have only a four-cup pot.
I understand how it could be perceived that I’m reading into this, but if you know the couple—I’m really not.
What the four-cup coffee pot is really a sign of is that the two of them aren’t ready for eternal bliss. Because, when you’re ready to merge your life with someone else, when you’re mature enough to start a family—you wouldn’t have to be told that a four-cup coffee pot is way too small and you would know that you need to be registered at more than one store.
You reach certain stages of change in life that, when they come, you’ll know you’re ready because the following steps become so obviously clear to you. You won’t need your hand held; you solicit the advice of friends out of courtesy—not necessity; and obvious mistakes in bridal registry won’t happen.
Two more 20-somethings bite the dust.
—Jacob
Comments(3) I sometimes use this corny saying I made up: “Happy people don’t diet.” As much as I want that to be true, I think one presents a valid argument that most of America’s morbidly obese are not in fact happy.
I had a thought recently that perhaps a better philosophy would be, “good people, good food.” It’s simple. It’s so true. What makes a dinner party?—good friends, delicious food. Why are the holidays the most wonderful time of the year?—because you’re surrounded by those you love and the best foods.
My new philosophy was affirmed last Saturday night when I went to my friend Emily’s. It was just Emily, her parents and me. We fixed some simple recipes and had the best time enjoying each other’s company. Well, I say simple recipes. The cannolis and pesto were both made before I got there, but here’s what I did help prepare:
First, Emily fixed the most delicious tuna filets. (One “L” because that’s the French way, right Em?) On a baking sheet, Emily put the filets and squeezed fresh lemon, drizzled a little olive oil, sprinkled sea salt and fresh-cracked black pepper. She also added a basil chiffonade.
Now here’s some French Emily taught me. “Chiffon” is French for rag. When you curl your basil leaves into a roll, then dice that roll horizontally, it makes little strips of basil. These resemble rag strips, hence chiffonade.
While she did that, I sliced long strips of eggplant, Portobello mushrooms (or agaricus bisporus as Emily’s botanist mother, Dr. Ranieri, would say), and a red bell pepper. I threw them in a baking dish with some garlic that I’d given a rough chop. Then I did a liberal coating of salt and pepper, olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
We put the oven on broil with the tuna on the top rack, vegetables on the bottom rack and started on the other courses. The tuna we pulled out while it was still pink at its center and the vegetables we pulled out after the aroma had filled the house.
Then Emily threw about a pound of asparagus in a frying pan with butter, some fresh-squeezed lemon and black pepper. While these braised, Emily and I took a trip to her closet—which resembles the Vogue closet on a smaller scale, but that’s all information for another Thursday.
In another frying pan Emily heated up some olive oil. When it got hot she threw in these beautiful scallops. (Side note, I think the sound of a cold meat hitting a hot frying pan is so beautiful—I’d use it as a ringtone). Just a couple minutes on each side letting them sear. When they were done, she pulled them out, covered them and set them aside. After loosening the remains of the scallops in the pan she threw in a diced leek and a splash of white wine allowing the leek to cook down in the flavors.
For the final dish we boiled a pound of capellini (slightly thinner than angel hair). When the pasta was ready, we drained it and stirred in some of Mr. Ranieri’s homemade pesto—the pasta was ready.
For basil pesto, he used bundles and bundles Genovese basil, salt, garlic, extra virgin olive oil, toasted pine nuts and Pecorino Romano (which runs about $20 a lb.). The Ranieris are good Italians, so they make their own pesto, but it is something you could easily find at your local specialty food store. But let me tell you, his pesto is divine.
For dessert, Emily made cannolis, you can read the recipe here. Now, I can cook, but baking is a different story. After reading the recipe, I’m fairly confident the cannolis were the hardest part of the entire meal. However, the hard work paid off as they were a medley of flavors. You could taste the ricotta and goat, the orange, the chocolate, the pistachios—all of it perfectly complemented the Café Verona coffee we brewed after dinner and the hardy meal we’d just eaten.
I know there was a lot of instruction in the previous paragraphs, but in person, the preparation is a breeze (cleanup too)—especially when the kitchen is filled with good conversation and laughter.
While in the Raniers’ dining room I noticed a framed list of Italian proverbs. One said, “Chi mangia bene, vive bene.” Its literal translation is “He who eats well, lives well.” But in my mind, it was just another way of saying “good people, good food”—but in Italiano!
—Jacob
Comments(3) First, I’m dropping the F-title thing. I’ve done 30/40-something posts since I started this blog last year and I’m tired of thinking of F titles. I have big goals for this blog in 2011. Hopefully a new title and new host site, maybe more weekly posts if I’m not bound to the topics of friends, fashion and food—but we’ll see what the year has for this blog.
“Seven-five-seven, I Love You.” Tonight I’m in my room in Carrollton, Va. for the last time for months and I decided to do my own tribute to my hometown before I had back to college for my LAST semester of school.
I often talk about hating the Midwest or west coast, but it’s not as much my hatred for them as my all-consuming love for the 757. The 757 is comprised of the seven primary cities: Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Portsmouth, Chesapeake, Suffolk, Newport News and Hampton. It also includes Williamsburg/Jamestown, Isle of Wight County (the cities of Smithfield and Carrollton, where I live. We have the Smithfield ham I’m sure you’re familiar with), Gloucester and Surry—where Michael Vick fought his dogs. For the slow ones, 757 is our area code.
We’re a cluster of cities starting at the tip of the Chesapeake Bay and surrounding the James River. We have a population of roughly 2 million and I am in love. The 757 is my lover. We’ve been in a committed relationship for 22 years now and we couldn’t be happier. I was thinking this Wednesday morning. I was bored at home and decided to take a drive through downtown Norfolk and stop in at our Chrysler Museum, all by myself. Just me, dating my city. (And the Chrysler, I might add, is brilliant). I’ve seen my share of museums, and NYC’s Guggenheim has nothing on the Chrysler.
And, it’s not that I haven’t seen the world. I’ve traveled. I’ve been to Asia and South America. I’ve been to Hawaii three times. Alaska; Los Angeles. My family has driven across the United States, and nothing compares to my 757. (Except New York. She’s the only city I will acknowledge beats us).
And now I’m rambling, but I leave for South Carolina again tomorrow and I just needed to personally reflect on the greatness of my area. From historic, Colonial Williamsburg, to hip, Downtown Norfolk, to country-quaint Smithfield to the boardwalk in Virginia Beach—I am in love.
I just erased two paragraphs of specific examples of things I love about the 757. But the thing is, until you have lived somewhere that captures your heart, a place that you can identify with in your soul—you won’t understand what I’m talking about. The 757 is another character in my cast of friends. It’s another relative in my family. The 757 is the backdrop to my life story and the prettiest thing on the stage. And ladies and gentlemen, that’s best I can do at describing her.
I miss it all day, everyday I have to be somewhere else in the world.
—Jacob
Comments(3) On Christmas day, I finished Nora Ephron’s newest book, I Remember Nothing. It was entertaining to no end. It’s mostly a collection of essays and stories—a few chapters she just takes the time to list things. It inspired me to make my own list to share with you all. It’s my twenty-five things I CANNOT believe people think, feel or believe. Some I explain, others should be self-explanatory.
1. You should breastfeed. I was a formula baby all the way—I turned out Ok.
2. Dunkin’ Donuts makes good coffee.
3. “Lost” was a good TV show. “Lost” was Gilligan’s Island: the drama edition.
4. Gas prices matter. Say there’s a Shell gas station. Across the street is a Crown gas station. Gas at Shell is $3.80 a gallon, but $3.82 at Crown. Some people will inevitably sit at a traffic light and wait to u-turn for the cheaper station. But, even if your tank holds 18 gallons, you’re saving ¢36. Oh my God, just go to the closer station!
5. Republicans know what they’re talking about.
6. Fox News is “fair and balanced.” Psh, right.
7. There are such things as “soul mates.”
8. “Anchorman” was a good movie. If you think it’s funny, the first time you saw it, you and your five buddies were drunk—am I right? Yeah, because that’s the only way that movie could be funny.
9. Sushi is synonymous with raw fish. Sushi can have raw fish (sashimi), but sometimes it can be smoked salmon, cucumber and creamed cheese.
10. Iraq had anything to do with terrorism.
11. Rush Limbaugh is an expert at anything. … except drug addiction. That he knows well.
12. It’s Ok to let your kids “be themselves” in a restaurant. No! You don’t want people talking on their cell phones or smoking in restaurants, so why is the noise of children acceptable? And while we’re on smoking …
13. Secondhand smoke is worse than actual inhalation. I don’t know who made this one up, but basic logic doesn’t even support it. Truth is, secondhand smokers actually only inhale 1/100th of what smokers are inhaling.
14. Everything happens for a reason. If you disagree, you watch too many chick flicks.
15. There’s a flavor difference between a regular and nonfat latte at Starbucks.
16. American Eagle knows “style.”
17. Sports matter.
18. Retailers care about your Christmas shopping, your kids, your mom, or the sweater you really want, but your size isn’t there.
19. You don’t need a therapist.
20. The Olive Garden is a good restaurant.
21. Any conspiracy theories on the Founding Fathers, Masons, the Catholic Church, present-day elections and the assassination of JFK. (This is bonus trivia, but have you ever noticed that the best conspiracy theorists are also part of the tea party movement?)
22. People look at the photo albums on Facebook of you and your girlfriends playing with Photo Booth on your MacBook. Get lives, ladies, get lives.
23. You’re doing something better for yourself by having a diet soda.
24. Photography is easy. Just because your camera has cool settings and your Compaq has editing software does not mean you’re a photographer.
25. Fashion is just about clothes. Fashion is a lifestyle.
—Jacob
Comments(0) I didn’t have time to write anything for today, actually my last exam is in about 45 minutes from the time I will publish this. Anyway, I have a poem for you by Taylor Mali. An old roommate of mine posted a video this week with a recording of Mali reciting his poem, “Conviction.” Mali is part of this new “poetry slam” movement? … I don’t know, Google it for yourself, but here is a copy of the poem. It’s just an amazing poem about speaking with confidence and conviction—he could not be more right-on.
Conviction
In case you hadn’t noticed, it has somehow become uncool to sound like you know what you’re talking about? Or, believe strongly in what you’re saying? Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)s have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences? Even when those sentences aren’t, like, questions? You know?
Declarative sentences—so called, because they used to, like, declare things to be true as opposed to other things which were, like, not—have been infected by a totally hip and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know? Like, don’t think I’m uncool just because I’ve noticed this; this is just like the word on the street, you know? It’s like what I’ve heard? I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, Ok? I’m just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?
What has happened to our conviction? Where are the limbs out on which we once walked? Have they been, like, chopped down with the rest of the rain forest? Or do we have, like, nothing to say? Has society become so, like, totally … I mean absolutely … You know? That we’ve just gotten to the point where it’s just, like … whatever!
And so actually, our disarticulation … ness is just a clever sort of … thing to disguise the fact that we’ve become the most aggressively inarticulate generation to come along since … you know, a long, long time ago!
I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you, I challenge you, to speak with conviction: to say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks the determination with which you believe it. Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker, it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY. You have to speak with it, too.
—Taylor Mali
Listen to Mali say it himself, here. Trust me—it’s a lot more interesting than reading it.
I’ll talk to you all next week!
—Jacob
Comments(3) I was seconds away from not posting today. The homework this week has been unbelievable, on top of which—I’m sick. So I was up late last night and early again this morning—I’m just looking rough. I’ve decided to run down the street and grab a bagel to go with my coffee this morning because I need something to get me going. The only thing is—I have to get dressed to leave my room.
Which made me think of a post I wanted to talk about sometime anyway. There are many “looks” out there that we all want to try, but by far, my favorite look is “Celebrity out for coffee, trying to look normally, but coincidentally still fabulous and yet perfectly windblown and disheveled in a sexy way.”
I know, that was a long sentence, but you know what I mean. The pictures of Brad and Angelina coming out of Starbucks. They’re both wearing bug-eye sunglasses and beanies, looking kind of rough but still effortlessly sexy?
Well, that’s what I’m going for this morning. It’s what I usually go for on a rough morning and here’s how you do it.
1. There must be leather somewhere. Boots, preferably a jacket, but there must be leather on your body. I’m opting for my vintage, light brown, leather, members-only jacket.
2. Your hair cannot be perfect. Do not neatly comb your hair and try this. Run your hand through it, shoot it with hairspray and leave it.
3. You must wear sunglasses. (The bigger the better).
4. It’s usually done with jeans. Oversized or skinny—not much in the middle—and usually holey.
5. The shoes must be fabulous. Girls, don’t be afraid to throw on a pair of heels that are too dressy for your jeans. The contrast really does work. And guys, I usually go for a brighter, shinier pair of my ghetto shoes or my giant desert boots that have the laces swapped out for fun colors. (If you want to go comfort over style, for both sexes: Keds, Converse, Vans and Toms are acceptable).
6. An over-sized accessory. (In addition to the stunna-shades). It can be a giant purse. It can be a 12-foot scarf. It can be party jewelry of any sort, but there has to be accessorizing.
7. Finally top it off with one or more of the following things in your hands: a smart phone that you’re furiously networking on; an iPod with headphones in because you’re too important to talk to the world; a cigarette; a coffee; a shopping bag from an ultra-expensive store.
Now I’m hungry so I’m out. I’m going to grab a scarf for my #6, a coffee for my #7 and I will talk to you all next week when my next-to-last semester of college will finally be OVER!
—Jacob
Comments(1) Happy holidays, readers! My Thanksgiving was great, last night some friends and I gorged ourselves on jelly doughnuts for Hanukkah and Christmas is just 23 short days away. In light of the festivities, I decided to do a “Favorite Things” edition for the first posting of December.
Her Majesty, Oprah, has an annual episode entitled, “Oprah’s favorite things.” I don’t have statistics for it, but I bet it’s one of her most-watched. Her 2010 and final edition was just a couple weeks back. Oprah gave away iPads and tens of thousands of dollars in jewelry to screaming, fainting women.
You’re not going to get anything for reading today, except maybe a laugh if you share my sense of humor and love of material things. But I’m sharing 10 of my favorite things with you. And, unlike Her Majesty, hopefully my things will be a little more in-tune with my audience and perhaps give you some gift ideas for the season. So—readers, I give you, Jacob’s Favorite Things.
1. Mad Men, $34.99 per season on iTunes
If you don’t watch the show Mad Men, I insist you go to iTunes now and purchase it! I have the first three seasons on my computer and next to Sex and the City it may be my favorite television series ever. The fourth season just wrapped last month and seasons 1-3 all received outstanding drama at the primetime Emmys. It’s dramatic; it’s sensual; it’s suspenseful; it’s hilarious at times and insightfully thought-provoking at others. Set in the 1960s, the fashions are above inspirational and the cast of characters are the epitome of suave and dapper. You can’t help but live vicariously through their love affairs, mental instabilities, and substance abuse problems. It’s the guilty pleasure of my favorite things.
2. Latkes
Besides the fact that it’s one of my favorite foods, it’s also seasonally appropriate as today is the first full day of Hanukkah. Growing up we just called them potato cakes since my family is not Jewish, but a latke is a potato pancake. You add flour and egg to homemade mashed potatoes until it’s the consistency of pancake batter. Then pan-fry the batter in just a little bit of oil and they are delicious! I often add some diced garlic and onion to mine. I’ve found that anything you would put on your baked potato is also good in a latke. Maybe later I’ll give latkes their own blog post.
3. Gap’s 1969 skinny jeans for men, $54.50-$88.00 (select stores and online)
I’ve been in fashion retail for roughly 4 ½ years now. In that time I’ve acquired an ungodly amount of jeans. Actually on today’s to-do list is take a load of clothes to Plato’s Closet because I could use some extra space and cash. But, when I was in New York a couple weeks ago I bought my newest pair of jeans at our 5th Ave. store—the Gap 1969 skinny jeans for men. I got the bleeker wash and they look amazing on me. The wash is on the darker side of medium with heavy fading on the thighs. The rise is about mid-level, which is appropriate since I’m getting a little too old for low-rise. They lift the butt, provide a good silhouette and are generally comfortable for a fitted pair of pants. I haven’t been able to stop wearing them since I got them and they would make a great gift for the fashion-conscious male on your Christmas list. However, if you don’t live in ATL, LA, NY, etc., you’ll have to buy yours on gap.com.
4. TRESemmé non-aerosol hairspray, $3.99
Those of you that know me personally know that I sometimes coif my hair unusually high and bouffant. I wouldn’t be able to do it without the help of my TRES hairspray. It’s inexpensive and holds all day without flaking. To top it off, their non-aerosol is in a pump bottle which is much more environmentally friendly.
5. Ray-Ban New Wayfarers, $170.
As long as I can remember, my dad has only worn Ray-Ban sunglasses. He may not know fashion, but he’s from LA, so I will trust his judgment on shades. A few years ago I finally bought the Ray-Ban New Wayfarer sunglasses. They were $110 on Martin+Osa.com (which has since tanked). Sunglass Hut currently has the same pair for $170. I absolutely fell in love with them and they look so good on me. I fell in love with them to the point where I wanted them for my new optic lenses too. Similar styles of optic lenses from designers like Paul Smith will set you back nearly $400. At the advisement of GQ, I took the cheaper route and had my sunglasses converted into optic lenses. The second pair of sunglasses was again $110, I had to pay the additional fees to have the lenses swapped out, but after insurance my optic lenses cost me $60—and have become kind of the staple of my personal “look.” I adore my vintage-esque frames and average two or three compliments a week from complete strangers.
6. Ethiopia Sidamo blend from Starbucks, (I don’t remember a price $8-12?)
On my first day of work at Starbucks years ago, my manager had me try the blend, Ethiopia Sidamo. I have been hooked ever since. It’s a bold blend with African beans. Personally, I think Africa’s beans are far better than South America, but I like my coffee super strong. Ethiopia Sidamo is especially delicious with lemon pastries and seeing as one of my all-time favorite pastries is a lemon pound cake, it’s a marriage made in heaven. Ethiopia Sidamo would make a great stocking-stuffer this holiday season.
7. Daily Horoscope Android App., Free!
O.K.—I’m superstitious, so judge me. Every day I read my horoscope on my phone. I actually like reading it just after midnight, so I know what to expect for the next day. Often, it’s freakishly accurate and well … I’m addicted to this app. It’s the Daily Horoscope app. by Comitic Developers. It’s available on Android, iPhone, Blackberry and it’s free!
8. “0% Plastic” tote from the Gap, ($2.50 if I remember correctly)
So, it’s holiday now at the Gap and your local Gap probably doesn’t have these bags out anymore, but trust me—there are plenty in the back. Just ask an associate to grab you one. These bags are only a couple bucks and I have gotten way more than my money’s worth out of my bag. It’s a cream tote that holds my MacBook Pro, plus a few books. The seams are threaded with a bold green that matches the large print on the sides of the back that read, “0% Plastic.” It’s a gender-neutral tote and is perfect for books, groceries, a day at the beach or a change of clothes. When you’re done, toss it in the washer, tumble dry and re-use.
9. Hunter Original rain boots, $125
This is a total splurge piece, but they’re probably one of my favorite pairs of shoes in my closet. The Originals, the pair I own, are a simple, navy, fitted, to-the-knee rain boot with one buckle to the outside and the Hunter logo at the front. Hunter was founded in 1856 in Edinburgh, Scotland, UK. Depending on how serious you are about fashion—at a certain point it’s just expected that you on a pair of these. When I was in New York a couple weeks back I saw them all over the streets. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but they’re just fabulous boots that don’t need rain to be flaunted. In addition to them being super-chic shoes, the carrying box they come in bares the crest of Her Majesty (not Oprah) the Queen and her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh. Under her crest it reads, “By appointment to Her Majesty, the Queen, suppliers of waterproof footwear. Hunter Boot Limited, Dumfries, Scotland.”
10. Angry Birds app. (free for Android)
Yes, yes. I too have become addicted to the Angry Birds phone app. Those of you that haven’t played it are reading this with judgment. Those of you that have are saying, “Oh my God, me too!” I felt a lot better when I saw the Wall Street Journal did an article about the game on Tuesday. Essentially it’s a physics game where you’re launching angry birdies at green pigs who stole your eggs—Yes, it felt shameful to type that out. I paid the $0.99 to own this on my iTouch, but for my Droid, it was free. I just have to deal with ads at the top of my screen occasionally. If you have a smart phone and don’t own it yet, download it. You’ll thank me the next time you’re in line at the Post Office.
—Jacob
Comments(3) Last week I went to New York City. I’m burning to share every detail with you, but as my school term comes to its last days, I’m more and more pressed for time. I’m not even seeing Harry Potter at midnight this time (and for those that really know me—that says something).
I did decide to share one aspect of my trip with you. Amongst trip highlights, I saw the Guggenheim, the MoMA, the Met, two locations where Sex and the City was filmed and many other things. But there is one small part of the trip I keep remembering.
There is an Anthropologie in Rockefeller Plaza. After a long day of shopping, some friends and I happened upon it. Part of the group wanted to shop, but I just wanted to find a place to sit.
I wandered to the middle of Anthropologie and found this turquoise room, dimly lit and in the middle was a small island of chairs.
I’d been sitting down for a few minutes before I realized the picture directly in front of me was a beautiful black and white of Isabella Blow and Alexander McQueen.
I started scanning the room to see how they fit into this exhibit and realized the back wall read, “Blow by Blow: The story of Isabella Blow.”
Isabella Blow, or Issie to those close to her, was a fashion icon. On May 6, 2007, shortly after having been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, Blow drank Paraquat weed killer and died the next day at the age of 48.
Isabella’s husband, Detmar Blow, released a book this month about the life, death and in-betweens of his wife. The turquoise room was both promoting the new book and remembering Isabella.
Sadly, of the six other people I was with—none of them had heard of Isabella. I updated my status to say how moving the exhibit was and one friend commented to say she knew of Isabella.
That’s when I decided I needed to write something about her. This spring will be four years since she died, but I feel that out of respect to Isabella, more people should know who she was.
First, Isabella was known for wearing the most outrageous hats. It’s what she did. Many times she wore hats because she was self-conscious about her own beauty, nevertheless she almost always went out in public wearing an extravagant head-turner.
She was a muse for hat designer Philip Treacy and is credited with having discovered designer Alexander McQueen when he was just a student. When McQueen took his own life this past February, many say it was the culmination of a downward spiral that started after Isabella’s death.
After moving to the states in the ‘80s, Isabella was an assistant to first Anna Wintour, then André Leon Talley (both while at Vogue). Isabella later moved back across the pond where she became the fashion director for both the Tatler and The Sunday Times Style Magazine.
In 1998 Isabella and her husband Detmar set up, with partner Stuart Shave, the gallery Modern Art: a contemporary art gallery in London. In 2005 Isabella and her husband established Blow de la Barra gallery.
Isabella was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and attempted suicide multiple times before. In her latter years, many say Isabella felt neglected by the fashion industry. Despite discovering McQueen, the relationship between Blow and the designer became strained as McQueen’s career skyrocketed.
I tell you about Isabella today because no on else is. You probably haven’t heard of her, but you know Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” video? That was all Alexander McQueen. We had McQueen because Blow gave him to us. You’ve seen her influence in fashion and didn’t even recognize it.
Isabella was able to influence the fashion industry because she was willing to be different. She was willing to be herself. And that is why today, we should still be remembering her. Not many people come along who fearlessly decide to be who they are. But the ones that do, scratch their names into the fabric of this world.
—Jacob
Bibliography:
Blow, Detmar, and Tom Sykes. Blow by Blow: the Story of Isabella Blow. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.
“Isabella Blow: Alexander McQueen’s Muse And Mentor Also Died By Suicide (PHOTOS).” The Huffington Post. 17 May 2010. Web. 18 Nov. 2010. <http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/02/12/isabella-blow-alexander-m_n_460805.html#s67811>.
Comments(0) When you go to school 400 miles away from home—you make your own family. Your family away from home. Last Thanksgiving, before term broke for the holidays, some of my close friends and I decided to cook our own Thanksgiving meal and celebrate with our school family before our home families.
We all volunteered to make a different aspect of the classic Thanksgiving meal. Since I’m the foodie and significantly more culinarily endowed than my dear friends—I got the turkey.
I had never cooked a bird that big before. Normally, I don’t even eat much turkey at Thanksgiving because I’m not a big fan of picking meat off of the bone. (I know. To be a foodie that’s really weird, but it just grosses me out. I prefer a fatty burger any day of the week).
But anyway, I knew that if I didn’t get a good recipe for my turkey, that Thanksgiving would fall apart because of me. Of course I turned to—Ina Garten and her recipe for a Perfect Roast Turkey.
Since we’re now in the full-swing of the holidays (and don’t tell me we’re not. I’m shuffling “A Charlie Brown Christmas” as I type this) I decided to share her fabulous recipe with you. Also—it’s so easy! I prepared this whole turkey in an ill-equipped kitchen, separated from my parents’ beautiful collection of Williams-Sonoma tools.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Take the giblets out of the turkey and wash the turkey inside and out. Remove any excess fat and leftover pinfeathers and pat the outside dry. Place the turkey in a large roasting pan. Liberally salt and pepper the inside of the turkey cavity. Stuff the cavity with the thyme, lemon, onion, quartered, and the garlic. Brush the outside of the turkey with the butter and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Tie the legs together with string and tuck the wing tips under the body of the turkey.
Roast he turkey for 2 1/2 hours, basting from time to time with pan juices, until the juices run clear when you cut between the leg and the thigh. Remove the turkey to a cutting board and cover with foil; let it rest for 20 minutes. Slice the turkey and serve hot.
You can watch Ina cook it herself, here.
At the end, don’t skip the step about covering your bird and letting it rest. It really is crucial when you’re cooking any meat. The juices go back into the meat keeping it moist and tender.
Maybe they say it because they’re my friends, but they still talk about how delicious this turkey was. I insist you try it at home.
—Jacob
Perfect Roast Turkey can be found in Ina’s book, Barefoot Contessa Parties! Ina also has a new cookbook released in October of this year, How Easy Is That?
Garten, Ina. Barefoot Contessa Parties! Crown Publishing Group: New York, N.Y. 2001.
