Fritinancy

Dead to the World

It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, mid-May, with the fog bearing down hard on the bay and a look of weary desperation on every shopper’s face. They were all looking for something, but I had a sneaking suspicion what they were looking for wasn’t hardboiled euphemism. Not on Floor 2, in Bedding. Not with a spa velour cover.

 

La-Z-Boy Big Sleep memory foam contour pillow at Bed Bath & Beyond. Discontinued, defunct, passed away, crossed the bar, picked up the harp, took its last rest.

 

“You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now. Far more a part of it than Rusty Regan was.” – Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep

 

The Big Sleep (Warner Bros., 1946).

Name in the Wild: Flexicado

Spotted at a local Ace Hardware while I was (of course) looking for something else:

The “firm yet flexible” Flexicado avocado slicer.

 

An avocado slicer? Really? Your mileage may vary, but I’ve found that a butter knife usually does the job pretty well. But one cheer for American invention and Chinese factories, right? And three cheers for the Flexicado name, which I couldn’t stop murmuring as I wandered the aisles. Could a desperado buy a Flexicado in Calexico? “Play it again, Sam – this time, più flexicado.”

And the Chef’n Flexicado, no less! Is that “Chef’n” as in “chef and __”? Or as in “Let’s go chef’n today!”? Or as in “That effin’ chef!”?

Here’s the Flexicado demo video, which failed to convince me that I needed this $6.99 monotasking device in my kitchen. Still, full marks for the name – and for the others in the Chef’n line-up, including Pepperball, Stem Gem, and Yolkster (“Get an Egg Up!”).

Names in the Wild: Walgreen's en Español

I was in a Walgreen’s in South Berkeley, looking for something else entirely, when I was distracted by a shelf full of health and beauty products I’d never noticed, from brands catering to the Spanish-speaking market. I put away my shopping list and took out my camera and notebook.

For starters, I appreciate a bilingual name pun.

Campana is Spanish for “bell.”

It says here that Asepxia is “the leading brand in Latin America for acne treatment.”

I assumed that the name signifies “aseptic,” but I stumbled over the pronunciation. In Spanish, X usually sounds like H in the middle of a word (Mexico is “meh-hee-co”), but in some words of indigenous derivation it sounds like S or SH: the Mexico City district of Xochimilco is pronounced Socheemilco, for instance. I’m guessing Asepxia is pronounced “asepsia,” with the X inserted for trademarkability and a science-y look.

Goicoechea is a Basque (euskera) surname, possibly the name of someone involved with the company, which is based in Mexico and called Genomma Lab International. The company’s been around since 1926, but I couldn’t find out much more about it. Is “Genomma” supposed to suggest “genome”?

I was also struck by “reaffirming,” which sounds very motivational. A U.S. equivalent would say “firming.”

My photo wasn’t sharp enough, so I’ve substituted one from Walgreens.com.

The illustrations on this packet of McCoy cod-liver-oil tablets look as though they haven’t changed since 1932. The real McCoy!

The lady on the left is grimacing as she takes her dose by the spoonful (“desagradable” – disagreeable), while the lady on the left is enjoying her pastillas, which have “neither taste nor odor.”

Yes, the male-enhancement products were right next to the cod-liver-oil tablets. Hombrón means “big man.” You already know what Super Macho means. I liked el toro, whose image isn’t used frivolously: the product claims to contain “bull glands.”

This particular Walgreen’s is always deserted when I shop there, so I’ve never drawn any conclusions about its customers. Apparently enough of them speak Spanish to justify bilingual signs like this one on almost every aisle:

“Salta de Alegría” doesn’t have quite the promotional zip of “Get a Hop on Happy” – it’s closer to “Jump for Joy.”

After my Spanish-immersion excursion I was primed to notice the nametag on my sales clerk: MAREA, which translates to “tide” (as in low or high, ebb or flood). She’s lucky she wasn’t named Mareo, which means seasickness.

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Also see Names in the Wild: Japantown.

Names in the Wild: Qookies

Spotted at Costco:

 

Qookies are gluten-free cookies made by TruRoots, “inspired by tradition and using recipes perfected by artisanal bakers.” The ingredients list does mention quinoa, so maybe that explains the Q. But why not Quookies?

True, the U-less spelling lends itself to a kooky pairing of Qookies and Qream.

 

 

It’s not perfume. It’s liqueur.

 

For the full scoop on Qream – that’s “Qream with a Q,” “a truly elegant experience for the modern day queen and her court of friends” that’s “created by” rapper/producer/fashion designer Pharrell Williams – get yourself over to The Hairpin. Also check out this story about the $5 million Qream lawsuit.

More Q names here.

The Zen of Namifying

It’s the trend that refuses to give up the ghost.

The latest namifying example to catch my attention is Zenify, a relaxation drink. The manufacturer was handing out free cans at last weekend’s Brewery Art Walk in Los Angeles.

Brother, can you spare a hyphen?

At least the makers of Zenify have made up a story about their verbifying suffix. It’s poorly articulated, but it’s something:

Zenify is a Zen state of mind, clearing away mental clutter to the power of the Phi(fy), which represents the perfect balance between excess and insufficiency. When you drink Zenify, you will be in a Calm, Sharp & Focused [sic] state and this feeling will allow you to react at peak performance in over-stimulating times. Zenify helps you harness your existing energy without being distracted by your surroundings.

Elsewhere on the site, you learn that by “the power of the Phi(fy)” they’re referring to the “golden ratio” or “golden mean,” a mathematical concept expressed by the Greek letter phi. What does all that have to do with the exponential numeral in “Zen²”? I’m in a state of not-knowingness.

The “zen” part of Zenify is even more pervasive in commerce than the “-ify” suffix. As I wrote in a 2008 column for the Visual Thesaurus, zen often stands in as “a synonym for ordinary nothingness”:

Zen can be combined with mail to describe “an incoming e-mail message with no message or attachments.” Zen spin is a verb meaning “to tell a story without saying anything at all.” And to zen a computing problem means to figure it out in an intuitive flash — perhaps while you’re plugged into the earphones of your ZEN MP3 player, now available from Creative with a 16Gb capacity.

Since then, we’ve seen Zenbook, Zencoder, Zendesk, Zenfolio, Zen Lounge, Zenmap, ZenPayroll, Zenprise, ZenQA, Zenverge, ZENworks, and Mommy Zen. And many more: the USPTO trademark database includes 627 live marks with “zen.”

Zendesk billboard via Scott Beale’s Pinterest.

Then there’s The Daily Show’s Moment of Zen, the brief video clip that ends each show. Satori not included; a better title for the segment might be Moment of Eye-Rolling, Forehead-Slapping Bemusement.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

October 22 Moment of Zen.

 

For more evidence that the -ify trend has jumped the shark, see my previous posts and the 86 pins on The Name Inspector’s Wall of Namifying.

Names in the Wild: Olvera Street

Olvera Street (Calle Olvera) is the oldest street in Los Angeles, dating back to the city’s founding in 1781. Situated opposite Union Station and named for Los Angeles County’s first judge, Agustín Olvera, the street has been a tourist-friendly “Mexican marketplace” since 1930. It’s artificial (the commercial strip was planned and executed by a wealthy Anglo, Christine Stirling) yet also authentic (several historic buildings still stand). In other words, it’s a living metaphor of Los Angeles.

On a recent trip to L.A. I visited Olvera Street for the first time in many years. I found much unchanged (a few establishments, like La Luz del Día restaurant, have been around since the 1950s), while other things have adapted to changing times.

There were lots of Día de los Muertos items for sale, including these same-sex wedding-cake toppers.

 

A “Who Would Jesus Deport?” T-shirt.

 

Painted-tile bathroom sign in Spanglish.

 

I’m not sure why it’s “Mr.” Churro and not “Señor,” but the name does fit the bilingual flavor of the rest of the sign. And of course I’m always happy to meet a Mr. business name in the wild.

 

This mug was one of many souvenirs bearing the “Latina – Proud, Educated and Powerful!” motto. It appeared to be a girls-only phenomenon.

 

If you haven’t found a parking sign with your child’s name, maybe you’ve been shopping in the wrong place.

 

Travel note: I recommend taking one of the Metro Line (rapid-transit) trains into Union Station and wandering around to admire the spectacular Spanish Colonial Revival architecture and décor. While you’re on Olvera Street, allow some time to view the long-hidden fresco by the great Mexican artist David Alfaro Siqueiros (1896-1974). Originally unveiled in October 1932, the painting was whitewashed shortly afterward to obscure its “radical” subject matter. After more than 40 years of planning and preservation work, it reopened to public viewing earlier this month.

One Name, Three Ways

San Francisco’s Would You Believe? bar, at Geary Boulevard and 11th Avenue, has a name wrapped in a question wrapped in three typefaces, none of which I could identify.

The 11th Avenue side of the bar. I’ve decided to call this typeface “Adventureland Bold.”

 

The awning on Geary gets a second question mark. This looks like Aladdin or a similar Middle-East-y font.

 

Fancy script—let’s call it “Sugar Plum Princess Birthday”—paired with an austere, vaguely Deco sans-serif face. I’m picturing a tipsy tootsie on the arm of a pinstriped stockbroker. The sign is mounted above the awning on Geary.

I searched in vain for clues about the origin of this Richmond District bar’s rhetorically questioning name. Something to do with Get Smart, the TV spy spoof of the 1960s, maybe? “Would you believe…” was Maxwell Smart’s catchphrase on the show, and it’s also the name of a Get Smart fan site.

Here’s what learned about the bar from Yelp:

• The clientele is predominantly male and Asian.
• The bar serves $1 shots on Thursdays.
• It has “outlandish names for equally outlandish drinks.”

Clearly, follow-up research is required.

I appreciated Chris J.’s four-star Yelp review:

I love this bar if for no other reason than when we drive by it on our way to places far more interesting, I get to spin my wrists like propellers and declare in a loud, fey voice, “Would you believe?!!” Sometimes, I just holler that out there – “Would you believe?!!” I guess I have to make my own fun.

Names in the Wild: The Little Shop of Hoarders

Yes, I do love a good pun.

The Little Shop of Hoarders, 6397 Telegraph Avenue, Oakland.

 

Window display.

I don’t care that it isn’t a wholly original name* or that the sign is hand-lettered. I love the pun and I love the merchandise. And I am thrilled that the owner spelled “sneak peek” correctly on her blog.

Not to mention that I couldn’t have been happier for the excuse to troll YouTube for clips from Little Shop of Horrors, one of my all-time-favorite movie musicals. Frank Oz directed; Alan Menken wrote the great songs. And that cast! Steve Martin, Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, Bill Murray, Christopher Guest, John Candy, John Belushi.

Here’s one of my favorite songs, “Skid Row” (“where depression’s jus’ status quo”):

 

And you know you want to hear Steve Martin do the dentist song again, amirite? Knock yourself out.

*UPDATE: Alas, it appears that the Oakland shop is stepping on the toes of another Little Shop of Hoarders (see comment). Defending a trademark is a full-time job.

Cigar Men

Cigar-store Indians—those once-ubiquitous carved statues that advertised tobacco shops—began disappearing from U.S. sidewalks more than 50 years ago. But on my ramblings around San Francisco I’ve taken note of their 21st-century folk-art equivalent: cigar men. Not men with cigars: cigar-shaped men. They’re slightly surreal and completely wonderful.

Here’s a studious-looking specimen in front of International House of Wine (no website), in the theater district at 395 Geary Street:

 

 

There’s a Turkish-stereotype (or Shriner-stereotype) cigar man in front of Dean’s Fine Cigars at 715 Market Street.

 

 

And on the other side of the door there’s an endangered cigar-store Indian gazing skyward.

 

I think he’s saying, “Oy vey—it’s come to this?” On behalf of all European-American usurpers, I apologize.

I couldn’t help noticing that the skinny yet muscular arms of the fez-wearing cigar bear a strong resemblance to those of International House of Wine’s cigar man. The same artist, perhaps?

There’s a clue on the base of the Dean’s sign:

It turns out that Back to the Drawing Board has done a lot of inventive advertising art in San Francisco and Grass Valley. Until I checked out his (her? their?) website, I hadn’t realized that the non-cigar sidewalk sign in front of Creative Marketing Concepts, at 572 Market Street, came from Back to the Drawing Board.

 

Sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar. It’s a fountain pen!

The cigar men seem to have replaced a more realistic genre of street advertising, as seen in this photo I took in 2009 on Third Street near SFMOMA.

 

 

Here’s his weird yet worthy replacement, in front of Zain’s Liquor:

Well, helloooo, Mr. Disco Collar with the soulful eyes!

Are these artifacts unique to San Francisco, or do other cities have them, too?

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For other examples of folk-art advertising signs, see my post about muffler men.

Names in the Wild: Balboa Island

While I was in Southern California last week I made a day trip to Balboa Island, a little piece of paradise by the Pacific. I hadn’t been there since I was a kid, and a lot had changed.

 

 

Sinfulicious sets the bar for “sinful” pretty low: “Over 200 yummy scents to choose from!” On the plus side of the ledger: another -licious name! And they claim to have a mixologist on the premises. (For lotions and potions, not for cocktails.)

The island is full of boutiques that sell resort-y clothing and tchotchkes, like this one.

 

 

So nice they named it twice—or more. Is it Etc. Etc., Etc. Etc. Etc., Etcetera Etc., or Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. (as depicted)? All I can say for sure is that it reminded me of Yul Brynner in The King and I.

 

A couple of stores are, literally, frozen in time. The Original Frozen Banana, which has been on the island since 1945, may have been the inspiration for Bluth’s Original Frozen Banana on “Arrested Development.”

As we know, there’s always money in the banana stand.

Close-up of the running-bananas awning:

 

A competitor, Dad’s Original Frozen Banana, coexists just down the street. So much originality!

I liked the window sign.

I recommend the Balboa Bar dipped in chopped almonds.