Oh Dad, Poor Dad

You're walking through Oakland's "Uptown" (formerly Downtown), where retail is scarce and often sad. (Example: the "Wig's" store.) As you round a corner near the 19th Street BART station, the sight of this window brings you to a confused halt.

SurrealWindow2
What. The. Hell?

Questions tumble through your head. Did you miss the grand opening of some too-cool-for-school boutique from Manhattan's Meatpacking District? Is the display a contender in a new "Pimp My Store Window" reality show? Did the gang from Fecal Face Gallery stage a stealth installation?

You check out the details: Rococo chair. Bare feet. Ill-fitting clothes. Randomly draped red fabric. No hands on the mannequin.

L'hommeEnnuyeux
"I have no hands, and I must scratch."

And all that ... stuff spilling out of the toolbox.

ToolKit
There's a clue here.

Dress shirt, baseball cap, tie, work gloves, power cord, drill ... Wait a minute. What's that brand name? Craftsman? Yes indeed.

Which means we could be at only one store:

Estd1886

Yes, my friends. The Oakland Sears, Roebuck and Co.—purveyor of fine Craftsman tools and sturdy Kenmore appliances—has gone all ironic/conceptual/surreal for Father's Day. Or run out of money. Or lost the will to live.

Have a happy holiday, all you dads. Shop locally!

Names in the Wild: Farmers' Market

Searching for signs of spring on a cold, foggy Sunday, I went to the Temescal Farmers' Market here in North Oakland. I came home with perfectly ripe pluots, just-underripe apricots, shiitake mushrooms, an avocado, and field notes on hyperlocal naming practices.

Continue reading "Names in the Wild: Farmers' Market" »

Nicely Named: Roundup Edition

Irreference: I liked this publisher's former name, Quirk Books, but I like the new name even more. A blend of "irreverent" and "reference," it flows off the tongue and makes instant, intuitive sense. A good choice for the publisher of The Worst-Case Survival Scenario books, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and the truly irreverent How to Tell If Your Boyfriend Is the Antichrist.

Ici: Looking for an icy treat on Berkeley's College Avenue? Alors, I see it ici. An elegant bilingual pun (ici is "here" in French), Ici is short and palindromic, evocative and playful.  So what if www.ici.com was registered? Ici-icecream.com works fine for a business whose website exists only for image and information. By the way, it's a beautiful website—and a delicious logo.

Coolerado: They're in Denver. They make air conditioners. Perfection. (Hat tip: Mary Sullivan.)

Chartreuse: I can't provide a link, because this small-town boutique doesn't have a website. I learned about it through a comment on a column I wrote for Visual Thesaurus about "green" brand names (content is restricted to subscribers). I admired the name; I loved the story behind it. Here's what Donita N. wrote:

Chartreuse is the name of a shop in Westerly, R.I., that sells fashions made from recycled materials. The owner wanted to name it after her favorite shade of green and only later realized that it also contains the words Art and Re-use. The store carries handbags made from aluminum can pull tabs, or from crocheted plastic bags or from strips of vinyl billboard material. She has placemats woven from magazine pages the way American children used to make paper chains from chewing gum wrappers. She herself makes hats and gloves by sewing together sections of old knitted wool sweaters.

I especially like the hidden words.

By the way, the yellow-green color known as chartreuse gets its name from Chartreuse liqueur, which was originally produced in the Grande Chartreuse Monastery in France's Chartreuse Mountains.

What Does "Urban" Mean?

I'm not talking about the dictionary definition: an adjective meaning "of the city," derived from Latin urbanus and ultimately urbs, "city." Because that doesn't explain what "urban" is doing in this phrase, reproduced verbatim from a report I heard recently on my local public-radio station:

Like most urban cities, Oakland...

Like most city-ish cities?

No, of course not. "Urban cities" may seem redundant, but the reporter had something else in mind. Increasingly over the last few decades, "urban" has acquired a secondary meaning: "dominated by a racial minority, usually African-American."

Continue reading "What Does "Urban" Mean?" »

Barackollectibles

Side-yeswecab Our long national nightmare is finally over, mes amis. Let's go shopping! But not for just any old tchtochkes. Let's load up on Obama swag.

Thirsty? NPR's Morning Edition reports that Jones Soda has introduced Orange "You Glad for Change" Soda and that some D.C. bars are pouring Ale to the Chief. Brewery Ommegang of Cooperstown, New York, wanted to name its celebratory quaff Obamagang—a neat multiple pun—but the feds nixed it; the label now reads "Inaugural Ale." You can see the original label art here. (Hat tip: ETBWrites.) Prefer wine? Allow me to pour you a glass of 2005 Yes We Cab!—"elegant and stately, just like Obama himself." Love that illustration. (Hat tip: Karen at Verbatim.)

In the mood for something more caloric? Good news: Ben & Jerry's has created a Yes Pecan! flavor: "amber waves of buttery ice cream with roasted nonpartisan pecans." Proceeds will be donated to the Common Cause Education Fund.  (And in the true spirit of nonpartisanship, here are some suggested flavors to honor the Bush, uh, legacy. Hat tip: Karen again.)

Perhaps you'd prefer a more lasting memento. Uncommon Goods is selling an official ballot necklace in sterling silver for just $38:

The ballots featured are either standby-by ballots (used in case the voting machines break down) or absentee, military and special ballots. The double-sided necklace showcases two parties that supported Barack Obama: the Democrat [sic] party and the Working Families Party.

You'd better not be in a hurry, though: this handmade keepsake is back-ordered till Feb. 10. (The McCain-Palin necklace is available a little sooner.)

Uncommon Goods is also selling a framed paper ballot "printed specifically for the old-fashioned, pull-lever voting machines used in New York City": $350. On the opposite end of the spectrum: a Zortz note-holder featuring a slightly scary representation of Obama's head. It's a bargain at $25.

What's that smell? Why, it's Yes We Can fragrance, "directly inspired by Obama's acceptance speech." It contains "notes of celery seed, lavender, citrus accord, and pine," and no, I don't know what "citrus accord" is. The perfume is available for $34 on Etsy.

Another Yes We Can fragrance is for sale on eBay, with no description whatsover, for only $0.99. Tip: Change the name to Eau-bama (change is good!), add some flowery copy, and jack up the price to $25. It'll fly off the shelves.

You can even sleep with your new commander-in-chief. Obama jammies and nightgowns come in adult sizes small through XXL and are 100% cotton flannel. Don't forget the Obama condoms ("for the elitist penis").

And there's much, much more. For a comprehensive list, see Sarah Hepola's compilation over at Salon. She leads with the Obama dildo (talk about a stimulus package!) and proceeds:

There is the Obama votive candle, the Obama nesting dolls, the Obama wall hanging. And lest you feel hampered by details, rest assured that an Obama product doesn't even have to actually resemble Obama: It could resemble a rather frightening Bill Cosby. Or a very tan Ed Sullivan. Or, umm, whatever this guy is.

What a great country, huh?

Violations

I stared at this parking-lot sign for a good five minutes, trying to figure out what it meant:

Parking_Vehicles 

First I interpreted "parking" as an adjective modifying "vehicles." Dilemma: does that mean "vehicles in the act of parking" or "vehicles on official parking duty" (whatever that may mean)?

Got nowhere with that.

Then I read it as a prohibition of [the activity of] parking vehicles. But that would have required a singular form of "to be," right? Parking ... is prohibited.

But grammar be damned. Was this sign telling me I couldn't park on Berkeley Bowl property? There was ample physical evidence to the contrary: as usual, the parking lot was full. I even spotted a few motorcycles and mopeds. I parked; I wasn't towed.

So maybe the sign simply means "Don't park on the sidewalk." Which would have saved ink. And headaches.

Speaking of headaches, and disagreement, check out the caption on this photo in yesterday's New York Times Dining In section:

TONIGHT'S SURPRISES: The cost of specials aren't always divulged.

It's the cost, singular, that isn't always divulged. The specials (plural), we may assume, are revealed eventually. Prepositional phrases often confuse writers; a little sentence-diagramming would clear matters up immediately.

P.S. For those of you outside the Bay Area, the Berkeley Bowl Marketplace is one of our foodie meccas. If you think 18 types of bulk rice are just about enough, if you want first pick of local Gravenstein apples, and if you like to hear shoppers conversing in 10 or 12 languages as they survey the grass-fed buffalo steaks, this is the place for you. And for all the rest of you, too. The store got its name from its previous location, a decommissioned (dislaned?) bowling alley.

Names in the Wild: Artfibers Yarn Store

I don't knit or do anything else of a craftlike nature. (I used to sew my own clothes, but that was long ago.) Still, when my friend Síle Convery, who owns the delightful Knit-One-One studio in Berkeley, asked whether I'd mind accompanying her to a yarn store in San Francisco, I agreed without hesitation. I enjoy playing amateur anthropologist and checking out into other people's obsessions. Besides, I've discovered wonderful names in places outside my usual orbit: gun shops, jewelry-supply stores, bridal boutiques.

Artfibers did not disappoint. To enter the shop, we climbed a steep, narrow stairway that reminded me of the approach to a dance studio. Inside, balls and cones of beautifully colored and textured yarns were neatly displayed in wire baskets. Each yarn variety was labeled and--be still, my heart!--organized alphabetically, the better to appreciate the playful creativity of the names.

Baccarat_to-boa

I just adore Big Bunz and Bitty Bunz. And I also appreciate that each yarn has a tag with a nicely written story that usually explains the name. "Nanook," for example, is "designed to simulate the fleece of an arctic animal."

Some of the other names I spotted: Tantra, Tasmania, Purr (soft as kitten fur), Tesla, Zoftig (nice and plump, naturally), Ricotta (creamy and thick), Babushka, Cheesecake, Triple Cheesecake, and Phos (a sparkly yarn).

Hokkaido_to_lichen

I was told that the store's owner names all the yarns herself. She clearly has a gift for unexpected yet apt metaphors that cross sensory borders. Nicely named!

(The Artfibers website is likewise literate and stylishly executed. How can you not admire an About page titled "Coup de Foudre"?)

Nau Is the New Then

Eco-sportswear "concept" Nau issues a going-out-of-business manifesto:

In the current highly risk-averse capital market, we simply could not raise the necessary funds to continue to move forward. We believe this is not so much a reflection of the viability of our business, but the result of an unfortunate confluence of events. Just as we could not have predicted the sudden groundswell of environmental consciousness that blossomed at the time we launched our business, we did not foresee the current crisis in the capital markets. At this time, investors are loath to invest in anything; especially, it appears, a company like Nau that has the audacity to challenge conventional paradigms of what a business could be.

And much, much more in this vein.

I never cared for Nau's clothing--too somber and space-agey--but I do regret the passing of a company that knew the correct spelling of loath (adjective).

Everything on the site is half-price.

(According to a Cool Hunting report from upbeat pre-launch days--about 20 months ago--"Nau" means "welcome" in Maori.)

Via Wardrobe 911.

No Title

Another reason to love Zappos:

Fred Mossler

No Title

Fred joined Zappos.com in 1999 and was recently promoted to the position of "No Title" from Senior VP of Merchandising because we couldn't think of a title for him. His "No Title" position enables him to oversee a variety of departments at Zappos, including merchandising, marketing, creative services, product presentation, Zappos University, help desk, and outlet operations.

Prior to Zappos, Fred spent over 8 years at Nordstrom.

Babette et Moi

Babette_4 I promised horn tooting, and here it is: a book I ghostwrote has just been privately published, and it's gorgeous and I'm thrilled. Babette: Designing a Vision celebrates the 40th anniversary of an extraordinary fashion brand; it will be sold in Babette retail stores in San Francisco, Scottsdale, Portland, Chicago, and New York beginning next month.

I was delighted when Steven Pinsky, designer Babette Pinsky's husband and business partner, contacted me last September about writing a book. Not only do I love ghostwriting books, but I've also been a huge fan--and customer--of the Babette brand since the day, more than a decade ago, when I chanced on the company's little outlet store-slash-factory on San Francisco's South Park Street. (The factory has since moved to Oakland, the retail store is now on Sutter Street, and the outlet store is no more.) The clothes were a revelation: clever raincoats--one, called the Taxi Coat, came with an orange whistle for summoning cabs--and pleated microfiber separates that flowed over the body like cool water. They were effortless yet utterly distinctive . They could be packed. They could be washed. They looked good on women of all sizes. And at outlet prices, they were a steal. I bought a couple of pieces that first visit and returned many times. In the process, I struck up an acquaintance with Babette and Steven that led to a small writing project--and now the book.

While researching the book I spent many hours in the Oakland design studio and factory, learning how fabric is sourced, how a collection is designed, and--especially--how those pleats are made. In hand pleating, two workers scrunch pieces of fabric and then tie them tightly. Pattern pleating involves huge paper patterns and wooden weights that haven't changed much since ancient Egypt; there are hieroglyphics depicting a process identical to the one I witnessed. (The only modern innovation is a huge autoclave that steam-sets the pleats.) Perhaps most remarkable in this outsourced era, all Babette clothing (with the exception of sweaters) is made in the company's own Oakland factory by workers earning a living wage and seeming to have a pretty good time at their jobs. That, and the sheer amount of labor involved in each garment--a single pleated garment may be touched by as many as twelve workers during its creation--makes the retail prices (about $200 to $500 per piece) seem, if anything, too low.

Babette_show_4Surviving for 40 years as an independent fashion designer is a rare feat. It's even more challenging when you're ignored by local and national media, as Babette has been. (The designs don't follow trends, and Babette customers are a "forgotten" market: women in their 30s, 40s, and beyond.) Yet Babette Pinsky never considered merging or selling her business, and she never wavered in her creative vision. Here's how I quoted her in the book:

I always believed that function follows form: the guiding principle of the Bauhaus design movement. And I was always inspired by beautiful fabric. Then as now, I would begin each season's collection by looking at fabric and deciding what stories I wanted to tell with it. Color and texture allowed me to shape a narrative.

I'm happy to report that the media tide may be turning. On Sunday, the San Francisco Chronicle published a long article about Babette by fashion editor Sylvia Rubin. (Be sure to click through to the video, a fascinating document of the pleating process.) Oakland magazine is interested in a feature story for its August issue.

It was a pleasure to work with the Pinskys and to be inspired in my writing by four decades of extraordinary fashion photography by Larry Keenan, Michelle McCarron, Paul Cruz, David Perez, and others. Much credit goes to genius graphic designer Ryan X (he has a stealth website; contact me if you want to hire him) and to Carolyn Ricketts, our able proofreader.

And do check out the Babette website, where you can see photos of the clothing, Babette Pinsky's line drawings, and a store locator.

Top: Designer Babette Pinsky. Above: Model wearing Babette separates at a retrospective fashion show held earlier this month in Minneapolis. Both photos by Allen Brisson-Smith for the San Francisco Chronicle.

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