| Missives from the mountains |
[Jul. 9th, 2009|07:54 pm] |
Purchased today at a roadside junk shop somewhere in Franklin Country. Strictly for entertainment purposes. At least at this time. Definitely needs to be cleaned and sharpened.
Also, according to the Virginia Rocks! exhibit at the Blue Ridge Institute & Museum, my sleepy hometown produced at least one legit rockabilly recording artist and was home to a cool nightclub where they gave away shrunken heads. Who says history is dull?
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| tip-toeing |
[Jul. 5th, 2009|01:52 pm] |
I know I've been spending too much time discussing The Omnivore's Dilemma and organic farming when I elect to spend twice as much on sauerkraut, just so I can enjoy it with a clear conscience.
Speaking of pickled vegetables... I truly do appreciate why novices are reluctant to tackle pickling and canning. Botulism is no laughing matter. It is bad form to kill your new neighbor. Especially with a housewarming gift. Next thing you know, everyone's referring to your humble offering as the Baby Carrots of Death or the Gherkins from Hell.
Looking forward to interviewing Handmade Nation director Faythe Levine. Even more so since I found out her Mom operates this organic dairy farm. I was already a fan of their fresh cheeses. I just purchased a quarter-wheel of their Black Mombazo and a wedge of Chipotle Cheddar (that's it left of the sauerkraut) at today's farmers market. Now that I might get to go see them being made, I'm doubly excited.
On our way home from market—isn't that totally affected, saying just "market" instead of "the market"?—![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) m3warlord suggested we start having a weekly "Pot o' Beans Challenge." Each week, we take turns making a different pot of beans and using it as the base for as many delicious meals as possible. I suspect he was half-kidding, but I took him up on the challenge. My mind is reeling with visions of chick peas! |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 30th, 2009|01:02 pm] |
Had a great interview this morning with Tom the Butcher, and just scheduled a chat with Mike the Barber. It's like I'm strolling through the pages of Richard Scarry's What Do People Do All Day?. Which, mind you, isn't a bad place to be. Archetypes seem pretty cheerful. Tom said the biggest psychological change he noticed after becoming a butcher was all the existential angst that had dogged him fell away. He knew what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. A frisson of jealousy shot through me before the conversation resumed.
Walking home from the gym, brainstorming the best way to deal (or not deal) with certain topics in the book, I thought "I want to go hunting and fishing." Which is a Bow Wow Wow lyric ("Go Wild in the Country"). Yeah. You can dress me in plaid, teach me how to make pickles, but I'm still gonna be more New Wave than rustic. |
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| We have pickles! |
[Jun. 26th, 2009|05:04 pm] |
Just cracked the seal on that fateful first batch of cold-pack pickles. They are surprisingly delicious. And, mind you, I don't like sweet-sour pickles as a rule. But they turned out just fine. *whew* Look out, sour cherries—I feel some jam coming on. |
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| Undercover Angel |
[Jun. 25th, 2009|04:12 pm] |
While Michael Jackson was being rushed to the hospital, Aaron and I were in White Center, interviewing Mark Pickerel. In addition to his long and storied music career, he's also an avid collector and vendor of vintage threads, so I wanted to pick his brain for Frontierland. After our chat, there was a breathtaking round of show-and-tell in Pickerel's den. This cool Western shirt? It used to belong to the steakhouse king. Oh, and Mark was wearing it the last time he flew with Kurt Cobain. Anyway, we peeked in the spillover space in the garage, and this naturally caught my attention. Godspeed, "Jill." |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 24th, 2009|03:04 pm] |
Con: I have to write about the new album by Rob Thomas. ("Arguably the most accomplished singer/songwriter of his generation," according to his press bio.)
Pro: I can do it from the comfort of my porch. In my slippers. |
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| The pages fly off the calendar |
[Jun. 22nd, 2009|06:53 pm] |
The word of the day? Momentum.
I uncovered an embarrassment of resources and interview subjects as the day unfolded. My early morning interview with the proprietor of Winn Perry led me to this charming custom suit maker, Duchess, Clothier. She outfits Nick Cave! And the Duchess, in turn, introduced me to the character pictured above, Mike the Barber, who in addition to his tonsorial pursuits at Freeman's Sporting Club also hosts "The Ragged Phonograph," a radio program of music from the first quarter of America's 20th century, and DJs with vintage phonographs. I'm listening to a broadcast right now, in which he celebrates the birthdays of Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards and Irish tenor John McCormack.
And there's more! My colleague J_, a publicist who I'd just informed I wouldn't be writing about pop music until further notice, responded to this rebuff... by suggesting I talk with a friend of hers who works for the Alan Lomax Institute. A professor in Marketing and Merchandising at F.I.T. sent me some thoughtful observations and connected me with a colleague who spent years in the trenches at Levi's. The VP of Marketing for Red Wing made Red Wing, MN sound so charming I'm considering it for a vacation spot (and believe me, after two visits to Minnesota in the last couple years, I know better). And tomorrow I'm talking facial hair with the unofficial leader of Beard Team USA, the governing body of regional American outfits that compete in the World Beard & Mustache Championships.
Rolling, rolling. |
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| carry me back |
[Jun. 21st, 2009|09:16 am] |
Phooey. The Carter Family Fold, which I'd hoped to visit during my visit to Southwest Virginia next month, is only open on Saturdays. And that's the day my parents are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary—which is the real reason behind my trip. So I will have to content myself with a fact-finding expedition and a Friday night's worth of live music in nearby Floyd, VA instead. I pray the Floyd Country Store isn't too much of a tourist trap. |
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| Short back and sides |
[Jun. 16th, 2009|10:13 am] |
K_ makes me feel like nobody else can. I only get to see him every couple of months, but his magic fingers always make me relaxed and happy, in a way that m3warlord's never have. Yeah, K_ charges me for his services, but I still feel a personal connection, too. I'm a client. Certainly not a friend, but no mere customer either.
Yesterday, I cheated on K_.
That's right. I went to another barber.
K_ gives a great haircut. Even better since he's had a few years to learn the ins and outs of my double cowlick and receding hairline and salt-and-pepper coloration. His scalp massage is worth the price of the cut itself. He's a total rock star. He's played in bands, toured the world, married in haste, styled celebrities, done cocaine and pills and rehab, shot porn films... the whole shebang. The shop he works in is billed as a barber, but let's not kid ourselves: It's a salon. They do perms and coloring and highlights. Yeah, it has a pool table, but the clients are all hipsters and well-off Capitol Hill ladies. Very few regular guys, and the ones who do wander in usually seem nervous.
And that's not the kind of barbershop I needed to visit for my book. According to my proposal, "the barbershop has once again become a hub of social activity." And yes, the owner of my barbershop was anointed Best Barber to Discuss Politics with in Seattle by some media outlet. But for my research I wanted a clip joint that resembled the ones of my youth. One where men came to hang out as much as get haircuts.
The Dulles Park Barber Shop was a four chair place. The barbers wore smocks, and glass jars of blue Barbicide sat at each work station, and the only "product" was Brylcreem. My barber was Bub. If Mom was in a hurry, or Bub had the day off, I'd let Larry trim me up, but Bub was my guy. He was short and had glasses and was the quietest of the bunch, which suited me fine. I didn't like to linger in the barber shop too long. I was intrigued by the trappings, the hunting and fishing magazines, the newspapers that seemed to come with two sports sections and no movie listings. The calendars of bird dogs and classic cars and pretty girls. But I'd just as soon have been home reading quietly or listening to music. Getting a haircut was a necessary evil.
My Dad, on the other hand, seemed to really look forward to it. And he's bald, except for a light dusting on the back and sides. Has been since high school. Yet he could go off to that same barber, in between the Safeway and the Herndon Twin Cinema, on a Saturday afternoon and not come back for hours. He'd be in a good mood before he left, and content when he got back. I could never tell what, if anything, they'd done to his hair. But unlike me, nobody had to prod him to go.
I wanted to go to a barber that made me feel like my Dad felt about Dulles Park Barber Shop.
When I worked in Smith Tower earlier this century, I walked by Clean Cut Barbershop almost daily. But I never went in. Yesterday, I made it my destination. Most barbers are closed Monday, but not Clean Cut. I hadn't called ahead, and there was only one barber working, so I ended up waiting a long time. But that was perfect, because I got the barbershop experience I wanted. I sat and talked with total strangers for almost two hours. Mostly the conversation centered around girls. It never got crass or vulgar, and I didn't feel uncomfortable listening and weighing in with my opinions. At one point, a married guy articulated what he'd been looking for in his wife, and I piped up that my criteria when I met m3warlord had been nearly identical. I just didn't use a gender specific noun or pronoun.
I got a good haircut at Clean Cut. Not the best. K_ still does me better. But this was the first time, and I didn't do the best job of communicating what I wanted. I kept saying things like "1950's churchgoer." Plus the barber working fast to try and get out of his shop relatively close to 6 PM. (It didn't help that the bail bondsman across the street kept sending over clients to get cleaned up. I counted three while I was there, of which the barber was only able to work in the first.) They didn't have Barbicide, but they used those weird, scratchy paper napkins that wrap around your neck, which felt pretty damned authentic (i.e. uncomfortable). I'll definitely go back as I continue my research.
I just wish my hair grew faster so I could keep seeing K_ on the side, too. |
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| Remember "Green Acres"? |
[Jun. 14th, 2009|02:23 pm] |
My first attempt at refrigerator pickles. Will they be any good? I don't know. We have to wait 10-14 days before they're ready to sample.
I started researching the world of canning and pickling in earnest last week, and quickly realized that I need to work up to genuine canning over time. For one thing, I don't have the tools (like a stockpot deep enough to submerge the mason jars in) nor are they readily available in my neighborhood. Fixed gear bikes? No problem. Skinny jeans? Aisle 3. Jarring tongs? What? Speak up, Grandpa!
For another, there is this thing called botulism that all the cookbooks warn you about with varying degrees of hysteria; Joy Of Cooking makes it sound like putting up peaches is nothing short of Russian roulette, Fannie Farmer gently urges one to follow directions. My friend Jill, who edits a food magazine, told me to start with refrigerator pickles, then work up to high-acid fruit preserves. Those are safer. Once I get the basics down, legit canning can follow. Hopefully, the revolution won't come for a few months, until I'm up to speed.
The cucumbers for my pickles were purchased at the farmer's market in the University District yesterday, where one of the many, many buskers was playing this banjo ukulele. (He sang a lovely version of "I Wanna Be Like You" from The Jungle Book.) I also bought salad onions, a piece of smoked gouda, fresh dill, asparagus, and a pint of strawberries with the kind of flavor I thought only existed in my imagination. Also got a great loaf of pullman bread. I told the merchant I don't normally like white bread, but I sampled it first and dug its texture: It has integrity.
Okay, I'm going to go dig a root cellar now. That or hit the gym. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 4th, 2009|07:24 pm] |
Today was challenging, partly due to my own poor time management. The only real progress I made on the book was nailing down my interview with the CEO of Filson. I need to be more aggressive about doing research and prep work in the afternoon, and writing in the morning, when my Internal Editor is quieter. Of course, all of that is contingent on not having other demands on my time. Today I had plenty — and next week is solid crazy with radio sub shifts (which I love... but right now I still feel guilty when other duties take me away from the book).
I pitched live on KEXP this afternoon. It wasn't my first time—that was this past Sunday, my birthday—but it felt like it. The goals and expectations during the weekday prime time shows are so much higher. And they increase over the course of the show, so each hour it gets more challenging to meet the goals. Damn! I gave it my all, which isn't hard, because I love music and love KEXP. The business in the studio can be pretty damn chaotic and draining, though. You know how deathly dull PBS pledge drives are? Yeah... Nothing like that. More like one of those old school telethons where Jerry Lewis or Frank Sinatra just keeps plugging away until they look like they're going to drop dead... and then they do another number.
Anyway... half the time I wasn't entirely sure what was coming out of my mouth, except for "206-903-5397" and "now!" (There was a lot of tomfoolery about stealing CDs for premiums, I remember that.) But Kevin, the host of "The Afternoon Show," and Rachel (the DJ who trained me, and whose time slot I took over) helped me stayed pumped up and kinda-sorta focused. To paraphrase Lola Heatherton, I wasn't just live, I was so "A-live it's scary!" But we met all our goals, which is a mixed blessing: It probably means I'll be asked back to pitch more during the Fall Membership Drive.
And now? I don't quite feel as exhilarated as I did when I finished my first marathon, but I definitely reached down deep and called upon resources I didn't know I had for 4+ solid hours. I must remember those reserves of strength and creativity are there next time I'm feeling discouraged about Frontierland.
Oh, and as if I needed more reasons to love KEXP: Kevin played this song. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 3rd, 2009|07:02 pm] |
This afternoon I ate frozen custard and called it research. Mostly I was just glad to get out of the house and do something, anything, different. Working on a long term project like a new book involves a precarious balance of strict, disciplined routine and wild card interruptions. I'm still finding my equilibrium, but I think overlooking the importance of the latter has been a contributing factor to any feelings of doubt and inadequacy surrounding my work.
I also wrote 1,000 words about vintage clothing today. Not necessarily 1,000 good words, but it was the first writing I'd done for the Frontierland project in weeks (I've been focused exclusively on research and brainstorming), and got me over a psychological hump. My word count has been downgraded from impossible to merely insanely challenging. I can fine tune the details later. I've become a better editor in my old age. Thank God I've got something to show for 20 years of word-slinging.
I can do this. I will do this. I am doing this. |
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| don't buy shiny things |
[Jun. 1st, 2009|10:20 am] |
This bit of inspirational wisdom is painted on a gate near my home. Looks like it's been there for a while, but I just noticed it over the weekend when I was coming home from a Frontierland field trip. |
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| hipsters & hobos |
[May. 28th, 2009|07:02 pm] |
Finally made some decent headway today on Frontierland clothing & fashion research, after several of feeling like I was unfocused and/or treading water. I found a couple especially good editorial survey pieces and blogs that pointed me in myriad directions, providing much-needed additional examples of trends I want to discuss, and, better still, some possible "experts" to approach for commentary. Between the Pendleton Woolen Mills, Danner Boots, and the excellent Archival Clothing blog, I suspect a research trip to Oregon is in my near future.
In the afternoon, I visited the Filson flagship store. The guys working there were incredibly friendly and helpful — a nice change after so many noncommittal e-mails from high-end New York publicists — and told me some great anecdotes. When I explained what the book was about, the more grizzled of the two made a comment about how there are a lot of misconceptions about their demographic; people think of them as a pricey lifestyle brand, when in fact they get everyone from "New York hipsters" looking for luggage to modern-day "hobos" coming in. (The store is adjacent to the train tracks, and their tin cloth outer wear is legendary for its durability and affordability.) Maybe the ill-fated Filson "Lodge" line in 2005 had something to do with that? Seriously, they showed me an old Lodge catalog, and there were friggin' drink coasters that cost almost as much as a pair of their classic trousers. But that C.E.O. is long gone.
Later I looked at ecologically friendly yarns (no dyes, no chemical processing). And when I got home, I found that one of the designers I've been courting had given his consent to be interviewed (with the caveat that it would have to wait until the end of June, after his shows his latest collection), and the rep for a second said to send along my questions and he'd do his best to get them answered quickly. This is a big deal, because the #1 response I've been getting when I approach fashion people (or rather, fashion people's "people" i.e. publicists) has been "Who else has committed?" Now I can finally give them some "names, sweetie, names." *whew*
And in the midst of this, I'm doing my utmost to be more considerate of other colleagues, and keep my karma flowing. Chanting as fast as I can, as it were. God, two Ab Fab references in one post — I am starting to fall under the spell of this fashion & clothing business. Imagine what's gonna happen when I get to the chunk on urban gardening. It'll be gettin' all Green Acres up in here. |
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| "Please hold..." |
[May. 27th, 2009|03:09 pm] |
Writing e-mails does not seem like work. Although considering how carefully I'm sculpting each one, customizing them within a hair's breadth to try and woo the various and sundry recipients into granting me interviews for my book, you'd think I'd at least derive the same modest satisfaction from them I do from giving a draft a solid edit. Nope. Writing e-mails just feels like a huge waste of time. Hopefully I'll feel otherwise when I start getting concrete answers, but right now, I just get replies from fashion publicists and designers' handlers asking for more and more details about my book, but no confirmations. Everybody wants to know who else has already said "yes." Grrrrr...
It feels like 1989 and I'm starting my career as a freelance music writer all over again. God, I hated making cold calls back in those days. "I'm sorry... you're who? From where? And what is this regarding? Please hold..." At least e-mail takes away some of that sting. I have to be confident pieces will start falling into place soon. Deep breaths. Compose the next e-mail. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 26th, 2009|11:01 am] |
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I hate asking for help. I dunno why, but I do. But lo and behold, when I turned to select friends and colleagues for much-needed advice this morning, on where to find fashion "experts" to interview for the clothing chapter of my book, they came back with a plethora of tips and leads. I asked for help, and I got it. Thank you. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 24th, 2009|01:18 pm] |
Today I filled in for Johnny Horn on "Preachin' The Blues," KEXP's Sunday morning blues, soul & gospel program. It went well. Last time I covered for Johnny some listeners expressed a desire to hear more blues and less soul, so this time I made sure I came in armed with lots of Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Son House, Koko Taylor, Sonny Boy Williamson, and all the assorted "Blind" men. I did my homework.
But I also leaned heavy on the gospel — heck, if I can't spin gospel on Sunday morning, when can I? — and actually got the best response of the morning for "Trouble in My Way" from the excellent Como Now! The Voices of Panola Co., Mississippi. And Dylan's birthday gave me an excuse to play some of my favorite gospel versions of his songs, although I stopped short of Shirley Caesar's six-minute rendition of "Gotta Serve Somebody."
Didn't beat myself up over having an incredibly diverse play list. Since most of the songs are so short (by modern music standards), it really does make sense to play two or even three selections by the same artist back-to-back. I guess it worked out, since I received only positive feedback (a rarity when you sub for a specialty show), including a couple regular listeners who said they'd pass on their endorsements to Johnny. *whew*
Yesterday in Frontierland I learned about ragg wool, woolen mills, and rag and bone men. My vocabulary expanded by about a half-dozen words: Sutlery, mungo, shoddy (the noun), marl, totters. Learning these various terms led to one A-ha! moment of synchronicity — when the name of a trendy boutique suddenly pointed to fabric recycling trends from the pre-20th century — and a couple giggles (I wonder if they owners of another chic store realize they've inadvertently aligned themselves with Civil War reenactment types?). I struggled to eke out even a solid hour of study, I was so worn out from KEXP and other chores, but later on the word "mungo" unexpectedly appeared in my nightstand reading, so I took that as a good omen. |
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| Push the button |
[May. 22nd, 2009|06:19 pm] |
Today I went to the library to learn about buttons. Aaron, who is illustrating Frontierland, mentioned last night that he was excited about the D.I.Y. "How To Sew A Button" page, and since that falls in the clothing chapter, I decided to work on that.
I thought I knew how to sew on a button, because I've sewn buttons before. But I was dead wrong. Heck, there are two primary types of buttons and I didn't know the correct way to sew on either. Now I do. (And maybe if I feel like it, I'll share the sample page when Aaron and I are done making it, so you will too.)
One of the clothing designers in this chapter is a real manly man, prone to saying things like "It's good to know how to build a fire." That got me thinking about my experiences as a Cub Scout, which in turn prompted me to peruse some old scouting manuals for inspiration. I was curious to see what they said about sewing in particular.
But guess what? The Boy Scouts of America tomes I reviewed at the library contained only one tiny bit of sewing info: How to affix merit badges. And that's it. That is just embarrassing. Do Boy Scout uniforms not have buttons? What are the young men of America supposed to do when one of those buttons comes loose? Run to Mommy? You can't run to Mommy all your lives, boys!
I also wanted to learn about bone buttons. Some of the new clothing lines I'm researching made a stink about using materials of a certain vintage or quality, and bone buttons were mentioned more than once. What's the big deal with bone buttons? Now I know: They take on a certain patina with age, so they actually enhance that look of "authenticity" on even a new garment.
Also: As of today, I know twice as many meanings for the word "shank" as I did on Monday. Up to four from two. I suspect others will soon follow. |
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| Marching into "Frontierland" |
[May. 21st, 2009|05:54 pm] |
This week I began research in earnest on my new book, Frontierland. It's a pop culture book about why young urban types are adopting and preserving traditions from America's past. That includes classic country, soul and gospel music, burlesque and circuses, meatloaf and macaroni & cheese, straight razor shaves and curlicue mustaches... you name it. The proposal is pretty far-reaching. So much so that, when I sat down to resume work (I'd not touched the materials in a couple months, while waiting for the contracts to be finalized) I was completely and utterly overwhelmed by the potential magnitude of the project.
So I did what any reasonable person might: I suffered a low-grade panic attack (nausea, cold sweats, sleeplessness) for a day or two. Then I remembered my advice to other writers tackling new book projects: a) Just jump in and start splashing around, and b) Force yourself to do research for a couple hours every day for the first few weeks.
Since then I am slowly getting up to speed. I'm starting with the fashion and grooming components of the book. Why? Because those are my weakest subjects. As in starting from scratch. If I can whip those two into shape, the rest of the material won't seem so daunting. And I'm less terrified today than I was yesterday. I continue to learn about more designers and labels reinventing classic American looks and celebrating old-fashioned tailoring techniques. And I'm quickly augmenting my knowledge of classic work wear brands like Carhartt and Red Wing. Right now it just feels like cuckoo list-making — Daiki Suzuki, wings + horns, Woolrich Woolen Mills, "all things Taavo Somer" — but it will all add up. And once I have some decent working knowledge, then I can start scheduling interviews and picking people's brains (i.e. the part of this job I'm best at).
I made a field trip to Blackbird today for inspiration. It seemed like a good place to start, since they are the only "mom & pop" vendor for both Rag & Bone and Red Wings boots in Seattle. Clothing shopping without Mark is pretty daunting, but to my delight the sales rep was not only friendly but enthusiastic when I told him why I was browsing. A really magnificent Woolrich Woolen Mills chambray trail shirt tried to make me buy it, but I put it back. For now. I also fell in love with the boots above, a collaboration between Vancouver's wings + horns and the Dayton Boot Factory.
"Should you desire the great tranquility, prepare to sweat white beads." That was yesterday's bit of advice from The Little Zen Companion. And I took it. I want the peace of mind that will come with doing good work on this, so I have to bust my ass. And be fearless. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 13th, 2009|03:13 pm] |
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Does anybody else think of paper towels as a luxury good? Seriously. |
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