The dearth of posts on Stylerant has prompted a flurry of comminques. “Are you still down in the islands?” Or, “You have a girlfriend again, don’t you, you transparent slut.” No and no. I have been trying to turn over a new lapel. Snark and irony are dead as well, dead. I want to be a bringer of light.
It’s also just too easy to make fun of ink, your clompy shoes, and $300 I&W jeans. No one wants to read another tirade on tartan or explanation that your clothes should fit.
It was going great, too, until I saw this thing this week on Uncrate. A fucking showerhead with a speaker in it. Do we need this? The thought of you in your TJ Maxx factory seconds is bad enough; the visual of you naked and wet, gyrating to Rihanna junkpop in your mildewed tub surround—I just can’t let it pass.
Aside from the fact that electronics near a source of streaming water never work longer than 8 seconds, how badly do you think this thing sounds? A plastic 2 inch speaker? Somewhere, the ghosts of James Bullough Lansing and Amar Bose are stamping their feet in fits of pique. If you really must lather up to The Lumineers, at least bring in a decent box and place it on the bathroom counter.
Whew. I was losing my touch. It’s good to be back. I’m off to Billy Reid before I start singing kumbaya.
I love this desk. I can’t have it, apparently, but I love it. The only downside to this era of Kickstarter, 3D printing and DIY is that lots of things go up on the interwebs that you may or may not be able to buy. Liviu Avasiloiei of the Unison Agency IN D.C. has created a modular desk system from a font. As a typography nerd, I must applaud. My company, FLO, is moving into new digs in January, and I think all of us should have our own initialized desks. Think of the massive jump in productivity. We could even have an XX desk where we stack the porn magazines.
OK, not really the porn. We keep that in the bathroom.
Head on over to the Behance site, which is always a good browse, and check out the Persona work desk. Coolness.
Stylerant wonders if doing the greater good has to entail looking silly. Isn’t just doing the good itself enough? Can’t I just send a check? Electric cars are good. My buddy Gavin just leased one, and he said, “It feels like the future.” Gavin is not in the habit of talking like ad copy; that’s my department. The future sounds like my kind of place. But a Nissan Leaf? That is one ugly-ass car. So is a Prius. D-O-R-K-Y.
Back in the good old here-and-now, the holidays are cranking up. Clownfoolery is off to the races. There will be many situations that call for looking foolish in the name of the greater good. Not just candy-cane-bowtie foolish, but dancing-Santa-on-a-Walgreen’s-endcap foolish. Maybe good > style, but must it = a bad sweater party?
At least we made it through Halloween. That was a mess: chicks in slutty costumes complaining about wearing slutty costumes. Guys in uniforms of occupations more manly than the ones they’re really in. I always wanted to be a fireman. For the greater good of their relationships, men everywhere were required by girlfriends to attend costume parties. I went dressed as the Mad Hatter, and my girlfriend and I broke up before the moonlight faded. A foam top hat conveys no soundings when navigating the murky waters of relationships.
Now it’s Movember. Guys are supposed to grow hair on their mouths for a month. Have you noticed, we are already clippings-deep in a trend cycle of pornstaches and nappy faces flecked with crumbs? The rest of us are supposed to forego our razors and join the unhygienic to create awareness of prostate and testicular cancer. Somehow, a moustache on a 20-something barista is supposed to remind me to go see a doc and let him slip his lubricated index finger up the back of my gown. Thank you sir, (cough). May I have an espresso?
Despite the irony of it all, young menfolk, Stylerant will help, for all cancer awareness is a great thing. Here are whale-shaped combs to help you get the donut sugar out of that swanky real estate beneath your schnozz. There are octopus, oyster, and fishbone combs, too. Buy one; buy the whole set. After all, they’re probably for the greater good.
Stylerant was in Boston last week with girlfriend Katie. It was my first visit to the home of Red Sox Nation and enough colonial history to make you really happy about being an opinionated American. Fuck Mitt Romney. The first Americans were card-carrying liberals. The colonials had flags that said, “Join or Die.” If that’s not punk, I don’t know what is.
A Stylish Life
What’s up with the ass shot?
A story about The Islands, Painkillers, and the difference between galavanting and gavotting.