cracker jackin' son of a fruit tart

I'm not sure how this all came about. . . actually, that's a lie. I know exactly how. I was talking to Lisa on gchat for longer than 3 minutes which is enough time to lead to bizarre conversations on the brink of genius and insanity thus, bringing me to my smartest (or stupidest) decision of 2009.

From this moment on, I hereby declare to replace all swear words with confectionery items.

Need more expanation?

Here are some examples:


"Oh, snickerdoodle! I just spilled coffee all over my new blouse. Cupcake my life."


"Hey dude, see that hot chick over there standing by the bar? Totally sconed her."
"Bro, that girl wouldn't scone you if you were the last scone at Starbucks. You are so full of butterscotch it's not even funny."


"Who the funnel cake do you think you're talking to, you red velvet profiterol?"


"I wouldn't touch that marble loaf with a ten foot fork."


"Holy cracker jacks! I just won a new car! My life is the licorice!"


"I hate him! Why did I ever date such a piece of salt water taffy?"
"Joan, he's not worth your calories. He's nothing but a two-timing petit four."


"Did you see Don totally eat chocolate trying to hit that rail?"
"Yeah, he is going to feel like hot fudge tomorrow."


"You're such a piece of toffee. But I still think you're delicious, and I love you."


"Someone better tell me what the marzipan is going on here or I'm gonna lose my oreos!"


"Can you believe how caramelized Betty was last night at the party?"
"That girl made a complete doughnut of herself."


"Peanut Brittle! I just got another parking ticket. Chocolate covered parking police, always trying to ruin my day."

"That girl is such a lemon bar. I mean, can we talk about that powdered sugar for one second? Who the cotton candy does she think she is?"





I think everyone should try and hop on this train. The next stop will be to replace all cars and planes with ponies and unicorns, then replace all guns with candy canes, and ultimately, live in a world where everyone has the ability to break out in choreographed song and dance, living out everyday situations in the form of a delightful Broadway musical. Now, who the gumdrops wouldn't want to live in a world like that?

C is for Couture and that's Good Enough for Me

Oscar de la Renta and Oscar the Grouch. Grunge at its finest.


Sunny day, sweepin' the clouds away, on my way to where the air is sweet. 
Can you tell me how to get, how to get to… 7th Avenue?

Because if Sesame Street is where everything’s A-OK for us kids, then surely New York’s fashion capital is where we should come and play as grown-ups.

And what friendlier neighbors will we meet there than Oscar de la Renta, Carolina Herrera, Francisco Costa, and Diane Von Fürstenburg?

To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the iconic television program, Harper’s Bazaar orchestrated a playful fashion spread bringing together some of the biggest names in haute couture with some of the biggest names in childhood: the muppets of Sesame Street.

The spread fuses fashion with the pop culture institution, shedding light on each notion in an unconventional way. It illustrates that high-end fashion doesn’t always have to be serious. It can be fun, lighthearted and joyous. And it shows there is much more to Sesame Street than a beloved children’s program. The characters of Sesame Street possess an intangible quality that can only be described as precious. They are imaginative and wonderful, and a reminder of the kid who lives in all of us - even the most conspicuous fashion designer.

Both concepts communicate a universal message that is timeless and relevant. Years pass, but children keep coming back to Sesame Street. And everything from reoccurring trends over the decades to the term 'vintage' proves that great style, no matter how much time elapsed, will always find a way back into our wardrobe.

Check out some of the photos from the shoot below.

Photo credit: Jason Schmidt






Carolina Herrera and Elmo. Fashion's Song.



Diane Von Fürstenburg and Big Bird. Feathers: soon to make a major comeback.



Kate and Laura Mulleavy and Cookie Monster. Mmmm...Rodarte. Nom nom nom nom nom.




Francisco Costa and Grover. Two men: style for eternity.



The complete spread is featured in this month’s issue of Harper’s Bazaar.

See more photos (plus exclusive interviews with the Sesame Street characters) at www.harpersbazaar.com


It goes to show that some things will never go out of fashion.

A class axe

This is one of my favorite spots of all time. It's for Lynx, the British version of Axe body spray. I love the story it tells. A more refined approach to the art of seduction:


Getting-dressed
by davidtafabek

The Skeletons of Silverlake: Dead Man's Bones

What do you get when you cross The Notebook’s Oscar nominated heartthrob, Ryan Gosling, high-heel adorning bud Zach Shields, an obsession with the supernatural, and The Silverlake Conservatory Children’s Choir?

The creepiest, most haunting yet riveting celebrity music concept since Paris Hilton’s singing career.

Say hello to Dead Man’s Bones, Gosling and Shields young frankenstein of a musical collaboration. The two work with the children’s choir, along with an array of instruments (some they’re not totally sure how to play) to create this eerie, euphonic ensemble. Sort of like School of Rock, except way more goth, and a much stronger inkling to get authorities involved.

You can download their latest lament, My Body’s a Zombie for You below. Think Righteous Brothers’, Unchained Melody meets Wednesday of the Addam’s Family. It’s ominous. It’s amateur. It’s fantastic.

For a more visual interpretation of the Dead Man’s Bones concept, check out their live video for “In the Room Where you Sleep” as the two spectral visionaries lead a choir of Halloween costume-wearing children through a dark acoustic intonation. It’s like some junior high rendition of The Rocky Horror Picture Show gone wrong. And it’s awesome.

If cadaverous children singing with celebs just doesn't do it for you, at least skip to the very end of the video where the kid concludes the song with a giant sword. I have nothing else to say.

Way to go, Gosling. Nice to meet the non-Nicholas Sparks side of you.

Dead Man's Bones - My Body's a Zombie for You {mp3}

Even if you're not a cat person

I’ve been in a fog all day. It’s way too beautiful outside to be at a desk (sigh). Everything I've eaten today has been mediocre, at best. I’m positive I’m suffering from mild sleep deprivation. Annnnd, I think I’m coming down with a cold. Yes, it’s late July and I have a cold. Oh, what a harsh world we live in. Who can I possibly turn to, to lift my spirits in such times of grievance and despair? Why, none other than the masterful literary works of David Gibbon in the narrative stylings of “Kittens girl.” No matter how many times I revisit this clip, it never gets old. Inspired by Kittens? More like inspired by pure genius.

The 8 Rules of the Concert Venue

I recently graced the charming Koreatown’s, Wiltern Theatre with my presence to see one of my all-time favorite ‘fun’ bands, Metric*. My fellow concert attendees also happen to be some of my all-time favorite fun people, so I was good to go.

Since the concert took place on a Monday night, and I happen to live outside a 50-mile radius of the venue with work early the next morning, I decided to do the semi-responsible thing and remain…relatively dry for the event.

My lack of inebriation resulted in several factors. For one, it created a holistic, concert-going experience. My senses were heightened and I took note of every detail on stage. From isolating each instrument and listening to its sound individually, to the gold sequins that lined Emily Haines’ dress, to the chemistry between her and her guitarist beau, James Shaw. I felt in tune with every aspect of the performance.

But it wasn’t just the show I paid more attention to. I also became aware of, even fascinated by, things occurring beyond the stage.

I soon realized that concerts live in a certain cultural territory in the Universe, unaffected by the normal conventions of society. They fall under the same umbrella as airport spending, the Holiday diet and Spring Break 2006 where standard social rules are powerless, and an entirely separate rule-book is enforced. They are existing locales self-governed by a unique set of laws, having no effect outside its longitudinal, latitudinal coordinates. And what laws might these be, you ask? Well let’s dive in, or should I say, crowd surf (sorry) this topic, shall we? Nourishment readers, I give you...


The 8 Unofficial rules that adhere strictly to "The Concert Venue"



#1. Can’t hate on the drunk chick.

Yes, her long frizzy hair keeps hitting you in the face every time she sways back and forth to the music. You can never get a good view of the hot bassist because her hands keep wandering over her head in an attempt to seduce everyone around her (and possibly the bassist) with her pseudo-sultry moves. Regardless of what song is about to play next, she inevitability introduces each song to her loyal, almost-but-not-as drunk friend, Jessica as “Like, OMG! Best. Song. Ever!!!” She then proves to Jessica, along with everyone else that this is in fact, the best song ever by singing along with the band, getting about 60% of the words and hitting about 50% of the notes creating a 110% obnoxious effect. You want to strangle her. Preferably with her long frizzy hair so she can also see how it feels to have that nappy stuff touching you in places you don’t want it. But alas, you refrain. Why? Because not only would that be sick, but because deep down inside, underneath those Claire’s hoop earrings, chipped Wet’n Wild nail polish and Smirnoff-Raspberry twist breath lies a fan. A true fan with love for the band and their music. A fan who rocks out to their new album driving in her car on her way to work. A fan who has been looking forward to seeing this band live just as long as you have. And you can’t hate on that.




#2. But you can hate on #1 fan

Ah, #1 fan. Every band has one. This guy knows more band trivia than you, reads more pitchfork interviews than you, has seen them more times live than you, liked them before you even knew about them, liked them before anyone knew about them, including the band. That’s how much of a #1 fan he is. And it’s always a he. Don’t ask me why, it just always is. Oh, and he’s a terrible dancer. Mesmerizing terrible. As much as you can’t stand to watch, you can’t help but stare. God this guy sucks. And here, within the constraints of a concert venue, you can let him know that he sucks. Let him know that he paid his $26.50 just like everyone else. And if Emily Haines really did make eyes at him back at their Denver show in 2004, than maybe she would have hooked him up with some back stage passes. But guess what, she didn’t. You’re not special. You’re just like everyone else here. So start acting like it.




#3. The power of charm has no effect on Concert Security.

None. Whatsoever. Either that or I’m getting older. Fml.



#4. Concert Security are the worst people. Ever.

I know that’s not a rule, but it needs to be said. These people are
worse than the freaking parking police. Their job, essentially is to contain your level of fun. To make sure you don’t have more fun than you’re ‘allowed’ to. If they could hand out "exceeded fun limit" tickets, they would do so. Happily. You get my drift.

I know what some of you devil’s advocates are thinking. That their job is actually to ensure a safe environment for us concert goers.

But let me assure you that in the context of this concert venue, my opinion is completely valid. Because when Wiltern security treats a 5'4", 110 lb (and might I add, adorable) young girl like some insane character straight from OZ, you know someone is taking their job a little too seriously.

Okay, I’ll give it to them. Maybe I was out of line. Perhaps I should have been more respectful to the strict masking tape parameters they enforce to guard the aisle ways. Maybe my left toe really was causing a potential fire hazard. And maybe, I should learn to count down from 10 when I get frustrated with strangers, instead of the alternative, which is typically yelling out some crude variation of, “Seriously? COME ON!”

I can understand how all that power can go to their head. With those tight, black t-shirts reading, "SECURITY" they get to wear. The ability to look stoic while standing in the aisle ways. Complete and total apathy towards the band. Not to mention, the dutiful privilege of manning a double A battery powered flashlight. It really is no wonder why these people are completely engrossed in power. So, like I said, concert security suck. It is not a rule. It is a fact. Okay, it’s an opinion. I’m banned from the Wiltern for 6 months.



#5. The scent of weed welcomes you.

There’s not too much to expand on here. You’re going to find pot at a concert. Any concert. From the obvious, Slightly Stoopid, to the more obscure, Hannah Montana, it will be there. And it can belong to anyone. Your friend, your dad’s friend, hello kitty backpack girl, random old guy who may or may not be homeless, yet is still oddly attractive, it doesn’t matter. Perhaps it’s even yours, in which case, all the above-mentioned people will find you. No matter the music nor the crowd, it is always there. And no one ever seems to mind. Not even the almighty concert security. So, welcome to the show.



#6. Attend a concert to see - not to be seen.

Seems as though no matter how much time you spend bullet proofing your locks with hairspray, selecting the ideal “not-trying-too-hard-cause-I’m-at-a-concert-but-I-still-look-hot-and-we-both-know-it” outfit, and applying the perfect dual shade of sweetheart vs. bitch lipstick, you’re still going to look like you were beaten by a sack of cinder blocks by the end of the evening.

And if your curls are still in tact and lips still fighting by the end of the night, then you probably did something wrong… like stand against the back wall sipping on your jack and coke the entire show.

Guess where you can lean against a wall nursing a drink looking unimpressed by the scene and listen to music? A bar. You’re at a concert for a reason. To slam shots of vodka out of an arrowhead bottle in the parking lot with your friends, attempt to flirt your way to the front row, eventually get rejected and ultimately have the time of your life (or some variation of that - not saying you have to follow my lead). You don't have to be the ring leader of a mosh pit, but experience the show a little. Dance with strangers. Get your blood pumping. And don’t be afraid to glow a little. Sweatiness is next to Godliness within the constraints of a concert venue (as well as the gym and... ok, perhaps a few other places). So get out there and live the moment, cause in a quick 90 minutes, you’ll be out of that place and back to the same old song and dance.



#7. The bartender hates you.

And will always hate you. No matter who you are. Fat, skinny, beautiful, ugly, black card holder, spare change scrounger, domestic draft or tropical drink with exotic fruit garnish, parasol and a pink plastic sword, she’ll still hate you. She will look at you with contempt as she unwillingly fixes your drink, and accept your currency like you sneezed on it before handing it to her. There’s nothing you can do to change this. She simply does not like you. And she’s freaking old too! Like, really old. Way too old to be bartending at the Wiltern. Old enough to tempt you to ask the question, “What went wrong? Honestly. How did you get here?”



#8. It’s ok to get a little feisty, so long as you’re getting real

Between youtube, facebook, guitar hero, and don’t forget good old fashioned television, live entertainment is a dying breed. Concerts are one of the last pure forms of live entertainment we’ve got here in America. We don’t have carnivál, running with the bulls, tango shows or cock fights (I hope). Even Broadway’s fading. Concerts are real live entertainment for us to experience in our real life lives. So live it. Be bold. Get messy. Jump. Scream. Do whatever it is you’ve got to do to be real. Cause this is the place where you can be.



So there you have it. The 8 rules of the concert venue. Well, they’re my rules, at least - for now. Who knows what alterations I will make to my rule book at the upcoming Kings of Leon show? I think the overall rule is that there are no rules. It’s one of those games that you make up as you go. And aren’t those games the most fun at the end of the day? So abide by these rules at your next concert, or don’t. But just remember when you're at your next show, that concerts are authentic, unique, and animated experiences. Please act accordingly.




*If you made it through this entire post, and still have no knowledge of Metric other than a system of measurement, please go to the link below and download one the songs from their latest album, Fantasies. Enjoy :)


Gimme Sympathy - Metric {mp3}

Confectionery is the new black

Another great product of Sweden. Photographer Therese Aldgard and stylist Lisa Edsalv created this fabulous display of high fashion cupcakes inspired by Chanel, Louis Vuitton along with other designers.

For those of us who can't afford the fashion, we'll find a way to afford the calories.

More designer dessert

Proof that alcohol really is your friend

I can’t help but feel like a hack for allowing a commercial to introduce me to a new band or artist. The hipster in me loves to already hate whatever song is playing in the latest iPod ad. But a mojito may have changed all that for me. The moment I heard the song playing in the new Bacardi spot, I fell in love, and needed to hear more.

Moments later and with minimal effort, I discovered the song I crushed on was called ‘Daylight’ by Matt & Kim. Ah, google. Solving all life’s quandaries one search at a time.

Turns out the talented rum-enthusiasts, Matt Johnson (vocals/guitar/keyboard) and Kim Schifino (drums) hail from Brooklyn and joined forces under the Matt & Kim moniker back in 2004 while both attending Brooklyn’s Pratt Institute.

With two albums out since then, and upcoming gigs everywhere from Stockholm to Sao Paulo, it's safe to say these Brooklynites have done quite well for themselves in just half a decade.

Listen to Daylight and more of the pair’s brand of punk-tinged indie pop on their sophomore album, Grand. (I don’t know how to upload music files yet - it’s part of this whole blog exercise for me to educate myself on such matters. But for now, I will remain primitive and offer you… myspace. I believe that minor setbacks like these will make the evolution of my blog that much sweeter. And besides, the wheel’s the shit!)

If you dig their sound, you can learn more about Matt & Kim here.

Don’t you just love stumbling upon new music? It’s like making a new friend, taking an accidental shortcut to work, realizing you do like the taste of whiskey after all. It’s an exciting little discovery you make about yourself that broadens that multicolor spectrum making a more colorful, beautiful, vibrant you. And let’s face it. As beautiful as we all are, it never hurts to brighten ourselves just a teensy bit more.

Oh yeah, and check out the Bacardi commercial below. It's awesome. Seems as though a zeitgeist of generations past is in vogue at the moment. Perhaps more on that topic in the future.

The geeks were right

I’ve become quite the fan of socialnerdia.com lately. Social nerdia is a new blog about the convergence of technology + marketing + social media, and the cultural influencers who make it all happen. Sort of an ongoing analysis of what they like to refer to as “the mindblasting explosion that is social media.” I would refer to it as the modern big bang theory.

I recently went from fan to mega-fan since their interview with Alex Bogusky, co-chairman of culturally progressive ad agency, Crispin Porter + Bogusky. I've come to find that anything this guy has to say just makes you feel good about advertising, and life. He really has that whole, “life is simple, just do what you love” inspiration down to a science. And how can I not give accolades to the person who decided to expand his wonderful circus of an agency to my hippie college town just in time to land an internship by senior year?
Be sure to check out the interview. His answer to question 10 will make you smile.

What I like most about this blog is that while they embrace this cultural phenomenon, they remind us not to get carried away with it. And as serious as social media can be, it should never be taken too seriously. After all, the more social we become in this digital world, the more antisocial we may find ourselves out there in the real world. In the end it’s no more than just, well... nerdia. That being said, explore the wonders of this new technology. Play with it, learn from it, utilize it, laugh at it, don’t feel like you need to be an expert at it, and for God’s sake, give it a rest sometimes. Close your macbook, go outside and get some fresh air. Well, first check out socialnerdia.com. Then go.

Killing me brightly

If you're like me, and you too have reoccurring dreams of running wild through the Nevada Desert with Brandon Flowers, being held by his statuesque 5 ft 9 frame, gazing deep into his perfect liner applied eyes... relishing a melodramatic sensitivity that only Conor Oberst could attest to, then there is a 78% chance you will enjoy this:

The Killers - Four Winds (Previously Unreleased)

Flocking hilarious

Um.. is it weird to have a virtual crush? These days, probably not. Is it weird if it's a girl crush and no information is known of this woman other than one hysterical blog entry? Are you intrigued...

Please enjoy this entertaining observation of the male psyche via facebook. And thank you MissLisa for introducing me to my future BFF. Seriously Meg... can I buy you a drink?

2birds1blog: The 20 Male Poses of Facebook

Bienvenido a nourishment

When I was a sophomore in college, a guest motivational lecturer named Kevin Carroll came to speak to my Principles of Advertising class. I remember at one point he asked the class, “Raise your hand if you’re an artist.” Out of a lecture hall of nearly 260 people, maybe 3 hands went up, mine not included. Then he said, “Now, if you were in kindergarten and your teacher asked you to raise your hand if you were an artist, who would raise their hand?” The entire classroom’s hands shot up without question, mine included. So what’s up with that? Why is it that when we’re 5, and barely have the motor skills to stay inside the lines of a coloring book we believe with all sincerity we are the next Renoir, but when we grow up, unless we have a degree from Parsons and a featured exhibit at the Met, we question whether we can even determine the difference between a pencil and a pastel?

Is it that when we are children the taste of sweet sweet ignorance is injected into our bloodstream at such a high concentration, we live on a continuous high believing we are not only capable of anything we set our sights to, but can do it at an expert level? Or, did we really just have it right all along? That if you truly love something, with all your heart, and you’ve got the passion and determination to stick to it, you can have it. You can be the famous singer or the brilliant doctor or the next president or... the talented artist. I’ll take the latter approach; not because I have concrete evidence that it is the truth (because I don't), but because I believe it is the way we should think, like we did when we were five, and we didn’t second guess what else we were competing with in that big ol' world out there.

That being said, welcome to my blog. I’ve decided to call it nourishment, because sometimes we all need a little something to get our blood going, wake us up, just something to hold us over... at least for a few hours. Think of this as a healthy snack. And it is my hope that at least a tiny bite of this content will refresh the way you think, help you discover something new, or change the way you look at something that was there all along. Or hell, at least something to pass the time while you're at work.

And yes, I would not fancy myself a blogger persae. There are certainly more qualified bloggers out there, that's for sure. But I’m gonna try it on, have some fun with it, and see what happens. Because that is what the 5 year old Shana would do, and I think we could all take a tip from the 5 year old versions of ourselves every once in a while.