Doctor, doctor, give me the news…

Jenna High Leg Boot

 

I’ve got a bad case of lovin’ you… if you’re Dr. Martens, that is. 

Dr. Martens is a company known for its top notch quality that never ceases to produce a shoe worthy of its $100+ price tag.  Known for its durability and comfort, this footwear is generally attributed with the grunge look of the ’90s, particularly the black leather work boot.  That grunge stereotype belongs in the past, though, because Dr. Martens has recently come out with some very feminine looks ranging from girlie mary janes to stylish knee boots.  The one I recently purchased and absolutely adore is the Jenna High Leg Boot.  It is mod meets biker and the low 2″ heel means these boots are definitely made for walking.  How many times have you bought the cutest boots only to find that your feet are killing you after walking for 10 minutes in them?  This won’t happen in the Jennas.  They feature the Dr. Martens AirWair bouncing sole that will keep your feet feeling as fabulous as they look. 

The Jenna High Leg Boots have nifty little details like a zipper on the outside of the boot rather than on the inside, a tassel on the zipper, two snaps over the zipper, leather stitchwork on the top above the arch and at the top of the zipper, and high gloss full-graine palatino leather.  For $150, that is a lot of bang for your buck.  

You can find them for less than $150, but only if you wear a ridiculously small size or you want them in deep red.  I chose black because they go with everything– and I mean everything.  They look as smart with a business casual work ensemble as they do with a psychadelic, vintage ’70s dress or worn over a pair of leggings and a large, belted shirt.   Do be warned, however:  they run a bit snug in the ankle and calf, so these boots are better suited for girls with slender legs. 

They are apparently very good sellers in the UK, and it is rather difficult to find the Jenna in the US.  Therefore, I recommend going directly to the source, www.dmusastore.com.  They come in red, brown, black and dark blue.  Check out the other styles of shoes, too.  You may be surprised.

Kicks just got a whole lot easier to find: The Garagepunk Podcast

If you’re looking to remind yourself why rock n’ roll was once considered reckless and subversive, look no further than www.Garagepunk.com.  In an age where alternative and dangerous is synonymous with over-thought and everyday, it’s refreshing to find a place where popular music’s primitive appeal is celebrated.  

 

In an effort to promote what the creators consider to be “REAL rock n’ roll,” www.garagepunk.com is a collection of semi-themed podcasts often reminiscent of the free form radio programs of old.  Despite their well meaning yet kind of snobby mission statement, Garagepunk takes you back to when rock music was prolific yet really only meant for the kid who lurked in the back of the classroom.  This means that you get to enjoy the fruits of some obsessive compulsive record collector/geek’s labor with each episode. 

 

There are several different contributors to Garagepunk, each with their own uniquely styled podcast.  With titles such as Get Drunk and Play Records, Flying Saucer Rock’n’Roll, and One Cup of Coffee and a Cigarette, each “DJ” brings their own sense of style and taste to each episode.  For instance, there are several genre driven podcasts like Apocalypstick! and Surfcast.  Sometimes the themes are topical or just whatever the podcaster decided, such as the last installment of The Desperate Hour, which was dedicated to songs sung in the first person.  Killed By Porn recently featured the Chicago punk scene from 1977 to 1984.  Savage Kick had a going back to school special.  You get the drift.  

 

Usually, each podcast is simply made up of hip and rare tracks culled from the podcaster’s extensive music collection.  Granted, everything is focused around the garage rock genre, meaning you will hear a lot of 50’s rockabilly, 60’s garage bands, and 70’s punk rock.  Each episode is guaranteed to make you feel the driving back beat that made James Dean drag race, Marlon Brando terrify Wrightsville, and Johnny Cash destroy the Grand Ole Opry.  You won’t find the Jonas Brothers here. 

Elusive Big Foot of Fashion Spotted Near White House!

Big Foot

There is a fashion rarity that many of us know exists but have often found it difficult to prove.  There have been rumors abound but very little hard evidence.  There may have even been hoaxes. 

I spotted this sartorial sasquatch at approximately 8:56 this morning at 15th and G Northwest, just a couple of blocks from the White House.  Sadly, I did not have my digital camera with me so I could not document this sighting, but believe me, friends:  I saw it. 

About what am I rambling, you ask?  The Male Muffin Top, of course.  We’ve all seen the female version, particularly with the popularity of low-rise jeans.  Women either buy sizes too small for them out of vanity or still try to squeeze into jeans that haven’t fit them properly for years, and this causes all the fat in their mid-sections to bulk up and spill over the sides of their jeans.  This is called the muffin top, and it is not attractive.  I don’t care if it makes you feel bad to buy a size 12 now when you were a size 8 in college.  People on the street will not be aware of that little number on the label inside your pants, but rest assured that they will certainly be aware of your new and improved roll of fat poking out from beneath your shirt and jiggling when you walk rapidly.  It is so important to buy clothes that fit us properly in order for us to look nice.  Properly fitting clothing that covers and does not pull at your lamented size 12 will actually make you look more trim than if you squeeze yourself into pants that are 1 or 2 sizes too small. 

Apparently, some men make this mistake, too.  I am not talking about the fat beer belly that hangs over a man’s belt.  No, I am talking about pants that are obviously too small that create a muffin top. 

 Just this morning, as I was walking down 15th Street NW in Washington, DC, I spotted an early thirtyish man wearing black trousers, a white button down shirt and a gray and white striped vest (waist coat to the Brits out there since a vest is an undershirt to you).  The vest rested a good 4 inches above this gentleman’s belt.  As I was trying to decide whether or not this gap between pants and vest was acceptable, I noticed that the shirt seemed to be nearly untucked and was bunching out from the man’s body.  Upon closer inspection, I saw that the shirt was not loosely tucked.  The dude had a muffin top.  He had a shaggy hipster haircut and trendy, chunky eyeglasses and was smoking what I’m sure was a Parliament cigarette, but he also had a muffin top and that muffin top negated everything this man was trying to accomplish fashion-wise.  Also, at the very least, he should have worn a jacket or waist coat that reached his belt. 

What is the moral of this little story?  Buy pants that fit you, folks.  People do in fact notice when you have abnormally large portions of flesh protruding from your mid-section and it is not pretty.

Melissa’s Easy Chicken Curry

Ethnic food is one of my weaknesses. I love all of it whether it be Japanese, Mexican, Indian, Vietnamese or Mongolian. The one I tend to crave most, however, is Indian. I love a good, hot Indian dish, particularly chicken vindaloo, and the only time I’ve ever had it hot enough for my standards was in a small town in Surrey, England, called Staines. I don’t even know the name of the place. All I know is that it’s at the end of a little strip of shops that include a tailor, a Mediterranean restaurant and a KFC, and they only have about 10 tables in the entire restaurant. Every time I go to London, I travel out to Staines to eat at this restaurant. They have coconut rice that is absolutely to die for, their lamb biryani has the most succulent sauce, and their chicken vindaloo is so hot that my nose begins running after the third bite. This makes it so nice to pour some cucumber raita over it to cool it down, and then you’ve got two lovely extremes going on in your mouth. I am salivating just thinking about it.

I find myself terribly disappointed by the Indian restaurants here in Washington, DC. They just don’t have the complexity and creaminess or spiciness that I have tasted in the UK. They say that the Indian food in and around London is better than than the Indian food in India, and I do not doubt that this true. So, rather than be disappointed yet again by another Indian restaurant in DC, I began reading about basic Indian cooking techniques, as well as spices and ingredients commonly used. I did run across some problems because most of the recipes I found online called for garam masala. This is not something one can just pick up at the local supermarket. After doing some research and experimenting with ingredients, I found that whenever a recipe calls for garam masala, just use all of the following ingredients: curry powder, ground coriander, ground cumin, chili powder, cayenne pepper, ground clove, cinnamon, ground nutmeg and black pepper.

So, I finally came up with a recipe that really tastes pretty similar to the chicken vindaloo that I had in Staines. I also made a few modifications that make it lower in fat and calories.

Melissa’s Easy Chicken Curry

INGREDIENTS:
* 4-5 chicken thighs, skin removed
* 2 tablespoons tomato paste
* 1 4-oz. container of plain, low-fat yogurt
* 1 onion, chopped
* 2 tablespoons olive oil (canola can be substituted)
* 2-3 tablespoons garlic ginger paste (made with 2 cloves elephant garlic half of a small ginger root)
* 4 dried red chili peppers, slightly crumbled (This makes the dish very hot, so adjust according to your own taste. I found a large bag of these chilis in the international aisle in the grocery store with the Mexican food. They are very inexpensive.)
* Approx. 2 tablespoons corn starch
* Salt, to taste
* Black pepper, to taste
* Garlic powder, to taste
* Approx. 1 tablespoon garam masala (or the following spices, to taste: curry powder, ground coriander, ground cumin, chili powder, cayenne pepper, ground clove, cinnamon, ground nutmeg, black pepper)
* Water, about 2.5 cups– enough to nearly cover the chicken.

Heat oil over medium heat in pan with a heavy bottom. I use a French skillet with 4″ sides. While oil is heating, peel the garlic and ginger, toss them in the food processor and pulse until a grainy paste is formed.

Sprinkle chicken with a little salt, black pepper, garlic powder and ground coriander. Brown chicken in oil, about 3 minutes on each side, and remove from pan.

Saute onion in oil until it starts to become translucent, then add tomato paste and stir to caramelize, about 4 minutes. Add garlic ginger paste and saute 1 minute.  Turn heat to high and whisk in 3-4 cups of water. Stir in yogurt. Lightly crush chili peppers in hand and stir into mixture. Add all spices listed except garlic powder. Add a little at a time, just a few sprinkles at first, and adjust each to taste.

Make a slurry with cornstarch and about .25 cup of cold water. Add slurry to pan and bring to a boil to thicken. More slurry can be made and slowly added until desired thickness of gravy is reached.

Reduce heat low, add chicken, cover and simmer for 45 minutes, until chicken is very tender and falling off bone.

Serve with fragrant basmati rice and a nice, cool yogurt sauce on the side (tsatziki sauce can even be used).

Serves 4.

NOTE: If you are more health conscious and would like to use brown rice instead of basmati rice, then I recommend adding a couple of tablespoons of chopped onion, a bay leaf, salt and pepper. This gives the otherwise bland brown rice a sort of pilaf flavor and it goes nicely with the chicken curry.

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION:
1 serving
212 calories, 12 g carbohydrates, 10 g fat, 17 g protein

1 serving curry with 1 cup brown rice
430 calories, 58 g carbohydrates, 12 g fat, 21 g protein

Best Mascara Ever?

Sephora sent me an email listing the best mascaras ever, and generally they are fairly accurate in their reviews of beauty products, although sometimes I do take issue with their assertations. They listed Dior “Diorshow” mascara as one of the best, and that is sort of true. It’s one of the best for evening if you want to create a falsie mod look or a very dark smoky eye that needs an unnaturally thick fringe of lashes. However, if you want a daytime mascara, stay away. Stay far, far away. “Diorshow” looks very thick and clumpy in natural daylight and produces a look reminiscent of Tammy Faye Bakker. For those of you who may not be old enough to remember Mrs. Bakker, the former wife of famed television evangelist Jim Baker (who was caught in a hotel room with a prostitute), she looked like this:

Tarantula Lashes

Also on Sephora’s list of best mascaras ever is a product called “Firebird Mascara.”

Sephora claims this mascara offers a 70s style feather fringe, which immediately got my attention. I tend to alternate my look between 1950s glam and 1960s mod, but I do prefer the 70s style of eyelash, especially for daytime wear. I have been wearing Lancôme’s “Hypnôse” mascara, which lengthens and volumizes extremely well but is a little high maintenance since an eyelash comb is often necessary after application. I really do like the “Hypnôse,” but I am always looking for something better, so I’ll give the “Firebird” a try. With “Hypnôse” priced at $24 and “Firebird” at $26, I really am not investing a ton of extra money for this experiment and I am out of “Hypnôse,” so I figure there will be no harm done. I am ordering the “Firebird” mascara today and will test it out and report back on its integrity. Also of note is that it contains vitamin B5 and other ingredients that nourish the lashes. This is a far cry from the days when mascaras were made of guano. I cannot imagine putting bat feces on my eyes. I suppose sometimes a girl feels she must suffer for beauty. After all, this is the reason I sometimes wear 4” heels, so I reckon I cannot be overly judgmental of the pooplash girls of old.

The absolute best mascara, in my opinion, is Lancôme’s “Définicils” High Definition Mascara. It is appropriate for either day or night, and it provides the perfect amount of definition, volumizing and lengthening for a natural looking, perfectly groomed eye. At $24 a tube, it is an excellent investment in an everyday “go-to” makeup essential.

By the way, if you live under a rock or in a rural area where there are no Sephora stores, you really must check out Sephora’s website. Sephora carries many of the mid and high end department store products you’d find at Macy’s, Neiman Marcus or Saks. You can find everything from Chanel to Givenchy, and you can even cosmetically slum it because they also carry Clinique.

Gordon Ramsay: My fu*king hero

 

As an avid follower of the show “Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares” – a reality program exploring the cold, stark realities facing numerous mid-level restaurants – I find myself greatly impressed by this titan of the restaurant industry.

Despite the air, tempers, crudeness and sensationalism, there are core elements that hit home, obliterating the negatives. It is a dissection of respect (don’t expect that from Ramsay unless you earn it in action), integrity, commitment and a passionate belief in what you are doing. Unlike some filmed charities, this program is not about providing fish, but showing people how to fish once again – people that have lost their way, their spirit, their sense of reality.

Ramsay is an imposing figure in reputation and stature, a hard man with a hard face. This kitchen crusader has made a single word into a jack-hammer, slamming sense into unbudging blockheads, demolishing arrogance and habitual incompetence along the way. His wafty mane reminds one of a lion, with a poised presence ready to strike a disciplining blow to the cubs playing before him, messing about in whatever they might be consider to be worthwhile. “You’re fu*king lions.  Act like it!”

He’s a pusher and a breaker. He puts you on edge like a razor blade scraping along your scrotum and considers social finesse as necessary as a cactus rammed up your buttocks. He holds no punches, there is no relenting in any confrontation. If you are on the edge, he will push you over the brink. If you bend backward, he will not let go until you break.

Is there method in his madness? Is it not in times of true turmoil that we show our colours? How does one remove the superficial sheen if not by abrasively scrubbing at pride? How does one mould clay if not by pounding it flat and shapeless to remove impurity and imperfection? If you shape a pot to find it an affront to sense and sensibility, but your pride prevents starting again, you need an external agent to force renewal. You need Gordon Ramsay.

The thumb of criticism digs deep into his chin before the lash cracks and even the mightiest whimper. He does not subscribe to the weak willed notion of flattery – there’s nothing to achieve by sugar coating sh*t. A critical eye misses nothing and the vitriol of an unfettered tongue spares none. His blatant insults are shocks to the system, stunning his poor prey into relenting – just long enough so they give in to another way.

Now I have never cared much for arrogance, but when there is substance to one’s self awareness bound to merit, when confidence is not tainted with posturing, then it is admirable and inspiring. To be sure, this chef is an inspiration. Undeniably a master of cutting to the chase, his brisk manner smacks efficiency, his constant cursing testament to a hunger for success and a passion for food that seems to permeate from every pore, infusing those around him.

From the look of him you’d think him to be a clubfoot ballerina, yet the elegance and exactness of his execution is unquestioned. His approach is considered and clinical. Surely, not all of his own conception – but great men are great by surrounding themselves by others of greatness.

Every mannerism is swift and final. Yet, even against the odds he does not give in. Even when people do not believe in themselves,  he is able to reverse sentiment and doubt – or at least suspend it. He is a nemesis to self-deception, a cold shower to emotive delusions, impetus to the stagnant. He is passionate, striving for perfection and seeking no less in others.

An arsehole? An arrogant prick? No, a fu*king example.

Jonas Brothers the new Beatles? Only if Spam is the new filet mignon.

As I was dressing for work on the morning of August 9, I heard one of the anchors on “Good Morning America” tout the band that was about to perform on the program as being “the new Beatles.” Of course, this got my attention, since comparing someone to the Beatles surely means the music is catchy and original and something truly special. This had to be big.

My eyes glued to the television, I saw the Jonas Brothers take the stage. I was quite surprised to see three geeky little boys with big coifs that reminded me instantly of the New Kids on the Block, which was the boy band du jour when I was a pre-teen. They began singing their new hit, “Burnin’ Up.” The little lead singer, Joe, was a caricature of teenage desperation and earnestness as he threw his all into each note that sounded like it would finally make his voice change. There were even the “ah”s at the end of every phrase, that quick, Michael Jackson-like exhale that one often associates with karaoke singers and “American Idol” contestants. The tune was catchy, I’ll give them that. Still, the song and the band appeared to be nothing more than pop fluff at best, so how can they be compared to a rock and roll legend like the Beatles? Are the teenie boppers of today really so starved for real music that they will go screamingly insane for this boy-band-dresses-up-as-a-real-band group? They do write their own music, which is more than other boy bands can say, but still– the Beatles? I think not.

Let us compare the Jonas Brothers to the Beatles.

Screaming Girls.
There is no shortage of screaming girls for the Jonas Brothers, that much can be said. Everyone is familiar with the term “Beatlemania,” which described the phenomenon of the frenzied, hysterical state of the legions of female Beatles fans. Apparently, the Jonas Brothers are experiencing a similar phenomenon. In his Rolling Stone article “The Clean Teen Machine,” writer Jason Gay describes the mood of the thousands of pre-teen girls who flocked at a Jonas Brothers concert as being “primal.” He also describes some young girls he encountered as crying and sobbing and having somehow convinced their parents to drive them across the country for this show.

Youth.
The Jonas Brothers are just kids, with Kevin at the ripe old age of 20, Nick at 15 and Joe at 20. Similarly, the Beatles were young whippersnappers when they began their musical odyssey, as well. The first Beatles single, “Love Me Do,” was was written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney while they were playing hookey from school in 1958. Paul was 15 and John was 17. George Harrison was 13 when he, Paul and John formed their first band, the Quarry Men. Ringo Starr was 22 years old when he joined what became the Beatles in 1962.

Style.
The Jonas Brothers have a rather mod sense of style, though they still look like geeky teens. I’m sure you can spot pimples if you get up close to one of them. The same can be said about the Beatles in 1963, although the Beatles became fashion trendsetters, whereas the Jonas Brothers do have their own style, but rather something thrown together by a stylist which is something we’ve seen before by the likes of… you guessed it: the Beatles.

Record Sales.
The Jonas Brothers have seen a number one hit, two number one hits on iTunes, over 12 million television viewers of their reality program, and their debut album went platinum. This is pretty good but is nothing compared to the numbers following the 1963 release of the Beatles’ debut album. The Beatles held twelve positions on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart, including the top five positions, which has never been accomplished by any other band or artist since. Also in 1964, the Beatles had sold 15 million records in the US, alone.

The Music.
Rolling Stone described the Beatles as being “…the self-contained rock band, writing their own hits and playing their own instruments.” This is sort of true about the Jonas Brothers. They write their own lyrics, but they also have back-up musicians to help them because of their lack of proficiency on their instruments.

I reticently admit that the Jonas Brothers’ new single, “Burnin’ Up,” is a catchy little ditty. I have found myself singing the song in my head on several occasions now. Get out of my head, you prepubescent scoundrels! Being catchy really is all their music seems to have going for it, though. There is nothing new or fresh about their sound, which is actually a regurgitation of every other boy band that sprouts up every decade. Can we say this about the Beatles? No. Their sound was something different and new. Their music was based on the rock and roll that was so popular in the 1950s, but they also combined elements of country & western, skiffle, and they later recorded some psychedelic songs, which was a brand new genre of the 60s.

Also, the Beatles created music that was the epitome of its time, but it was also timeless in its innovativeness. Many people still listen to the Beatles today, even people like myself who didn’t even exist in the 1960s. I think I can safely say that the Jonas Brothers will not have that staying power due to their lack of originality. After all, are we still listening to the Back Street Boys? Did the New Kids on the Block write a song that will be socially and musically relevant until the end of time? I don’t think so.

It might be fun for you, dear reader, to follow the same route I did in my comparison and analysis of the Jonas Brothers and the Beatles. If you are so inclined, do take a gander at the Beatles performing their first single, ““Love Me Do.”” You may digress a little by also viewing my favorite Beatles song, ““I Saw Her Standing There.””

Now, watch Jonas Brothers’ new video, ““Burnin’ Up.””

After that comparison, it is clear that the correct comparison is not of the Jonas Brothers to the Beatles, but of the Jonas Brothers to the New Kids on the Block. See HERE. They were wildly popular for a few years, too, and they had thousands of screaming girls after them just like the Jonas Brothers. I was one of them. I even had ripped out Tiger Beat pages featuring Jordan Knight wallpapering my bedroom.