Archive for February, 2007
A couple of my favorites from the Oscars last night.
Nicole Kidman in Red — Balenciaga Red that is.
Naomi Watts in Escada
On the ones who made me think, “oh my……and btw, who gave Lopez fashion advice?”
The annual Women to Watch event
is coming up on March 8, 2007 from 5:30 – 8:30 pm at Boston’s Fairmont Copley Plaza Hotel.
10 New England women will be honored at the Women to Watch 2007 event. These up-and-comers are continuing to grow and shape the future of their industry. You can register to attend here
Congratulations to this year’s honorees:
Deya Corzo, Medical Director of Clinical Research, Genzyme Corp.
Mary Lynne Hedley, Executive Vice President and Chief Scientific Officer, MGI Pharma Inc.
Asa Kalavade, Founder and Chief Technology Officer, Tatara Systems Inc.
Christina Lampe-Önnerud, Founder and Chief Executive Officer, Boston-Power Inc.
Paula Long, Founder and Vice President of Products and Strategy, EqualLogic Inc.
Rachel Meyers, Director of Research, Alnylam Pharmaceuticals Inc.
Stefania Nappi, Chief Executive Officer, PreferredTime Inc.
Mira Sahney, Founder and President, Myomo Inc.
Karen Tegan Padir, Vice President of Enterprise Java Platforms, Sun Microsystems Inc.
Angela Zapata, Senior Scientist, Bioengineering, The Charles Stark Draper Laboratory
For dinners in Marrakesh I eat at the food stalls in the main square. This involves walking past the snake charmers, acrobats, teeth pullers (they line the pulled molars up nicely at their stalls – is that supposed to be an enticement?) -and orange juice stands. I quite like the harisa soup, for 2.5 dirhams – about 30 cents.
Agadir is generally panned by guidebooks for being a bland beach resort with no sites and nothing but the beach of interest. I stopped there for one night on my way from Tafroute to Essaoira and found it, well, interesting. The beach boardwalk starts off with a McDonalds and after that one passes beach front bars catering to German and Danish clients.
The boardwalk itself is full of young Moroccans in denim jeans and T-shirts, some imitating American rappers, others trying to look like Italian dandies. Some women are completely covered from hair to ankle; others wear tight jeans and sweaters. The presence of controlled substances is obvious and a little frightening. One young man in pink shorts decides to walk with me for a while.
Islam requires that men are covered from shoulder to ankle, so he is managing to offend both his fellow countrymen with the shorts and me with the pink in one go. I can’t understand his French, or his English ( when he asks if I like the wedotshepepps it takes me quite some time to realize he means the Red Hot Chili Peppers. ). Finally, after I’ve refused to give him my email address…
I had the best day yesterday. I borrowed a Peace Corps volunteer;s bike and cycled through the valley from 10am until 4pm. I stopped at a %tourist attraction% called the %Maison Traditonelle% which is a traditional berber home with many of the kitchen and gardening implements still intact. I got a very long tour from the son of the family that owns it. They moved out in 1980, however he never actually lived there since he was born in 1981. They now live in a modern house nearby. There were no other tourists around for miles, so it was a private tour and quite interesting. The family lived on the level above the stables. The kitchen had a large chute in the floor so any kitchen waste could go down directly to feed the animals. The composter in me was pleased.
Tafroute and the Anti-Atlas mountains are a mountain bikers paradise. I could come back with a bike and spend a week here. The mule paths are perfect singletrack biking paths. The villages are nestled in the mountains, so you can climb up to one and then careen back down. The villages are quiet; the occasional man or woman works…
Fashion Week ‘energy’ is not just in or about New York. As the latest in fashion is unveiled around the world, London reports
and gives tips entitled Retail Therapy. I know a few who need to read this – regularly.
In Europe, I always find even more outlandish, and often unwearable designs, but is high level design really about practical clothing?
Male friends often ask me for fashion advice, including this one: should a man wear a shirt outside his trousers? They now report that for years, “it was cooler to wear a shirt outside trousers but now it just smacks of chavs on a Saturday night. These days it’s all about a neat, more refined silhouette. The band The Killers
, have helped to popularise a new smart look where shirts are always tucked in.”
I think it depends on the man and his overall style – what he can pull off or not? Why should the same principle that works for women not apply to men? And on the current tucked in only trend, is the mainstream man really going to be following the latest and greatest from…
I’m in Morocco, and yes there are snake charmers in the streets; it’s a bit frightening. However the Moroccans are genuinely nice even if they are hoping to sell us tourists anything for a ridiculous amount of money.
Today a taxi drove off with my luggage, partially my fault for taking more than a few minutes to get it out of the trunk. There is a chance that the bag will be turned into the police; at least the police and other taxi drivers think so. If so; it should show up at 4:30; apparantly this is the magic hour when luggage gets returned to the police. It is 4:20 now so lets hope i can get my clean underwear back; i have all the really
important stuff with me.
By the way, Morocco is beautiful, echanting, charming and intimidating. More about the camel ride and sahara later…
I couldn’t be more any more removed from Iraq and its ongoing saga of sad war tales, one after one, soldier after soldier, feeling unheard, feeling disconnected. I understand that they are now offering soldiers a decompress period before returning them to loved ones, yet the duration is not nearly long enough. How good can any
decompression ‘training’ and pyschological coaching be? Can it really prepare someone how to deal with their life after war, in a place where no one will relate to them or even care.
Let’s face it. War is brutal. Tune into this silent dialogue that ended up in John Crawford’s Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell
“We knew what an AK-47 bullet sounds like when it zips unseen by our heads. We had heard the deafening blast of 155-millimeter rounds exploding near us. We knew the screams of the wounded and dying, and had seen the tears of men, of soldiers. I watched as we de-evolved into animals, and all this time, there was a sinking feeling that we were changing from hunter to hunted.”
Here my heart sunk. The American soldier consistently goes to this place of aloneness, alienation, anger, frustration…
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