A Treasury Of… Minneapolis Fashion and Interior Design Blog

This is what I picked up at Magers & Quinn, the best bookstore in my’ hood, last Friday night.

Soldiers is broken down into nine separate stories of young British boys who grew up, usually by happenstance, to become military career men. I’ve just started on the second soldier’s story but already I’m struck by the upbeat attitudes of these men in the face of chilly and choice-less lives. We’ve become such an entitled and whiny troop since then. It’s horrible really.

So far the first two military careers commence with the first world war, which is interesting to read about, since its usually the second great war that hogs the media spotlight.

I usually can’t get three pages into a book without falling asleep, and I’m marching super swiftly through this one, so consider that a rocking recommendation.

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Most of my missions to Magers involve tracking down devilishly designed old Agatha Christie mysteries that I’ve either never read, or have forgotten enough of to warrant a second reading. I’m not even sure which slot Death On the Nile belongs under.

My mother’s read more paperback mysteries than anyone you’ll ever know. I’d spend the dog days of summer as a teen combing her bookshelves for creepy Christie titles. Some of which I’d finish, some of which I wouldn’t.

All grown up, I like to take on a title or two now every summer. I’m always up for anything that stands as a re-enactment of my youth.

My best mate when I was 12 was much cooler than I. He always knew what Vuarnet and Elf Quest and The Beastie Boys were before I ever did. When it came to having cool skater-boy-ish hair, he said the secret was Royal Crown – a product I’d never heard of and then spent at least two years looking for feverishly in every big-box store and drugstore my mom and I could think of.

Eventually I found a tin of the infamous goop at a trapped-in-time Five & Dime in Northern Minnesota during a weekend trip to the family cabin. No matter how much of the stuff I used, my hair was never as cool as my mate’s.

For two bucks and some change, I bought a fresh tub last Friday at my local Walgreen’s. I know now, only because of Facebook, that my childhood mate no longer has much hair to speak of. So it’s finally my turn to have the cool hair now, and to tell the many guys who (secretly) idolize me that the secret trick is a tin of Royal Crown.

Just to shake things up, I turned down the lights for this outfit.

My J.Crew 5-inchers, and brown nubby Alex P. Keaton necktie, and my new but vintage navy blue Coach portfolio bag.

An ideal ensemble for wiggling all around or standing (very very) still.

Sometimes her sound is treated as a comedy punch-line but I have quite the soft spot for the softer-than-soft adult rock stylings of Sade.

There aren’t enough cds in the world that make you feel as if you’re being plied with white wine by some coke cartel and his bilingual wife at a bleached out beach resort in 1985. There really aren’t.

Fortunately, Sade is back in the studio, the papers say, for the first time in nine years. The proof is here.

I had been watching this on e-bay but, in the end, decided not to bid.

From the auction listing:
“This wonderful designed and engineered Panasonic RL-T500 Translator/Data Center uses plug-in modules to translate between different languages. Today you might smile about the specifications but in 1979 it was a revolutionary piece of technolgy based on AMI’s ROM technology.”

Went down at 25 dolla.

Deployed into real life, removed from the happy blue background of the photo, the device might not have come of quite as cool. I think I made the right choice letting it go.

It’s a rare Saturday that I don’t fill my hours shopping one store after another. But this weekend I was feeling materialistically satisfied (for once) and decided instead to discover what else my great state has to offer other than boutiques and big box shops.

The Minnesota Pioneer Park rests just an hour outside of the Twin Cities, so, looking at the description on-line, it seemed like a smart Saturday sightseer’s spot. Upon arrival however, we began to chuckle that our car was one of only two in the visitor’s parking lot, and the costumed tour guides paired their period Laura Ingalls Wilder prairie dresses with Reebok trainers and neon Mossimo wrist-watches.

The site was a little sorry and very silly, but we still managed to enjoy and educate ourselves even so. The site was set up as a little village with over twenty themed buildings. The two favorites were:

The Barbershop

The Town Hall

Once upon a time, every damn thing, from aspirin bottles to bread boxes to barbershop chairs, were robust and wonderful and designed with real reverence.

I asked out loud, “You think in 150 years tourists are gonna wanna come to an outside museum and see all the lame plastic crap we go buy at Target today?”

The languid luxury of the Byredo line of scents has intrigued me for some time now. Earlier this winter I was eagerly awaiting the release of their Fantastic Man scent, created in collaboration with the mischievous magazine. Life got in the way, though – but I’m glad it did, because I’ve changed my mind.

The bottle of Byredo I want most now is the new Bal d’Afrique.

“A warm and romantic vetiver inspired by Paris in the late 20′s and its infatuation with African culture, art, music and dance. A mix of the Parisian avantgardism and African culture shaped a unique and vibrant expression. The intense life, the excess and euphoria is illustrated by Bal d’Afrique’s neroli, African marigold and Moroccan cedarwood.”

Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Neroli, African marigold, Bucchu
Mid: Violet, Jasmin petals, Cyclamen
Base: Black Amber, Musk, Vetiver, Moroccan cedarwood

As the days grow brighter and more blazing, the forbidden sizzle and scandal of Africa by way of Paris seems like the better tonic with which to tickle my sweating skin during the coming summer months.

My beautiful bottle will transform me into the most exotic little Caucasian on my block, I’ve promised myself.