Category Archives: NYC

NYC

The Return of the Fashion Ninjas!

About a month ago, I wrote about seeing a young lady in the 14th Street subway tunnel between the L and the 1-2-3, who wore a t-shirt with a fashionistia/fascist slogan: THOSE WHO SACRIFICE BEAUTY FOR EFFICIENCY GET WHAT THEY DESERVE.. Her outfit and aggressive manner of zipping through the corridor made me think she was part of some secret, fabulous paramilitary organization.

However, I’d completely forgotten about her until this morning. I was in the same tunnel, beginning my walk from one train to the other, when I was passed on left by a girl much like the one I saw not too long ago: in workout clothes, on her way to or from the gym, hair done up in a neat, tight ponytail. Completely, disgustingly toned and tanned and young and extremely aware of this fact. I’m not sure it wasn’t the same girl. A millisecond later, I was passed on the right by a nearly identical girl, also in gym gear. They converged in front of me, linked arms, and forged ahead with speed and determination. Other pedestrians parted for them without even seeing them; others could just feel them approach from behind and gave way in fear.

I searched my memory to try and think if I’d ever seen something like this before. There are, of course, those infuriating times when you’re stuck behind a group of slow-walking people strolling in tandem. But I couldn’t recall ever seeing two people actually link up like this, and for the purposes of going faster.

I couldn’t think about this for more than a few seconds before I had the sensation of someone trying to pass me again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another girl to my right. Down in the tunnel, people are always passing one another, trying to get out in front of the slow, the slightly slow, and the just not fast enough. It’s the law of the jungle down there–pass or be passed.

My first inclination was similar to that I get when driving and someone wants to pass me: I feel vaguely insulted and want to speed up. (The operative words being “want to”; my car’s ability to speed up is severely limited.) But before I could even think about doing so, the girl was past me. Once she was past me, I saw that she not only in gym clothes, but she too had linked arms with another girl.

The two sped up ferociously and caught up to the first pair, filing behind them, like ranks in a military parade. Together, they dashed through the tunnel with brutal efficiency. In no more than 10 seconds, they were completely out of sight.

I was totally joking before about there being a silent army of La Femme Nikitas. But guys? Now I’m a little scared.

NYC

Beauty Knows No Pain

Part of my morning commute usually involves trekking through the tunnel between the Sixth Avenue L train station and the 14th Street 1-2-3 station. It’s like a supercollider powered by anger, all the individual particles seeing just how fast they can zip around each other from urine-soaked end to another.

This morning, as I ascended the stairs from the L platform, I spotted a young lady whose outfit–particularly, a pair of tiny shorts–suggested she was on her way to or from the gym. If the clothing didn’t give this away, her bearing would have. Her hair was up in that kind of ponytail that only women at the gym have–short, severe, yet completely symmetrical and untouched. And she just carried herself in this very athletic “I’m in great shape” manner. I sensed a scooped-out bagel in her immediate future.

None of this is remarkable. The back of her shirt, however, was. She wore a bright red tee with white writing that read:

THOSE WHO SACRIFICE BEAUTY FOR EFFICIENCY
GET WHAT THEY DESERVE.

Holy crap! I haven’t heard a slogan that confrontational since “It’s Nerf or nothing.”

Words like this shouldn’t be on t-shirts. They should be hanging from the rafters during a fascist rally, in a country with a military junta led by Anna Wintour. Is there a paramilitary organization I don’t know about, filled with perfectly toned female assassins who can kill a man with their thighs and look wonderful while doing it?

In truth, this quasi-Ayn Rand-ian trope was followed by a URL for what appears to be an A/V systems integration firm in North Carolina. Nothing about their Web site suggests they are training an unholy army of the night to murder us all fabulously in our sleep. But then again, that’s what they’d like us to believe, isn’t it?

NYC, Videocracy

Behold! The Crazy Local Ad Lives!

On this site, I’ve often lamented the disappearance of insane local TV ads in the tri-state area. Thanks to the high cost of broadcast time and the disappearance of the mom-and-pop outfit, seems like there’s just no place in this world for the owner of a used car lot to put on a huge foam cowboy hat, force his kids to woodenly recite lines, and blow out lavalier mics anymore. *sigh*

Not so fast! Last night I saw a commercial on (where else?) SNY that gives me hope for the future of Crazy Local Ads. Granted, the production values on this are much, much better than the traditional Crazy Local Ad. Advances in video technology have made it virtually impossible to make a “cheap” looking commercial anymore. And obviously, some expense was spared to write and record the epic jingle you’re about to hear. Still, I feel safe placing this into the category of Crazy Local Ad, for reasons that I hope will become evident shortly.

Without further ado, I present to you Daisy Mae’s BBQ.

Wow. That’s a lotta crazy in 30 seconds. Maybe you didn’t catch it all on your first viewing. Don’t worry, I have a fully detailed breakdown for you, because I’ve watched this thing 50 times since last night.

Start: The jingle vaguely follows the olde timey tune “Bicycle Built for Two,” but you can hear the “homage” lose steam almost immediately. The only instrumentation you can clearly make out are timpanis and background yellers (CUE! CHEW!) And oh, that voice. Boy, that makes me hungry for barbecue. Or a throat lozenge.

0:04: I think this man wants to murder these ribs.

0:08: You know, it’s okay to write more than one draft of something. If your first set of lyrics require the singer to cram a bazillion words into one small space like the Micro Machines guy, you can try again. Really, you can. Virtually all pretense of “Daisy, Daisy…” has been dropped by this point.

0:10: The girl licking barbecue sauce (I hope?) from her fingers, which is clearly meant to be sexy, but just looks like she’s someone who might be too mentally impaired to know how to use a wet nap. And what is on her fingers? They’re orange and yellow and black–is she wearing candy corn?!

0:14: This is the part I had to rewind a million times, because I was laughing so hard. This poor girl goes through at least five distinct accents in the span of one sentence, and never quite settles on one. Is she supposed to be Southern? Irish? Pirate?

0:25: “It’s the best sweet iced tea in a jar you’ve ever had!” Forgive my Yankee ignorance, but is that an actual Southern barbecue thing? Because it sounds completely made up by someone who knows nothing of Southern cuisine. “Come on over, y’all, for some dee-licious meatloaf in a cone!” The picture of said jarred iced tea also looks more like pickled red peppers.

0:27: The jingle tries again to pick up the “Bicycle Built for Two” motif at the very end, yet also doesn’t come to a definitive end. It definitely sounds like it’s going to launch into another verse, completely with timpani roll, and then just like that, the ad is over. Extremely unsettling.

Daisy Mae’s BBQ, thank you for making us laugh about Crazy Local Ads. Again.