I’ve recently taken up skateboarding (inquiring minds: I ride goofy) and my daydreams are now pretty much limited to imagining how high I might be able to ollie one day and wondering which Vans are the sickest (Classics are, of course). I’m a summer baby and I wasn’t about to let another birthday come to pass without learning to “shred”, or at least getting myself to a place where I can at least think about being able to “shred” one day. High shredability, very important!
Loyal Dean makes the most beautiful boards I have ever seen. Born in California, made in the USA and designed by nature, their thing is “40% reclaimed lumber, organic-where-the-wind-goes-design and a surplus of buttery smooth downhill asphalt rolling
toward the horizon line.”
“We’re master craftsmen, designers and woodworkers for 25 combined years. So when it comes to working with wood, we know our craft. We know design. And we, well, know our wood. Simply put, the reputation we’ve earned as maestro woodmen is also ideal for creating and crafting premium wooden skateboards.” – Loyal Dean
Check them out and think about saving up for one. This is what I’m getting for my birthday next year.
Here’s two more skate links, daydreams to the tune of reality:
More from London: Leather bag ca. 1930’s, probably a variation on a cartridge bag and used to hold extra ammunition while out on the hunt, designed to take a good beating out in the field. It’s ladylike and manly at the same time, and you know I always like to fall somewhere in between. Well suited to hold all types of ammo (including red lipstick).
Leather aged 80+ years has ineffably cool qualities and nuances, every year adds another dimension to the texture and color.
Silver plated hardware, lovely patina to the strap.
This bag came from The Vintage Emporium, tucked away in Shoreditch, and home to the most incredible collection of dresses from the 1900’s – 1930’s that I had ever seen, like eyes-a-poppin’. If you’re in town and ya like the frocks, mark an X on this spot. Also a very nice selection of leather goods and small but nice offering of mens. Cute scruffy doggies, too, will give you kisses, and when don’t you need some of those.
In my experience, men with thick, white mustaches know a thing or two about life. When they start telling you about love, how to cook mussels, or what you should be drinking, you listen.
One such man advised me to pick up The Root by Art in the Age out of Philadelphia at his wine and liquor shop off of Columbus Circle in Manhattan. As authentic as it gets, and particularly zippy, this tasty stock is something that any of us “adults” who have ever enjoyed a frosty mug of root beer can be stoked on. Coolest back story on this one, check out the story of The Root:
Here’s my take on The Root:
– 1 part The Root
– 1 part Fentiman’s Ginger Beer
– Topped off with Reed’s Premium Ginger Brew to taste (in my concoction, this is 2 parts Reed’s. I’m not very tough.)
Put a chunky slice of ginger in the bottom of the glass for garnish and pour the concoction over a couple of rocks. Summer sippin’.
I love this branding.
Columbia Road Flower Market, Sunday, 29 May
Campania Gastronomia; I did not eat this food but I stood in front of it for a while. Radical crustiness.
Felt silly as soon as the words “isn’t it too early for an oyster?” slid out of my mouth.
Hardest man to ever sell you your pink posies.
This one had a mouth on ’em, and a grimace to match.
Peonies, forever my favorite. Remind me of Grandma. I think that all pretty flowers remind me of Grandma.
ALL EYES ON THOSE PAWS and then the sweet smiling eyes of Mom. (But that’s my Number One, my amazing hostess, being a peanut in the background.)
Floppy baby wouldn’t fit in my suitcase, I had already bought too many clothes. Must…go…back… for floppy baby…
The Columbia Road Flower Market happens every Sunday on Columbia Road just near Shoreditch in East London. What’s not really captured above is the whole gestalt of the market with the wazillions of blooms and the huge crowd. A certain, special happiness derives itself from the flora laid copiously over the cobblestones, crusty breads, floppy pooches, smiling crowds. How has this not caught on in New York?
London had some of the best vintage I had ever seen, truly dangerous but exciting hunting grounds. Two of the best stops along the way included run-ins with dear David of Ragtop Vintage, first at his pop-up shop in Clerkenwell and again the next day in his stall at Old Spitalfields Market.
From David I picked up this amazing WWII duffle, originally carried by one H. Rehn of Spokane, Washington of the Fifth Air Force. From Rehn’s markings we can see that he left Spokane on August 8th (year unknown), traveled through Japan and Korea, and made it back stateside just in time for Christmas on December 23rd. Between August 17th and 30th he traveled aboard the SS Marine Devil, and on December 13th he boarded the USS General William Weigel which brought him to San Francisco.
Yet another instance of my taking a hero’s wartime carryall– once filled with the dirt, blood, sweat and tears of war (pardon the drama, but I’ve just recently revisited The Thin Red Line)– and turning it into one of many purses, manly as it may be. But this is a remarkable piece that deserves a utilitarian repurposing.
Radio silence over here at ISV, is anybody out there? Been busy/distracted and happen to be on a long holiday in London at the moment. Big ups to Max and Lena for pointing me in the right direction while here! When I return home I will have good things to share, hopefully packaged with boundless energy… Thanks to all you beautiful people who have sent gorgeous comments and words of support while I’ve been totally dormant. XOX
I don’t know what B&N once stood for, but this old 1930’s hockey sweater can mean whatever I want it to.
How about: Beautiful & Natural; Buffalos & Navajo (Buffs are my favorite animal, and you know I like the Navajo too); OK I’ll stop here before this gets too corny… but it’s in good practice to create personal slogans and mantras.
Super cool sweater woven from worsted wool, incredibly soft. It was once a big man’s size 42 but someone must have tossed it in the wash along the way because it has shrunken just enough to perfectly fit me. Found at the Brooklyn Flea with help from Jamie and Sandi, my favorite Flea people.
AMHO – American Hockey Co.
As always, happy hunting. XOX