April 2008 Archives

My box of samples arrived today from Lucky Scent. I immediately tore it open and selected New York by Parfums de Nicolai. I wanted to experience the idea of New York that a perfumer would think to bottle.

At first, it didn't really bring to mind anything except that it's a nicely balanced fragrance -- not too harsh, not too sweet, not too spicy or sour, just . . . nice. Then after about fifteen minutes, I was suddenly hit with a memory of meeting a guy for drinks at the Four Seasons bar in midtown New York back in 2002. Lots of glass, brass, leather and wood, with nothing but lawyers in suits as far as the eye could see.

Everyone was drinking single malt scotches, and when they found out I wasn't a lawyer but rather a (gasp!) writer/musician, their eyes glazed over. I gamely attempted some conversation about copyright law, but it wasn't their field of expertise, so I just ordered another scotch and left it at that.

Parfums de Nicolai is a lot like that experience -- it's not me, per se, but it's solid, attractively proportioned, well-mannered and with great taste in suits. The whole thing has a burnished, golden glow as if time itself stopped and out stepped a Hudsucker Proxy of a creature -- broad shouldered, chiseled chin and charmingly old-fashioned.

***Review updated 10/13/08

Alber Albaz, of the much hyped (and much loved, at least by this writer) Lanvin line, has been coaxed into designing a line of jeans for trendy Acne (I can't believe I just used the words "trendy" and "acne" in the same sentence).

"What if you don't want to wear a skinny jean?" (Albaz) asked rhetorically, confirming that his line will offer women a variety of options. "It's time to go back to a product that has a dream to it. I asked myself, 'What kind of jeans can I bring that will be a Lanvin jean and Acne spirit infused in one?'"

Whatever the fit, you can be damned certain they'll cost a fortune while somehow convincing you they're entirely worth it (the fashion equivalent of an Eliot Spitzer). Top Ramen for three months and carpooling to the office? Appropriate sacrifices, both.

BTW: Lanvin was considered one of the industry's few true hits for the upcoming Fall/Winter 2008/2009 season. Gorgeous, sophisticated and ridiculously wearable. Even the normally even-keeled Sarah Mower does her best impression of a giddy school girl in the throes of a fashion crush for Style.com:

"Every calibration of usefulness was represented, from plain wool work-ready day dresses and pantsuits through knockout fur and patent coats, asymmetric body-molding cocktail options right up to blindingly brilliant dresses made of vertical ribbons loaded with gold sequins. In a season when so many have anxiously cast around for what women will want in a recession, Elbaz has intuited the best answer of all: Give us restraint, give us pragmatism, but never slam the door on the possibility of utter gorgeousness."

Amen to that! See Lanvin in motion below:

For the first time in my life, I threw my back out on Saturday morning (but isn't that why I work out five to six days a week? So that I can keep my body in proper enough condition to AVOID throwing my back out? *hmph*) and so had to spend the last several days in various states of agonized repose across numerous objects de furniture, moaning just loud enough so that Brian could hear me in the next room and so come running and ask if I needed coffee, tea, a hot buttered scone, my pillows fluffed . . .

"What? No bacon? Is this how you treat a suffering invalid? Oh, cruel world!

But modern painkillers are a delightful thing, especially when mixed with an ice-cold Zevia Ginger Root Beer and bright, splashy cable-tv shows. Between bad Sci-Fi originals and old Nancy Drew movies, I was able to use the downtime to dig a little deeper into the subject of perfumes and the industry that so casually inflicts them upon us.

I'm presently deep into the new book by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, Perfumes: The Guide. It's a terrific overview of what fragrances are, the different classifications and how perfumes are created, and then it launches into concise reviews of literally hundreds of perfumes now out on the market, offering thoughtful and witty opinions on their relative merits (or lack thereof, as the case may be -- Flowerbomb, I'm talkin' about you).

I was never much of a fragrance person, occasionally splashing on an overabundance of Stetson when I was a teenager, but only because it was my older brother's and he left it in the bathroom. The same with Chaz, which I principally remember because of the ads with Tom Selleck. Ralph Lauren's Polo was all the rage when I was in high school, though I never wore it. I tried Grey Flannel, but it made me sneeze and caused my skin to break out in a rash. After that, I pretty much swore off cologne. I was unmoved by all the Calvin scents (bland, monotonous, repetitive concoctions blended for a herd of happy lemmings, though the nude male models in the ads were beguiling) and Christian Dior's Fahrenheit was like a joke whose punch line went right over my head. Davidhoff's insanely popular Cool Water didn't even register on my radar. I had a brief flirtation with Clinique for Men, but I already smelled like soap when I emerged from the shower -- I didn't feel like I really needed to accentuate the fact. Sometimes I hit the mall with friends and we would stop by the fragrance counters, but everything I sniffed screeched at me like a pack of harpies with stabbing talons, so I stuck to my soaps, facial cleansers, shampoos, conditioners, hair gels and anti-perspirants, figuring there were enough perfumes and scents among the conglomeration to get me through the day.

But now I'm older and less prone to olfactory overdose -- my soaps, shampoos and anti-perspirants are unscented, my laundry detergent and fabric softeners are fragrance free, I don't use hair gels and I no longer have to burn incense to cover the smell of a roommate's cigarettes, so when I stumbled happily across Thierry Mugler's Angel Men Pure Coffee a few weeks ago, I was suddenly reminded of that whole other world out there -- the one that offers tantalizing, sexy scents and promises mood altering, life changing fragrances. I'm not so naive as to fall for that crap, but I do now wonder at what I'm missing. Angel Men Pure Coffee brings me such joy when I put it on in the morning -- I just stop, close my eyes and breathe it in, the aroma of smoke and coffee, dark chocolate and a toasted-oak vanilla. It's become an experience instead of just a fragrance. Were there other experiences out there I might appreciate in different ways but like just as much?

I pored through Luca Turin's book, digging in to review after review after review. I logged on to NowSmellThis, Basenotes, PerfumeSmellinThings and Boisdejasmin, I cruised through Amazon customer reviews and devoured Chandler Burr's Scent Notes. Then I visited Lucky Scent and delightfully stocked up on a cartload of samples so that I could sit leisurely in my quiet little room, lights dimmed, applying unfamiliar fragrances to my skin to bask in the resulting, unfamiliar ambience.

Will they change me? Will I change them? Will we learn to live together in blissful harmony, or will there be terrible moments of pained, wrenching rejection? It's like I'll be going on the equivalent of 26 different speed dates where I'll stare into the eyes of the beast across the table and decide if it has a soul.

My list of experiments to come:

Le 3rd Man By Caron
Declaration By Cartier
Timbuktu by L'Artisan Parfumeur
Pour Homme by Yohji Yamamoto
Thundra by Profumum
Ambra Aurea by Profumum
Invasion Barbare by Parfums MDCI
L'Instant pour homme by Guerlain
Hinoki by Commes des Garcons x Monocle
Jubilation XXV by Amouage
Bois de Paradis by Parfums DelRae
Domenico Caraceni 1913 by Domenico Caraceni
G 11 by Il Profumo
Anat Fritz by Anat Fritz
Sequoia by Commes des Garcons
Kyoto by Commes des Garcons
Ouarzazate by Commes des Garcons
Garage by Commes des Garcons
Tar by Commes des Garcons
Tea by Commes des Garcons
Frank No. 2 by Frank Los Angeles
L'homme sage by Divine
Escentric 01 by Escentric Molecules
New York by Parfums de Nicolai
L'Air du Desert Marocain by Tauer
Lonestar Memories by Tauer

Other fragrances I've given to my friend Louise to test and report back on:

Phenomenon by Yosh
Silk by Jalaine
Absinth by Nasomatto
Acqua di Sale by Profumum
Soleil De Capri by Montale
Dazzling Silver by Lauder
Funny! by Moschino
No. 11 by Cereus
Cuir Pleine Fleur by Heeley
Bois d'Iris by The Different Company
Bergamote by The Different Company
Sel de Vetiver by The Different Company
Aire by Profumi di Pantelleria
Tea for Two by L'Artisan Parfumeur
Lys by Parfums 06130
#3 by Commes des Garcons
Skai by Commes des Garcons

Between the two of us, we should be able to wrap up some pretty good impressions on a wide range of scents, from fresh, green and tangy to richly floral to woodsy and smoky. I think we're up for the challenge.

UPDATE:

So far, Louise is reporting back with a thumbs up for: Funny! by Moschino, Dazzling Silver by Estee Lauder, Soleil De Capri by Montale and Lys by Parfums 06130. Thumbs down for: Sel de Vetiver by The Different Company, Tea for Two by L'Artisan Parfumeur and Phenomenon by Yosh.

More later (as the news trickles in).

Brian does pretty much everything right -- he's brilliant, funny, has fantastic taste in wine, can navigate his way around a foreign city as if he's lived there his entire life, can talk politics, business and the latest video game technology with ease, and he somehow knows how to speak the language of computers in a way that makes them gently respond to his every wish. He even makes the most delicious, crumbly, espresso-infused chocolate chip cookies I've ever tasted.

But he cannot -- I repeat, he cannot -- make a good pot of chili.

"Look upon my works all ye mighty, and despair!"

The ingredients were all there: Wagyu beef, heirloom beans, fresh onions and plenty of herbs and spices, but the end result was by far the absolute worst chili with which I've ever had the misfortune of sharing table space, bar none. It tasted like the inside filling of a day old Taco Time burrito -- which he, by the way, thought was fabulous. "I love Taco Time!" he said.

Figures.

I'm not sure if it beats my abysmal failure at homemade ravioli as Worst Cooking Blunder of the Past Eight Months, but he's certainly giving me a run for my money.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more that living with Brian reminds me of this (which makes his failure with a pot of chili a bit of a relief):

"Believe me, he was adorable -- just about the most adorable thing you ever did see."

Okay, we've been watching the news for the last several days, and all this hype about food shortages and food riots and rising food prices and blah blah blah . . . I mean, c'mon people. Once our corn farmers figure out that they can make much more money planting wheat, or spinach, or legumes (or anything besides low-grade, industrial corn!), then that's what they'll plant, and corn-based ethanol, along with its food devouring biofuel cousins, will simply fade away like an embarrassing fad (pet rocks, anyone?). It's as if no one has ever heard of the concept of adaptation.

But back to the media hype -- has anyone noticed that the illustrative video clips being endlessly replayed on the networks are of food riots in poor third world countries, where they ALWAYS have food shortages and ugly fights over scare resources? It's as if some news editor said, "Hey, we need a video clip to punctuate our new scare-quote headline story of the month about rumors of people coming to blows over boxes of Rice-A-Roni in the aisles of Costco. I know, let's use this footage of angry, hungry people in the Congo!"

Perhaps the best thing I've read recently that cuts through the food-shortage hype is this blog entry from The Zen of Unemployment -- "Quick, buy lots of rice!": "The other day, I bought 40 pounds of rice. Not because I need 40 pounds of rice, but because everyone else was. It is the cool thing to do . . . Maybe it was for the challenge of it all, or maybe it was just to spite those people that thought they were going to die if they weren't able to fill a semi-truck with rice to get them by for the next few days, but I went on the hunt for the elusive bag of rice . . . You would have thought we were unloading bricks of gold from Fort Knox by the way people were looking at us. Keep looking pal, but when you are stuck eating old cans of spaghettios, I will have a big old bowl of rice... You can have your fillet Mignon, but will you have rice? I will."

It's like the news story I saw this morning where a gas station had announced it would sell gas for $0.79 cents a gallon for one hour starting at noon, so people began lining up at the place HOURS ahead of time to reserve their place in line for cheap gas. Never mind that sitting in a line for four hours in front of a gas station is stunningly inconvenient and only shows how little some people actually value their own time, especially when you consider the fact that there's no actual gas shortage, it's just more expensive than it used to be.

But by god, they were going to score a tank full of cheap gas! And then they'll boast to all their friends about it -- "I got a tank full of gas for $0.79 cents a gallon. How much did YOU pay?" They'll puff up their chests, swagger around the office/store/restaurant/kitchen/factory/warehouse/cosmetics counter and smirk with the satisfaction that only a successful hunter can feel. They brought down the fearsome Gas Beast! For one hour! Yes they did!

It's days like this when I am absolutely convinced that the human race evolving from single cell organisms occurred only about, say, ten years ago.

I'm not a perfume person.

Ok, maybe I should rephrase that and say that I am of the type that formerly eschewed wearing fragrance, since this post will tell the brief story of my recent conversion from fragrance-free to in fragrante (and yes, I realize that's not a real term, so don't bother sending any electronic umbrage in my direction, thank you very much).

I had always assumed my aversion to applied fragrance stemmed from an oversensitivity to the entire genre -- sneezing, watery eyes, skin rashes and a general feeling of free-floating revulsion whenever an atomizer went off in my direction. It didn't help that most men's perfume/cologne reeked of chemical fertilizer, burnt rubber and sink cleanser (oh, sorry, I meant to say "top notes of citrus, a woodsy mid-range and a drydown like fresh laundry hanging in the sun" -- yeah, right), and once there was added the insult of horny teenagers and thirty-something gay men dousing themselves repeatedly with what seemed like vats of the stinking juices, I think it's easy to understand my less than positive reception to the world of eau de toilette.

But I am now older, wiser and more prone to forgive the transgressions of youth (if not outright revisit them from time to time), so Thierry Mugler's Angel Men Pure Coffee has taken advantage of this late-breaking folly to penetrate my shields and burrow its toasty, gourmand hooks into my central console. My life will never be the same -- well, that's not entirely true; actually, my life is still very much the same (eating, breathing, drinking, sleeping, it all becomes a blur), I just smell better in the process.

I was tempted to dip my toe into the fragrance pool after reading Chandler Burr's The Perfect Scent: A Year Inside the Perfume Industry in Paris and New York, a behind the scenes look at the development of two commercial fragrances, Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely, and Un Jardin sur le Nil for Hermès. It's a tale of movers and shakers, artists and money men, and by the time I was finished with it I had a newfound appreciation for everything that goes into creating a quality scent for the commercial market, not to mention the exactlng and most often anonymous work of the devoted perfumers behind the big designer/celebrity names slapped on the labels.

I learned that contemporary perfumes are crafted mostly out of synthetic ingredients (with some natural oils or distillations thrown into the mix), but that this is a good thing as synthetics have opened the door to possibilities in scent that were simply not feasible when utilizing a strictly natural formula. I discovered that cheap perfumes can be great and exorbitantly expensive scents can be revolting, that the bottling and packaging for the perfume is more expensive than the juice itself, and that the majority of male fragrances are so awful because the fragrance companies understand the general male aversion towards smelling like a girl, so they concoct fragrances that pretty much annihilate the idea of anything girly by smothering it in harsh, chemical-type scents reminiscent of drain cleaners and burnt plastic (with a hint of patchouli, of course).

I also learned that perfumes are a huge cash cow for designer labels, and that one blockbuster scent can rake in hundreds of millions in revenue before its time has passed on the cultural radar . . . and here I thought the perfume industry was just some minor sideshow to the clothing and accessories. Foolish, foolish me.

After reading Chandler Burr's book, I was intrigued and cruised over to his perfume reviews for the New York Times. The way Chandler Burr writes about scents and fragrances makes them seem somehow important, valuable even, and it's difficult not to get all little-kid, jump-up-and-down excited when I read lines such as the following from his very complimentary review of the Mugler Pure Coffee fragrance: "Pure Coffee starts with coffee and then grows. It's slightly candied by moments, then slightly chocolate at others, which is a very different effect. It's a distinct chocolate too, oscillating invisibly between semi-sweet, milk, and bitter/black -- it brings to mind a pastry chef's cool, dewy, sugared, cocoa-doped tablet lying freshly made on wax paper."

I mean, really! How does one say no? I ordered a bottle immediately (I cannot go into a perfume department and start sniffing at strips of spritzed paper -- there's far too much olfactory interference to smell anything properly), and it was waiting for me when we returned from our trip to Prague. I tore open the package and the strong scent came wafting from the box: a thick, sharp smack of burnt coffee imbued with raw sugar and a touch of vanilla syrup, a splash of creamy milk and warm mocha following after, the metallic tang of a stainless steel steaming pitcher working its way through the middle.

I love the damn stuff. When I put it on in the morning (one spritz, and then not even the whole thing, just a part), it hits me me with memories of coffee shops in Seattle; dark, rainy days and warm light spilling out onto wet sidewalks; the air thick with notes of freshly ground coffee beans, sticky syrups, semi-sweet chocolate and that toasted aroma of steaming milk; alternative music playing in the background; leather shoes and laptops and ink stained notepads; formica tables and wood floors and burlap sacks full of green, unroasted coffee beans. It lays on my skin just like that -- all nostalgia, but subdued, shimmering like a slightly melancholy pop song drifting out the open window of a car idling at a stoplight three blocks away.

I read that Angel Men Pure Coffee is a Limited Edition fragrance, which means that it won't be manufactured permanently. You mean, I might run out and not be able to get any more?

That sound you hear is me, quickly rummaging through my bathroom cupboard to see how much storage space there is for a stockpile . . . oh my god, I just zipped over to the Saks Fifth Avenue website and they're sold out! Sold out at Sephora, too. Nothing at Neiman Marcus or Amazon, either.

Oh, the humanity!

There was a little book that I found myself relying on quite heavily while staying in Prague -- 'A Hedonist's Guide To Prague' by Paul Sullivan. It's a gem of a book for anyone wanting to avoid the usual over-trodden and tourist-trappish restaurants, bars, clubs, cafes and sights in Prague. It only steered me wrong once, but not so wrong that I couldn't forgive it its transgression and accept it back into my good graces.

Our first evening in the city was pretty much a blow-out as we were still groggy from the ridiculously long flight from Dallas, so it was mostly about walking around the general environs of the Hotel Josef and a quick bite of dinner at one of the terrible (and terribly numerous) cafes that ring the Old Town Square before collapsing into our bed to sleep the deep, Ambien slumber of the weary world traveler. Our subsequent evenings were better spent, and I'm including a brief rundown of some of the great places we discovered for food and coffee (or both!) while tromping around the cobblestone streets.

La Degustation Boheme Bourgeoise:

This was my favorite place by far. Rated highly in the Hedonist's guide, and in the same neighborhood as our hotel, we dropped by without reservations (not recommended) but early in the evening (which is highly recommended if you don't have reservations). Any restaurant we visited in Prague didn't start receiving dinner guests until 7:30 p.m. or later, even if they opened at 5 p.m. -- so we always hit the restaurants early in order to get a table. Yes, we were often the only ones there for a good hour or two, which does rather cut back on the ambient quality, but the food didn't suffer for being served earlier and bottles of wine don't care what time you open them.

La Degustation Boheme Bourgeoise would be considered modern cuisine by most anyone's rulebook, and their specialty is the tasting menu -- a series of small dishes meant to tease the palate and coax the diner from one flavor to another, leading ultimately to the entire dinner party staggering out the door with happy grins and heads abuzz with delicious memories of sauces and foams, braised meats, delicate vegetables, subtle herbs, flaky crusts, tender seafoods, bold chocolates, poached fruits and rich wines.

Their menu changes according to what's fresh and in-season, and each of our dinners consisted of nine small courses (interspersed with another five exquisitely subtle palate cleansers), accompanied by glasses of various wines expertly paired with the main courses by a sommelier more daring and imaginative than any I've encountered in the United States. Our dinner lasted almost four hours, and the restaurant was full and alive with an appreciative clientele by the time we finished our espressos (served in tiny cups, its thick, creamy body tasting slightly of unsweetened cocoa with a hint of burnt sugar) and made our exit.

Everything we had was excellent, but standouts were the Adriatic Cuttlefish seasoned with black olive powder and sauced in an onion veloute' with Parmigiano Reggiano, the poached organic egg with morel sauce, the South Bohemian rabbit with carrot puree and cabbage, and the Namelaka of Jivara chocolate and hazle nuts served with Zacapa rum ice cream. The service was unfailing yet unobtrusive, and the entire staff, from waiters to sommelier to the restaurant manager himself, were graciously accommodating and warmly hospitable.

Lary Fary:

After a long day of tramping about the city, we just wanted to find someplace casual without forgoing decent food -- Lary Fary seemed to fit the bill. While their main claims to fame appear to be giant kebabs and locally brewed beer, we settled for martinis and traditional Czech goulash -- hot, meaty, mildly spicy and served with thick, warm slices of dumpling loaf. Famous kebabs be damned, anyone who takes a pass on their goulash is a fool.

The seating was comfortable, and the place was all dark wood and decorative iron, with sunlight streaming through the windows. Old world pub with a modern twist. Service was inattentive, and I had to practically take a flying tackle to our waiter to get a second martini. If you're not in a hurry to get anywhere else, this is a great place for lunch.

Barock:

It was a late evening and we had been walking most of the day. One of our party wanted to hear some live music, and we all most definitely needed a drink, so we wandered down Prague's fashionable Parizska street and stumbled, literally, upon Barock. Their sliding floor to ceiling doors were wide open and the stylings of an inoffensive live jazz-pop band spilled out across the sidewalk. The four of us promptly took a seat at one of the white-cloth draped outside tables situated beneath a large umbrella and a uniformed waiter immediately came out to take our order. Martinis and caviar, please.

Barock reminded me of a restaurant in Soho or Hollywood: wide open spaces, huge ceilings, plush seating, deep red walls adorned with black and white photographs of fashion models, and lots of young, rich Russians throwing their money around. Okay, so the Russians aren't yet a fixture of Soho or Hollywood, but give 'em time -- the declining dollar and Russia's vast oil and mineral reserves can only mean that America's trendiest hotspots are ripe for invasion.

We enjoyed our seating on the sidewalk by the tree-lined cobblestone street, with shoppers and young couples strolling past, basking in the jazz wafting from the restaurant's open doors. Our waiter was young and charming, the caviar was Iranian (though I prefer Californian for political reasons) and our martinis were superb. When it began to lightly rain later on, we pulled together beneath the umbrella and enjoyed the sound of raindrops on canvas and the shine of headlights from passing cars splashed across the paving stones.

Not so much like Soho or Hollywood, after all.

Le Cafe Colonial:

Our one miss. Unsatisfying food, disinterested service, and decor that was trying hard to be eclectic and funky yet seemed bland and somewhat cheap, instead.

And bad martinis. 'Nuff said.

Au Gourmand:

Debbe wanted chocolate, so we set out in search of a cafe or bakery that might do the trick. Well, one hour of wandering helplessly and lost later, my ankles raging against the sheer audacity of being forced to endure cobblestones in the 21st century, we find Au Gourmand, a former butcher's shop retooled into a cozy French patisserie in the Josefov/Old Town district (an actual two block walk from our hotel . . . argh!).

Upon entering, I was taken aback by the two gleaming glass cases that flanked each side of a tiled eating area -- one which housed savory items, such as fresh quiches, sandwiches and pasta dishes, the other stuffed full of tantalizing cakes, meringues, pies, tarts, cookies, brownies and house-made gelato. Suffice it to say, we tucked in!

I still have visions of a glorious Foret Noire -- airy, moist slices of dark devil's food cake and thick layers of real whipped cream clogged with chocolate covered black cherries and heaped with curly chocolate shavings. Brian opted for the bakery's specialty, the Mille-Feuille -- a scrumptious confection comprised of multiple layers of almond-cream paste interspersed with thin planks of sugary, flaky crust and topped by a beautiful crust of white and dark chocolate.

*sigh*

Did I mention the great lasagna, the crusty sandwiches, the piping tea, the creamy lattes? I didn't? Oh, who cares! More cake, please!

Pravda:

This is Barock's older and slightly more formal sister-restaurant, located almost directly across the street. Again, we were the first people there, and other diners only just began to show up as we were getting ready to leave. The restaurant interior was perfectly pleasant, though not much more than that. Yes, it was modern, and yes, it was nice, but . . . it kind of blended in to every other nice, modern restaurant we've ever been to, so it wound up not leaving much of an impression on me. Since we were the only people in the place, we chose a window seat, and the service was exactly as I expected it to be (polite, professional), but the food, though decent, was entirely forgettable. For all its supposed Asian-Fusion flair, I think I had some kind of lamb. I can't recall anything else.

We did, however, have a richly flavorful bottle of French wine, and when we got the bill, it was surprisingly priced -- much lower than we had expected. When we pointed out to our waiter that we thought the price was a bit on the downside for a 1989 Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, he insisted that no, it was correct. This turned out to be our experience for most of the Prague restaurants in which we dined -- the wine prices were significantly lower than what we would have paid for a comparable (or the same) bottle of wine here in the U.S. It must have been due to the lack of importation taxes. During our stay, we guzzled down (uh, I mean, "sipped") some excellent Italian and French wines for what we considered to be more than reasonable prices.

V Zatisi:

Another restaurant that Brian and I hit on our own. It was a bit of a jaunt from our hotel, but not so far that it wasn't a feasible walk. We actually called beforehand to make sure that we could get a table, though we really needn't have bothered, as, of course, we were the first ones there, showing up soon after they opened for the evening.

While the wait staff seemed a bit put out that they were required to serve foreign diners who had the audacity to show up for such an ungodly early reservation (and they had to speak English, for heaven's sake!), the food was excellent. The warm, crispy goat cheese was a revelation of rich, spreadable delight; the risotto with porcini mushrooms and truffle oil was perfectly creamy and fragrantly earthy; the Roast Rabbit with Marjoram Mashed Potatoes, Spinach and Thyme Sauce was expertly prepared and presented (Brian had the Beef Tournedos, so he'll have to give you his own rundown on that particular dish, though I can say that he finished it off with gusto); and I skipped dessert and headed straight for a glass of forty year old Port, instead, starting to feel like I'd just about filled my sugar quota for the entire year of 2008 and here I have 8 more months to go. My alcohol quota, however, is still wide open. Speaking of which, the wine was French (again), and (again) priced well below what we would have expected to pay in the U.S.

V Zatisi has a reputation as one of the best restaurants in the Czech Republic, and its ambience is certainly worthy -- a recently renovated collection of intimate rooms, each decorated in its own high style, and each with its own glowing, monied atmosphere. The service is cat-paw quiet, with professionally aloof waiters and beverage servers padding softly to and fro. Our wine and water glasses were never allowed to run dry, and each beautifully presented dish arrived with just the appropriate amount of pause between each course.

Recommended, though not as ecstatically as La Degustation Boheme Bourgeoise. Much like our experience at Pravda, I felt like I'd been to restaurants like V Zatisi before -- lovely interiors, a professional and efficient wait staff, a capable kitchen turning out excellent dishes presented with subtle flair. This is the kind of place that will certainly satisfy should you self-title as a foodie, but it's not daring enough to really wow. The atmosphere, however, will register on your social richter scale.

Amici Miei:

We had been searching for a good Italian restaurant, and on our last night out in Prague, we found it. Warm, inviting, clean and uncluttered, the four of us were the first people through the door for the evening (without reservations, natch), so we got a terrific table. From the quizzical reception as we were seated, I suspect the staff had initial assumptions that we might be a difficult table of Americans, with special requests and cheap tastes, but once we started ordering, they warmed up significantly.

We got off to a bad start with the martinis, which tasted strangely like a glass of dry white wine with several olives plunked in, even though it smelled like gin. When I asked them to take it away and instead make me a drink with just gin shaken over ice, I got my same glass of weird tasting booze back, but minus the olives. Apparently, the language barrier was more pronounced at this location than anywhere else we'd been, but once I accepted the fact that an Americanized martini was a dead issue and I should simply start in on the fine bottle of Barolo we had waiting, everything was dandy.

From course to course, it was Italian cuisine like I'd ever imagined Italian cuisine should be -- fresh, lively, perfectly seasoned and extremely satisfying. We started off with Parma ham and olives, goose livers, cheeses, an unrecollected dish with figs (and Debbe had some soup, I believe), moved on to pastas (I had an amazing Tagliatelle with lobster and vanilla sauce -- I've never experienced anything quite like it, and I had to refrain from shouting aloud with pleasure when I took my first bite), then cruised into the meat course (duck breasts, lamb chops, veal steaks, oh my!) to emerge, blinking, hardly knowing what hit us, on the other side of smooth Amaretto cheesecakes and fine Italian espresso.

About a half hour before we were finished, other diners began to arrive. The place filled up quickly, even though it was just a Tuesday. I'm not so certain our "no reservations but show up early" ploy would have worked on the weekend. The review I had read beforehand about Amici Miei stated that it was one of the best Italian restaurants in the city, and I'm pleased to agree with that assessment.

Highly recommended. Professional (yet immeasurably personable) service, humor and charm included. Great food. Good ambience. Nice wine list. Oh, and avoid the martinis.

UPDATE:

I forgot to mention Coffee Fellows, a medium-ish cafe a few minutes walk from our hotel. The staff was friendly and the interior attractive, with modern, clean lines, dark wood tables and a rich color on the walls. They had a decent selection of pastries plus eats, and the coffee was good. I only order lattes when I travel as it's easy to ruin an Americano, so I usually have no problems when I'm served up a nice big cup of hot, creamy, espresso-infused milk, instead.

They also have free wifi service, but the cigarette smoking was too much for us to handle for more than twenty minutes and we packed up our computers and fled, our eyes burning and our clothes reeking of cigarette smoke. They usually keep their doors open to help ventilate the cafe, but the day we went the weather was cold and the doors were all closed. Our bad luck. Otherwise, I liked the place.

We also had excellent, creamy lattes and fresh pastries at Bakeshop Praha, another cafe in the Old Town and, if I'm remembering correctly, just down the street from Au Gourmand. It was a warm, sunny day and we drank our coffee and ate our cookies while sitting on a bench outside the cafe. Well, Brian had cookies -- I opted for a crumbly, chocolate chip muffin.

They have long counters that run the length of their windows where customers can sit on stools and look out at the cobblestone intersection as they sip their coffees (or teas) and munch on whatever they'd purchased from the bewildering array of gorgeous baked goods, plus there are also the aforementioned outside benches for seating when the weather is warmer. The place was busy every time we walked by, and since it was in our neck of the woods, we walked past it a lot.

We didn't do much in the way of shopping in Prague, as the prices for clothing, shoes, accessories, etc. are about on par with the prices here in the U.S., and not being a fan of decorative glass does limit one's ability to bring a souvenir back from what seems like a city full of decorative glass shops on every corner.

I did, however, manage to score a very cool, Czech designed and manufactured handbag for a good friend:

The company is Bambas, and I stumbled upon a locally owned fur and leather shop (Kožešiny Kubín, located in the general vicinity of Prague's recently opened Mandarin Oriental Hotel) that featured the line while we were on one of our exploratory missions through the streets of the city. I literally stopped dead in my tracks when I saw some of the bags sitting in one of their shop windows -- my first thought was, "My god, these are like those fashion-week hyped Prada Faerie Bags, only way cooler!" My second thought was, "I must buy one of these for Louise!" -- as there's truly nothing like presenting a gift of a gorgeous hand-made, hand-painted bag from the Czech Republic (that none of her friends can just run out and buy at Neiman Marcus, natch) for eliciting squeals of delight from a fashion-forward female friend.

We included a wallet from the same company in a similar, though not absolutely matching, design in order to avoid the "What the hell kind of wallet do I pair with this unique bag?" conundrum. Louise received the package yesterday and proceeded to text me with ecstatic, rapturous and profusive thanks for a good ten minutes solid, nearly getting into a car wreck in her excitement (she was driving and texting, an act that requires inimitable skill behind the wheel -- a quality she does not possess). She promptly scheduled a dinner date with friends for that very night in order to show off her new bag from Prague, and I received hilarious text updates on the various levels of envy and delight each dinner companion expressed.

I also picked up a small Bambas shoulder bag/day clutch for my sister, who is taking a vacation soon with some girlfriends and was musing aloud a few weeks ago about her need for a nice, small, travel-friendly day bag that could double as an evening clutch in a pinch. Well, voila!:

Here's a detail shot (can you tell I'm impressed with these bags?):

You see? There are far better things to buy in Prague than some old glass vase!

Returned on Wednesday from a 9 day trip to Prague. I'm still jet-lagged and reeling, but this was the first time I'd ever visited the Czech Republic and there was a lot to like about it. It is, however, exceedingly nice to be back in my own comfortable home in the United States with our gloriously large, hot showers and sleeping in my non-hotel bed with soft, fresh sheets.

I do have to admit, though, that the flight from Dallas to London (which then jaunts on to Prague after a 6 hour layover) is brutally long and feels like it will never end as it saps all the moisture out of your body, cramps all your muscles and leeches away your will to live -- and that's even before you hit British Airways' notorious Terminal Five!

I didn't take many photos as I don't consider myself much of a photographer, finding it more annoying than inspiring to be standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk taking aim at some view or building or whatever ephemeral flotsam is supposed to catch my eye and "inspire" me, but nonetheless, I soldiered on and pointed my little portable Cannon Elf at a couple of things I thought might make for arresting imagery or successful memory joggers:

The Old Jewish Cemetery:

This particular photo was snapped through a window opening in one of the old iron doors set into the stone wall that encircles the cemetery. I like how the clean lines of the cross-type bars contrast with the jumble of out-of-focus headstones in the background -- it also implies some type of Christian-Judaic connection, even if it's not intentional. I do have some additional photos from inside the cemetery, but to me, this is the most successful of the photos, as it was Saturday (the sabbath) when I took it (hence being on the outside looking in, as the cemetery was closed to the public), so there was no one there to clutter the scenery. When we returned on a Tuesday, the place was jam-packed with tourists, which made for a very unpleasant and decidedly "tourist-trap" experience, especially with all the merchant carts set up just outside the synagogue hawking what seemed like acres of cheap crap.

Shop Window on Parizska Street:

Parizska Street is the main shopping drag in the Old Town Quarter, cutting almost directly through the middle of Josefov, the Jewish section of the quarter and the neighborhood in which our hotel, Hotel Josef, was also located. I took the photo not because I thought the decorative glass objects were all that stunning, but because this particular store, with its antique-type vases and Old Europe attitude, stood in such stark contrast to the recent influx of global luxury brand boutiques surrounding it -- Dior, Valentino, Dunhill, Hermes, Moschino, Sonia Rykiel, etc. Construction workers were just in the beginning phases of installing new Etro and Sergio Rossi shops nearby. If you look closely, you can see the reflection in the window glass of the Louis Vuitton shop across the street.

Jan Hus Monument in the Old Town Square:

Old Town Square was just a few minutes' walk from our hotel, so I meandered past the massive Hus Monument on a daily basis (if not intra-multi-daily -- is that a word?). Jan Hus was a Czech theologian and early social activist who criticized the Catholic Church's use of funds from the (often poor) Czech people to further their wars around the world. He was tried for heresy and burned at the stake (no good deed goes unpunished, yada yada yada). He is now considered a martyr and national hero, with a national holiday to his name and a gigantic monument plopped smack in the center of Old Town Square. The monument is so large and distinctive that to my foreign eyes it soon came to represent Prague itself, its alluring mix of history, culture and beauty liberally sprinkled with the grime of industrialization.

More later . . .

Costco Shoppers Stumble Into Luxury:
"Costco -- that emporium of oversized merchandise like flats of tampons and gallon jars of capers -- is now selling purses by Fendi and Bottega Veneta. And guess what? . . . compared with prices at Neiman Marcus, the deals are quite spectacular."

Karl Lagerfeld Gets the Icon Treatment in the Virtual World:
"Karl Lagerfeld, the legendary designer at the helm of Chanel, is almost as renowned for his musical tastes as for his fashion nous. He has already released an album of his favourite electronica and dance tunes, and now he is poised to pop up in the latest version of the global gaming hit Grand Theft Auto as a virtual DJ . . . Lagerfeld has peppered his selection with his infamous rapid-fire commentary, telling gamers he is 'keeping things moving with the music that liberated all of us, taught us we were all the same, showed us that computers were our friends.'"

A video clip below of our beloved Karl being, well, oh so Karl:

Fashion Industry is Abuzz After Series of Head-Designer Shakeups:
"It is increasingly common for designers to be suddenly fired or replaced . . . At Ungaro, Peter Dundas left after three seasons, to be replaced by Esteban Cortazar. Chloé dropped Paulo Melim Andersson after three collections. Paco Rabanne stopped producing the collections Patrick Robinson had designed for three seasons. And Michael Vollbracht, Nilsson's successor at Blass, quit abruptly and was replaced by Peter Som . . . The frequency of turnovers suggests that cracks are beginning to appear in the model of brand reinvention that dominated fashion for more than a decade."

Prada Public Stock Offering Looking Less LIkely for 2008:
"While the official word is that 'No decision has been taken,' the company will announce its next move by the end of this month. If it does not go public in June, it is expected to do so in November - although, due to the current economic climate, it has even been suggested that Prada chief executive officer Patrizio Bertelli might choose to hold off until early 2009 . . . 'A gun isn't pointed at his head,' Armando Branchini, deputy chairman of Milan-based luxury goods consultancy Intercorporate, comments in today's WWD."

One of the funniest things I've ever seen:

As I watched the video, I kept thinking, "My god, somebody's going to get shot!"

But it was all just shits and giggles . . .

Global Retailer H&M Announces Collaboration with Comme des Garçons:
"Comme des Garçons is the latest design house to collaborate with high street store H&M for a capsule collection to launch this autumn . . . the label's founder and head of design, Rei Kawakubo commented on the collaboration, 'I have always been interested in the balance between creation and business. It is a dilemma, although for me creation has always been the first priority. It is a fascinating challenge to work with H&M since it is a chance to take the dilemma to its extreme, and try to solve it.'"

Rei Kawakubo is noted for her decidedly eccentric designs and anti-mainstream ethos, so her collaboration with H&M should prove to be a fascinating study in contrasts, if nothing else. Check out the video below of her Comme des Garçons S/S 2008 women's collection :

Giambattista Valli Resurrects the Chic Appeal of the Puffy Jacket:
"Forget that shapeless, unflattering Ghostbusters Marshmallow Man stereotype . . . Giambattista Valli's Fall 2008 collection for Moncler proves that puffers can be equally stylish, whether you're skiing the French Alps or a Park Avenue Princess braving a New York winter." -- Valli was appointed head of design at Moncler after former Moncler designer Alessandra Fachinetti was tapped to replace the retiring Valentino.

Luxury Group PPR Sees Stock Price Slide after Downgrade by Analyst:
"PPR SA, the French luxury goods maker, fell the most in six weeks in Paris trading after MF Global cut its rating to ``neutral'' and forecast weaker sales of the Gucci and YSL brands because of production constraints . . . Lower production of Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent leather handbags and shoes last month will weigh on Gucci Group's first-half profitability, MF Global analyst John Guy wrote in a report today . . . He estimates sales of YSL declined 5 percent in the first quarter."

"A Reflection of Modern Britishness":

Chandler Burr Reviews Marc Jacobs' New Perfume, Daisy:
"What in the world is the point of Daisy? I have rarely smelled a perfume with a personality so impossible to pin down . . . Floral without flowers, sweet without sugar, somehow a pretty face without allowing a single feature of that face ever to come into distinct focus . . . It seems to have a peculiar engineering that allows it to melt into any background . . . People who come across it on your skin will stop and hesitate, attempting to classify the scent, but will find it impossible to pin down."

Designer Akira Isogawa Featured in Sydney, Australia Tourism Ad:
"A $1.2 million marketing campaign to attract tourists to Sydney is being launched today. The national campaign will feature Sydney high achievers, including fashion designer Akira Isogawa and rugby league player Craig Wing, talking about aspects of the city that inspire them."

Below is a short video clip that briefly touches upon Isogawa's philosophy behind his Akira label:

What Men Think About the New Designer Shoes:
The guy that describes the multi-hued, flower-heeled, suede Prada pump as "brutally ugly" is hilarious . . . and now that you mention it, that Dior Blue Angel pump kinda does resemble the skeletal head of an insect alien.

Racial Hysteria Over Vogue Cover Is Not the New Black:
"I, for one, have racism fatigue. I'm wiped out . . . Seeing that cover as purely racist doesn't give the people looking at it enough credit. It dates Vogue for relying on the allusion but it also dates us for going crazy over it. Racial hysteria is the old black. Maybe it's so old it's avant-garde--very Vogue."

Is it "racist" or is it actually some kind of cultural Rorschach test?

Right now, I'm reading the book, 'The Perfect Scent' by Chandler Burr. It's a fascinating (and I do mean that -- I'm completely mesmerized by it and find it difficult to put down) examination of the multi-billion dollar global perfume industry as illustrated in a behind the scenes look at the development and launches of the house of Hermes' Un Jardin sur le Nil and Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely. I'll never look at perfume quite the same way again.

Yes, Victoria -- There Is Such a Thing as Being Too Thin:
"The fact is that girls today need no encouragement to try to be as slim and perfect as possible: from the brainiest down, they are all at worst obsessed and at best painfully aware that to be thin and beautiful is the overriding demand of our times upon women. . . . The living embodiment of this is Victoria Beckham, both a footballer's wife and a singer, whose latest photograph, which appeared in a newspaper at the weekend, makes her look like a Dickensian starving waif. Her wasted arms clutch a Marc Jacobs bag that looks wider than her pathetically emaciated hips; the effect is tragic beyond measure. She is worth, of course, many millions, but how much of that is due to her singing talents and how much to the fact that she is married to the world's most iconic footballer?"

New Chinese Tailoring Strikes Fear in the Hearts of the Italians:
"Jhane Barnes, an American label that used to have its $900 to $1,200 suits made exclusively in Italy, says Chinese manufacturing expertise has improved so much that it has moved production of all of its suits and sport coats to a factory in China . . . . 'Part of the reason is the Chinese have made major investments in factories, in training, in equipment,' says Mr. Burke, a former fashion director at Bergdorf Goodman. 'Chinese product can be as good with the proper training and machinery.'"

6267 is Gianfranco Ferré's New Lucky Number:
"The Italian fashion house on Tuesday tapped the 6267 duo Tommaso Aquilano and Roberto Rimondi as creative directors . . . Aquilano and Rimondi will replace Lars Nilsson, who left Ferré in February before he even completed his first collection for the house. Their initial effort will bow for spring 2009."

Take a look at a clip featuring 6267's Fall 2008 collection:

Target Expands Its Successful Go International LIne to Year 'Round:
"With the success of Target's Go International line, which has featured designers such as Behnaz Sarafpour and Proenza Schouler in the past, has now expanded into a 365-day brand. Now, in between collections, Target will offer the Go International Private Label Collection, designed in-house . . . "

London's Smash and Grab Biker Gangs Strike Again:
"Six men on three motorbikes targeted the Fendi designer store in London's Sloane Street last night, but as they scrambled to get away, photographers hoping to snap celebrity Rebecca Loos outside the Cipriani restaurant in Mayfair turned their cameras on the thieves . . . One onlooker said: 'They must have had 20 to 30 bags each. Some were hanging off the bottom of the bikes.'"

When Playing the Dandy Gets You Booted From the Country:
"Thirteen days ago, United States Customs authorities refused to admit the infamously debauched writer Sebastian Horsley into the country for a book tour. After a lengthy interrogation at Newark airport, he was put on a plane back to England . . . To Mr. Horsley, who has in the past entered the country without incident, the recent fracas arose less from his past indulgences than a current one. In short, his very tall top hat. 'It's a stovepipe,' he said, referring to the subspecies made famous seven score and seven years ago by Abraham Lincoln. 'They asked my girlfriend, 'Why is he wearing that hat?' And she told them, 'Because it wouldn't fit in his suitcase.'"

Ditching the Purse for a Leaner, Meaner LIfestyle:
"I never realized how much I hated carrying a purse until this week when a service person ripped off some money out of my wallet -- about 200 bucks . . . I started thinking about how many hours I have spent guarding that purse. Not only me, but a number of women are constantly clutching their bags to their sides . . . I have always watched guys with envy for the way they have so little to carry around. "How do they do it?" I wondered . . . Where do you put extra things that you need? Do you carry a man-purse or a briefcase, which really is just a man's version of a purse?"

"I Was Escorted Out Of Target!":
It sounds like a bad title for a worse dime-store novel, but it's actually the hilarious anecdote of a young girl who wandered into Target to try on the Jovovich-Hawk collection, only to find herself engaged in battle with a sunburned dressing-room attendant sporting a serious attitude problem -- "He looked at me. Looked through the hangers and spit out that I had FIVE hangers. To which I explained (realizing my mistake) that I had mistakenly put the bikini top and bottom on one hanger. It was supposed to be on two. Hence the extra hanger. MA'AM you have FIVE hangers. "I know, I just explained it to you." MA'AM YOU HAVE 5 HANGERS! D'uh. I know. I've just explained to you why that is. I started to chuckle. I mean DDDDDUUUUUUHHHHH!!!!!"

Her experience ended up a little like this:

Layoffs on Wall Street Hit NYC Retailers Where It Hurts:
"Although Wall Street accounts for only 5% of the city's employment, it has fuelled more than a third of its recent economic growth . . . 'The revenues that Wall Street firms receive then enable enormous bonuses that have helped fuel the luxury real estate market in the New York metro area,' says James Parrott from the Fiscal Policy Institute . . . 'All of that for the last few years has been moving up, and has been expanding and increasing demand and jobs and now we're at the point where that is starting to unwind and go into reverse' . . . from street vendors to legal services, from real estate to restaurants, the pinch has already started."

The Top Ten Films that Influenced Fashion:
"American Express Red recently conducted a poll asking top names in the fashion industry ~ Stella McCartney, Paul Smith, Vivienne Westwood, Lulu Guiness, Philip Treacy, Oswald Boateng, Giorgio Armani, Marc Jacobs, Zac Posen, John Rocha, Michael Kors and others ~ to name the films they thought had had the most influence on the world of fashion. Not surprisingly, "Breakfast at Tiffany's" was the unanimous choice for #1."

The movie that launched a thousand LBD's:

H&M Sees a Silver Lining in the Recessionary Clouds:
"Hennes & Mauritz (H&M), the Swedish fashion giant, bucked the doom and gloom surrounding the retail sector today by reporting a 19 per cent jump in profits and its strongest sales growth for five months . . . H&M put its success down to "well composed" collections and a larger online offer but noted that it had been investing more in price promotions over the new year . . . but analysts assert that its combination of inexpensive yet trendy clothing is striking a chord with shoppers."

CBGB's Punk Ethos Succumbs to the Gentrification of John Varvatos:
"Just checking in on what remains and what is vanishing still of CBGB's, I found the new John Varvatos store making headway, having installed what look like arched French windows in the old club's not-so-French-windowed space . . . CBGB's back alley, Extra Place, is parked end-to-end with German engineering as it prepares to undergo its luxury transformation. The Ramones used to hang out back here--but this weekend, Marky Ramone was watching American Idol on HDTV instead."

Memories:

Ferragamo Hopes to Reinvent Itself as a Luxury Power Player in the East:
"Ferragamo's strategy is an audacious one. The brand has a highly respected heritage but compared to Dior and Vuitton, Ferragamo is currently a bit player in the luxury field. But in the virgin shopping malls of China, the company sees no reason why it cannot reinvent itself as a premier league name . . . 'Most western people can only remember the names of five or six Chinese cities, even though there are 20 cities with more than five million people. In the same way, most Chinese people can only remember five or six western brand names,' says Michele Norsa, CEO of Salvatore Ferragamo. 'What is fundamental is to establish ourselves soon.'"

It's Fall 2008 collection was a splashy, glittery, high-glam affair that took its cues from Tom Ford era Gucci: