Author: Stephanie Janssen

Blue Jeans: 350 years

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Fashion comes and goes, and yet jeans endure. What can account for their longevity, universality, versatility? They’re cool and comfortable, can be dressed up and down, are appropriate for most situations, and can be completely made your own. Even if there is no one explanation, after nearly two centuries of ubiquity, they get their due in Blue Jeans: 350 Years at the Centraal Museum in Utrecht in the Netherlands. The exhibit traces the jean through the past three centuries—from mine worker’s uniform to subculture emblem to high-fashion statement, along with themes on sustainability and modern craftsmanship. We talked to the museum’s fashion & costumes curator Ninke Bloemberg about the fabric that is somehow all things to all people.

HUMANITY: Is this exhibit dedicated to the jean the first of its kind?

NINKE BLOEMBERG: It is in this size. There have been smaller exhibitions, but we have about 1,000 square meters [over 10,000 square feet], so that’s quite a lot. And it’s also unique since for the first time we are telling the early story of the 17th to 18th century, and we also have new pieces specially made for the exhibition. So it’s both historical and really up to date.

HUMANITY: Why this exhibit now?

NB: Because as you might know, the Netherlands is quite a big jeans country. Many countries are, of course, but at the moment there are a lot of young labels that are growing really rapidly, so that’s an important thing. Also, in September a jeans school started— that’s also quite unique in the world. That’s where people learn how to make jeans, train to be a jean developer. And, you know, sometimes there’s something in the air, and it seemed like a good moment.

HUMANITY: What is it about the Dutch and jeans?

NB: The Dutch are quite practical, or casual in their way of dressing. We do almost everything by bike and jeans are something that you can wear to work, to a party, almost to everything. And so I think it fits to our nature quite well.

HUMANITY: Your exhibit highlights a return to craftsmanship. Tell me about the workshop of Dutch designer Koen Tossijn.

NB: Koen moved his studio into the exhibition room, so he will be there several days a week. And he’ll make a pair of jeans in your size, so they are tailor made. We have a fitting room, and he will measure you and make a pair that you can fit to try on to get the size right. So you see the whole process. And we also have another studio, also integrated within the exhibition, and that’s where the public can work on their own pair of jeans. So we actually have two studios.

HUMANITY: What makes the Japanese youth such an interesting subculture in regards to jeans?

NB: We show two outfits that came from Japan. And it’s quite interesting because if you see how we wear jeans in Europe or in America, it’s [just] a pair of jeans. And if it’s double denim, you also have a denim blouse. But in Japan, they wear several layers of denim or they roll a pair of early 20th-century denim workpants a certain way so they wear it as a scarf. There is a big interest in American articles, which is especially interesting because of World War II when the two were huge enemies, of course. I think it’s partly because Japan does not really have a fashion culture of its own. Until the 1900s or so, people mainly wore kimonos. In Japan they are in some way perfectionists, so they like it when there’s an edge, when it’s imperfect. And I think it’s the same with the jeans. That they have a history, that they’re torn. It’s not just because it’s from America.

HUMANITY: Are there any other parts of the world doing something notable with denim?

NB: In the last two years in the Arabic countries, where the revolutions have been taking place, you notice also that the demand for jeans is increasing. So I think there’s a still this feeling of liberty and power to them.

HUMANITY: Are there any strange items from denim history?

NB: Well, we have a pair of embroidered jeans that are from the 1970s and were used for a marriage—it had a tunic to wear with it. And that is something you do not see today that much.

HUMANITY: Do people in the Netherlands like to stick with local designers?

NB: Mainstream, they go for the big brands. But denim-heads and people who are more into denim, they like the story behind the denim and they choose Dutch designers. But I think we have several Dutch designers who have quite an international look and feel, so some people will not see the difference.

HUMANITY: When you work at the museum, do you wear denim every day?

NB: Most of the time I do, but not all of the time. We have quite a broad collection. We have 17th-century pieces up to recent national and international designers, and I’m working on different projects so I sometimes feel like that animal that adjusts to the space—the chameleon.

 

Carmen Freudenthal and Elle Verhagen, “Horse and Rider,” Centraal Museum, 2012

 

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Chris Magnus

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Chris Magnus never intended to be a police officer, never mind one of the country’s most influential police chiefs today. But what started out as a commitment to community service in his youth sent Magnus down the career path to eventually become one of the leaders in the community-policing movement in America, with the results to prove it. After taking on the role of police chief in Richmond, California, in 2006, Magnus and his force saw a drastic reduction in violent crime to less than 1,000 incidents in 2014, and a drop in homicide levels from 47 in 2007 to just 11 last year. In early 2015, he was invited to testify before a newly created Presidential Task Force on 21st Century Policing to help shape future policing policies and community relationship-building nationwide. And in January 2016 he stepped into his newest role, as police chief of Tucson, Arizona.

“I’m not from a police family,” says Magnus, looking back on his childhood as the youngest of four in Lansing, Michigan. “My parents were professors and teachers. It wasn’t something that was handed down generationally.” But from an early age, Magnus was engaged in community-organizing work, devoting his time to the likes of United Farm Workers and juvenile justice issues. “Frankly, I did not really see the police as advocates or necessarily partners in any of those endeavors,” says Magnus, who admits being influenced by Cesar Chavez’s ideology in his youth. “He’s one of the reasons I got involved with United Farm Workers, because of what he was able to accomplish, despite incredible roadblocks and barriers in terms of fighting for farm-worker rights and protecting the dignity of folks who are still in many ways underappreciated and undervalued for what they do.”

By age 15, Magnus and his friends had set up a statewide advocacy organization called the Three O’Clock Lobby, run by youth and focused on juvenile justice issues. Later, as a student at Michigan State University, Magnus took on an internship that involved spending considerable time with the Lansing and Detroit police departments. “It gave me a very different perspective on some of the challenges and issues they face,” he says. “I also got a sense of how much influence good police officers could have on young people they dealt with and on really being good advocates for the community and, more specifically, in the neighborhoods they worked in.”

Magnus needed to find a way to pay for his college tuition and landed a job as a dispatcher with the Lansing Police Department—an experience that allowed him to sharpen his skills in dealing with a community. The job also piqued his interest in Emergency Medical Services and the work of paramedic deputies, who worked as police officers but also answered medical calls. Drawn to the patient-care aspect of the job, Magnus studied to become an EMT and a paramedic before enrolling in the police academy. Upon graduation he accepted positions as a sheriff’s deputy in Livingston County and a part-time paramedic.

But it was his next job, as a police officer in Lansing, serving the MSU community, among others, where Magnus became part of a force that was pioneering the community-policing movement—“the idea of officers becoming engaged in neighborhoods and taking a broader role in terms of solving problems and being better partners with members of the community to address a broader selection of challenges and issues,” he explains.

Magnus worked his way up the ranks to captain before accepting the job as chief of police in Fargo, North Dakota, where he put his community-policing skills to the test—and passed with flying colors. “On its face, Fargo is quite a homogenous community,” says Magnus. In reality, it was a city dealing with a lot of refugee resettlement from the likes of Eastern Europe and East Africa, topped with everyday issues from meth use to domestic violence. “We really wanted to create an environment that was supportive and inclusive of the changing population,” says Magnus, who credits his time in Fargo with building his experience and working relationships.

“There’s not one simple thing like, ‘Add this set of ingredients, stir and voilà, you’ve got a successful policing program,’ ” says Magnus. “You have to hire people who are really invested in this kind of work, who want to be a police officer and who want to serve their community for the right reasons, and see their job more broadly than just doing enforcement.” Magnus also places an emphasis on the right training to help build well-rounded police officers, paired with setting proper expectations and providing the right supervision. “You can say you value community policing all day long, but when your promotions are based on how well you do on a test and saying the right things in an interview, having good stats or whatever for enforcement and the like, you give a mixed message.”

And when the Richmond Police Department came knocking on Magnus’ door in 2006, he answered its call, taking on the role of chief of police in the Northern California town of just over 100,000, with one of the worst homicide rates in the country at the time. Under Magnus’ decade-long watch, Richmond’s crime rate was the lowest it’s been in 30 years. Magnus’ community-policing philosophy not only won the hearts and minds of the city, its businesses and local leaders but garnered national attention for its effectiveness in reducing crime, building trust and creating effective partnerships. As Magnus sees it, police need to be assigned to districts in a way where they can really get to know people and get involved on a broader spectrum, or as he puts it, “not just being a slave to the 911 call machine.” As police across America are coming under fire for brutality and the excessive use of force, Magnus and his Richmond department emerged as a shining example of how a community and its police can work together to drive down crime and make a difference.  (It’s hardly a surprise that Magnus was actively recruited for the role of chief of the Tucson Police Department.)

It’s not just Magnus’ singular approach to policing that has attracted national attention, but his personal life has been a talking point, too. In 2014 he became the first openly gay male police chief to get married. Magnus doesn’t seek to draw attention to his personal life, nor has he ever felt it’s something he needed to hide or step away from. “It’s important that people see we can all come from really different life experiences and backgrounds and yet find common ways to work together on issues that affect our day-to-day lives,” he says. “I think most people share a common desire that they want to be safe, that they feel like the quality of life where they live is high and there’s going to be a place for their kids.”

Nowhere has Magnus’ commitment to building trust between his police force and his community been more apparent than on social media in late 2014, when the chief was photographed in Richmond holding a sign reading “#BlackLivesMatter,” as part of a peaceful protest against the deaths of Eric Garner and Michael Brown at the hands of police officers. Though Magnus caught flack for holding the sign while in uniform—which he told the media was simply intended as a “humane” statement—it evoked a powerful nationwide reaction for showing a police officer standing up for his community.

“We see evidence all the time that there are some police officers who are doing some questionable—if not downright unacceptable—kinds of things,” says Magnus. “But there are 18,000 police departments around the country, and within those departments there are hundreds and thousands of police officers, the great majority of whom are trying to do the right thing, who got into policing because they want to help people.”

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SEBASTIAN SUHL

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It depends on the day, but most mornings see Sebastian Suhl rise just after the sun, around 6:30 a.m. or so. His regime is typical of a man with much on his plate, a man who must keep his body as fit as his mind. So he exercises, runs a little, and eats as healthy a breakfast as he can. When we speak, his wife and children are in Paris, set to join him soon in New York, but for now his days are all about work. By 8 a.m. he is at his desk, taking phone meetings, quietly guiding the fortunes of one of the greatest names in contemporary American fashion: Marc Jacobs.

Former CEO of Givenchy, with prior senior positions at Courrèges, Prada and Miu Miu, Suhl joined Marc Jacobs in September 2014, causing him to spend nearly a year separated from his family (wife, two daughters and a son from a previous marriage), who remained in Paris so as not to disrupt the children’s schooling, until they finally joined him in the fall of 2015. It’s the first time his children have lived in NYC—they were born in Hong Kong, moved to Europe and now are back to the place where Suhl was born and raised.

Washington Heights, specifically, is where Suhl grew up. A year after graduating from college he moved to Spain for six years, then Paris for nine, then Hong Kong, then back to Paris and Milan, followed by another stint in Paris and now, after half of his life spent being an American abroad, back to the place he knows best. “It’s full circle,” he says. “A big shift, but it’s coming home.”

The transition from old-world Parisian couture back to the new world has been interesting. Both Givenchy and Marc Jacobs are under the LVMH banner, but they’re completely different in terms of the working culture. “The Paris fashion scene has plenty of young designers but it’s dominated by these very large, established, historic couture houses. Here in the U.S., there’s a certain amount of freedom, which is true for New York in general. The can-do mentality is here, the sense that anything is possible.”

Now, not only is he working for a fashion house whose founder is still alive and well and steering the ship (unlike the couture houses in Paris whose originators are long since deceased), but he is in a New York quite different from the one he grew up in. “New York was a much more marginal place, seedy in spite of being a world center,” says Suhl. “Now I feel like the city has become friendlier, warmer and cleaner, and there aren’t the same constant concerns about safety. Of course, huge neighborhoods have shifted. What used to be trendy and artsy is now mostly expensive. It’s a funny thing coming back to a city that is sort of the same and sort of different.”

His job requires a deft, almost clairvoyant understanding of the fashion business, whose fickle ebbs and flows are notoriously tricky to predict. It also requires an appreciation for the creative side, as he carefully executes the designers’ vision with the demands of a global marketplace in mind. Left brain and right brain working at full throttle each day means that Suhl, perhaps more than most, relishes the moments when he can disengage. Sometimes he walks around, marveling at how his city has changed: “The whole park on the Westside on the river didn’t even exist before.” Or he indulges in what New York does best—food. An off-the-radar Japanese spot called Bohemian, or Kyoya in the Village, are his favorite places to unwind and contemplate the energy of New York, and his new life. “Young New York designers have an acute sensitivity and respect for the business,” he says. “There’s a strong entrepreneurial approach here.” An approach embodied by his creative director, Mr. Marc Jacobs.

Marc Jacobs founded his namesake label 30 years ago, launching a brand that stood apart from others in America, displaying a very international and in some ways European sensibility. Jacobs has always been the creative director of Marc Jacobs and was simultaneously the creative director of Louis Vuitton until a year ago. He’s still “a very young, dynamic designer,” says Suhl, adding, “Marc is intrinsically involved and creatively directing everything. He is at the heart of all that, as the creative engine.” Since Suhl’s arrival, it was decided that the two MJ brands—the luxury brand Marc Jacobs and its more affordable sibling, Marc by Marc Jacobs—are going to be streamlined into one brand, offering designer products at a “contemporary” price point with some luxury. “That’s really a very powerful thing,” says Suhl. “This high and low mix, which is really rare, and our very modern philosophy.” It’s too soon to say what Suhl’s legacy will be at Marc Jacobs, but this surely will be part of the story, as Suhl guides the brand through new waters.

In more than 20 years in the business, Suhl has seen the world become smaller and smaller, as designers have to think about their market not in terms of a small elite group of Western buyers but a consumer base in varying income brackets that spans the planet. More than half of Marc Jacobs’ business comes from outside the U.S., for example. “I think that Marc represents something of a shift that is happening in American fashion. American designers are looking more and more to what’s happening abroad.”

That may be the case, but for Suhl, after so many years in foreign lands, he’s happy to be home, helming a quintessentially American brand, whose founders are still alive and kicking. “It’s a great privilege to be exposed to that,” says Suhl. “All fashion houses originally were born thanks to great creative entrepreneurs, even the oldest and most venerable of French couture houses. Here, you can get a glimpse of what that looks like in real time—how they continue to create a culture and an energy that makes a brand what it is.”
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Ken Senju

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Every Monday and Friday, Ken Senju starts his day at the fish markets in downtown Los Angeles. “Friday is a big day, because we get a special kind of fish from Japan. I need to make sure everything is there and everything is fresh,” says the sushi chef, whose responsibilities include buying the day’s fish for Matsuhisa in Beverly Hills, the cornerstone of chef Nobuyuki Matsuhisa’s global culinary empire (together with actor Robert De Niro, he co-founded the Nobu restaurant chain), which opened its doors in 1987. “But we have a long relationship with the fish companies, so they always give us the best catch.”

It took years for Senju to learn how to size up the perfect block of tuna or mackerel—one of the many skills passed down to him from the older generation of sushi chefs at the storied establishment on La Cienega Boulevard. “When they thought I was ready, they taught me how to do it,” explains Senju, who joined the Matsuhisa fold in 2003 at age 28. After moving to Virginia from his native Japan in 1995 for a job at a friend’s restaurant with only $800 in his pocket, Senju worked his way up from washing dishes to his first gig behind a sushi counter.

By the time he saw an ad in a local Japanese paper for a sushi chef at Matsuhisa, Senju was fulfilling his dream of living in California, working in San Diego, cutting fish and making sushi at a trendy “rock ’n’ roll” Asian-fusion restaurant in a hotel. “Before me, Nobu-san only hired chefs with lots of experience. But when I went to the interview, Nobu-san decided to hire me and give me a try,” explains Senju, who convinced the sushi master that he was ready to learn the art of traditional Japanese sushi making in a formal setting. Matsuhisa agreed to hire the young chef on one condition: “You can’t have any problems with other employees,” recalls Senju. “I don’t know if he was joking, but I look back now and I see that he wanted to make sure I listened to everybody and that I knew it was going to be really hard—but that I could do it.”

As the youngest and lowest-ranking sushi chef at the restaurant, the first three years were the most challenging, says Senju. But he remained committed, encouraged by the fact that he was learning on a daily basis. “The other chefs were really hard on me,” he remembers. “I kept telling myself I could do it. Many people started working at the same time as me, and a lot of them quit.” That perseverance paid off: Today Senju is one of the restaurant’s main sushi chefs, rotating between the main sushi counter and the sushi bar in a private room. It was here at the restaurant where he also met his wife (she was a hostess); together they have two young children. “Now there are younger chefs at the restaurant,” says Senju. “I always teach them how to get along with the older guys.” And though Matsuhisa travels a lot these days (he currently has 40 restaurants to his name and counting), “when he’s in town and he sees me doing something wrong he teaches me,” says Senju. “It’s really, really nice.”

The biggest lesson of all? “Nobu-san always tells everybody, whatever you do, you have to put your heart—your kokoro—in it. In the beginning I understood what he said but I was still learning and trying to do my best, so I don’t think I could put my kokoro in it,” says Senju. “But now that I’ve worked there for over 13 years, I am starting to know what it’s like—and I can use that for not only sushi, I can also use it for my kids and my life. I’m still learning.”

 

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Ken Senju’s Seared Tuna Salad

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Chef Ken Senju of Beverly Hills’ acclaimed Matsuhisa, the cornerstone of the Nobu restaurant chain, shares a favorite recipe in honor of Father’s Day.

Ken Senju’s Seared Tuna Salad

INGREDIENTS

  • Big Eye tuna  6oz
  • Yellow beets 1 pc
  • Asparagus 6pcs
  • Baby spinach
  • White onion (half)

Sauce for the tuna

  • Soy sauce 50ml
  • Rice vinegar 25ml
  • Lemon juice 1 teaspoon
  • Yuzu koshou 1 teaspoon

Sauce for spinach & beets

  • Olive oil 75ml
  • Yuzu juice 25ml
  • Black pepper (pinch)

DIRECTIONS

 


 

Tuna

  • Salt and pepper the whole tuna and then pan-sear all sides only for a few seconds.  Immediately place into an ice bath for 5 minutes.  Dry the tuna with a paper towel. Then cut the tuna into thin slices, slicing it in the direction going against the vein

Yellow beets

  • Wrap in aluminum foil then put it in the oven (350 degrees) for an hour and a half (Depending on the size). Leave it out to cool, then peel the skin and cut.

 


 

Asparagus

  • Sauté with olive oil and salt and pepper.

Crispy onion

  • Cut the raw onion into thin slices and then rinse them under cold water. Drain and then dry the onions with a paper towel. Dust the onions with equal parts flour and corn starch. Fry them in 280 degrees until golden brown.

 


 

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Chuck Hughes’ Buttermilk Pancakes

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

The Canadian top chef shares his secret to the perfect Father’s Day breakfast.

Chuck Hughes’ Buttermilk Pancakes (Approximately 10 pancakes) 

INGREDIENTS

  • 3 tablespoons white vinegar
  • 2 cups whole milk
  • 2 eggs
  • ⅓ cup melted butter
    • plus 3 ½ teaspoons for skillet & pancakes
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 3 tablespoons white sugar
  • My Woodsman’s Canada Grade A Maple Syrup

DIRECTIONS In a medium bowl add white vinegar to milk to create instant buttermilk. Let sit for 5 minutes until mixture thickens. Whisk in eggs and melted butter. Set aside. In another medium bowl whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar. Slowly combine the dry mix to wet mix, stirring until batter is combined (small lumps are okay). Add butter to skillet and heat to a medium/high heat. Ladle in pancake batter. Once pancakes have bubbles on the top and are slightly dry around edges (about 2 – 2 ½ minutes) – flip over. Cook for another minute. Repeat until batter finished. Serve with butter and My Woodsman’s Canada Grade A Maple Syrup.
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Local 1205

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

You thought you wanted a drip coffee and a bagel, so why’d you walk away from the breakfast window clutching a mason jar of cold-pressed juice the color of a dolphin called “Seaspray,” and a pillowy brioche egg sandwich? You’ve been localized. The airy, well-appointed general store and deli at 1205 Abbot Kinney Blvd., which goes simply by the numbers of its bucolic Venice address, has that effect. The attention to detail means even everyday pleasures feel elaborate.

Breakfast is issued all day from Local’s sidewalk window (it’s not the only one in this hood, but easily the healthiest thanks to that rainbow row of raw juices). Inside the main shop, short order cooks mill around behind a long deli case constructing sandwiches like a truffled chevre grilled cheese and a pretty poached lobster roll. Scattered around the long dining room, locals peck at laptops from several communal wooden tables and vermilion metal chairs and respond to calls of “order up.” The straightforward delicatessen menu boasts small surprises. The sourdough is choice; the pickle slices zingy. The deli’s “Veg-out” sandwich is a cut-above your avocado-and-sprouts affair. Mandolin-thin curlicues of heirloom carrots are tossed with brilliant red radish slices and peppery arugula. The cool mess gets tossed with curry oil, like a fistful of marsala, and set atop a light schmear of hummus and slices of sunset-colored tomato.

Long before you get to the deli, the first thing that strikes you when entering Local is the pile of picture-perfect produce piled atop old-timey wheelbarrows in the center of the room. Prices are scrawled on a nearby chalkboard, naturally, and the selection is slight but well-done and big on rustic charm. (I’m almost positive I saw a father teach his 2-year-old son what “fennel” was standing there fumbling with a big idyllic bulb.) But the nicest touch here is the corner of the shop dedicated to provisions—oils and preserves and highend tidbits stacked on corrugated metal shelves. Whoever is stocking this place has an eye for the kind of brand names that become categories all their own. They don’t carry crackers; they have charcoal cracker biscuits made in Bath, England, that are squid-ink-black and taste sweet like freshly churned butter. Snapping up a box of these and ordering a gooey hunk of Morbier from the deli case seems a perfect lunch to ferry home. First tuck under your arm a jar of Brooklyn Brine Co’s spicy hot dill pickles or chipotle carrots.

Let’s be frank (which is, by the way, the brand of gourmet frankfurters the deli serves). Local is the kind of gourmand boutique that only some neighborhoods can support, but this strip seems handsomely served by the combination breakfast window, full-service deli and high-end pantry. What’s missing? This fall, Local is opening an oyster bar and pizza kitchen in back. When I stopped in last they were readying the white marble counter for late-night snacking. It’s almost as if they hope you’ll never leave.

Evan George is co-founder of the Hot Knives blog and co-author of the Hot Knives cookbooks, including the forthcoming Lust For Leaf published March 2013.
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Le Labo

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

If you’re in need of a new perfume, you can stop by a department store for an off-the-shelf olfactory hit. But when true scent obsessives need a signature fragrance, they head directly to Le Labo, a brand whose made-to-order perfumes are beloved by iconoclasts and tastemakers. There’s nothing staid or frilly about the line, which offers earthy fragrances composed of natural elements like leather, cardamom and violets. Its founders say they were “inspired by Mike Mills’ declaration about ‘fighting the rising tide of conformity,’ ” and they built their vegan and cruelty-free empire on the notion that perfumes should give the wearer a “sensory shock.” There are Le Labo (which, fittingly, means “the lab”) boutiques in several international cities, butfx all use the same process for their fragrances: customers have their perfumes “compounded” (mixed) while they wait. Luckily for visitors to the brand’s latest shop in Venice, which opened on Abbot Kinney in February 2012, the store’s pressed-tin walls, blackand- white photo booth, and cream-colored wood ceiling beams make it a very inviting space to while away some time.

Le Labo prides itself on the quality of its ingredients, and no expense is spared to develop a new frangrance—a process that can take as long as two years. After a customer buys a bottle, one of Le Labo’s perfumers stamps it with the wearer’s name and a use-by date, emphasizing the fact that scents do, in fact, have a shelf life. The Venice boutique’s manager, Cameron Pagett, points out that this process also sets Le Labo apart from ordinary perfumers. “We choose to make our products fresh, because we feel that people should get their perfume at the moment of conception, at the moment they ask for it. It never sits on a shelf. You’ll never find perfume of this caliber so accessible. I think these fragrances are incredibly unique.”

Pagett explains Le Labo’s scents also differ from that of most perfume lines. “They don’t smell ‘expensive’ in a traditional, super-clean sort of way. They’re more fresh—they’re like when someone gives you a warm hug, but doesn’t hold on for too long. They hold on just long enough for you to know that they love you and care about you, but not too much to where you want to say, ‘OK, can you let go now?’ ” He says that the scents are also, much like Le Labo’s whole ethos, untraditional. “They always have something that’s going to throw you off the path. Especially with our patchouli: People come in and say, ‘Ew, I don’t like patchouli,’ just based on what they’ve already smelled. And I always make them try it; even if it’s not their favorite, they have to admit that they’ve never smelled a patchouli like that.”

Le Labo’s Venice location has a spartan-yet-romantic aesthetic: swing-arm wall lamps illuminate vintage furniture and scientific implements. It’s as if the world’s chicest European chemist opened his laboratory to the public. Pagett describes it as “an urban cathedral of scents.” He continues: “There’s a very industrial, clean part, which obviously is the laboratory, but it’s also very cozy. You have the whitewashed ceilings, and a sort of Parisian, 1920s antique-store motif. It almost looks like a secret spot where you could sip alcohol and listen to Fitzgerald talk about literature. But it’s also very cozy. You’re surrounded by things that look better the longer they’re there, which makes every day feel a little bit better.”

While the store’s beauty is undeniable, Pagett says fragrance is something that’s often taken for granted in our culture. “Before I worked for Le Labo, I think that I was less cognizant of the fact that scent ties in with lots of the things we romanticize in our lives. Fragrance brings a certain level of beauty. It’s kind of like music—each scent has its own rhythms and rhymes and notes. Introducing a new scent in your day is the next step in interweaving beauty into your life.”
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Mociun

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Some may say it was serendipity that the spot where Brooklynbased entrepreneur and designer Caitlin Mociun originally decided to open her boutique fell through. A couple days later, she found the ideal location on the corner of North 4th Street at Wythe Avenue in Williamsburg.

“It felt like the perfect kind of space that I wanted,” says Moicun of the interior that she describes as a “contemporary tangent on Bauhaus aesthetics.” “I didn’t want an old space. I didn’t want it to look like a typical Brooklyn store with the pressed-in ceiling and the bricks. I wanted a new space.”

The Rhode Island School of Design graduate had a few successful trial runs in retail via pop-up shops and an e-commerce site before deciding to open a permanent boutique. Mociun (pronounced mo-shun), which opened in March of 2012, can’t be pigeonholed into one category. Its inventory consists of housewares, art, beauty products, jewelry, fabric, handbags and more. It can be considered a lifestyle boutique in a broad sense that carries a selection of items representing Mociun’s artfully inclined yet practical taste.

“Firstly, I have to be aesthetically drawn to it,” says Mociun. “Then it’s really important to me that the object functions really well.”

Everything, aside from two pieces that hang on the back wall, is for sale in the store. Mociun’s feel can be described as a well-curated flea market meets art gallery. The designer is very particular about the items in her store. She prefers to stock goods that aren’t available elsewhere, so she often works with designers to produce items that are custom-made for the boutique. The products come from around the world—vintage 1960s rugs originate from Morocco, wood pieces hail from Japan, and the U.S. items stem from New York to Seattle.

A row of various-colored Baggu drawstring bags and a white Eric Bonnin porcelain chain sculpture dangle from the railing of a ramp that stands at the store’s entryway. It leads to a wall of Rare Elements shampoo and conditioner (which Mociun raves about), products by Australian beauty brand Aesop, and richly scented olive-oil-based soaps handmade by Saipua.

Everything is laid out methodically—her dainty fine-jewelry designs sit under a glass window on display tables, elegant Santa Fe Stoneworks pocket knives are at the counter, cute ceramic spoons by Suzanne Sullivan rest side by side before three stacks of bowls nesting inside one another. A wall of tearsheets and a vinyl record from the latest edition of the publication United Field Collective is displayed on one side. Rolls of fabric with prints created by Mociun (she studied textile design) stand in another part.

The Williamsburg store also serves as a gathering place. Clients can meet with the designer there, and friends stop by to say hi. Its inviting feel also creates an ideal breeding ground for conversation with shoppers. “A lot of people are super interesting and have lots of information and stories, and I enjoy hearing that stuff and we have a lot of conversation,” says Mociun.

And how does the shop owner describe her customer? “Someone that’s definitely interested in things that are beautiful objects, that quality is really important to them, art and design are important to them,” says Mociun. “I feel like there has to be this certain curiosity, a love of having an experience.”

 

 

 

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Poliça

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

If low expectations can be a good thing, Channy Leaneagh found that out with the success of Poliça. The band started as an experiment—as she says, “trying something out”—in 2011 with her friend and producer Ryan Olson. What resulted was the album Give You the Ghost, an enchanting meld of dreamy, stripped down, electronica-pop. And an immediate, if unexpected, hit.

Poliça started on the upswing and have never slowed. The band, which includes drummers Drew Christopherson and Ben Ivascu and bassist Chris Bierdan, were quickly headlining their own shows and then opening for the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah tour. They made the rounds of the late-night talk shows, and Justin Vernon of Bon Iver called them the best band he’s ever heard. “I don’t have any explanation,” she says. “It is a bit of a lottery or a luck of the draw in the music industry. I just try to do what I can with the opportunities we have and be gracious and humbled by it, above all.”

The album was recorded quickly, in only a few months, with Olson producing and arranging and Leaneagh writing the lyrics. She describes both her and Olson as intense in their own way, “frantic and excited about keeping the engine warm and running.” Agonizing and slow, this process was not. “We both prefer the first take and writing instinctually,” she says. “If a song isn’t clicking we throw it to the side until maybe it speaks to me in a few months.”

The project was also somewhat of a departure for Leaneagh, who was previously in the popular Minneapolis folksy-soul band Roma Di Luna, which dissolved in 2011 along with her marriage to co-founder Alexei Casselle. It was a sad breakup if Leaneagh’s overwrought lyrics are any indication, but she seems to have funneled a lot of that emotion into Poliça’s songs.

Leaneagh says the writing was the most fun part, and she approached it a bit differently this time. “I was reacting to the emotion Ryan Olson’s beats brought out in me and writing words that best described that place,” she says. “But I wrote a lot less words on Give You the Ghost. This record is a lot more carnal than anything I’ve ever wrote.”

While Leaneagh’s voice was never really conventional, auto-tune factors heavily into the Poliça sound. But instead of its current utility in popular music where it hides lesser talents, with Poliça it’s used as a signature—and enhances the band’s ethereal, moody vibe. For Leaneagh, whose natural voice sounds a bit otherworldly anyway, it did take some getting used to. “I don’t believe autotune is supposed to sound like anything or has finished evolving,” she says, “so I am just always trying to find the best way it works for my voice and more specifically the band [and] our songs.”

Leaneagh is from Minneapolis, a city known for, as she says, “bitterly cold winters that create plenty of room for hibernating into your art, friends and lovers.” It also has an open and inclusive music scene, where, she says, bands like Poliça can happen. “There are a couple great options to collaborate in a weekly improv night,” she says. “There are loads of musicians that love to play with anyone and experiment with different styles. That is how Poliça was started.”

As for what’s ahead, Leanagh says there’s no timeline. They will begin recording again when they get back from their current tour. “We’ve only just begun,” she says. “I don’t want to jinx it by fantasizing about the unknown.”

 

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