Welcome (back) to the Earshot Bulletin, where we love stuff. As a reminder, this is our place to profile what those we love have been up to/into lately and why.
I hope everyone who observed adult Halloween had an appropriately spooky time - no actual scares, chance encounters with murderers, ghouls or guys who exclusively refer to Elon Musk by his first name.
This year, after much deliberation, I decided to formally abstain from Halloween. This had absolutely nothingto do with receiving zero invites to any kind of celebration whatsoever and everything to do with the personal anguish I’ve experienced at past holidays. Something about the explicit invitation of attention/assessment a costumed gathering necessitates presents an insurmountable challenge to me, activating a futile desire to be nonchalant while also lauded for my ingenuity and originality.
For years, I have fantasized about selecting the ideal niche costume - identifiable as a costume yet not totally distinguishable from appropriately lavish party-wear. The perfect cocktail of camp to signal a playful side, all the while embracing an opportunity to get a fit off.
This mental exercise in the weeks leading up All Hallow’s Eve defeated proved my downfall - I experienced vision after vision of myself clad in the Bode clown suit pelted with rotting fruit and stones by adolescent trick or treaters. I dreamt of crows attacking me in protest of my all-too conveniently timed Liam Gallagher costume. Finally, as I scrolled on eBay for Sopranos tracksuit inspiration and lost a three figure bid on a Diadora two-piece, I knew that my time had come.
Something was in the water in 2004 - Zuckerberg launched the pilot for Facebook, minor football nation Greece were European champions, a Republican won the popular vote, Friends wrapped shooting and the UN proclaimed it the International Year of Rice.
Concurrently, the world developed a sudden and insatiable appetite for an animated feature film. Shrek 2 was the highest grossing movie of the year, closely followed by marquee titles such as The Incredibles, The Polar Express, Howl’s Moving Castle, and The Spongebob Squarepants Movie -to name a few.
To me, this marks the end of the explicit delineation of mass media as ‘for adults’ or ‘for kids’. Why would a studio invest a movie which might limit one’s audience with an age or content rating? So long as there were a few jokes in there for mommy and daddy to innocuously chuckle at, it was cut ruthlessly to be exactly 90 minutes and we had a couple of killer musical numbers to bring it home, no-one seemed to mind an infantile plot-line. This is the kind of irresponsible thinking that has spawned a generation of Disney adults and grown men who play quidditch in Prospect Park.1
I feel like they made the Angelina Jolie fish a little too hot.
The creators of Shark Tale clearly missed the memo. Instead of making a children’s film with sprinklings of mature humor, Dreamworks penned a story about perpetual debt and the impossibility of social mobility without grift and a golden ticket - hinting at the very crumbling of the American Dream and the folly that simply ‘working hard’ will yield a better life. This is further complicated by the introduction of organized crime and the opportunity to exploit a lie for fame and fortune - a morality subplot about situational ethics. All the while, Shark Tale happens to be about anthropomorphic animated fish, all with particularly luscious lips, I might add.
The other aspect of this film that boggles the mind is that it is dripping in money. The cast reads like a Scorsese movie (who also makes an appearance as a puffer fish with impressive eyebrows), with De Niro, Will Smith, Angelina Jolie, and half of the Sopranos cast involved - even the legendary Peter Falk makes a cameo in one of his final roles before his passing. As we come upon the 20th anniversary of its run in theaters, I suggest giving it a watch - it’ll resonate more than you might imagine.
This week, Viggy provided some words on his love of the “Ghost” Citi bikes - hulking, rapid machines of urban warfare. Until reading his piece, I also had not considered that the name “Ghost” was unofficial. As I pried further, there seems to be no online mention whatsoever of this particular nickname - a phantom moniker, if you will. This only serves to add to the mystique of this grand apparatus and the heedless spirit it evinces.
Viggy has a pending application with the Citi Bike Boyz.
“You’re a danger on these roads!”
That’s what an older (I’m sure, kind) white lady in a BMW X5 yelled at me as I zipped past her on the CitiBike Ghost last week. She’s not entirely wrong. The “Ghost” - this eerie, gray, stealthy beast of an e-bike - seems to unleash a reckless side of me, like I’m in a personal race against the city itself. It's not just any CitiBike; it's a shadow that slips through traffic and back alleys, faster than most realize. I’m unsure of the etymology on the Ghost - I didn’t realize that wasn’t the official name of the vehicle until I started writing this.
There’s a thrill in being a blur on the streets, weaving around cars, dodging potholes, and threading through Manhattan like it’s my own obstacle course. Maybe I am a danger. But what she doesn’t get is the rush, the freedom that comes with the wind whipping past my face, the city blurring as I push 16/17 mph like I’m chasing something, and the 2 minutes I save over taking the subway.
No one can hear me on calls when I’m riding—everyone complains about the wind—but I don’t care. There's something about riding the Ghost that makes me feel untouchable. I’m negotiating deals, catching up with friends. It’s chaotic, sure. But in this city, chaos is a form of survival. And on the Ghost, I feel alive in a way nothing else quite matches.
Worn around knee height for maximum disruption, it lifts off in flight away from his body as he veers around corners, only to come crashing back into his legs with enough force to shatter drywall. He’s generated a kinetic yin and yang about himself - at once, he is terminally off-balance and prepared for a myriad of situations that the city might throw at him, as his satchel brims with laptops, toiletries and various tinctures to enervate him.
Disclaimer - this is not a picture of Ethan.
The primary iteration of this bag was the largest size of the infamous Telfar Shopping Bag in Dark Olive - a “Telfeezy” as he’ll refer to it in hushed tones. Naturally, Ethan has always been an ardent supporter of Queer African American artists - he’s a registered Kanye West stan - so this purchase was not only aesthetically coherent, but ideologically consistent too. In the spirit of fairness, his persistence in wearing it has carved out a signature style and a charming limp (a kind of crip walk perhaps) that has eventually won me over.
Recently, his search for a replacement bag coincided with a particularly desperate SSENSE sale and, true to trendy form, he selected one of the Lemaire Croissant bags as his Telfar successor. Almost immediately, the pendulum technique Ethan wielded his previous bag with proved too unbridled for the pastry-inspired piece. Like any good croissant, it flaked and tore beautifully, proving itself unworthy of his martial style. Perhaps its time to leave youth behind and invest in a Cotopaxi.
This week’s guest is One Fifty Collective - a talented company of designers who we are honored to call part of the Earshot family. Since their inception, we’ve had the distinct pleasure of hosting multiple events of theirs - ranging all the way from one-off Saturday Markets, to their launch party - culminating in our joint Soundboard series, a space for emerging artists to share works-in-progress and discuss process.
One Fifty’s name is inspired by Dunbar’s number - the notion that at any one time, the human mind can only keep track of up to 150 people and the quality of those relationships directly impacts happiness and a sense of fulfillment. This is the centralizing aspect of their practice - that the spaces and experiences we partake in shape the way in which we are able to connect with our community. From working with them, I can attest that this ethos really shows! Not only are the team wonderfully talented on an individual level, they are collectively a delight to work with. Ever organized, always cheerful and resourceful in the face of any challenge, their commitment towards community and fostering a sense of family is rare and genuine. They also make sick lamps.
This month, they have lent their talents towards designing the celebration of the second anniversary of Bibi Bakery, a haven for the Persian community in New York and a terrific place to get amazing Baklava. Lena, it’s founder, places a similar emphasis on community with her Saturday Sobhooneh series - a slice of home for Persians with traditional food, music and Iranian designers on show. As a card-carrying lover of Persian culture (and one of the Earshot wife-guy crew), I cannot wait to see the event they have designed and to tuck into some Kolompeh. While their hosted dinner is sold out, the afternoon tea event still has some slots - if you’re free after 3pm on 11/3 (today!) swing by SOMMWHERE and say hi!
Amongst all of the wonderful earshot collaborators we’ve had across this past year, we have no official favorites but let’s just say that we hope that the ladies at One Fifty continue to work with us in the years to come!
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