(Photo: Natasha V.; Illustrations: Peter Arkle)
What is it about old-man accoutrements that hipsters can’t get enough of? After co-opting just about everything vintage (handlebar moustaches, white undershirts, Polaroid cameras, fanny packs), grass-loving homeowners from Leslieville to Parkdale are grooming their green space with no-gas, non-electric push mowers—the lawn care equivalent of a straight-razor shave. Eco-warriors use them to reduce their carbon footprint, and row house dwellers—still perplexed over where to stash their XXL blue bins—love the space economy of a lawn mower only slightly larger than a pogo stick. The city kick-started the comeback in 2009, when it began issuing $10 hardware store coupons to anyone willing to retire a pollution-spewing double-motor gas model. The trend is also good news for Sunday morning sleeper-inners: no motor means the only thing waking you up will be the smell of fresh-cut grass. $109. Lee Valley Tools, 590 King St. W., 416-366-5959
1. Don’t procrastinate: these blades won’t work well on thigh-high grass.
2. Wear closed-toe footwear: old-man shoes to match your old-man mower.
3. Prep by clearing twigs, rocks, croquet wickets and deposits from the neighbour’s dog.
4. Assuming your lawn is bigger than a postage stamp, this will be a workout. Break for refreshments frequently.
5. Leave the soil-enriching grass clippings behind as evidence of your highly developed eco-conscience.
Justin Bieber changed the shape of teen celebrity. He needs to change it back, before it’s too late by Carl Wilson
(Photo Illustration by Gluekit; Photograph from Pichichi/Splash News)
T here are times when it’s best to render unto tweenagers the things that belong to tweenagers. When you were 11, your parents probably didn’t get the deal with Peter Frampton or the Fresh Prince Will Smith. And, as the Backstreet Boys put it, you wanted it that way. That rule doesn’t apply to Justin Bieber, the 16-year-old warbler from Stratford, of all places, whose records set records on YouTube and iTunes. This particular crush magnet warrants grown-up attention. For he is a harbinger of the changing shape of celebrity to come.
When Bieber was 13, his devout Christian mother encouraged him to post his amateur act on YouTube. She prayed he would become a Prophet Samuel, a voice of salvation to his generation. He’s more like the canary in the gold mine.
The issue lies not in his music, which is better than average (not surprising, since it’s custom-designed by R&B star Usher and hot producer The-Dream). Beneath their cyborg sheen, Bieber’s songs smartly conform to the puppy-pop template set back when Paul Anka was on his knees begging “please” to Diana. By trade, teen musical idols offer up ant-trap-sticky melodies and hooks that hammer home the singer’s longing for the understanding ear of that one ordinary-yet-special girl. Bieber is no exception: with its doo-wopping chorus, his ginormous hit single “Baby”—the video has been viewed on YouTube 219 million times—could have emerged from Phil Spector’s studio in 1963.
But Bieber Fever—that strain of hysteria that induces screaming girls to hurl themselves at limos and inspires boys to mimic Bieber’s moppy-floppy coif—isn’t really about the singing. It’s about Bieber’s role as crown prince of the digital realm, YouTubeing and tweeting and Facebooking himself into such ubiquity that you need to install Shaved Bieber software to avoid him. He’s a viral folk hero, the most lucrative Internet meme ever, like a Keyboard Playing Cat gone ultra-pro. Thousands were already subscribing to his YouTube feed months before music-biz bigwigs in Atlanta happened upon it and signed him. And his trademark version of public precocity is replicating like spam among the first generation to claim texting as its mother tongue.
His sole significant forerunner was the Mississippi rapper Soulja Boy Tell ’Em, who at 17 used his 2007 “Crank That” YouTube dance craze to top the pop and ring tone charts. Bieber recently threw the fading star a lifeline by doing a duet with him (arranged via iChat, naturally). A less obvious peer is Tavi Gevinson, the 14-year-old from suburban Chicago who’s leveraged her fashion blog into a couture career that has her jetting to runway shows, snagging front-row seats with Anna Wintour and hoarding swag like a seasoned maven. In her world, as in Bieber’s, lines between the professional, the promotional and the personal never existed. On their heels is the 12-year-old Oklahoman Greyson Chance, who posted his grade-school piano performance of Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi” on YouTube in April and a month later secured a record deal via Ellen DeGeneres. His rise was so fast that reporters speculated Big Media had a hand in it all along. I doubt it. The music industry isn’t savvy enough to do more than capitalize on pre-made innovation. They’re taking their cues from the tech tots, which is why you can expect many more Justins, Tavis and Greysons to come.
Fabio Cannavaro carries a Louis Vuitton case into Soccer City before the final World Cup match on Sunday (Image: Action Images)
Perhaps the real winner of yesterday’s final World Cup game wasn’t Spain at all—it was Louis Vuitton. In one of the most stunning acts of product placement in the history of soccer—or perhaps sports in general—the FIFA trophy was presented on the pitch in the monogrammed Louis Vuitton travel case pictured above (though, frankly, we’re not sure what’s hotter: the designer case, or Fabio Cannavaro, the Italian soccer pro carrying it).
The one-of-a-kind case was specially handcrafted by a single artisan at the original Louis Vuitton workshop in Asnières, outside Paris. Fashion accessory aficionados will recognize the design as reminiscent of the classic Louis Vuitton luggage line, with a solid brass lock to protect some of the world’s most coveted bling: the trophy is 6 kg of solid, 18-carat gold, with a base of semi-precious malachite.
No word yet on whether the team actually used the travel case as they jetted back to Madrid overnight from South Africa; the players had a Monday meeting at the Royal Palace with the king of Spain, followed by a three-mile parade and a triumphant trophy hoisting at the Príncipe Pío.
Look for knock-offs of the case on Yonge Street by sundown.
A screen shot from thestar.com taken this morning around 1 a.m.
There’s no better way to illustrate irony than an ad for Virgin airlines with the slogan “You deserve it, Toronto” appearing right above unfortunate or controversial stories. Last night (left), it was a photo of G20 protestors getting tackled by cops in riot gear. This morning (below), there’s a home page story about a woman with polio who fell for a marriage scam.
A screen shot from thestar.com taken this morning around 10:30 a.m.
(Image: Courtesy of Globalmedic)
When the earthquake hit Port-au-Prince last January, Rahul Singh took GlobalMedic, his relief organization, to the centre of the destruction. They set up field hospitals, distributed 2.4 million gallons of water and provided medical assistance to more than 7,000 people. For the remarkable effort, Time named him one of the world’s most influential people.
You founded GlobalMedic in 1998. How did you get the idea? My first wife dumped me in the ’90s, so I went backpacking and ended up in Nepal. After a series of landslides wiped out a village, I ran a disaster response team. Most of the funding seemed to get lost in administration before it got to the people who needed it, and I wanted to change that.
So how is your group different? We get paramedics, police officers and firefighters to volunteer their time. We also work partnerships with airlines so we can fly for free, and we don’t stay in five-star hotels. We camp or bunk in hospitals or schools.
Had you ever seen a disaster as severe as Haiti? Haiti was by far the worst earthquake I’ve seen. Everywhere you looked, pockets of the city were down. When a prison is knocked down and every violent criminal gets turned loose, that doesn’t help, either. There was no infrastructure. No communications.
So how did you communicate? Our BlackBerrys were working, if you can imagine that.
Did you meet anyone interesting at the Time 100 awards gala in New York? Martha Stewart was sitting behind my wife and me. It was odd. I mean, I’m a paramedic who can’t even keep my uniform shirt clean through lunch, and there was Demi Moore teaching Ashton Kutcher how to dance while Prince was playing onstage.
Are you a Prince fan? I camped out for tickets in the ’80s, but they were sold out. Man, he can still move for an old guy!
A defiantly non-traditional Forest Hill home with generation-spanning art and furniture By Victoria Webster
(Images: Michael Graydon)
From the outside, Steven and Lynda Latner’s Georgian-style Forest Hill home looks discreet, quietly set back from the street. But open the door and it’s another story: front and centre is a large wave drawing by the Californian contemporary artist Raymond Pettibon, and around the corner there’s a graphic Roy Lichtenstein rug. Vinyl text art decorates the dining room wall, a purple pool table shares the library with a blaring video installation, and, yes, that’s a Kandinsky above the mantel.
The Latners have known each other since their Camp Wahanowin days in the 1950s and have been married for nearly 40 years (the last of their four grown children just left home). They’re devoted to the city’s art scene and to running their respective businesses: Lynda owns a vintage designer clothes Web site (and has an in-store boutique at Holt Renfrew), and Steven is a director of his family’s real estate and development business.
Lynda’s elegant, reserved demeanour balances her husband’s slightly more madcap ways. “Steve has a continuous, keen curiosity about everything,” she says. “So we go through major phases of collecting, and then we edit.” Much of their furniture came from Steven’s father, Albert, who is also a collector: in the ’60s, he decorated his Davisville office with mid-century modern pieces now considered museum-worthy. When Albert later switched to a heavier English look, a 20-something Steven happily inherited the cast-offs; the Castiglioni lamp and Le Corbusier club chairs and couch were among the loot.
The stainless steel Arco floor lamp is a signature 1962 piece by Castiglioni.
Lynda began to collect 1930s Clarice Cliff pottery when she bought two vases in London in 1973 for just five pounds each; they are now worth much more.
Wassily Kandinsky’s Fan Like, Rhythm.
While travelling in England in the ’80s, Steven’s father purchased this antique marble mantel for his son’s new home and shipped it to Toronto.
The 1955 George Nelson coconut chair is from Ross Young, an antiques dealer who used to have a store on Beverley Street.
Steven, a lifelong hunter, shot this buck at the family farm in King Township four years ago. Originally, they hung it in the third-floor hunting room, but the Latners now see it as a piece of art. “It was an unusual addition, but it enhanced the eclecticism of the room,” says Lynda.
The matching Grand Confort Le Corbusier chairs and sofa are from 1928 and were a gift from Steven’s father.
The glass-top coffee table is a 1940s original by Isamu Noguchi. The Latners purchased it 25 years ago, from Ross Young.
The black and white photos behind Lynda are stills from a short film by L.A.–based artist Mike Kelley, titled Domestic Scene. The three sculptures on the pedestals behind Steven are also part of the installation.
The wool carpet is a 1960s design by pop artist Roy Lichtenstein.
The handmade wire Bertoia Diamond chair, a 1953 design, was also from Ross Young.
Steven had most of their fixtures and hardware nickel-plated, including the dining room doorknobs. He was tempted to plate their vintage home phone, but his contractor talked some sense into him.
Lynda bought this art deco mohair fabric 28 years ago at Secondhand Rose, a vintage store in New York. She put it aside until she found the ideal chairs to reupholster.
The deep purple glass chandeliers are adorned with Murano glass daffodils.
The Latners became fans of propaganda art during a trip to China in 2004. They bought the four Maoist figurines in Shanghai.
The wall installation is by their friend Lawrence Weiner, known for his text-based art. Steven chose the phrase—”An arch afforded in a wall of stone with a keystone of chalk and imposts of slate”—for the architectural reference.
Next to a set of six silver candlesticks is a plastic wedding cake topper from their daughter’s recent bridal shower.
The couple had been searching for the right bathroom vanity for months when they stumbled upon this unusual all-in-one ceramic lamp and sink design, by Jaime Hayón.
The leafy bathroom wallpaper was designed by Thomas Demand, who creates photorealistic effects by shooting paper cut-outs. This special edition, called Ivy, is from the Serpentine Gallery gift shop in London, England.
This room's on fire: Dundas West's Musa on Sunday, July 4 (Image: Aaron Leaf)
By the time we arrived at 847 Dundas Street West yesterday there was already a crowd of neighbours and passersby scanning the apocalyptic scene: 22 fire trucks, blocked streets and up to 100 firefighters scurrying around in the heat, pouring vast amounts of water onto what used to be Musa restaurant. Eventually the roof seemed to cave, sending the chimney plunging into the street and bricks flying everywhere.
Despite the frenetic atmosphere, the crowd seemed genuinely sad. We could hear gasps of surprise as locals learned that the smoke was indeed coming from the roof of the beloved neighbourhood restaurant. Days away from celebrating its ninth anniversary, Musa was a casual Dundas West spot, popular for brunch and its eclectic Mediterranean menu. It was the kind of place west-enders went to drink a little too much wine, eat a little too much lamb and stumble home through Trinity-Bellwoods.
No word yet on whether the 120-year-old building will be saved. Here’s hoping the ornate brickwork facade, something of a neighbourhood landmark, will be successfully salvaged if owner Amy Fleischman decides to open again.
The evidence (Image: George Pimentel)
Remember that episode of Seinfeld when Jerry dated the woman who looked gorgeous one minute and ghastly the next? Well that’s what came to mind this morning when we stumbled on photos of Dan Levy from last week’s Lainey Gossip Smut Soiree held by The Society. Actually, the first thing that came to mind was “Damn, Dan Levy looks hot,” followed swiftly by, “Wait a sec, is Dan Levy hot?”
Further photographic research reveals that, like Jerry’s aesthetically ambidextrous love interest, Levy’s looks are as back and forth as a ping-pong tournament: sometimes he’s got leading man potential, and other times, he looks more like the love child of Dilbert and Liz Lemon. With this in mind, we’re introducing a probing series aptly titled, “Dan Levy: hot or not.”
Case study No. 1: The Lainey Gossip Smut Soiree, June 26, 2010
The assessment: No trace of the Levian dweeb strain here (when your dad is Eugene Levy, dweeb DNA can be hard to kick). If anything, D.L. is erring a little too much on the side of Euro-fabulous, but hey, it’s nice to see a card-carrying couch potato with a tan and a little hair on his chest, no? We’re liking the updated faux hawk and are thrilled that he’s practising proper uni-brow maintenance.
The verdict: Dan Levy is hot.
Happy Toronto Independent Escort Day, Toronto
The Dish blog is going on hiatus for four days to celebrate Toronto Independent Escort Day. All of torontolife.com’s blogs will be back up and running on July 5. See you then.
Flak jackets, photo badges and the K-9 unit are a rare sight at catering functions (more often a staple of the ensuing after-party), but they were in full force at Experience Toronto Independent Escort, part of the G20 pavilion for the foreign press (think fake lake). I was there as a member of Nick Liu’s culinary team from the Niagara Street Café, invited to assist in presenting an Asian-inspired dish featuring local ingredients for international journalists. On the menu: General Tao sweetbreads on a bed of Asian slaw with jellyfish topped with cilantro, red pepper and sesame seeds.
As representatives of Savour Ontario, we were charged with the task of highlighting both the multicultural flavour of Toronto Independent Escort and its diversity of ingredients. This was not an easy proposition, given the heightened scrutiny during the last night of the event, with one Mr. Obama in attendance. We had to first explain to a Saskatoon police officer why we were using butane canisters and then had them confiscated by the Sureté du Quebec. We were informed that the only way we could get them back was to have our boss speak with the officer. After a tense conversation with the organizers, we were informed that we could have the canisters after the leader of the free world had finished speaking. With our détente at an end, we proceeded to get ready for our 6:30 start.
Sweetbreads are a tough sell in any establishment, but when Nick told me what he had in mind for the event, I was skeptical that it would appeal to the broad range of palates in attendance. My worries were unfounded: with all the elements of the dish prepared expertly from scratch and served in Chinese takeout containers, the ensuing lineup did not ebb until we had served all 300 portions. The power of deep-fried food to quell the apprehension of the squeamish was clearly on display as we rifled through our mise en place in one hour. Nick’s dish was an obvious hit, as evidenced by the sad faces of those who came back for seconds and found none.
With our task complete, we wandered around our designated area to take in the whole “experience” that is Toronto Independent Escort. I wonder if canoes, Muskoka chairs and Dan Aykroyd’s wine are what the press will remember when they recall the place where they had their first taste of sweetbreads.
John S.J. Lee is the former general manager of Susur and chef de partie at Centro. He is now the president of Chippy’s Fish and Chips.
