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Monday, 13 October 2008

  • SO WHAT IF I SAW NKOTB IN CONCERT?!

    I am embarrassed to admit it, but last week I went to see NKOTB in concert. Go ahead. Gasp. Laugh. Make fun, snicker behind my back. Whatever you need to do --just do it. I will take it. In fact, I probably deserve it. NKOTB is the last group I would have expected myself to see in concert, but for some strange reason it was already written that I, Wendel Jay Damaso Ladringan, would go to an NKOTB concert at least once in my life.

    But my going was a total fluke.

    Let's rewind. Back in 1989, I had just finished my last year at Oxon Hill Middle School, and was preparing for my freshman year at Oxon Hill High School. That Summer, while all of my friends were probably hanging out and doing fun things, I got to go to work with my mom. She, along with many of her close friends, worked the evening shift at a processing center just across the Potomac River in Alexandria, VA. I, along with so    me of the other kids of my mom's friends, went into work each night, doing whatever kind of stuff was legal enough for kids (as young as we were) to do. The lame thing was that while my friends would go into work like 2 or 3 nights out of the week, my mom decided that I would have to go 5 nights of the week. She wouldn't have it otherwise, and I couldn't throw a tantrum about it or else she'd shoot me "the look," and it would be all over. I hated every minute of it. I hated going into the office at 4PM, and not going home until midnight. It wasn't fair on so many levels, but it was absolutely fair in my mom's eyes. My only consolation was that I had complete control of the car radio on the quiet drive home. I remember one night, for the first time, I heard a song called "Please Don't Go Girl," which featured an almost baby-sounding kid on leads. The group, I later found out, was called New Kids On the Block, and the song sort of became my solace during that boring ass Summer that I had to go into work with my mom each night of the week.
    NKOTB then...

    NKOTB now...

    Soon enough, the craze over this "boy band" started to pick-up, and more of their songs were hitting the airwaves. While I appreciated the songs (for the most part), there was something annoying about the New Kids. All of a sudden they were everywhere. Their songs played on loop on several radio stations all the time, and their images were plastered all over the malls. It was a bit much. For the most part, me and a few of my friends were not on board, choosing to instead follow the music and careers of Janet Jackson, Paula Abdul, or whoever else was "in" back in the day. The New Kids were more for my younger sister and brother's wave of friends. But for some strange reason, I knew their songs... sort of how I somehow know songs by Celine Dion, but find her completely annoying.

    And I sort of knew the personas of each of the guys: Joey was the "baby" of the group, Jordan was the "star," Donnie was the "bad boy," Danny was the "muscle," and then there was Jon -- the "quiet/shy one." I mean even if you didn't follow them, you definitely knew who they were, and what they sang.

    They were going strong for a good couple of years, then all of a sudden the madness just stopped. I, personally, didn't really know what happened. But by my freshman year in college, the New Kids were headed towards "extinction." Just as quickly as they had brushed onto the scene, they were out. After graduating college, I remember both Jordan and Joey Mac embarking on solo careers along with the teen pop boom (Backstreet Boys, N'Sync, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Mandy Moore, etc.). Donnie was already making movies and TV shows, with a memorable part in The Sixth Sense. But I had no idea what Danny or Jonathan were up to, nor did I actually care.

    Then in 2001, I remember coming home from work and plopping in front of the TV to watch Oprah (something I did every day for a good few months straight), and she featured Jon and Jordan on a show about anxiety disorders. I remember the feeling I got when I saw that show: shock. I had no idea that Jon had been suffering from anxiety, and seeing him on the show really made me feel for the guy. It seemed somewhat painful to be him at that moment, and I instantaneously started to feel bad about thinking all those lame things I thought about the New Kids, or NKTOB.

    But I got over it. I still felt bad for Jon, but I totally got over it. And again, they sort of slipped away from the limelight. In the years that followed, I would hear random things about Donnie being on Boomtown, which didn't last too long (but was a good show, to his credit); Joey played 'Fiyero' in Wicked, and was also on Dancing With the Stars; and Jordan had a quick stint on The Surreal Life. But again, all these things came and went so quickly that I just didn't get to pay them any mind.

    Fast forward to 2008. So I heard that NKOTB was coming back with a brand new album, and were going on tour. I didn't even think much about it at the time. One of my roommates, who was (is) an avid fan, sent a bunch of us an email asking who would be interested in seeing their concert at Staples Center in October. I was so not one of the people who bit; I was not the least bit interested. But soon enough, two of my roommate's friends had to back out at the last minute, and she was out two tickets. She asked me if I wanted to go, but I still wasn't interested. But since I was just coming down from a high after seeing Janet Jackson's concert at Staples, I decided to do her a favor and take one of the extra tickets. I remember the day the concert came, I was so not in the mood. I didn't want to go. But I kept my word, and went with the gang; five of us in all: Anna, Lesley, Maria, Alex (thank goodness there was another guy), and myself... symbolically (they pointed out; the fans that they are) "perfect" since there are five "new kids." Great. All I needed was alcohol to get me through the night.

    So there I was... one of a few guys (actually, there were a lot more than I expected) amongst a sea of 30/40-something-year-old women who were still hard-core fans of NKOTB. I actually found them to be endearing, and I started to get feelings of nostalgia about "the good old days" when we were young, and life was simpler. I remembered those nights I'd go to work with my mom, and I'd listen to "Please Don't Go Girl" on the car radio. Once the lights dimmed, and the video-tron started to go off, the Staples Center became ablazed with screaming fans jumping up and down, clapping their hands, shouting from the top of their lungs... and then it started. The guys came out with the same old swagger, but with so much more maturity. Goosebumps actually started to form on my arms. I couldn't explain the phenomenon.

    They started the show with their new single, ironically entitled "Single," which they actually do with Ne-Yo on their album. It was the perfect song to start the evening, and the moment Joey Mac started with the vocals, the crowd went wild. Like clockwork, Jordan and Donnie filled in the additional main vocals, with Danny and Jon doing their parts. The concert then took a life of its own from that point on, and the gang went through all of their old hits, with new songs performed in-between. They still had it. Their energy level was totally high, but not oozing with too much teeny-bopper annoyingness (which I remember from back in the day). To their credit, they were pretty awesome for guys who are in their mid to upper 30s. Aside from aging very well (the Knight brothers both aging extremely well actually), they were hittin' their dance steps, and singing their notes, and performing much to the delight of their devoted fans.

    I couldn't help but feel sort of proud. The whole experience was a throw-back to my generation of youth. The whole time I kept thinking about how my generation had the best toys, the best TV shows, the not-so-best clothes and hairstyles, but definitely the best music. And I have to admit that NKOTB was definitely a part of that. I felt that the guys made their comeback at the right time; doing things on their own terms, and doing it out of their love for their craft - not so much for the fame.

    As a guy who easily came to appreciate the Backstreet Boys and N'Sync, I couldn't help but realize that those boy bands that came later would be nothing without NKOTB. NKOTB came about at a time when my generation needed something like them most. They were (are) the Beatles of my generation, and that was evident that night at Staples Center.

    I actually left the concert with a new-found respect for the guys, and a deeper appreciation for their contribution to pop culture. I also caught the VH1 Behind the Music special on them, and that's where I really got to figure out what the guys experienced during their hey-dey. To know that it wasn't cake-walk for them, and to see how much they've accomplished on their own (getting married, having kids, starting their own companies) only added to my new-found respect. I think this time around, NKOTB has actually "arrived." They definitely have nothing to lose.

    While I still can't believe that I went to their concert, I'm glad that I did. I honestly feel like those who missed out, really missed out on something special. It was an opportunity to re-live those days when we could be absolutely care-free, and the memories that it brought about totally made me sit back and smile... a lot.

    So there. I am now a fan. Admitting so is the first step (by step... HA.).

Tuesday, 07 October 2008

  • DENIED. THREE TIMES.

    I sometimes find myself in awe of the kind of situations that I stumble unto. I am one random fool that shouldn’t be left to his own devices at times. I like to listen to the voices of reason in my head, which – in the end – don’t really amount to any kind of reason whatsoever. I often times find it hard to practice any kind of restraint especially when it comes to matters involving things that I want. (I just said “want,” not “need." You can pretty much surmise where this is leading.)

    So on the way home from Santa Barbara on Sunday, I thought it would be a great idea to stop in Camarillo to hit up the outlets. It was a weird idea that popped into my head namely since I rarely do outlets. I am not an outlet shopper. I’ve tried many, many times to get into the craze, but for some strange reason I just can’t do it. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the thought of having to sift through items from past seasons, or looking at leather goods with scuff marks, or finding a pair of boots that are only like $20-off the original price. On-line shopping I can do. Outlet shopping, not so much. But I decided to give it a try anyway.

    It’s not that Camarillo boasts many stores to sing and dance about. I actually drove into the parking lot, and quickly eyed my usual suspects: Banana Republic outlet, J. Crew outlet, the Puma store, Off 5th, Barney’s New York outlet… to name a few. I also saw a couple of places that piqued my interest: Ugg and Diesel. But sure enough, and like clockwork, I walked into each and every store, and walked right out sighing a big ol’ “eh” to myself. It didn’t take much for me to start rolling my eyes, and scoffing at certain things. At least I managed to crack a smile when I went into both Off 5th and Barney’s New York. I gawked at the stacks of True Religion and Rock and Republic jeans that were being sold for a decent “under-$200” price tag. But I had just scored a pair of Rocks two weekends ago; I wasn’t about to go buck on more pairs of jeans (as if I don’t already have enough pairs). So while seeing these things made me smile a little, and as I toyed with the possibility of “going there,” I decided to scale back.

    But something happened when I went into Barney’s. I happened to eye a black, wool (very light wool; I could tell) quarter-length coat across the room. I bee-lined to it and quickly gave it a glance over. It was a Marc by Marc Jacobs coat, and instantly I thought – “Hmm… should I?! NAHHH.” So I put it back on the rack. I started to walk away from it, but for some weird reason, I kept looking back at it. It was as if it knew who I was, and it was calling my name. So I went back to it. I heard a voice say, “Try me on.” But I pretended to be distracted by an ugly James Perse hoodie on the rack next to the coat. After that brief moment of denial, I went back to the coat, started to remove my own hoodie, and put on the Marc Jacobs. Nice fit, but could've been better. So far so good. I put it back on the rack. There were two other sizes, one too big, and another probably just my size. I tried the “just my size” one, and my world changed in an instant. I seriously felt like fireworks starting going off all around me, and as I slowly turned to look into the mirror, it was as if I was being transfigured right then and there. An aura of light surrounded me, and to my left was Marc Jacobs himself nodding in approval, and on my right was… OK, there was no one on my right. I felt like I had just wrapped myself in butter. I was a juicy slab of bacon enveloped in butter. I was worthy of being eaten alive. I seriously stood in front of the mirror for a good moment, turning to my sides to see the different angles off the coat. I couldn’t find a flaw. Then, it happened. I noticed my face in the mirror, and decided, “Uh, I need to shave.” All the bells and whistles stopped, and the light around me went out. Couldn’t find Marc Jacobs anywhere in sight. Oh well. I took off the coat, put it back on its hanger, and started to slowly walk towards the cash wrap. It was on-sale for $279.00, and that was enough for me to ask no questions and tell no lies (at the moment anyway). But for some reason, I felt like I was moving in slow motion, and the cash wrap started to back away further and further. I had to come to my senses, and so when everything became clear again, I put the coat back on the rack, and walked out. I walked into J. Crew and Banana Republic respectively, and I literally gawked at each item as if they were the bane of my existence.

    I wanted the Marc Jacobs.

    I went back to my car, and attempted to drive away, but instead I drove into the other lot where there were more stores. But even the sight of Kenneth Cole and GAP couldn’t seem to quell my sudden thirst. I drove back to the other lot, and saw Barney’s again. I parked. I got out of my car, started to walk towards it, then stopped, turned around, and went back into my car. I drove off, and started having a serious conversation to myself. I started text-ing friends for advice. What I got wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I had to take the advice anyway. “If you love it, why not?” one said. Another, “Gotta love Marc… how much?” Still another, “Do you need a new coat?” To this last question, I answered, “No.” Sadly, I admitted it. And that should have been the end of it. But it wasn’t. I turned my car around again, and this time I parked at the back of the store. I sat in my car weighing out the situation before me. Did I need a new coat? No, I replenished with a few coats last Winter (but none of them were Marc Jacobs…). Could I use a new coat? Sure – since when have I ever turned one down? Do I have anything similar? I guess the MJ coat was a tad similar to my old French Connection coat that I bought back in 2003. But still, the MJ coat was a little different. I started to take out my credit cards from my wallet, and decided that if I were to do this, I’d have to check-card this one all the way. I began my journey to the store on-foot. I could hear my feet land on the ground with a huge thud with each and every step. As I turned the corner to go towards the store I stopped again –for a third time. That moment to me was of biblical proportion. I turned around, walked back to my car, started it, and left. This time, it was for good. I was harboring Simon Peter tendencies, and denied Marc Jacobs three times. That was it.

    That moment, in itself, made me crave a cigarette.

    Instead, I went to the Beverly Center as soon as I got back to L.A. If I wasn’t going home with the "on-sale" Marc Jacobs (that talented effer), I was at least going home with a couple of things from H&M (btw, into the shawl collared look this Fall/Winter). I only spent about $70 on two items, instead of $300 on one coat, but I was fine with it. 

    Looking back, I still chastise myself for being reasonable. When it comes to things like this, I usually know no reason. Just goes to show how sometimes even you can surprise yourself.

Monday, 29 September 2008

  • COMME CI... COMME CA...

    French food, through the ages, is known to have evolved into one of the world's trendiest (and, in a way, pompous) cuisines. Its reputation as haute cuisine is one that transcends all sides of the foodie spectrum; it is viewed as artful by connoisseurs, and minimalist/insatiable by the less-discerning. No matter what side of the fence you're on, one thing is certain: French cuisine has truly evolved through the generations. Due in part to the various socio-political movements, as well as the collaboration of great French cooks and chefs, the cuisine of France has become an artform; an esteemed contribution to the culture of L'Hexagone.

    Los Angeles has, through the years, welcomed French cuisine with open arms often times relishing in the chic meshing of haute cuisine and haute society. Award-winning chef David Myers (Sona, Boule) has a masterpiece in West Hollywood in the form of Comme Ca. B    arely a year old, Comme Ca captures that fine marriage between all things trendy and classic with regard to French food, and the ever-moving social landscape of L.A. The brasserie itself is dark and cozy, with three separate dining areas. The colors (grays, whites, and blacks) are drab, but are reminiscent of a 1940s/1950s film noir. The restaurant has a small bar area, perhaps to keep it from having that loungey feel at night, but that doesn't stop visitors from crowding around, sipping on $13-cocktails until their tables are set. At dinnertime, the restaurant is packed, and loud. I'm not sure I even recall music playing in the background. What I do remember was the staccato of different conversations bouncing off the walls of the space. I had read reviews condemning Comme Ca for its louder-than-life "noise," but oddly enough I found much to love about it. It reminded me of being in one of those "power" restaurants that I often frequented back in D.C.

    The dinner menu offered all of the usual suspects in French cuisine: fruits de mer, fromage, charcuterie et vin. Plenty of vin, in fact. The hors d'oeuvres menu included tuna nicoise, steak tartare, escargots, moules frites - which I had been craving for days before. The moules frites was our instant choice, and we reveled in the perfectly-cooked     mussels and fries.

    Main courses included bouillabaisse, sole meuniere, and the ever-French coq au vin. Between my friends and I, an array of dishes graced our table: roasted pork chop (with a Swiss chard gratin), salmon with gnocchi Parisienne, steak frites, and paleron of beef bourguignon - which was divine. I dove into my dish not knowing what to expect. What I experienced was sure bliss; the beef was so tender and flavorful that it melted in my mouth just as decadently as ice cream. My dining company similarly enjoyed their dishes, and we had to think twice about dessert... sort of.

    Before dessert we ordered off the restaurant's "9:58" menu --which is sort of like a "happy hour" menu that offers a list of specialty drinks and Comme Ca's lunch-t    ime burger starting at 9:58PM. One of my friends and I decided to partake in the libations, and each came away with a negroni cocktail (made with Campari) and a White Russian - each for $9.58. This paved the way for our final taste of the evening: a brioche pudding & ice cream - a perfect fusion of freshly baked, chocolatey goodness with cool, vanilla ice cream.

    The night could've gone on and on, but the experience sent us ready and willing for bed-time... with many sweet dreams sure to linger in our heads. Each dish was well-executed. The place, itself, was a beautiful hybrid of casual chic and classiness. And the experience -- priceless.

    Comme Ca is officially one of my favorite things.
    ---

    Comme Ca, 8479 Melrose Avenue (cross street: La Cienega), Los Angeles, CA 90069, 323.782.1104

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

  • PLEASE PASS ME MY "MURSE."

    I am a "man-bag" man.

    I always have been a "man-bag" kind of guy. I think it started back in high school when I decided that I was over the Jansport backpack thing, and I went for the more in-style messenger bag. Ever since, the messenger has sort of become one of my trademarks. And I've had me some messenger bags through the years. My current bag was a birthday gift (or was it Christmas?) from one of my dear, old friends some years ago. It's a now-classic Jack Spade, and it has served me well.

    But with the new fall air blowing in, I decided that this would be the year to put Jack to rest, and get a new murse. I went to Century City after work today with one goal in mind: to find the ultimate man-bag.

    I totally got side-tracked and tried on a hot Diesel trench coat, which I came super-super close to getting. But with the new coats/jackets that I just got myself last winter, I figured that spending $300+ on a new coat would be a bit too pre-mature. I have too many things on my "to get" list for the season, and I wasn't ready to splurge right then and there. So instead, I walked back to the (man) bag section in Bloomingdale's, and gave one of the bags another look.

    Moments later, I was walking out of the store with this:
    Say "hello" to my new Tumi T-Tech Adventure Small Flap Body Bag...! I decided to go for a sportier messenger, and I was enamored by all of the pockets and compartments inside.

    Out with the old; in with the new! (You gotta love Bloomie's for their $25-off --purchases of $100 or more-- coupons + a gift card that was tucked away for safe-keeping. HA!)

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

  • ABOUT THAT. (STYLE)

    I recently have had a resurgence of interest in Banana Republic. I've always had this "love/hate" relationship with them. For the past few years, I've been absolutely tired of walking into Banana and being disappointed by the same old "cookie-cutter" wear; they over-did the conservative "wear-to-office-but-roll-up-sleeves-to-wear-at-happy-hour" look. I guess when they started the look in the late 90s/early 2000s it worked so well. But then someone thought it would be cool to keep that look for the next 5-7 years. Yeah, that got stale. I started to find more surprise with BR's holiday gift-box color schemes more so than their ready-to-wear pieces. I had to do some re-con, and switched to the likes of Club Monaco and Zara.

    But in the last couple of months or so, I've started to notice something a little different about BR's sense of style. I haven't followed the latest & greatest with the brand since I left GAP Inc. back in 1999, but I figured that they've definitely got someone on board doing something "new." I did my research, and yes -- GAP Inc. appointed Simon Kneen to the top design position for BR. Kneen is responsible for the Brooks Brothers "re-vamp" which took place in 2005-2006, and that experience has definitely transcended to his new post. I noticed that BR finally broke-away from GAP Inc.'s penchant for "matchy" wear, and the pieces that I've been seeing move towards more of the idea of "coordination" rather than "matching." Sounds like the same thing for those who don't get it, but if you get it... you get it.

    While I don't think I'll ever work myself back to the same old love affair that I once had with BR, I definitely have found a re-kindling of sorts; sort of like visiting with an old friend for a moment. I just hope that Club Monaco and J. Crew would re-vamp their lines as well. Is it me, or does it feel like Club Mon is turning into a reincarnation of Le Chateau (re: black and white everything)? Some days I'm into it, but on other days -- not so much.

    I don't know what inspired me to post this. Is it possible to just be "spired" and not "INspired?" 

    All hail the world of mass-production; clothing or otherwise.