Tsugami was a successful illustrator during the 60-70’s and worked on many children’s books for the Japanese and English markets on topics ranging from family life to dinosaurs.

Wry and cranky, droll and cantankerous — that’s the Mark Twain we think we know, thanks to reading “Huck Finn” and “Tom Sawyer” in high school. But in his unexpurgated autobiography, whose first volume is about to be published a century after his death, a very different Twain emerges, more pointedly political and willing to play the role of the angry prophet…

…About literary figures of his time, however, Twain has relatively little to say. He dislikes Bret Harte, whom he dismisses as “always bright but never brilliant”; offers a sad portrait of an aged and infirm Harriet Beecher Stowe; and lavishly praises his friend William Dean Howells. He reserved criticism of novelists whose work he disliked (Henry James, George Eliot) for his letters.

Critics, though, are another story. “I believe that the trade of critic, in literature, music, and the drama, is the most degraded of all trades, and that it has no real value,” Twain writes. “However, let it go,” he adds. “It is the will of God that we must have critics, and missionaries, and Congressmen, and humorists, and we must bear the burden.”

Continue reading more. The first volume is available for preorder on Amazon for just under $20.

In addition, powerHouse books put up some images of the new version along with another video showing it off on their facebook page.

The rest of us will have to wait for another month or so until they start shipping, but until then you can always check out the Trad’s scans of the Japanese version.

Get it from InspirationLA.com, Self Edge, or your local Kinokuniya book store.

Update 5/19: Men’s Mentore has some more scans.

Update 5/20: J.Crew is now selling it too.

Steve McQueen was the last person in the world I expected to find in Cornwall. He’d arrived some time in the night at a house that the director Sam Peckinpah was renting in Penzance while scouting locations for the film Straw Dogs.

They weren’t friends. The rugged movie star had simply turned up out of the blue — dirty, unshaven and looking more depressed than anyone I’d ever seen. As I found out later, his first marriage was breaking up and his dream project, a film based on the Le Mans car race, had run into problems.

Peckinpah, however, was desperate to get rid of his unwanted guest and he was probably just as keen to be rid of me. Not yet 18, I’d met the director while working in the publicity department of the Cinerama film company in London and had persuaded him to let me observe him at work. By the time I arrived, overflowing with youthful enthusiasm, he’d come to regret his decision.

Continue reading more.

Above: Images from Men’s File, Issue 2.

Available at Self Edge (where my copies were purchased) and Oi Polloi.

It’s also interesting to note that the listing has English for the language. Maybe it will be a translated version?

# Hardcover: 142 pages
# Publisher: pH Books (August 31, 2010)
# Language: English
# ISBN-10: 1576875504
# ISBN-13: 978-1576875506

Update: This is the real deal. The publisher is powerHouse Books and there will be a full English translation. Read more on powerhousebooks.com.

Take Ivy is now considered a definitive document of this particular style, and rare original copies are highly sought after by “trad” devotees worldwide. A small-run reprint came out in Japan in 2006 and sold out almost immediately. Now, for the first time ever, powerHouse is reviving this classic tome with an all-new English translation. Ivy style has never been more popular, in Japan or stateside, proving its timeless and transcendent appeal. Take Ivy has survived the decades and is an essential object for anyone interested in the history or future of fashion.

Take Ivy cover scan via The Trad.

Interestingly there is no mention of the whisky in it, and there are only a few references to other types of alcohol which only seemed to be used rarely for toasts, holidays, and cooking.

From a section where he is describing part of the cabin at Cape Royds (where the cases were found):

My room contained the bulk of our library, the chronometers, the chronometer watches, barograph, and the electric recording thermometer; there was ample room for a table and the whole made a most comfortable cabin. On the roof we stowed those of our scientific instruments which were not in use such as theodolites, spare thermometers, dip circles, &c. The gradual accumulation of weight produced a distinct sag in the roof, which sometimes seemed to threaten collapse as I sat inside, but no notice was taken and nothing happened. On the roof of the dark room we stowed all our photographic gear and our few cases of wine, which were only drawn upon on special occasions such as Mid winter Day. pg. 85

Maybe the wine above was the whisky? Earlier he also describes a situation where brandy is fed to one of the ponies named Chinaman, who had fallen in ice cold water:

Mackay started to try and get the pony Chinaman across the crack when it was only about six inches wide, but the animal suddenly took fright, reared up on his hind legs, and backing towards the edge of the floe, which had at that moment opened to a width of a few feet, fell bodily into the ice cold water. It looked as if it was all over with poor Chinaman, but Mackay hung on to the head rope, and Davis, Mawson, Michell and one of the sailors who were on the ice close by rushed to his assistance. The pony managed to get his fore feet on to the edge of the ice-floe. After great difficulty a rope sling was passed underneath him, and then by tremendous exertion he was lifted up far enough to enable him to scramble on to the ice. There he stood, wet and trembling in every limb. A few seconds later the floe closed up against the other one. It was providential that it had not done so during the time that the pony was in the water, for in that case the animal would inevitably have been squeezed to death between the two huge masses of ice. A bottle of brandy was thrown on to the ice from the ship, and half its contents were poured down Chinaman’s throat. pg. 63

Chinaman ended up being the weakest of the horses and was the first to be killed for food:

It can be imagined that the cook for the week had no easy task. His work became more difficult still when we were using ponymeat, for the meat and blood, when boiled up, made a delightful broth, while the fragments of meat sunk to the bottom of the pot. The liquor was much the better part of the dish, and no one had much relish for the little dice of tough and stringy meat, so the cook had to be very careful indeed. Poor old Chinaman was particularly tough and stringy horse. pg. 230

In those days, explorers used animals brought along as transportation and when needed, as a source of food. Shackleton describes this process in detail on pg. 168 if you’re curious.

Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton

From the foreword:

Civilization in its onward march has produced only three important non-alcoholic beverages — the extract of the tea plant, the extract of the cocoa bean, and the extract of the coffee bean.

Leaves and beans — these are the vegetable sources of the world’s favorite nonalcoholic table-beverages. Of the two, the tea leaves lead in total amount consumed; the coffee beans are second; and the cocoa beans are a distant third, although advancing steadily. But in international commerce the coffee beans occupy a far more important position than either of the others, being imported into non-producing countries to twice the extent of the tea leaves. All three enjoy a world-wide consumption, although not to the same extent in every nation; but where either the coffee bean or the tea leaf has established itself in a given country, the other gets comparatively little attention, and usually has great difficulty in making any advance. The cocoa bean, on the other hand, has not risen to the position of popular favorite in any important consuming country, and so has not aroused the serious opposition of its two rivals.

Coffee is universal in its appeal. All nations do it homage. It has become recognized as a human necessity. It is no longer a luxury or an indulgence; it is a corollary of human energy and human efficiency. People love coffee because of its two-fold effect — the pleasurable sensation and the increased efficiency it produces.

Coffee has an important place in the rational dietary of all the civilized peoples of earth. It is a democratic beverage. Not only is it the drink of fashionable society, but it is also a favorite beverage of the men and women who do the world’s work, whether they toil with brain or brawn. It has been acclaimed “the most grateful lubricant known to the human machine,” and “the most delightful taste in all nature.”

No “food drink” has ever encountered so much opposition as coffee. Given to the world by the church and dignified by the medical profession, nevertheless it has had to suffer from religious superstition and medical prejudice. During the thousand years of its development it has experienced fierce political opposition, stupid fiscal restrictions, unjust taxes, irksome duties; but, surviving all of these, it has triumphantly moved on to a foremost place in the catalog of popular beverages.

But coffee is something more than a beverage. It is one of the world’s greatest adjuvant foods. There are other auxiliary foods, but none that excels it for palatability and comforting effects, the psychology of which is to be found in its unique flavor and aroma.

Men and women drink coffee because it adds to their sense of well-being. It not only smells good and tastes good to all mankind, heathen or civilized, but all respond to its wonderful stimulating properties. The chief factors in coffee goodness are the caffein content and the caffeol. Caffein supplies the principal stimulant. It increases the capacity for muscular and mental work without harmful re-action. The caffeol supplies the flavor and the aroma — that indescribable Oriental fragrance that wooes us through the nostrils, forming one of the principal elements that make up the lure of coffee. There are several other constituents, including certain innocuous so-called caffetannie acids, that, in combination with the caffeol, give the beverage its rare gustatory appeal.

The year 1919 awarded coffee one of its brightest honors. An American general said that coffee shared with bread and bacon the distinction of being one of the three nutritive essentials that helped win the World War for the Allies. So this symbol of human brotherhood has played a not inconspicuous part in “making the world safe for democracy.” The new age, ushered in by the Peace of Versailles and the Washington Conference, has for its hand-maidens temperance and self-control. It is to be a world democracy of right-living and clear thinking; and among its most precious adjuncts are coffee, tea, and cocoa — because these beverages must always be associated with rational living, with greater comfort, and with better cheer.

Like all good things in life, the drinking of coffee may be abused. Indeed, those having an idiosyncratic susceptibility to alkaloids should be temperate in the use of tea, coffee, or cocoa. In every high-tensioned country there is likely to be a small number of people who, because of certain individual characteristics, can not drink coffee at all. These belong to the abnormal minority of the human family. Some people can not eat strawberries; but that would not be a valid reason for a general condemnation of strawberries. One may be poisoned, says Thomas A. Edison, from too much food. Horace Fletcher was certain that over-feeding causes all our ills. Over-indulgence in meat is likely to spell trouble for the strongest of us. Coffee is, perhaps, less often abused than wrongly accused. It all depends. A little more tolerance!

Trading upon the credulity of the hypochondriac and the caffein-sensitive. in recent years there has appeared in America and abroad a curious collection of so-called coffee substitutes. They are “neither fish nor flesh, nor good red herring.” Most of them have been shown by official government analysts to be sadly deficient in food value — their only alleged virtue. One of our contemporary attackers of the national beverage bewails the fact that no palatable hot drink has been, found to take the place of coffee. The reason is not hard to find. There can be no substitute for coffee. Dr. Harvey W. Wiley has ably summed up the matter by saying, “xV substitute should be able to perform the functions of its principal. A substitute to a war must be able to fight. A bounty-jumper is not a substitute.”

It has been the aim of the author to tell the whole coffee story for the general reader, yet with the technical accuracy that will make it valuable to the trade. The book is designed to be a work of useful reference covering all the salient points of coffee’s origin, cultivation, preparation, and development, its place in the world’s commerce and in a rational dietary.

Good coffee, carefully roasted and properly brewed, produces a natural beverage that, for tonic effect, can not be surpassed, even by its rivals, tea and cocoa. Here is a drink that ninety-seven per cent of individuals find harmless and wholesome, and without which life would be drab indeed — a pure, safe, and helpful stimulant compounded in nature’s own laboratory, and one of the chief joys of life!

History of Coffee in Old New York

The Dutch founders of New York seem to have introduced tea into New Amsterdam before they brought in coffee. This was somewhere about the middle of the seventeenth century. We find it recorded that about 1668 the burghers succumbed to coffee.  Coffee made its way slowly, first in the homes, where it replaced the “must”, or beer, at breakfast. Chocolate came about the same time, but was more of a luxury than tea or coffee.

After the surrender of New York to the British in 1674, English manners and customs were rapidly introduced. First tea, and later coffee, were favorite beverages in the homes. By 1683 New York had become so central a market for the green bean, that William Penn, as soon as he found himself comfortably settled in the Pennsylvania Colony, sent over to New York for his coffee supplies. It was not long before a social need arose that only the London style of coffee house could fill.

Read the rest here.

Maya Lin: Systematic Landscapes was an exploration of landscape, in which the artist translated existing natural formations into a series of wall-mounted sculptures and large-scale installations. In all of these works there is a constant rethinking of what a landscape is and how we see and relate to it. Lin’s work was installed in three of the Henry’s galleries and afforded viewers different relationships to or perspectives of landscape. The works ranged in scale from a 2,500 square foot 2×4 Landscape, and the room-sized installations Blue Lake Pass and Water Line to a number of smaller sculptures and drawings exploring aspects of real and imagined landscapes and bodies of water. This exhibition also provided the first museum presentation of the models and drawings for Lin’s Confluence Project.

More images of her work are available on flickr.

Background reading on Maya Lin: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maya_Lin

The tale has been viewed as an indictment of nineteenth century industrial capitalism and has been credited with returning the holiday to one of merriment and festivity in Britain and America after a period of sobriety and sombreness. A Christmas Carol remains popular, has never been out of print, and has been adapted to film, opera, and other media.

Here are some illustrations that have been included with various versions over the years, including those done by John Leech for the 1st edition .

If you look up ‘tea’ in the first cookery book that comes to hand you will probably find that it is unmentioned; or at most you will find a few lines of sketchy instructions which give no ruling on several of the most important points.

This is curious, not only because tea is one of the main stays of civilization in this country, as well as in Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because the best manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes.

When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of tea, I find no fewer than eleven outstanding points. On perhaps two of them there would be pretty general agreement, but at least four others are acutely controversial. Here are my own eleven rules, every one of which I regard as golden.

First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. China tea has virtues which are not to be despised nowadays — it is economical, and one can drink it without milk — but there is not much stimulation in it. One does not feel wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking it. Anyone who has used that comforting phrase ‘a nice cup of tea’ invariably means Indian tea.

Secondly, tea should be made in small quantities — that is, in a teapot. Tea out of an urn is always tasteless, while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease and whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or earthenware. Silver or Britanniaware teapots produce inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though curiously enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad.

Thirdly, the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is better done by placing it on the hob than by the usual method of swilling it out with hot water.

Fourthly, the tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on every day of the week, but I maintain that one strong cup of tea is better than twenty weak ones. All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes — a fact which is recognized in the extra ration issued to old-age pensioners.

Fifthly, the tea should be put straight into the pot. No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison the tea. In some countries teapots are fitted with little dangling baskets under the spout to catch the stray leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually one can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without ill effect, and if the tea is not loose in the pot it never infuses properly.

Sixthly, one should take the teapot to the kettle and not the other way about. The water should be actually boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people add that one should only use water that has been freshly brought to the boil, but I have never noticed that it makes any difference.

Seventhly, after making the tea, one should stir it, or better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing the leaves to settle.

Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup — that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat, shallow type. The breakfast cup holds more, and with the other kind one’s tea is always half cold before one has well started on it.

Ninthly, one should pour the cream off the milk before using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives tea a sickly taste.

Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This is one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in every family in Britain there are probably two schools of thought on the subject. The milk-first school can bring forward some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting the tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the other way round.

Lastly, tea — unless one is drinking it in the Russian style — should be drunk without sugar. I know very well that I am in a minority here. But still, how can you call yourself a true tealover if you destroy the flavour of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put in pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water.

Some people would answer that they don’t like tea in itself, that they only drink it in order to be warmed and stimulated, and they need sugar to take the taste away. To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will ever want to ruin your tea by sweetening it again.

These are not the only controversial points to arise in connexion with tea drinking, but they are sufficient to show how subtilized the whole business has become. There is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your saucer, for instance?) and much might be written about the subsidiary uses of tealeaves, such as telling fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is worth paying attention to such details as warming the pot and using water that is really boiling, so as to make quite sure of wringing out of one’s ration the twenty good, strong cups of that two ounces, properly handled, ought to represent.

An older Norwegian sweater.

A class wearing polo coats from Brooks Brothers.

The passing of the Peal and Co. name to Brooks Brothers.

True foodies might be disappointed by this book as it’s not exactly groundbreaking stuff like Under Pressure or French Laundry, but for everyone else it’s an excellent resource of information and would be a good second or third cookbook to have (after classics like Joy of Cooking, and Mastering the Art of French Cooking).

From wikipedia:

Destino (the Galician, Spanish, Portuguese and Italian word for “destiny”) was storyboarded by Disney studio artist John Hench and artist Salvador Dalí for eight months in late 1945 and 1946; however, financial concerns caused Disney to cease production. The Walt Disney Company, then Walt Disney Studios, was plagued by many financial woes in the World War II era. Hench compiled a short animation test of about 18 seconds in the hopes of rekindling Disney’s interest in the project, but the production was no longer deemed financially viable and put on indefinite hiatus.

In 1999, Walt Disney’s nephew Roy Edward Disney, while working on Fantasia 2000, unearthed the dormant project and decided to bring it back to life. Disney Studios France, the company’s small Parisian production department, was brought on board to complete the project. The short was produced by Baker Bloodworth and directed by French animator Dominique Monfrey in his first directorial role. A team of approximately 25 animators deciphered Dalí and Hench’s cryptic storyboards (with a little help from the journals of Dalí’s wife Gala Dalí and guidance from Hench himself), and finished Destino’s production. The end result is mostly traditional animation, including Hench’s original footage, but it also contains some computer animation. The 18 second original footage that is included in the finished product is the segment with the two tortoises.

A potentially good section that fell short was one titled “The Revisionists”, which from what I could tell was supposed to be on modern tailoring adapting to current needs and featured Dries Van Noten, d’Avenza, Dunhill, and Norton & Sons. Instead, the four page spread just showed a suit from each company with a short paragraph about each. wtf Esquire?

I recommend saving your $10 and investing it into a copy of Rake.

In 1959, Glen Denny, a relatively inexperienced mountain climber who was working as a busboy at the Yosemite Lodge in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, was invited to assist the renowned climber Warren Harding as he attempted the first ascent of an improbably steep granite prow called Washington Column. In the climbing world, Mr. Denny’s opportunity was akin to a housepainter’s being asked if he’d like to hand brushes to Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. The experience brought him into the fold of a tight-knit group of climbers who would shortly begin making history in the Yosemite Valley, inventing equipment and techniques that would revolutionize the sport around the world. Mr. Denny spent the better part of a decade participating in many of those precedent-setting climbs, as well as recording the era in gorgeous black-and-white photographs, now collected in “Yosemite in the Sixties.”

Available through Amazon and Patagonia. Some of the photographs are also on Glen Denny’s website, but the book is definitely worth the purchase in order to see the better quality versions.

More reading on the Sapeurs:

“Paradise Is a Fabulous Suit”

Their canon of saints reads: Pierre Cardin, Roberto Cavalli, Dior, Fendi, Ferré, Gaultier, Gucci, Jourdan, Miyake, Prada, Saint Laurent, Versace, Yamamoto. A typical ballad runs: “Listen my love. On our wedding day/The label will be Torrente/The label will be Giorgio Armani/The label will be Daniel Hechter/The label for the shoes will be J. M. Weston.” Brussels, their shopping mecca, is referred to in Congolese as Lola, meaning paradise.

“In Congo, Designer Cheek”

Before bling and ghetto fabulous, before the dawn of the metrosexual, Congolese men have been pushing the limits of outlandish fashion and heterosexual male vanity, roaming the streets like walking advertisements for the world’s top labels. These fashionistas were donning fur coats and gaudy jewels as early as the 1970s, when American hip-hop star Sean Combs was still accessorizing with a grade-school lunchbox.

“The white man may have invented clothes, but we turned it into an art,” said Congolese musician King Kester Emeneya, who helped popularize the Sape movement with the legendary Papa Wemba, who is often called the pope of the Sapes. Emulated and admired by a generation of African musicians, Wemba once called fashion his religion, advising devotees that what they wore was more important than school.

And many great pictures are available here: “The Congolese Sape”

From wikipedia:

Bruce Davidson’s 1959 project Brooklyn Gang is an intimate photographic study of a rebellious Brooklyn teenage gang, who called themselves The Jokers. Davidson was able to document their candid manifestations of worry, energy, enthusiasm, anger, and occasional sadness. The gang seemed to exist in their own secluded world, meandering from Coney Island to diners and taxicabs, anxiously moving forward with an unknown future and unknown goals. Some of them were even thoroughly troubled: one member died from a heroin overdose a few years after Davidson left them. Not only is Davidson’s work a sincere portrayal of troubled teenagers coming of age, but it also acts as a documentation of teenage life during 1950s, exposing the emotional climate of that time period and exposing the dark side of a supposedly innocent time period.

He’s has been getting lots of press lately on a number of different projects including the Outpost and the 1111 Pike condos.