One More Time

 

More pics and picture credits HERE

Now that everyone’s videos are up on You Tube (how I love video camera phones), I’m just popping in to say that if you’re into electronic dance music and Daft Punk come anywhere within a thousand mile radius of your home, just sell your grandmother and go see them.

We saw them last Sunday at Seattle’s fabulous state-of-the-art WAMU Theater and had the most amazing time.  Just two robots, a mesmerising electronic pyramid, a kickass sound system, and the most insane and incredible light show ever (this review memorably calls it ‘a Vegas night show from space’ which sums it up perfectly).

I danced my knickers off and went home sweaty, exhausted but on an incredible high.  Why don’t they make workout videos like this?

We went to see The Killers about six weeks ago who were also pretty amazing. Seems like the WAMU is attracting a lot of top names to Seattle which is great news.

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Blaker Girl

Pic taken on phone, so not very good quality

So any street cred I might once have possessed was torn to shreds on Friday, when the Minx and I found ourselves in the square in front of the Westlake Center cheering for Blake Lewis, Seattle’s representative in the final 3 of American Idol, on his homecoming tour.  

I know he’s a bit of an 80s throwback (I just love the way the American Idol judges seem to think that beatboxing has only just been invented) but then so am I and I like the fact that he’s into dance music and is trying to do something a bit different on AI . Anyway, I went along mostly out of curiosity – and because it was something different to do with the Minx – but actually ended up having a pretty good time.  Though I still reckon that Blake will end up being a much better producer than he is a recording artist.  I’m sure the powers that be are dreading a possible Blake victory as Blake is clearly a prominent member of the Seattle underground hip-hop scene and it’s not going to be easy getting him to make the requisite album of syrupy goo.

The clip below is long, but includes Blake’s version of Keane’s Somewhere Only We Know and a duet on Baby Got Back with Sir Mix-a-lot.

Blake comes across as a very typical Seattleite – very pleasant and down-to-earth with an endearing geeky eccentricity and a total disregard of what other people might think.  I like Seattleites very much.

I’m finding it fascinating to see at first hand how much Americans identify with their cities and states.  While Europeans seem to focus on monumentally important national rivalries, here it’s all about the state. While it would never do to admit it, Seattle is quietly thrilled about Blake. Look for me and the Minx in the crowd when they show the clips on telly on Wednesday night.

Editing to say:  My forehead appeared on international telly last night peeking from behind a sign during Blake’s homecoming.  In order to spot it you would have to a) know which sign b) watch it frame by frame in HDTV.

And no UK peeps, I’m not telling you the result…

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Oh dear

So it’s back.

I always get completely addicted to this show in its later stages but am getting sick and tired of the long drawn out ‘bad audition’ stages.

In fact, more than sick and tired – tonight’s programme felt a bit like an end-of-the-pier freak show, and at times made for uncomfortable viewing. 

But view it we did, because tonight’s auditions took place in Seattle.

Suffice it to say that I doubt very much whether American Idol will ever return here.  Blog readers in the UK, if you watch the ITV2 highlights show you’ll start to understand what I’m up against here.

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Arabesque

Claudia Roden is no more a simple cookbook writer than Marcel Proust was a biscuit baker. She is, rather, a memorialist, historian, ethnographer, anthropologist, essayist, poet.”– Simon Schama

I am indebted to the wonderful Seattle foodie blog Seattle Bon Vivant  for sending me off to a lecture last night by one of my all-time culinary heroines, Claudia Roden.

Though I’m the owner of literally hundreds of cookbooks (as I discovered when we were packing to come here), her The Food of Italy – Region by Region is one that I reach for again and again.  It is the book my aunt and nonna in Italy would have written if they had had the time and the inclination, and if you’d ever tasted their cooking, you would know that that is praise indeed.

Claudia is an Egyptian Jew who moved to England when she was fifteen when the Jews were forced to leave Egypt after the Suez crisis.  Her cultured and cosmopolitan Sephardi Jewish family had roots all over the Middle East and she started to collect recipes from her family and friend in order to counter the horrendous food she found in 1950s London.

The result has been a career as a cookery writer, broadcaster and culinary ambassador which has spanned nearly forty years and focused on Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cuisine.

Last night, however, she was a guest of the Jewish cultural organisation Nextbook and her talk focused principally on her seminal work The Book of Jewish Food and on promoting her most recent book Arabesque -A Taste of Morocco, Turkey & Lebanon

I don’t know very much about Jewish food and her anecdotes were absolutely fascinating – tracing the development of dishes back through time and across Continents.  As an unofficial historian of Jewish food she is invited to eat and cook all over the world, and I could have listened to her stories all night.

She pointed out that when people migrate they might change everything about their lifestyles but will still cling as much as possible to their culinary traditions.  A glance at our kitchen cupboards – full of Italian pasta, Parmesan cheese, olive oil (itself a product of the culinary traditions my mother brought from Italy) Green & Black’s chocolate, Marmite and Nutella – shows that yes, we are clinging desperately to our European ways, despite the fact that European imports are twice the price of canola oil and Velveeta cheese.

I bought a copy of Arabesque and was starstruck enough to get her to sign it.  I really wanted a copy of Jewish Food as well, but all the copies they had were nabbed almost instantly.

Next week I’ll try out something delicious and report back.

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Dancing with the Stars

So we settled down tonight to watch the Dancing with the Stars results show (so weird to have the results show on a different day, instead of a couple of hours after the main event).

There were only two celebs in the final – Emmitt Smith, apparently an ‘NFL legend’ of whom I have never heard, and Mario Lopez, a freshfaced and very pretty latino actor of whom I have also never heard. 

It warmed the cockles of my heart to see both Len Goodman and Bruno Tonioli on the judging panel, though I really missed the cynical objectivity (except when it comes to Emma Bunton) of Craig Revel Horwood, as both Len and Bruno seemed to have gone native in their over-the-top exuberance and uncritical praise.

Anyway, Emmitt (clearly the American Darren Gough – built like a brick outhouse and oozing cheek, charm and charisma) beat Mario (the American Colin Jackson -the better dancer with a sweet nature). 

Here’s Emmitt’s cha cha cha from the semi-final which I enjoyed more than his dances in the final. Note that the camerawork is ten times better than Auntie Beeb’s awful swirly efforts and that the band is simply superb.

I also offer, by way of comparison, Mark Ramprakash’s hot salsa from last week in Strictly Come Dancing, just because I can really. 

It is quite ridiculous and rather sad how in love I am with this programme.  The Husband has rigged up a weird and wonderful system whereby UK programmes are recorded onto a computer back home and then downloaded to us over the Internet, so I’m still able to watch all the Saturday night shows, plus a lot of the week night ‘It Takes Two’ shows.

And when we’ve worked out where we’re going to live permanently here in Seattle, I’m going to sign up for ballroom dancing lessons.

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It’s Back!

Oh I know I’m the saddest person on the planet but my Saturday nights are now complete with the return of Strictly Come Dancing

 

 

I thought I would miss the irrepressible enthusiasm and cheeky grin of Darren the Dazzler, but the shy smile of Mark Ramprakash (what is is with cricketers and ballroom dancing?) and the rather obvious charms of Ray Fearon have the potential to fill the void.

The great thing is that the Minx loves the ‘dan-sing’ as much as I do and we spent a very happy evening jigging round the living room together.

Please, please, please let it be on Bittorrent  – otherwise this is yet another Seattle dealbreaker.

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Blink and you’ll miss it

There’s an interesting debate taking place at the moment on Make It (a fab blog full of lots of resources for craft and other entrepreneurs).

I read the book Blink a few weeks back (what happened to all those regular book reviews you promised? – Ed). I don’t think it quite lives up to all the hype – it’s basically one idea padded out with lots of examples – but an interesting read nevertheless.

Its basic premise is all about gut instinct – the fact that we make a lot of decisions sub-consciously and very quickly. And that while these decisions are sometimes governed by prejudices or fears that we might not even know we have, often these decisions are more valid than decisions over which we have deliberated for a long time.

The particular example being debated over on Make It is one about a woman selling gourmet jams at craft fairs. Sometimes she puts only six different jams on the stall and sometimes twenty-four jams. Conventional wisdom would suggest that the more choice people had the more they would buy, as they were more likely to find a jam they particularly liked. Instead the opposite was true and she sold much more with only six jams, as people found it much easier to make a snap decision when they weren’t overwhelmed by choice.

All of which provides interesting food for thought when buying for mirrormirror. In recent months I have been adding more choices to some of the product lines, such as more colourways or patterns. In some cases this seems to work out and lead to extra sales – additional colourways for interiors products and jewellery for example can work as people have different colouring or decor. We also offer small and large boxes of bathmelts – both of which seem to sell equally well as they come in at different price points. But quite often adding an extra choice seems to have no discernible impact on sales whatsoever. In fact I’m starting to think each product has to be very different from the all others and really earn its place in the collection – otherwise the customer just gets confused.

What do you think? Is is ‘easier’ to shop from somewhere which has a small strictly edited collection which appeals to your taste or from somewhere such as Amazon which offers an overwhelming choice?

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Jackie

My brother bought me a fabulous book the other day.

Do you ladies remember Jackie magazine? I got it every week when I was growing up and had a huge stash in my wardrobe that I would re-read constantly. Everything I know about boys (practice kissing on the back of your hand), makeup and fashion has been gleaned from its pages.

The Best of Jackie is a compendium of highlights from the magazine – fashion, advice, quizzes, Cathy and Claire’s Problem Page (were we really that innocent?) and lots of pictures of Donny Osmond. It’s a really great piece of nostalgia and the fashion illustrations (no photography used) are surprisingly groovy.

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Here Be Dragons

It’s back! One of the best shows on TV, the ever-wonderful Dragon’s Den.

Since setting up my own business I’m finding the recent slew of business-oriented reality programmes even more compelling and inspirational – it’s fun trying to second guess which investors will be successful and what aspects of the business plan the investors will pick holes in.

And there is something rather encouraging about seeing some of the delusional people they manage to unearth and realising that you’re not quite the worst business person on the planet.

Though I do always wonder what the Dragons would make of mirrormirror.

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In the swim

I am beside myself with admiration after watching a documentary about UK cult comedian David Walliams and his incredible cross-channel swim in aid of Sport Relief.

In the summer of 2003 I was feeling at a very low physical ebb after my most nasty miscarriage and a bad dose of anaemia. By chance I came across an article in the Times entitled ‘Ferries are for wimps, let’s swim’, about a new travel company called Swimtrek, which was organising island-hopping trips to Greece where you swam from island to island.

I’ve always enjoyed swimming in the sea (well the Med, I don’t really do the sea in Britain) – I love the invigorating coolness and clarity of the water and find it really relaxing to watch the fish and the rocks below. So, in a moment of utter madness the Husband and I signed up for the six-day trip.

I trained somewhat halfheartedly in the 20 metre pool at my local gym and got the shock of my life when it actually came to doing the first swims.

Firstly, we were expected to swim when it was choppy, or once indeed when there was quite a big swell on the water. This is akin to trying to swim in a tumble dryer and is highly unpleasant, particularly when the Antiparos-Paros ferry cuts across your path and adds its wash to the party.

Secondly, the bottom disappears very quickly, so you can no longer amuse your brain by looking for fish. Instead you are trapped in a world of blue with a shaft of sunlight to your left, your hands passing before your eyes and your thoughts. Which is a very tedious place to be after twenty minutes or so.

Thirdly, swimming is slow. You can swim towards an island for what seems like forever and a day and it never seems to get any closer. It doesn’t help that I tend to swim round in circles unless I’m being shouted at almost constantly by the people in the support boat.

We did our longest swim (5km) between two islands of the Little Cyclades towards the end of the week, when conditions were perfect and the sea was warm and smooth. Nevertheless it took well over two hours, was bloody hard work and was really quite boring, though a sort spaced-feeling takes over around the halfway point when your position relative to the land on either side doesn’t seem to change and all you can do is surrender to the blue.

As a result, I admire David Walliams’ mental strength and physical endurance all the more. The fact that he trained for hours every day on his UK tour while still finding the energy to perform. The fact that he trained and swam in the cold of an English sea, while I could only just about cope with the Aegean. The fact that he had to deal with the wake of over 200 ships crossing his path, when I was freaked out by one small ferry. And the fact that he completed his swim in the astonishing time of 10 1/2 hours making him one of the fifty fastest cross channel swimmers of all time.

It truly was a great achievement. I’m glad that he’s managed to raise so much money for charity (well worth a donation, don’t you think?). But also a bit sad when I look down at my overweight, post-pregnancy body and realise that at the moment swimming even 5km would be totally impossible.

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