Some of My Favorite Designers/Labels Who May Still Be Flying Under Your Radar

All this cost about 150 bucks at Japan's answer to American Apparel, Uniqlo

For someone who enjoys shopping, I don’t like shopping for clothes, mostly because it involves taking things off, trying things on (and sometimes alterations), which is why I generally do it when I’m traveling. That way, the necessary evil is transformed into a cultural experience, with the added bonus that there’s less likelihood that I’ll ever run into someone where I live wearing exactly the same thing.

Here are some of the more obscure labels I’ve come across, in no particular order. Some of them you can find in New York. Others you have to go overseas, but for what it’s worth—
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Pedicures Should Be a Tax Write-Off!

Hello, Gorgeous!

As everyone who knows me is aware (because I mention it so often), I happen to have gorgeous feet.

In fact, I could have been a foot model.

So imagine how thrilled I was to read last week, on the front page of “The Boston Globe,” a story about “parts” models. Never mind that I’d read an almost identical (yet better) story in W magazine months ago. And never mind that in the space between the “continued on…” and page 11, there were reports of continued violence and privation throughout Africa, Asia and the Middle East, not to mention a desperate bid to stem the tide of nuclear pollution in Japan following one of the worst disasters in history, and numerous other indicators that the hand-basket is, in fact, here, and its next stop is undoubtedly Hell. I was just relieved to know that hand models Devon Diep and Adam Lundberg were making as much as $3,000 a day because they had such perfect hands. I know, I know. You’re thinking: That’s a nice human interest story. Quirky and offbeat. It even has a bit of indie-film cred in the fact that Diep and Lundberg, who fell in love over their shared genetic blessing, are no longer a couple (a fairly common occurrence, I imagine, in relationships where it’s so easy to be distracted by the beauty of one’s own body parts).
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Your Middle-East Travel Crisis (Not) Solved Here

 

You can't get there...

...from here.

The other night, I was at my computer at 1:30 a.m. (an occupational hazard of writing for a living) when an email arrived from a friend traveling in Israel and Jordan with her husband.

Seems they were 10 minutes away from the airport in Tel Aviv, en route to Jordan, when they got a call from their hotel in Jerusalem (which is an hour back in the direction of Jordan and until 1967 was a part of it.) Her husband had left his backpack with passport and all important documents behind. Her question was: Should she ever forgive him, or should she send him to Ramallah with a cab driver named Faisal to live out the rest of his days?

I emailed back:

Two options I can see:
Have the concierge at the hotel in Jerusalem forward it to you in Tel Aviv and catch the next flight to Amman in the a.m.
Or drive back to Jerusalem and cross by car THROUGH THE JORDAN VALLEY (THAT’S SUPREMELY IMPORTANT! TAKE THE NORTHERN ENTRANCE. YOU NEED A VISA TO CUT THROUGH THE WEST BANK)
Good luck.
And always forgive but NEVER forget…especially since it’ll make good dinner party conversation.
XO
J

 
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