Bantam Bonanza

The first time I saw Bantam Bagels, I thought they were genius: I mean, it was a bagel you could eat like a donut hole, filling and all. Any possible bagel flavor, suddenly it's yours in bite-size, reducing calorie count and increasing novelty factor! Big wins all around. 

Bantam Bagels was founded by Nick and Elyse Oleksak, two former Wall Streeters. The idea came to Nick in a dream one night, and now there's a full-fledged storefront in the West Village. Bantams, as they're known, come in all manner of flavors and fillings, from Hot Pretzel (salt bagel with cheese filling) to Cookies and Milk ("brown sugar walnut bagel with sweet chocolate chip cream cheese"....oh yes). 

Bantam was kind enough to invite me to sample some of their delightful offerings, fresh from the toaster and to take home! I felt like such a lucky girl, choosing from shelves upon shelves of flavors to make my baker's dozen of bantams. I nibbled on some, and also shared with my dear roommates. My favorites were The Hangover ("cheddar cheese and egg bagel topped with melted cheddar cheese filed with bacon cheddar cream cheese and a drizzle of maple syrup" --even upon writing that my mouth is watering. Not to mention it is probably perfect for a hangover) and the aforementioned Hot Pretzel, which actually tasted like its namesake. Wild. 

Should you find yourself Bantam-bound, remember to bite the hole! Say what?

Yep. The hole in the bagel where all that yummy filling goes. If you don't bite it, it'll squeeze everywhere but your mouth and you don't want that. Also try the bagels toasted if you so desire! Bring them to a party--they stay for about 4-6 hours without being refrigerated. Their menu also changes seasonally, so there's always something interesting and new to try. 

It's amazing to see the ways creativity blossoms here in New York. Because really, if you're looking to try something new, this is the place to do it! Open minds and curious tastebuds make for a great combination, which Nick and Elyse clearly recognize. But you don't really have to worry about trying bantams--they're just bagels, with stuff in or on them that you'd probably eat them with anyway. For the  most part, anyway; I mean, I had never eaten a bagel with bacon cheddar cream cheese before, but man I'd sure love to do it again. 

If you want to check out Bantam Bagels, they're in the West Village at 283 Bleecker Street, just before 7th Avenue. Happy Bantam-ing! 

The Box Lunch: "Plain bagel topped with crushed, roasted peanuts filled with peanut butter and sweet strawberry jam"

The Hot Pretzel 

The Hangover 

The Bleecker Street: "Pizza dough bagel topped with a thin slice of pepperoni. Filled with marinara mozzarella cream cheese"

Blindness

I worry that there's a special kind of jadedness that New Yorkers eventually acquire, and that jadedness involves not seeing the awesomeness around them. For a few weeks, I have been at a loss of things to write about on my blog. "I haven't done anything," I complain to myself, begging myself to be more interesting. When, in fact, there have actually been some incredible moments I had the distinct pleasure of experiencing in the past few weeks or so. At the time, though, I was just too blind to see it.

One of the things I love about this blog is that it forces me to take a look at my life and forget that not every post has to be a specific "event" that I go to. Sometimes you can write 1000 words about an instant without even trying. Other times, you have to work a little harder. The past few weeks I have spent aching my fingers and eyes into pitch mode (which any freelancer will tell you is the most difficult mode to be in), using something like Jedi mind tricks to will editors into publishing my work, forgetting to take some time for introspection because all I want to do is turn off my brain and watch Will & Grace from 11pm until I pass out.  With the start of this new month, though, I hope to change. So please forgive me, dear readers, if I have been remiss. Below are a potpurri of experiences I hope you too can come across at some point.

September 15
SD and I went down to Coney Island for a tattoo and motorcycle festival. While the festival itself did not inspire too much, it was SD's first trip so we took full advantage of the touristy wonderfulness of it all. SD slipped a quarter into a box with a glass front, the contents of which, a mannequin and her cat, we were told would instantly fall in love with us. To our delight, we found "instantly fall in love with us," meant the unironically '90s-attired lady and cat boogied to something that sounded like a Prince takeoff about love. It was a little like watching a sex doll sing to me, which felt both profoundly awkward and hilarious. We ate funnel cake on the beach, powdered sugar taking a comedic cue and blowing all over my black jeans. And, of course, Nathan's. Who in their right mind goes to Coney Island without getting Nathan's? I don't often go to the beach when it's not summertime, but it was really lovely to feel a brisk, crisp breeze as we walked down the boardwalk.

September 21

Interest piqued in zine and artist book culture by a brief trip to Printed Matter in Chelsea, MD (not a doctor, haha) was interested in attending the New York Art Book Fair, and I was happy to accompany him. The event, held at MoMA PS1 in Queens, turned the entire museum into vendor spaces and displays for the fair, which is the "world's premier event for artists' books, catalogs, monographs, periodicals, and zines." And it was free! In short, artists' books are books of artwork made by the artists themselves--both the artwork in them, and the book itself. Or, as Printed Matter says, "books or other editioned publications conceived by artists as art works, or, more succinctly, as 'artwork for the page.' We wound ourselves through the entirety of the building, even the furnace, looking at different artwork and installations. 

September 24

Amazing soup dumplings with crab and egg at Nan Xiang Xiao Long Bao in Flushing. First, you put a little bit of a soy sauce/vinegar mix on your spoon, then a dumpling. Then, you bite the dumpling and the soup flows into the soup spoon. It's an art I haven't mastered yet, to say the least, but I'd go back in a heartbeat to get better at it :)

The New World Mall, just off the last stop on the 7 train, also in Flushing. The bottom floor is a food court of all different kinds of Asian food--some even with live lobsters splashing about in tanks. Not to mention the best bubble tea I've had to date, for only $2 (at a place where I unfortunately can't remember the name, aaagh). 

September 29

I put on my best Nicki Minaj-like ensemble and took part in a rap video parody of "Gangster's Paradise" on a rooftop in Bushwick. This video idea sprung from the brain of Hannah VanderPoel, a comedy writer here in New York. Rago, myself, and eight other ladies spent the afternoon tottering around the rooftop in stilettos and sneakers and boots doing our best bad bitch impressions. And you had better believe that as soon as it comes out, I'll post a link ;)

Inside the Madness

Now that I've exited the Fashion Week cocoon, I've been sleeping a lot. Running around until 3am can really do a girl in, you know? But one of my favorite parts about Fashion Week being over is that I get to look back on it all. Here are some of my favorite pictures from the week, and links to all of the shows I wrote about for Her Campus.com, the magazine for which I am the Style Editor. Cheers, dears!

BCBGMAXAZRIA
Cushnie et Ochs
Jill Stuart
Herve Leger
Lela Rose
Dennis Basso
Maita Marimo
Parsons MFA

Runways and Walkways

It has only been two days, and good lord Fashion Week has already worked its magic. I can hardly remember what day it is, my camera is exploding with pictures, my feet are blistered, I've been eating ice cream for dinner, and am constantly on the verge of passing out. And, strangely, I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm sure I've written it before, but if 10 years ago you had told me this is what my life would be, I would have cried tears of happiness. Running around taking pictures backstage and writing about fashion? I would have been sublimely happy. I am sublimely happy. Of course, the happiness doesn't come without work, but the work makes the happiness even sweeter. 

Two and a half years ago I stepped into the Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week tents and nearly cried. I was here! I had made it! I don't feel exactly the same now, though elements of the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed me still remain. My Fashion Week ensembles are more, shall we say, laissez-faire chic, less planned than in the past. I care less what people think and more about being able to walk comfortably in my shoes. Before many shows I am running around photographing backstage, too, so I *gasp* need flats so I don't die. After two days, I am tipsy with tiredness. God bless these people who do multiple shows  and parties and shows and parties every single day; even at my small number I am starting to feel it, and tomorrow I have back to back shows and events pretty much until 2am. Trust me, I am not complaining, though. This is the work all of us have chosen, the thrill of seeing new clothes for the first time, the rush of makeup artists and hairstylists backstage, the tip-toed walks of the models as they sashay or plod down the runway during rehearsal and rush into their clothes for 'First Looks' (the outfit the model wears on their first trip down the runway during a show). Just sometimes it makes you need a nap or three in between shows (if you have the luxury of 'in between shows,' that is). As I've said many times before, if Fashion Week were every day of my life, I'd have to hurt myself. It's not a way to live. But two weeks out of the year? Sign me up! One of the things I love about being tired, about being "Fashion Week tired," is that it's such a clear sign that you're living!

This Fashion Week, I will be backstage quite often and also in the audience quite a bit. It's a challenge to see something new each time, especially backstage where it's so often the same kinds of things happening--some hairspray there, some eyeshadow here. What I have noticed myself seeing more and more this time around are the people on their way to events--today I was on the train with a model who happened to be going to the same show I was photographing backstage. Long, stringy brown hair parted in the middle, black velvet harem pants and thick black flatform sneakers, a black leather backpack hanging from her back. She brushes past me and says "Excuse me" in a thick Eastern European accent, hair swishing behind her. Her portfolio is in her hand and she clomps up the subway steps in these giant shoes. Sometimes you'll see a fashion celebrity--read: people non-fashion-nerds don't recognize-- on their way to and from a show (Nina Garcia walked past me at BCBG yesterday, as did Kate Lanphear and Carine Roitfeld. I gasped inwardly and wistfully, in that way we all do when we see someone we want to talk to but have just instantly run out of all the words we've ever known). In some ways, the walkways outside of venues are great equalizers--we all have to tread on the same ground. Unless of course you've been ushered in the back way, which is another story entirely. 

In the fast-paced, digital age in which we live, though, Fashion Week's place in, well, fashion, is being challenged. It is hardly as exclusive as it used to be (many designers this year, even, are live-streaming their shows) and barely serves its original purpose of exposing designers to editors and buyers in one place (the Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week tents). Many designers actually choose to have shows offsite, in art galleries or photo studios or even high school gymnasiums, to have smaller shows and preserve the original intent. A recent article in The New York Times addresses this very idea. Because if you are not writing about or choosing to sell the clothing, what are you really doing at a show? People have become obsessed with the exclusivity to the point where the clothes sometimes come second. 

Every Fashion Week, I am befuddled at my own reactions to the event: a sort of "include-me-don't-include-me" deal where I am both inside and outside of the world at all times. I said recently that I try to look at fashion like an art form, to review and critique the way one would a gallery exhibition. In this way, I hope, I just get to observe beauty and not get sucked into some sort of trend making machine. I think I have always wanted the beauty and not the machine; the substance and not the submission; the aesthetics and not the obsessions. We'll see how I do. I only have five days left and already I find myself wanting more. 

Hometown Adventures

Or: Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy While Eating Scallion Salad with Chopsticks

I wasn't going to write another blog post about Florida because, well, this blog is about New York. Except I realized that it's not just really that. I hope on some level this also serves as a travel blog, and I realize that just because going home is going home that doesn't mean there can't be superfunsurprise-hey-maybe-I-would-take-people-to-do-that experiences there, too. Sometimes when you're in your bubble you forget to step outside of it. I mean, on the surface, anyone's idea of their own home might not be particularly interesting only because a lot of the time we tend to take such things for granted. But here are some things I did in Florida that I would love for you to do, too.

Round Up
I have never been to a line dancing bar before. Round Up is just that, a country-western bar located in the rather country-western city of Davie, in Broward County, where I'm from. On a wooden dance floor encircled by what looked like wooden corrals, people stomped and clapped in succession like I had never seen. The line dancing culture is not one I'm particularly familiar with, but damn, these people seem to know a dance for every single song that came on in the club. How do you learn them? How do you know when to do them? My friends and I, who are far more versed in latin dances like merengue, salsa and bachata, can hear in the music what's called for, but there's only so many dances--each line dance seemed to be completely new and different, save for the Texas Cha-Cha (I'm not even sure if that's what it's called) and the Two-Step. I watched in awe. Eventually, though, an older gentleman actually taught me how to do the last two dances and I was two-steppin' right along there with them. While I hardly consider myself a cowgirl, I do indeed think I would do it again!



Yeah, I went there.

Gabose
To understand the impact this restaurant had on me, it's first important to understand that my parents aren't particularly adventurous eaters. In most restaurants they frequent, they have a number of things they like and are willing to experiment to an extent, but not to a wild degree (I, on the other hand, will try pretty much anything, including but not limited to chicken feet and burgers topped with cashew butter). So to have them expand their culinary repertoires is very exciting for me!

Gabose is a Korean and Japanese restaurant my parents go to at least once every two weeks or so. One day, my mother told me, one of the owners who now knows them as regulars (they have "their table" and everything) brought over some new foods for them to try. And they tried them! And they liked them so much they wanted me to try them too! Then we went and had what my parents call "Korean tapas." There was a spicy, red pepper scallion salad that I would be happy to take intravenously, as well as a chive pancake, a crab and cucumber salad in a rice vinaigrette and old standbys like vegetable tempura and tuna tataki. It was all delicious, but what made me enjoy it even more was seeing my parents still learning new things and enjoying the ride. Isn't that all we really want for our loved ones?

--

Sometimes I forget that just because I'm not downtown that there's not nothing to do. Like any place, the really wonderful things to do are the things suggested by people who know the area really well. To step outside of yourself and have an experience unlike one you typically have, even in an area you know like the back of your hand. Looking at an old place with new eyes means there are infinite possibilities for adventures.

That being said, tonight back in New York I walked down 58th Street from 9th Avenue to Madison Avenue, just to enjoy the surprisingly cool, breezy air and see some of those famous glittering storefronts in a different way. With Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland playing in my ears, Bergdorf Goodman, Dior, and Chanel were especially beautiful to the tune of "Voodoo Chile" and "Crosstown Traffic." Even in New York, where we always think we've seen everything, there's always something left to see.

A Few Notes About Relaxation

There comes a time in every freelancer's life where they must do the thing they perhaps most fear doing: stop working.

Yes, there must be a pause in the schedules we have set up so seamlessly to get us through the work week and enable us to be our most productive for, truthfully, if there isn't, we simply won't be able to produce work anymore. And then we'll be useless. So part of this grand productivity is to be productive in another way, to produce in ourselves a sense of relaxation and pause so we can produce more later.

And let me tell you, it is difficult. When you've wired yourself to get up everyday and answer to yourself at a certain hour for fear you will make a mess of this entire freelancing business into which you've entered, stopping seems a sacrilege. So you have to make yourself answer to a new kind of self, one who simply won't take 'work' for an answer, much as you've conditioned yourself previously to not take 'relax' for an answer.

So here I am in South Florida, writing from my parents' kitchen table, overlooking all sorts of strange trees we don't have in New York, wearing my bathing suit and thinking about how much work I'm absolutely not going to do today. I have been doing all sorts of unheard of things since I arrived: lying out in the sun, watching Doris Day movies and back to back to back episodes of The Big Bang Theory on demand, eating French food and Cheetos and pausing in the middle of the day to read a book, of all things. I hardly know who I am anymore--how does one do nothing?

Last weekend I worked every day; in fact, I had been working for 10 days straight before I left New York Wednesday evening. There is something about New York that completely disables my 'do nothing' factor. I am never home just sitting around watching television during the day (at night, it's a different story, as I recently went through the entire series of Freaks and Geeks on Netflix and have become newly obsessed with this brilliant but canceled series). The days are for working, the nights are for not working, if possible--often I am working an eight hour day plus whatever event I attend in the evening to write about or to photograph. But here...little work is happening, and that's the way it's supposed to be. I have been here three days and already my inner moral compass is failing--or is it not failing? I am, essentially, forcing myself to relax and it is stressing me out.

I think if I had not earned the title 'New Yorker' before, I certainly have now. I had a glass of wine on the beach yesterday. WHO AM I?? New York, we are often told, is the city that never sleeps, and it is 100% true--because when the city is not sleeping, why should we be? We keep working and working and working until we have nothing left and we fall apart. Ultimately, though, what we need to do is program ourselves to relax, to understand that what we're doing is not bad or incorrect: it is simply necessary so we can keep going later on.

So, New Yorkers, if you have the chance to relax on occasion, be it for only a Saturday spent lolling about on your couch or for a trip to see your family or a weekend getaway to the Hamptons, please do so. You'll find yourself rejuvenated and ready to take on your life anew, freelancer or not. It'll just take some getting used to--relaxation, for us folk, doesn't come easy. But once you start, I promise you'll get the hang of it.

OXHEART Interview: Alfie Bunz

This Friday, August 9th, OXHEART will present its eighth event, CURRENT at 3rd Ward in Brooklyn. We'll have a fantastic lineup of tunes and performances, all topped off with the cherry that is one Mr. Alfie Bunz, emcee and performer extraordinaire. Take a look at the interview with Alfie below and get psyched for another superrad OXHEART show!*

Alfie Bunz, Photo by Sean Luke Hopkins

How and when did you begin emceeing and performing?

I began performing during spring, in 2011. My first show, ever! Pat Muko [sideshow and burlesque performer] and Dick Zigun [founder of the modern Coney Island Sideshow] had (still do have!) so much faith in me; they invited me to do a burlesque show, then their Halloween Creepshow at the Freakshow. I started emceeing when I became the Bilingual Bally Master at Coney Island USA, 2011. I was given the “groovy” opportunity to host the Gowanus Circus (Noah from Brooklyn’s baby), and I became the Emcee/Ringmaster. Been workin' the crowds, ever since!

What made you get interested in sideshow culture?

My romance began in 2010 when I started working for the sideshow. I really didn’t know what I was getting into. I thought it was just a cashiering job. As the months went-by, I began seeing the strange happenings at Coney USA, and when I saw Scott Baker do the blockhead. It had been the first time I had ever seen any type of sideshow. From that moment, back in April 2010, I was in love!

What is your favorite part of emceeing and performing?

Anything that I would do on a stage wouldn’t be worth my while if not for the people! I live and breathe for entertaining people; the good, the bad and the ugly. I’ve had people get up and walk out when I hit the stage. I’ve had people compliment me…but, when ya get that ovation from your audience, you know you’ve reached them; you know you’ve entertained them. This is the height of any time spent on stage, for me!

What is the most shocking sideshow trick you've ever performed? 

Before I begin, let me clarify that they are not tricks. They are acts. A trick implies some kind of an illusion; this is all real, all alive… Now, this was back in 2011. I was in Philadelphia, performing with [circus performers] Alejandro Dubois and Rev. MacKenzie Moltov. I did a mental floss while eating glass and standing on glass…Then, I proceeded to blockhead, all while snapping a rat trap on my hand. ;-) This is light, compared to what my brothers and sisters in sideshow can do!

How did you learn to perform sideshow acts? How long did it take?

Sideshow acts can be learned in a day, or in a week…or…maybe longer. Quite honestly, it’s mind over matter. Pardon the cliché: practice makes perfect! But, the first act I learned was the blockhead. The incomparable Scott Baker taught me the act…the rest is history…

What can OXHEART-ers expect to see from you at CURRENT?

They will have to come and watch!  …and…that’s that…hehehehehe!

What performers inspire you most and why?

Tigger! (Boylesque performer) and Scott Baker; they both know their stuff! They are confident, amiable, have incredible stage presence and are incredibly talented performers. When they hit the stage, they illuminate it entirely! In one expression: “The Sun came up!” The level of their professionalism and respect and love for what they do, well, they are genius!

What do you do when you're not performing?

I have a day job. But! Aside from this, I love being surrounded by nature. Love hiking and camping. I am currently taking classes to learn how to swim in the open ocean! Can’t wait to master this skill!  Otherwise, I’m always making costumes, developing choreography because I do sideshow, but I also do Boylesque. Then, it’s just about spending time with family and friends! This is my favorite part about life…then…there are those moments when a stroll is just enough…

Where else around New York do you perform?

I perform at the Parkside Lounge (East Village), where I host a burlesque show for Sake Fevah, in Drag! I also perform in Long Island City, and just all over…including Philly and if all goes well, next Spring in Sydney, Australia!

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