I love GQ.  I have probably bought more GQ or Details (which is GQ owned) magazines in my life than Cosmo or Elle.  For some reason, the idea of fixing American mens’ fashion, which so often need fixing, is appealing to me.  

I also love GQ because it contains men’s fashion ads with male models posing in beautiful designer clothes.  Perhaps this love is a result of a constant objectification of the opposite sex, but can anyone say new additions to the Wilde’s hot guy wall?  

GQ also comments on the fashions seen in those ads.  Their magazines and website are chock full of useful, practical, and not too “fabulous” style tips that any college (gasp!) or recent college grad could and should use in dressing for work, the weekend, a date, special occasion, etc.  

The online slideshow that prompted this outspoken admiration is called “Get Framed! A GQ Guide to Glasses.”  Anyone who knows me knows I love glasses.  Real or fake, wire or plastic rimmed, it doesn’t matter.  A guy, for some reason, is made instantly cuter with glasses and GQ offers men options.  There’s black frames, tortoise frames, clear frames, but they make clear that they’re not joking around.  These glasses are for the guys brave enough to try them out and it’s great that GQ believes there those man enough to rock the daring look.

GQ has a ton of online content and you can check it here: http://www.gq.com/style.

-KP

Don Argott’s documentary “Art of the Steal” focuses on the embroiled battle over the Barnes Foundation and its amazing gallery outside of Philadelphia in Lower Merion.  

The gallery, which is also a school, was started by Dr. Albert C. Barnes in the first half of the 20th century after he developed a taste for the Post-Impressionist art of Renoir, Degas, Matisse, Picasso, and Cezanne.  Using his fortune, Barnes amassed a collection of the art worth between $4 and $30 billion (depending on who you’re asking) that is unrivaled by even the largest museums in the world. 

The main conflict is whether or not the art should stay in the Lower Merion gallery or be moved downtown.  

Argott pits the cultural and artistic elite against the snubby politicians and the CEOs of Philadelphia’s largest charitable organizations who are trying to turn Dr. Barnes’s wishes that the gallery be used for educational purposes into a tourist trap to make money.

The documentarians and those who speak on behalf of the Barnes come off as one thing, however-snobbish.  They want to keep the Barnes collection in Merion, just far away enough from Philadelphia to keep the low-brow consumers of art away and they resent making money from showing the unprecedented collection. 

As much as they discuss the amazing impact of the 108 Renoirs, 47 Cezannes, etc. never do they discuss how amazing the impact could be on a teenager or young child after seeing the collection.  Dr. Barnes and the artists featured in the collection, in a time of artistic upheavel, changed the very nature of what we define as art.  Ignoring the views of the Royal Academies in France and England and the art critics vehement denouncement, they painted and sculpted things they thought to be art.  Without them, Warhol, Jasper Johns, and Pollock would be considered mere copy machines, rubbish sorters, or finger painters.  

The vision of the cultural elite in this documentary who say they are fighting for Dr. Barnes’s beliefs seem to have reversed course-instead of fighting the Philadelphia Art Elite like their benefactor, they have become part of them-keeping important and beautiful art away from the people who could be most influenced by it.

The New York Times review is here and you can watch the trailer for the documentary here.

-KP

Sex is the main topic in most popular songs.  It’s mentioned directly or implied and we have all come to accept this sexualization of culture, despite the fact that we know young children not only listen to the songs on the radio but are influenced by them.

I’m really discussing this because, at least in my well-rounded pop culture knowledge, male artists have, in the past, been the gender more likely to directly mention sex and the act of it.  Perhaps this is because more males are rappers and rap contains the most direct mentions of sex or sexual acts or just because men love talking about sex.  I’ve noticed, though, that lately female pop artists are more directly mentioning the act of sex.

I was honestly surprised when I heard Rihanna’s song “Rude Boy” this morning on t.v.  What happened to the “Pon de Replay” Rihanna?  She’s gone to over-styled hell and back and in her new song the refrain goes, “Come here, rude boy. Can you get it up? Come here, rude boy. Is you big enough?”  Beyond the obvious grammatical error that makes me want to gauge my eyes out, the first time I heard “can you get it up?” I figured Rihanna had to be talking about something else-anything else.  I was disappointed though when she sang the next line, she was pictured peeking down an (admittedly) hot guy’s boxers and my fears were confirmed.

What’s worse is the video was made to attract kids-it reminds me of a 90s Sesame Street bit.  The zig zag patterns scream of printed leggings (which she later dons) and the colors are reminiscent of a sparkly Lisa Frank unicorn folder I dearly coveted when I was six.  MTV or VH1 can’t do anything to censor the video, but I’m curious to see how the song plays on radio.  Can they really keep “get it up” and “big enough” in the song?  These things are worse than “ass” or “God damn” to me.  I guess small children can’t glean the meaning from just those words, but those on the fringe of sexual activity age certainly will and the teenage pregnancy and abortion rates probably don’t need any bolstering.

Ke$ha’s song “Blah, Blah, Blah” directly references casual, alcohol-induced, anonymous sex-as if one of these weren’t enough.  She doesn’t want a “little bitch” with his “chit chat” she just “wants to be naked and you’re wasted”.  Now these lyrics might be ok, yet super slutty, to an older group of people who know what contraception is, how to get it, and know about STDs and how to prevent them, but to tweens and teens who hear it on the radio it sounds like a ringing endorsement for underage drinking and “accidental” sex with strangers because “it’s fun” and “everyone’s doing it”.

As much as I hate these songs, I accept them more because they come from women.  The traditional idea of men being praised for being players and women being called sluts for doing the same things (thanks Christina for mentioning that) is essentially being challenged with these songs, although I don’t know that they’re actually making a difference.  A girl who asks if you’re big enough and then proceeds to have drunk anonymous sex is probably going to be considered a slut by any reasonable guy or girl.

But, men’s songs have objectified women and played into traditional gender roles for far too long and it’s kind of nice to see men objectified.  Usher’s new song “Hey Daddy” tells the story of a woman who’s just waiting at home for her man to come give her some loving (aka sex) and in the video Usher’s at work (at a real job!) and his wife (maybe girlfriend on second thought) is waiting in her underwear and his button-down shirt at home.  Usher is also not just at work, but at a bar, then a club…but all of a sudden “Daddy’s home” and the woman is expected to drop everything to give him what he needs.

Now I’m not going to admit I have shut off a song that doesn’t fall in line with my general beliefs.  Jamie Foxx’s “Blame it on the Alcohol” actually represents the exact opposite of my feelings-in The Wilde we have coasters that say “A drunk yes is not a yes”-but for some reason I was willing to listen and sing along…it’s catchy.  I also can’t guarantee that I upon hearing one of these songs in a bar or club I won’t immediately start shouting the lyrics and dancing along with everyone else.

The point is that I realize the blatant and ridiculous sexualization of music as someone who considers gender roles fun to talk about and knows about contraception and STDs…what about the kids (and god forbid, adults) who don’t?

-KP

I think there’s a reason that hockey is on the waiting room t.v. in a hospital on Montreal, Quebec.  It’s calming; a way for nervous family members to think about something they love almost as much as their sick mother or father.

The game on also happens to be the Boston-Pittsburgh match-up.  Sidney Crosby, captain of the Penguins, is coming off scoring the winning goal in the Olympic gold medal game against the U.S. last week, and is not playing stellarly, but it doesn’t really matter.

The New York Times published an article following the Canadian gold medal victory about the sport’s culture in that nation.  Sure, we have baseball in America, the article says, but we have nothing that rivals the hockey tradition in Canada.

Children to our north are given skates before they can walk, hockey sticks before they can write, and bred to be diehard Habs, Maple Leafs, or Oilers fans from infancy (No kidding, you can get sippy cups, pacifiers, onesies, and anything else with the team logos plastered on them).

For Canadians, hockey is more than a sport-it’s a religion.  Hockey Night in Canada has as many viewers as all of the churches in Canada on a Sunday and Don Cherry’s infamous style stands in for the drab robes of usual pastors.  And watchers treat Cherry as a priest-anxiously awaiting intermission to hear his homily of commentary, predictions, and gossip.

The people in this waiting room are generally silent, except for random sentences-presumably about the condition of their loved one.  Then something not so surprising happens.  They start talking about the game.

Somber faces turn to eager ones waiting for the replay of the last goal or fight.  People united only by the fact that they must wait on these blue sofas for news, debate the merits of each team.

So sure…there are Torahs waiting for visitors in a nearby bookshelf, but it seems as though the NHL and the tradition of hockey might be all they need to get through the hard times.