Sexy, Slick Red Nagasawa For Sale

After a stint with us and on the familiar streets of the East Village and Brooklyn, the Nag is off to greener pastures, faraway lands, or maybe just New Jersey, depending on where you live. What I am trying to say is that this bike is for sale. Yes, a Nagasawa for sale stateside, oh boy!


This one is nakano red, 53.5 seat tube and 55.5 top tube, with new old stock suntour superbe this that and the other, hatta swan headset, pre-NJS nitto stem, selle concor brown suede blah blah blah... You get it. This is a really awesome build!


The frame and fork are from Punch Cycles in Tokyo, the best bike shop in the world.


Email Robin (robin.hiner@gmail.com) if you are interested in more details and/or possibly owning this rare ride.

Taco! Taco! Taco!

Thanks to HBO On Demand I recently saw this funny and bizarre short film, Taco! Taco! Taco! It is about two dueling taco shacks in Southern California and the insane lengths that the taco purveyors go to in trying to put each other out of business. I won’t spoil the ending but here is a funny picture from the filming of Taco! Taco! Taco!’s flickr page.


Tacos as clothes: a new trend? I’ll leave that to a separate blog post.

Fashion aside, and with tacos on the brain, I’d like to share with you about my own favorite taco shanty. It’s called Snack Dragon Taco Shack and it’s in the East Village.


Here is why Snack Dragon is so great: They are open until 4am and the décor of this tin hut is college-dorm-room-charm at its best. With year-round Christmas lights and multi-colored everything, the festive styling’s of Snack Dragon can only be beat by, say, Japanese Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama. Tee-Hee!


But the food has to be the selling point, and on this front, Snack Dragon delivers. There are six types of tacos on the menu, three of which are vegetarian I am very happy to report. However, the fish tacos are the one’s that you just have to try. The fish is grilled, not fried, and it is topped with chipotle coleslaw and radishes – yes, radishes! Not exactly typical but amazingly delicious; the crisp zing of the radishes is the perfect compliment to the heat and char of the fish taco.


You have the eat it to believe it!

Park Hyatt Tokyo Take 2

Park Hyatt is the Hyatt brand’s most luxurious line of hotels. There are Park Hyatt hotels all over the world but one of the finest and surely the most famous – thanks to Sofia Coppola’s feature film Lost In Translation – is the Park Hyatt Tokyo. The Park Hyatt Tokyo occupies the top fourteen floors of one of the city’s tallest skyscrapers, Shinjuku Park Tower in Shinjuku, Tokyo. This hotel features a spa and enclosed rooftop pool, three world famous restaurants, two bars, and the best bird’s eye views of the city that one could hope for.


The Park Hyatt Tokyo’s website describes Girandole, one of the hotel’s three restaurants, as “simple, delicious fare that is satisfyingly authentic.” Girandole is the classic French brasserie on the forty-first floor of the Park Hyatt Tokyo. The description of the food is very true but the wonderful thing about this hotel is that those words could be used to describe any number of amenities at the Park Hyatt Tokyo.


The word “simple” could easily describe the modern design of the rooms and corridors of the hotel. In fact, the interior design of the Park Hyatt Tokyo seems to highlight and celebrate simple shapes. Upon stepping out of the quiet – and fast – elevators one finds him or herself on the forty-first floor and in the first of three enormous, cloud piercing, glass pyramids. Walking towards the reception area one passes through a wide hallway and by a circular stairwell so grand and deep that it gives the effect of looking down the center of a giant outstretched slinky; the light gradating in and out at each level. After reception there is the library and another geometric engagement. The rows and rows of yellow lit, long and tall rectangular shelves have a romance about them that seems so human despite the perfect symmetry of straight lines and right angles. After the triangles, spirals, and perfect squares there’s another set of elevators that are just as quiet and as fast.


But even more than simple and refined, the pull of this hotel is that it is “satisfyingly authentic.” Upon pulling into the hotel’s grand driveway and again at reception, guests are greeted by proper name and in the language of their origin – a custom that is common among elite hotels. But at the Park Hyatt Tokyo, they take this experience of being personally welcomed a step further and will be sure to know if there are any holidays of importance coming up for their guests. For example, if a guest is celebrating a birthday or anniversary he or she will be greeted with a traditional Japanese bow and a fragrant bouquet delivered by an impeccably dressed geisha upon arrival. And after a few days at the Park Hyatt Tokyo, one realizes that to stay at this hotel is to stay at a place that is truly “simple” while also “delicious” and yet “satisfyingly authentic.”

Park Hyatt Tokyo

Trying to decide what to eat for lunch is tough. I’m almost never satisfied. The options in Time’s Square are generally atrocious. Jamba Juice is giving away free chai tea lattes today, so, there’s that. Not really a meal though; and definitely not a satisfying one.

Daydreaming about what to eat, I often think of a few of the best meals that I’ve had. For lunch, I’d have to say that the happiest midday meal that I can remember was brunch in the Park Hyatt Tokyo’s French brasserie, Girandole. The hotel’s website describes the food there as “simple, delicious fare that is satisfyingly authentic.” I couldn’t have put it any better.


But those words could be used to describe any number of amenities at the Park Hyatt Tokyo. Simple: The modern design of the rooms and corridors of the hotel seem to highlight and celebrate simple shapes. Upon stepping out of the quiet (and really fast!) elevators you are on the forty-first floor and in the first of three enormous glass pyramids.


Walking towards the reception area you pass through a wide hallway and by a circular stairwell so grand and deep if gives the effect of looking down the center of an enormous outstretched slinky; the light gradating in and out at each level.


After reception there is the library and another geometric engagement. The rows and rows of yellow lit, long and tall rectangular shelves have a romance about them that seems so human. After the triangles, spirals, and perfect squares there’s another set of elevators that are just as quiet and fast.


But even more than simple and refined, the pull of this hotel is that it is “satisfyingly authentic.” During our time in Tokyo, my boyfriend and I bought two very special bicycle frames, one for each of us. Being old but very well kept – mine was made by hand twenty-five years ago and still has the original paint – we wanted to wrap them up really well before checking them onto the plane home. We explained this to the gracious receptionist and without question were given yards and yards of bubble wrap and a new roll of packaging tape. Back in our room, buried in bubble wrap, we realized that we needed a pair of scissors too. A quick phone call, “Hello, how may I help you, Ms. Cizewski?” and less then five minutes later there was a knock on our door. I opened it, “Oh thank you,” and took the pair of scissors from her outstretched hands. “It is my pleasure,” she said slowly as she lowered her hands and bowed her head in traditional Japanese form. “Thank you,” I said again, this time really appreciating the exchange. I closed the door and returned to wrapping my bike frame like a mummy.

Lanvin / Acne Denim / Lost In Translation Collaboration

During my senior year in college I had one of those old boxy televisions thats depth is greater then its width. It didn’t really work except to play DVDs and at that time I only had one DVD. It was Lost In Translation and I had no qualms about watching it over and over again. As a result I think I’ve seen the movie enough times to repeat the entire script backwards. And, well, the movie and its characters are on my mind a lot.

So when I saw the new Lanvin / Acne Denim collaboration I immediately though of Charlotte in Lost In Translation. Maybe I sensed the origin of the denim - Japan - in the way it held up against the knobby model bodies. Maybe that kind of structured ruffle just lends itself easily to a misplaced beautiful blonde woman. On second thought, what doesn’t lend itself easily to Scarlett Johansson?

But the more I thought about Lanvin, the more I thought about Charlotte wandering the crowded streets of Tokyo.

The picture on the bottom is of the inside cover of my 2009 planner. Yes, it is the archaic paper kind with a new page for every week of the year, how wasteful! How un-green of me! I also have a planner in my iPhone but I feel more secure with both electronic and physical copies of my simple daily happenings. Anyway, pasted to the inside cover is a picture of a Lanvin clutch that I cut out of a magazine. It is leopard printed in light blue with a black grosgrain ribbon bow, has the chrome and enamel lock, and the signature Lanvin charm.



To me this clutch is Paris at midnight, Little J on the Upper East Side, what I thought of my own black eye-linered adolescence, and most of all, Tokyo. Tokyo on a sunny day by the Bridge, Tokyo in a Maid Cafe, Tokyo in Lost In Translation. What does this clutch say to you?

What I Learned In Tokyo

I have been thinking a lot lately about obedience and conformity.

When I was fifteen I had blue hair. Not for long though. In case you are unfamiliar with Tish and Snooky’s Manic Panic semi-permanent hair color and think that it may have something to do with MTV’s Jersey Shore, then I will fill you in and let you know that only the red based colors last beyond the first three washes. That being the case, after the fourth wash I had green hair. A week later I had green and brown hair. And what could be worse then green and brown hair? Another lesson learned and since then I have stuck with black, burgundy, blond, and purple hair; so much easier to maintain.

Everyone has their own path and for me the lampposts along the longest stretches of asphalt have been ripped jeans, jay-walking, black nail polish, and tardiness (despite the jay-walking!). So you can imagine that the terms of obedience and conformity go against the grain of all that I stand for.

However, that is not true for me today.

Last year upon arriving in Tokyo I was shocked to see everyone walking on the correct side of the sidewalk, even that first night in boisterous and drunken Roppongi! The next day I was even more disturbed by the complicated network of arrows and lines painted on the floors of the subway system and all the people following them within inches to their trains. Moments later my horror reached a crescendo as I came upon the short single-file lines of people waiting to enter the approaching trains. How orderly!

It made me uncomfortable.

Not knowing what to do I stood all alone, not in one of the lines of people, not along one of the painted paths to the other lines of still more people. When the train pulled into the station I stepped towards the edge of the platform, again alone in my action. When the doors opened and after a few passengers stepped off of the train I stepped onto the train as a woman in the front of the nearest line was stepping on. She paused to let me through the doors that would have surely accommodated both of us and then stepped onto the train after me. After her everyone else in her line stepped onto the train one person at a time. It was a bewilderingly calm and quiet procedure.

The ride itself was also silent. From my plastic and polyester cushioned seat I could see a sign with a picture of a man sitting with a newspaper opened up in front of him. In the picture it appeared that the open newspaper was encroaching upon the personal space of the passengers seated adjacent to the man. There was an X drawn over the picture and a message written in Japanese. I imagined that it said something like, “Read the newspaper? Oh no, not here!” I looked around me and sure enough, there were no newspapers being read.

As the days passed I grew accustomed to the order.

After a week I was completely enchanted by it.

Once I began to follow the rules I discovered a feeling of belonging that enriched my trip immeasurably. I took pride in lining up to get on the train. I paid greater attention to the people around me making sure not to get in anyone’s way. In doing so I really saw the people and connected to the scene I was in.

On my last day in Tokyo I waited in line for a shopping mall to open up in Shinjuku. There were four of us waiting outside the glass sliding doors and one man in a uniform standing just inside the glass sliding doors looking out at us. It was 9:59am. The man inside with the uniform on lifted his wrist to read his watch. He watched the second hand tick and watched it for the entire minute. At exactly 10:00am on the dot he calmly reached out in front of him and pressed the button next to the doors that opened them up. As the doors slid open he bowed to welcome us in. One by one we filed into the department store where all of the sales associates were lined up and bowing their welcome greetings as well. As we passed by them the sales associates returned to their individual registers and the shopping commenced. What great ceremony! How wonderful, I though.

Since getting back to New York I have tried to practice this kind of calm obedience and conformity. My new motto is: Being Busy Is An Illusion. If that is the case then I should have no problem letting everyone else get on the subway first, I'm in no rush. I try. And if I'm never busy then what's the difference if I let every person in the cross-walk go before I come through on my bike? I'm really trying.

On good days it works like Tokyo.

Tokyo

Last spring my boyfriend and I went to Tokyo to visit a good friend, to see some sites, and to pick up a couple of track bikes. While we were there I ate some kick-ass tempura, learned the great value of order and obedience, watched the sun rise over the city three days in a row, visited the Makino factory, and fell asleep at the dinner table, among other things.

This is Punch Cycles. It was the first bike shop we went to and the only bike shop that we went back to. It's where my 3Rensho and my boyfirend's Nagasawa are from. His Nagasawa is shown below in the misty rain.




The rain in Tokyo is like the rain in Seattle. You can feel it in your hair and under your skin but you don't see it coming down, it's just there and has always been there. I guess the rain is one of those things that lives forever. This man was in good company carrying an umbrella on his bicycle.

The rain as seen through the windows on the fifty-second floor had the effect of looking into an aquarium; I would not have been surprised if a manatee or a killer whale swam by. The waiters certainly had a bit of the killer whale look about them.

Another ocean like scene. This time at the goth club.

Later that week the rain subsided and the thigh highs came out. Also, many umbrellas were discarded in neat bundles, shown below.



We had the most fun visiting the guys and gals at W-Base. When the two guys in the shop found out we came from New York they yelled, in unison, BROOKLYN!


Harajuku, love her.

Look at those gold 3Renshos! Unfortunately they were not for sale. We found out that a lot of bike shops in Tokyo have gold frames that are not for sale. They have them for good luck.



These last three photos are of the chefs and owners of the best tempura restaurant in Roppongi, the Prada space ship flag ship, and the pool at the Park Hyatt. Three of my favorite places.