Flashbacks: What we were talking about...

by Michael Diskin, 11-02-2007

… in 1997
“Remember when Princess Diana sparked the rage for colonic irrigation? (It makes me feel so energized.’) That development sent bicoastal trendsetters bot-toms up. Now it’s time for deep breathing. An oxygen hit is the pick-me-up of the moment in Los Angeles. Kirstie Alley keeps a bottle on the set of her sit-com, Veronica’s Closet. She thinks it helps her face look fresh (translation: wrinkle-free). Harrison Ford takes a number of blasts before he does publicity interviews. Clears the brain, heightens the senses, and reenergizes the psyche, he says. Oxygen bars are the new rage in Tinseltown. Experts say that the best way to minister to clients is in a spa setting, often along with a massage. Because oxygen can dry out your nasal passages, humidifiers are used to infuse the air with moisture and natural scents. It’s a heightened form of aromatherapy. Mango, anyone? Word is that Adam Berke, of the Adam Berke Gym, is plan-ning to introduce the big O as soon as he can clear the local regulatory hurdles. Most major cities allow patrons to ingest oxygen as long as they sign a consent form. But things aren’t as simple here. Oxygen, which enriches the blood and boosts energy levels, is treated rather like a drug. You need a prescription to take it. Having trained medical personnel on staff might allow Berke to go for it. There is a certain irony at work: some of the leading local health clubs allow cigar smoking and have bars on their premises. But oxygen is more closely regulated.”
— 12.23.1997

… in 1998
“For the last few years that Nike has been ‘just doing it’— racking up astronomical sales and luring athletes of every size and shape to rep its product — Boston’s own New Balance has been quietly toiling away on its own running shoes, slowly expanding its line, and making a steady though comparatively modest buck. Suddenly, however, that low profile is making NB the hot footwear among a group of buyers the company never thought of wooing: European fashion mavens, Hollywood stars, and other pop culture trendsetters. ‘It’s sort of an unexpected surprise,’ company spokesgal Kathy Shepard admits. ‘Most of our market is not a fashion market.’ Until last fall, that is, when a couple of designers featured New Balance’s line of brightly colored suede-and-mesh running shoes in their European runway shows. Since then, something akin to fashion mayhem has erupted. Everyone from Spin magazine to Vogue to Elle has been dialing up NB headquarters in recent weeks trying their damnedest to get ahold of the shoes, which cost about $150 and come in baby blue, salmon, lemon, purple, and other flamboyant hues. Even Hollywood’s knocking. Actor Hank Azaria, boyfriend of Helen Hunt, called Brighton recently to order two pairs for his lovely SO’s birthday (pretend you didn’t know, Helen). Only problem is, the shoes aren’t available in America yet, so the people at NB headquarters have been feverishly setting up plans to begin importing them from their UK operation. Much of that first batch, according to Shepard, is going straight to LA. But local club kids shouldn’t despair. The shoes are available here in blue and gray, and some of the brighter shades occasionally show up at the NB factory store in Brighton. Our advice? Run, don’t walk.”
— 3.3.1998

… in 1999
“We’ve been seeing some high-waters about town — and we’re not talking meteorology, fellow fashion forecasters. The ubiquitous capri-length pants (what is with the Gap’s ankle fetish this season?) have finally infiltrated the male populace.

Far from alerting the Emergency Broadcast System about an impending fashion disaster, we’re kinda keen on this modern male rendition of clam-diggers. Both linen and cotton versions of short-but-sweet trousers have been spotted in the more glammy (or would that be ‘gammy’?) parts of town so far, but it surely won’t be long before the Abercrombie & Fitch college set get word of the fashion brief and adopt them as their own.

Get a leg up on the trend — so far, the shorties have been spotted at the Gap and DKNY. And whether you’re digging for clams or digging the scene, be sure to step into the right footwear — sporty slides and sneaks (Tevas are verboten) will help you put your best foot forward. Let’s just hope the boys don’t take a shine to our tube tops next.”
— 6.22.1999

… in 2000
“Remember the brouhaha a few years back when Hooters decided to open near North Station? We’d have thought Hester Prynne was opening a voc-ed center. The restaurant, ‘whose name is slang for women’s breasts,’ as The Boston Globe felt compelled to tell us, had a rough start, including troubles with the unions and a suspicious fire. Also, its callow gimmick appealed to lads fancying burgers and boobs as opposed to the more jaded deep-pockets crowd. So it came to pass that the Boston Hooters franchise quietly filed for bankruptcy this summer. Plans are still in the works to launch one in Peabody, and the North Station operation remains open. Where, uh, kids under 12 can eat for free.”
— 9.26.2000

… in 2001
“New Yorkers have no time for mawkishness. Even grotesque pain and anger spawn action, in the ineffable New York way. There’s a motto in the DNA of natives (although it can be acquired): ‘Keep moving.’ Be it emotionally, logistically, or commercially, the urge is fast-forward. Leave it to New Yorkers (of whom I am, proudly, a fourth-generation one, despite three decades in Boston) to carry on, no matter what. To find solace in social connections, in committing acts of normalcy. The day after terror struck, Rudy Giuliani exhorted people to go out to a restaurant, to see a show. No matter how many funerals he attended, he had time to escort down the aisle a bride who’d lost her firefighter brother. ‘This is what life is all about,’ he said.

Alas, Boston seems more stalled. Restaurateurs say business has been woeful (although bars held their own); hoteliers were wringing their hands. As many free-spending Middle Easterners went home (bin Laden relations among them), clubs and shops worried that their gate would suffer. Never mind that people just seemed to want to stay home. ‘It’s not fear,’ said Marc Harris, owner of Newbury Street’s Ecocentrix salon, ‘it’s more guilt — or duty. I don’t want to see some sit-com. I want to turn on CNN and let it sink in.’

And yet. As ABC executives said when they decided to stop showing the footage of the attack, ‘It could become wallpaper.’ Or, as adds Marc Harris, ‘I’ve got to snap out of it.’ Truth be told, if one more person uses the word ‘unbelievable,’ I’ll stick a sock in his mouth.

For sure, there will be lingering emotional talons we can’t shake off. Life — and social life — will have added intensity. You can’t expect the same everyday distractions to have the same impact. But the catharsis that people desperately need helped them through other scary times: think the dancing, drinking, and romance at USO canteens.

It’s preposterous to equate quaffing a few cosmos with, say, enlisting — but going out and having fun are ways of spitting in the face of evil. We can ‘show the flag’ by putting more life in nightlife. It’s time.”
— 9.25.2001

… in 2002
“Don’t hate him because he’s handsome. Chef Ken Oringer has been in recovery ever since People magazine named him one of the 50 sexiest bachelors of the year — yep, our local phenom, right up there with George Clooney, Ben Affleck, and Enrique Iglesias (none of whom actually showed up at the reception). Oringer is the only chef on the list and has no idea how People found him. The day after the ‘very Hollywood’ reception in New York, he was deluged with e-mails, calls to his cell phone, and ‘interesting’ photos of women wanting to be his new best friend. It began to interfere with opening his brand-new sushi bar. What’s the best way to respond when you become an overnight heartthrob? He turned to long-time friend Ming Tsai for advice. ‘Just thank them for their interest and ask them if they ever come to Boston, to come visit the restaurant,’ Ming counseled.”
— 7.2.2002

… in 2003
“It’s not just vodkas that are getting swept up in the flavor craze. Bacardi is taking its product to the next level of lusciousness (or is it ‘lush-ishness?’) with the introduction of three new flavored rums: Bacardi Razz, Bacardi Vanila, and Bacardi Coco. These spirits, respectively infused with raspberry, vanilla, and coconut, continue Bacardi’s success in the flavored-rum realm, which began with Bacardi Limon and Bacardi O. Drink ’em up.”
— 4.15.2003

… in 2004
“Built into the old Chaps space at 101 Warrenton Street just in time for summer is the screaming-hot new nightclub Rumor. The space (and the staff) is gorgeous — upon opening a few weeks ago, it immediately became one of the nicest clubs in the city. Which is no surprise, considering that old friends Shahrokh Reza, Igor Blatnik, Alex Yunis, and Heather Light are the brain trust behind it. Thursday nights are where it’s at for now (although the Asian night on Saturday’s building momentum); look for a full schedule of programming in the fall.”
— 5.25.2004

… in 2005
“I refuse to blink when ordering the cheekily named ‘good plate of offal’ ($10) at Eastern Standard (528 Comm Ave, Boston, 617.532.9100). Nor does its arrival give me pause — though the sexy little assemblage of what look rather like savory petit fours certainly causes my vegetarian lunch companion to blanch a tad. (She recovers quickly enough to eat all the cornichons off the accompanying dish of toasted croutons and Dijon mustard, however. Those herbivores sure are blood-thirsty in their own way.) But then the waitress describes the plate’s contents. Though they can vary according to the chef’s whim, mine boasts a rabbit terrine, duck rillettes, foie gras–chicken liver mousse, and head cheese. Gulp. Well, nothing to do but dive in headlong. So I start with the cheese. So much is wrong, not just misleading but wrong, with the name alone that dwelling on it produces a whole new form of head cheese. It actually denotes, essentially, pork Jell-O — or, to put it another, less poetic way, a type of charcuterie derived from the chopped meat from the head of a pig (or, occasionally, a sheep or cow) and the gelatin it yields when cooked, which is used to bind the pieces together in a mold. And the prosaic truth of it is — it’s good. Damned good. Not unlike pulled pork, but subtly seasoned rather than barbecued. The surrounding aspic, meanwhile, possesses the proper, just-firm-enough consistency — which is about all but the pickiest connoisseur can ask of aspic. And all but the most humorless snob might forgive you for describing the terrine as a moist, salt-tangy rabbit meatloaf and the rillettes as an agreeably gamy duck-burger patty — which their familiar textures respectively recall. (Actually, as I later learn, the rillettes are organ-free anyway — though the terrine, sure enough, benefits from some poor bunny’s involuntarily donated kidneys.)”
— 7.19.2005

… in 2006
“As much as we’d like to believe we’re on the cutting edge of fashion and beauty, most retailers see Boston as second-rate when it comes to introducing products. Our friends in New York and LA get the hottest new jackets and slickest new gloss while we’re left waiting, hoping the fresh styles arrive here soon. Well, we’re waiting no longer. Shu Uemura (130 Newbury Street, Boston, 617.247.3500), the high-end, trend-setting Japanese beauty line, opened recently on Newbury Street, and already it’s given us something no one else has. The new Butterfly Make-Up Palette ($35) comes with a vibrant array of colors for cheeks and eyes, all packaged in a specially designed case featuring butterflies similar to those in the Mamechiyo-designed boutique. Flick open the sleek compact in front of one of your out-of-town friends, and she’ll immediately want one of her own. That’s when you can use the phrase you’ve been saving for years: ‘Really? Well, it’s only available in Boston.’ Domo arigato, Mr. Uemura.”
— 6.20.2006