It just kills me when we get dressed up and go out to a nice restaurant for a special occasion and the majority of other folks there are dressed like these guys. And I'm talking about places like Crustacean. This "LA casual" thing has gone too far, IMHO.
deja pseu
at January 21, 2006 6:32 AM
I'm with you. This was at Cinch, where I was with Swiss-Italian journo and glamour girl, Claudia Laffranchi. I even dress to just go to a café and write. Any day could be your last. Do you really want to look like crap on your last day on earth?
Reminds me of a scene a few years back at a place here in town called "The Iron Horse", which we all refer to "The Iron Lung" due to the cigarette smoke. A big burly lumberjack dude was sitting with his butt crack sticking out, and a few of the (drunk) girls thought it would be funny to see who could drop something into the crack without getting caught. After a few dimes and pennies, he got up, adjusted his shorts, and walked out, none the wiser.
Since then I have always felt gross handling money.
eric
at January 21, 2006 11:56 AM
Amy, do you think that getting dressed up "just to go to a cafe and write" helps curb any tendency to pig out unduly on pain au chocolat? Somebody slap me, but do I see a correlation between slobs and fat?
diana
at January 23, 2006 4:53 PM
I don't eat any more than I'm hungry for. Took a lot of self-training. There's a good book -- Diets Don't Work - on my book links page - that advises on that.
Mainly, if the café doesn't have an Internet connection, I find it curbs my tendency to read blogs and buy plastic jewelry on eBay when I should be writing.
It just kills me when we get dressed up and go out to a nice restaurant for a special occasion and the majority of other folks there are dressed like these guys. And I'm talking about places like Crustacean. This "LA casual" thing has gone too far, IMHO.
deja pseu at January 21, 2006 6:32 AM
I'm with you. This was at Cinch, where I was with Swiss-Italian journo and glamour girl, Claudia Laffranchi. I even dress to just go to a café and write. Any day could be your last. Do you really want to look like crap on your last day on earth?
Amy Alkon at January 21, 2006 7:44 AM
Reminds me of a scene a few years back at a place here in town called "The Iron Horse", which we all refer to "The Iron Lung" due to the cigarette smoke. A big burly lumberjack dude was sitting with his butt crack sticking out, and a few of the (drunk) girls thought it would be funny to see who could drop something into the crack without getting caught. After a few dimes and pennies, he got up, adjusted his shorts, and walked out, none the wiser.
Since then I have always felt gross handling money.
eric at January 21, 2006 11:56 AM
Amy, do you think that getting dressed up "just to go to a cafe and write" helps curb any tendency to pig out unduly on pain au chocolat? Somebody slap me, but do I see a correlation between slobs and fat?
diana at January 23, 2006 4:53 PM
I don't eat any more than I'm hungry for. Took a lot of self-training. There's a good book -- Diets Don't Work - on my book links page - that advises on that.
Mainly, if the café doesn't have an Internet connection, I find it curbs my tendency to read blogs and buy plastic jewelry on eBay when I should be writing.
Amy Alkon at January 23, 2006 6:34 PM
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