Sinanation

Some argue that I am always more fond of the blonds. Against this urban legend, I make a very strong exception with Miranda Kerr. This unbelievably attractive Australian girl was born in 1983 and became famous at the age of 13 after winning a contest held by the children’s magazine, Dolly. Growing in the countryside outside of Sydney, she remembers her childhood in a place where “nobody cared about what you wore”. Considering her looks, I believe she wouldn’t be judged by the clothes anywhere.

Having the pleasure of running into her a few times in Manhattan and seeing her latest photo shoot with GQ, I admit that this girl with the sweetest dimples is one of the most attractive women in my book. With that being said, I despise Orlando Bloom for dating her and thank Victoria’s Secret for all the fashion shows she appeared in.

This is an amazing post written by my friend, mentor and business partner Andrea on his blog http://thewaterrat.com/

I enjoyed it so much that I had to share it on Sinanation too. All credits to Andrea and his secret book on body parts.

The buttocks have quite unfairly become the joke region of the human body. They make people laugh; they are a popular subject for dirty jokes. The behind, the back side, the bum, the buns, the arse, the rump, the bottom – whatever name they are given, the buttocks are looked upon as either ridiculous or obscene. Even when they are considered an erotic zone, because of their proximity with the genitals, they are more likely to be pinched or slapped than caressed.

It’s easy to see how this negative attitude has come about. The buttocks are not alone. Between them lurks the anus, through which must pass, day after day, all our solid waste matter and - even more notoriously – the occasional emission of gas. Furthermore, when we bend down the genitals swing into view, also framed by the twin curves of the buttocks. So there is no escaping excretory and sexual associations.

It follows from this that to display the buttocks is interpreted either as a gross insult – a symbolic act of defecation on an enemy – or as a gross obscenity – a shameless presentation of sexual organs.

The buttocks display is sometimes made more abusive by the addition of the phrase ‘kiss my arse’. Taken at face value this is insulting because it demands a humiliating act of subordination. But there is more to it than that: the Greeks believed that the buttocks were the most beautiful part of the human anatomy. The human hemispheres were so different from the tough patches of hardened skin on the lean-bottomed apes that the Greeks saw them, quite correctly, as supremely human and non-bestial. The curvaceous Goddess of Love, Aphrodite Kallipygos – the ‘Goddess with Beautiful Buttocks’ – was said to have a behind more aesthetically pleasing than any other part of her anatomy.

It was argued that if rounded buttocks were the hallmark distinguishing mankind from the beasts, then the monsters of darkness must lack this particular anatomical feature. Early Europeans believed that the devil, even though he could assume human form, could never complete the transformation because he could never manage to simulate the rounded human buttocks. Historically, the devil was depicted as having another face instead of the buttocks. This second face is the one which was supposed to be kissed by witches as part of the ritual of the Sabbath.  The concept of arse-kissing survived and the popular phrase was incorporated in the modern insult.

The females of apes have brightly colored rumps. Their hind quarters become increasingly conspicuous and swollen as the time of ovulation approaches, then recede again as it passes. This means that a male can tell at a glance whether a female is sexually active.

Human females are different. Their rumps do not rise and fall with their menstrual cycles. Their buttocks remain protuberant throughout. Matching this, sexuality also remains high. As part of her pair-bonding system, the human female has extended her sexiness so that she’s always potentially responsive to the male (mhhhh…).  The female’s sex signal is accentuated by two other properties: the backward rotation of the pelvis and the sway of the hips in walking. The typical female has a more arched back than the male. When she walks, the different leg and hip design of the female skeleton produces a greater undulation in the buttock region. She wiggles as she walks.

The females of our early ancestors were much bigger-buttock-ed than their modern counterparts as evidence from ancient skeletons points out. One possible explanation of this is that our ancestors mated from behind. As we evolved into erect posture and our rump muscles bulged into buttocks, the swollen shape became the main sex signal. Females with larger rumps sent the stronger sex signals so that this condition started to increase until the buttocks became huge. The huge buttocks started however to interfere with the sexual act. The males solved the problem by switching to frontal copulation. As part of this new approach, the female breasts became permanently swollen as mimics of the large hemispherical buttocks. This later version of the human female, better balanced and more agile, was at a considerable advantage over the fat-laden earlier model, which was gradually replaced.

The presentation of the buttocks in a humble bent-over posture has had an enduring role as an appeasement gesture. In this respect there is no difference between the ape and human individual. In all cases the ‘presenter’ is saying “I offer myself in the passive female role. Please show your dominance by mounting me instead of attacking me”. The dominant individuals rarely attack such a subordinate, either ignoring it, or else mounting it briefly and making a few formalized pelvic thrusts.

Between lovers, buttock clasping is common in both courtship and copulation itself. It is this sexual linkage, again, that causes the occasional furore over the notorious Italian pursuit of bottom-pinching. Any attractive girl walking the streets of an Italian city is liable to have her buttocks pinched by admiring strangers.

Seeing Broadway shows become the most favorite activity whenever my aunt is in town. Musicals are the only preference. No exceptions can be made for dramas, even if they include famous Hollywood actors or actresses in the cast. A Little Night Music would have been no exception if it wasn’t a musical. On top of all, the appearance of Catherine Zeta-Jones was the best excuse not to miss it.

Set at the turn of the last century, A Little Night Music interweaves a tangled web of former and current lovers among the upper crust elite of Sweden. Esteemed lawyer Fredrik Egerman has recently married a young virgin, Anne, whom his son, Henrik, has also fallen madly in love. Fredrik’s dedication to his blushing bride is tested when he reunites with a former flame, the famed (and fading) actress Desiree Armfeldt. Things grow more complicated when her jealous (and married) lover Count Carl-Magnus Malcolm gets wind of the reunion. The coupling and uncoupling comes to a head when Desirée convinces her mother to host Fredrik and his family for a weekend on her lavish country estate—and the Count, with wife in tow, crashes the party.

Despite an extremely predictable storyline, I enjoyed watching A Little Night Music because of the incredible performance by Angela Lansbury (as Madame Armfeldt) and Catherine Zeta-Jones (as Desiree Armfeldt).

It was actually a big surprise to see Angela Lansbury, whom I have always enjoyed watching on the T.V. series “Murder, She Wrote”, pop out on the stage during the first act. I wasn’t familiar with her name, but recognized the face right away. The way she portrays Madame Armfeldt, an aristocratic Swede in the midst of extinction, is impeccable. Lansbury’s British accent should be treated as a national treasure. Catherine Zeta-Jones, as the wild, frisky daughter of Madame Armfeldt, also portrays a great performance. It seems she has found the perfect character for herself on stage with her fiery moves and passionate looks.

Like all the other musicals, A Little Night Music has a little too many songs and dances. The first act, which takes a little less than 1.5 hours, can be easily shortened to an hour. For example, the song about the journey to the countryside is unnecessarily long. There is also the fact that some scenes are too heavy to be decorated with singing and dancing. Such a scene is a death the audience witnesses towards the end of the musical.

A Little Night Music at the Walter Kerr Theatre (48th between 7th and 8th Ave.)

Like many I welcomed 2010 surrounded with loud music, light shows, alcohol, hugs, kisses, laughs, confetti and cheers.  All seems blurry now that I look back at the celebration. It was too quick and smooth to welcome a new set of 365 days that waits to pound our hearts with the unknown. Some good, some bad, we will again row through a year, hoping to make the best out of it.

For me, 2009 was full of surprises and revelations. I would have wished for a smoother year, but then wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate the lessons I learned. Now that I look forward, I have to remind myself what has passed through my mind just before the big countdown to the new year.

• A friendship reaches its potential only when both parties can make one another feel better about anything that surrounds them. It is those friendships that should get more time and care.
• Being in a relationship is almost like driving an exquisite antique car. You know it will be hard to maintain, but still you die to drive it. That amazing look and feel you get on the road is only as good as the care and time you put on the car. No matter what, there will still be times when the engine will stop running for no apparent reason.
• Mystery is the key to control and attraction. Revealing too much too fast leaves you with no cards to play. You lead to confusion and lose the interest of your audience.
• Nobody likes white lies, but there are times when they become a necessity. Use them wisely and use them on time.
• Business does not go anywhere unless you push. Be more aggressive and get out of the comfort zone.
• Money talks, but money luxuriously saved in your account massages you better than a Thai Spa to ultimate comfort. Spend less and save more.

Do not be fooled by its rather simple name. This place is as sophisticated as it gets when it comes to food. I finally had a great occasion to test it out and it turned out better than expected. Start with the Sliced Cara Cara Oranges and then either go for the Grilled Lamb Chops or the Pappardelle with Mortadella. Remember to make a reservation for dinner. Walk-ins are ok for lunch.

Union Square Cafe: 21 E. 16th St. (between 5th Ave. and University Place)

I am not a candle person. Don’t get me wrong, like many I enjoy the candlelight or fireplace when the occasion calls for it. I just hate dealing with hundreds of tealight candles or the preparation for lighting a fireplace. Some of my friends love the process. They become Casanovas in touch with their feminine side, lighting each tealight candle one by one delicately until they turn dark rooms into love shacks. I skip that whole ceremony, but I still can’t deny the importance of a good scented candle in the living room (especially if you have smokers or talented garlic/onion lover chefs as visitors). In the adventures I have taken to find a good candle, the Anthropologie stores have been lifesavers.

Places that remind me of Istanbul do not come up often in New York. The lack of the Bosphorus and permenant outside seatings warmed up with portable heaters could be listed as the main barriers in comparison. One place where such barriers are lowered to a minimum is the Cipollini Restaurant in the Americana Manhasset Mall. This posh Italian bistro seems to have all the traits of Masa and Bej in the Istinye Park Mall, Istanbul. A heated outside seating area, a delicious menu and a somewhat tiring scenery of expensive cars and flashy visitors categorizes this spot as a “do not go there just to eat” location. Keep in mind that the drive takes 20-30 minutes from Manhattan. The Artichoke Fritti, Calamari alla Griglia and the Pizza Robiola with truffle oil are my favorites from the menu.

I had the pleasure of chatting with a close friend about the aftermath of a typical breakup. Our debate lead me to write this short observation of what I see as the dynamics behind the “male move on process” and the confusion of the female within all this tornado of testosterone and emotion. I thank her for challenging me into this intense, but rather comforting debate.

Just like the chromosomes that create sex, the views of a female and male differ greatly towards the episodes that come about after a breakup. As all of us who had the pleasure of dating are aware, breakups are almost always unfinished businesses. There is always one party in the game that whispers quietly outside, but yells furiously inside “I am not done!”. In this case our views of ghosts as souls who are stuck on the Earth because of unfinished businesses applies completely to the partner who is not done with the relationship. Nobody would want the world to know that he or she is that weak, confused, angry and helpless partner waiting on the side long after the relationship is over. Thus, begins the period where both sides retrieve back to their original clans, far away from the little tent they built during their happy days together. With the prospect of having the old single days back, the male and the female steps into the gang in which, he and she once played a major role.

The male is back in the Tribe of Y-chromosomal Adam.

He fights his urges to care whether the ex has moved on and he is well-aware that she will sooner or later. Like many of his buddies he believes the best official way to declare independence and strength is to find another girl (as many name “the rebound girl”) to decorate his loneliness and support his fun endeavors. The weakness is camouflaged with the best outfit and the tribe members are there to witness it.

After the break up, the male sees Y-chromosomal Adam as the members-only, sacred ground where nobody he has cut ties with are welcome. He is there to be attended to and focused on. Going back to the old days, having the best careless fun, sharing, supporting and relaxing are the main goals of the recently separated.

Yet, there is a miscalculation in the male’s expectation. Over the period that he has gallantly and happily hung out with his partner, he has (willingly or unwillingly) forced his tribe partners to embrace and respect the female (whom he now sees as history). He is perplexed to see the history showing up at his front door. He feels betrayed to see his tribe hanging out with the woman he grew apart with. He thinks “this girl is not over me and still manages to find a way to stay in touch through my gang”. He shivers with the thought of having to watch her have fun within his sacred grounds and move on in front of his eyes. The girl on the other hand wishes to stay friends knowing that the “rebound girl” is already there to cut off any prior emotional ties. She swallows the pain and puts on a good face. She enjoys the company of her “accidental” tribe. She shows up around Y-chromosomal Adam for the formation and the continual of a mature and respectful acquaintance.

He grows furious, taking it out on the people he came to rely on. He blames them for not caring as much. Insensitivity and betrayal are to be gotten rid of. He is blinded with the breakouts of the macho testesterone flowing inside him. He is scared of the emotions he witnessed and sedated with much difficulty, resurfacing. He needs time and hopes to get rid of the addiction with the hope of rejuvenating the days before “the couple”. Back in the Tribe of Y-chromosomal Adam… Away from his special female…Close to all the unrefined urges of his manhood and gangstership.

Ed and Mary should be somehow related as they both serve the best lobster rolls in the city. Mary’s Fishcamp in West Village takes the visitors below the sea with its dark blue interior. Ed’s in SoHo (222 Lafayette St. between Spring and Broome) takes them inside the main cabin of a luxurious fisherman’s boat.

Choose to sit at the bar and order nothing more than a glass of draught beer and a plate of lobster roll served with delicious french fries and sliced pickles. I always pour vinegar on my roll to spice up the null taste of the lobster meat. I would have also recommended the tuna tartare if it wasn’t for the large crubmles of seasalt it is prepared with. If you can, save room for some ice cream sandwich.

It took me a while to see this trend, but I think I can finally pick my two favorite colors in clothing: Petroleum Green and Navy Blue. I tend to always go for green when picking out new sweatshirts and cardigans and I lean for navy whenever I am out for a suit or jacket. I like both colors with any other color including black. I actually never understood why there has been a Chinese Wall between navy blue and black. Whoever came out with that rule made a big mistake.