This is the night everyone hopes to look their best and have all spent a good of amount of time making sure they do. Hairsprays, liters of perfume, caps of makeup, boxes of jewelry glide graciously all around the event. The surroundings are dressed up with fancy flowers and decoration. The wedding is an exclusive event with hand selected guests, free booze and hopefully good music. Although the cocktail time promises to be a carefree social environment, it will be difficult for the single not to feel the pressure of coupling if any older family members are around. “Look at this lovely event. When will we see the day when you finally take the hand of a nice girl?”, “Have you met my friend Suzy’s daughter? Isn’t she lovely? You guys should dance tonight. I will be looking for you two on the dance floor.” The cocktail hour will be the moment the single guy realizes that he is actually not a grown-up for good.

Things will get worse as the shots pour down, the music gets louder and you as the single find yourself tipsy in the middle of the dance floor with your jacket already cooling off somewhere else. By that time, on top of your own vulnerability and the family suggestions, the friends will also be putting their bets on you. ”Dude just go for the easy girl who looks like she just got back from a safari with her leopard dress.” ”Dude you should definitely hit on that girl. She is sizzling and drunk.” Although the specified girl is actually nice and drunk, she is all prepped up to outsmart the lousy advancers. She might be going through an emotional phase as she celebrates her friend’s new family, but her reasoning is way too sober to allow any inappropriate scenery in front of all the guests (at least until the early morning when she might finally give in to the Cinderella-like stories and find peace in your arms).

Despite all the uncomfortable challenges forced upon the “single”, you can still easily manage the floor until the early stages of dancing. Catching up with distant friends, mingling with the bride, shouldering the groom and jumping like monkeys on the floor with your buddies. All fun and games until everyone slowly fades away to their loved ones and you are required by nature to approach the opposite sex who is certified to be a member of your clan “the singles”.

Nicknames are essential to keep the relationship playful. Yet, picking one or even a few is much harder than it seems. That is why the first few weeks of the relationship is reserved for the trial & error period where each partner tests out the nicknames picked for one another. Baby, sweetheart, love and honey are the safe universal approach. All the other possibly humiliating-if-pronounced-in-public nicknames are the real dealmakers of the game. The trick is to use as many as possible (from vegetables to baby blurs), avoid the ones used by other “couple” friends, observe the reaction of the partner and see if it is significant enough to be reused.

Love is fun right? Yes it is.

I am still amazed by my parents’ decision to pop out a completely messy, shitting, crying, splurging, disrespecting Bastas Jr. a few months into their marriage. I don’t want to dive into a competitive debate because it is somewhat unethical to look for reason in this particular decision. I guess once married, one is splashed with this completely unselfish need to produce little ones that do nothing else but ask for more.

Still, think about it, I have:

• woken up throughout the whole night just to get a ride around the house and burp my way out of it
• cried a zillion times to get those toys I wanted
• been sick to the bone and swam inside antibiotics
• been disrespectful and ungrateful in completely wrong settings
• been a nightmare with my uneasy mood on flight on the way to a “vacation” my parents have been dying for
• constantly taken advantage of my parents’ emotions to get what I wanted
• been clueless on so many levels, having no logical reason for my bad attitude
• been a dark box of unsolvable problems during the teenage years from weight problems to bullies to friends to desperate love triangles

So my conclusion is: I would have strangled my baby version, slapped my kid version and get into street fights with my teen version on a regular basis (I guess its easy to say when the offspring is not yours).

I am glad I made it to the late 20s in one peace. Thanks to my parents limitless patience, sacrifice and encouragement. I know I don’t yet have a grain of the care they provided me and my sister.

Name: Begüm Salihoğlu

Nickname: Bego

Notable Apperance: Wild, long red hair and warm reddish freckled cheeks

Can’t do without: Sienna Miller headbands, long dresses, large designer bags, pumps, exotic tea, Apple iMac, big earrings, white furniture, exotic fabrics, costume jewelry, high heel shoes, loose shirts, the color red, fashion magazines, tea, coffee, woven fabrics, cashmere throws, decorative pillows, white, Vogue Magazine, oversized sunglasses

Notable Hobbies: Shopping, traveling, her fashion brand BegumSalihoglu

Weakness: Mushroom, linguini with rabbit, cooked liver dish, the cold weather

Favorite Quote: Ponchiii!

Last Seen: www.begumsalihoglu.com, Istanbul, New York, Miami, Godiva Istanbul, Den Istanbul, Lucca Cafe & Bar Istanbul, Paris

Name: Nazlı Var

Nickname: DJ NV. Nazlı Yok? The most unique part about her name pops out when you are on a phone call with a Turkish friend and he/she asks you who you are with: You are about to be the victim a nasty word game.

The so-simple-to-answer question hits you like a truck: Kimler var? (Who are you with?) You desperately list the people around you including Nazlı. It is the follow-up question that frames the grand finale: Hangi Nazlı? (Which Nazlı?) Nazlı Var. Since the word “var” is the verb of existence in Turkish, the confusion prevails. “I know Nazlı is there! But which Nazlı?”

Damn it, I say Nazlı Var! Her name is Nazlı Var!

Notable Apperance: Fluffy long dark hair, perky lips

Can’t do without: Hip hop, Hollywood, goldies, black dresses, pearls, huge rings, funky headphones, her blackberry, sunglasses, Jay-Z, Kanye West, Brasserie Istanbul, bar-hopping, black ray-bans, the color red

Notable Hobbies: DJing, being an amazing Turkish host to foreign friends

Weakness: Never giving up on good faith, pop music (especially Virgin Radio hits), Black Eyed Peas – The Time (Dirty Bit)

Last Seen: Brasserie Cafe/Restaurant - Istanbul, Anjelique – Istanbul, The cafes/bars in Beyoğlu, Delicatessen – Istanbul, Montreal, Bodrum, New York, Los Angeles

My friends insist that I have a weakness for blondes. This is my reply to them. She came in a catalogue packed together with all the samples tucked in my father’s case from Prêt à Porter Paris.

Yet again the Valentine ’s Day is here. Singles and couples, we will all drown in reds, pinks, hearts, candies, balloons, teddy bears, lingerie, over-sized gift cards, massage oils and kinky sex toys. Restaurants will have those romantic courses which are always paired with red wine. Deserts will be flaming hot with melted chocolate and strawberries. Hotels will be promoting their erotic night getaways. Same plain rooms will be decorated with a few rose petals and a bottle of champagne to be sold at a higher rate. Clubs and bars, the hunting grounds of the singles will do everything in their power to avoid the romantic and try to make a little profit from the lonely ones who will be looking to escape the so called fairy tale.

Single or not, I feel like we are all on the same page. Singles try to erase the day from the calendar not because of the people who are celebrating it, but because of the scenery. Couples on the other hand are faced with a bigger dilemma. They are desperately looking for ways to be original in their celebration of the Valentine’s and after a few trials, are out of ideas. They just can’t go to the same restaurant they have been eating at for the past few months. It is just awkward to see the same surroundings and faces painted in red, covered in candle lights. Teddy bears and candies should have already been left alone after high school. Why the hotel when you can go back to the bed you have been sleeping happily for so long? Why the sexy lingerie when they could be worn any day, any time? Single or not, I feel like we all on the same page. We would rather be romantic when we are not told to be…when we don’t have everything around us yelling it so loud that we can’t even hear our own voice.

With that in mind, I wish everyone (especially Hallmark) a happy Valentine’s Day.

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.

]]> http://www.sinanbastas.com/2010/12/18/18-12-2010/feed/ 0 http://www.sinanbastas.com/2010/09/30/sticking-by-bastas-sr/ http://www.sinanbastas.com/2010/09/30/sticking-by-bastas-sr/#comments Thu, 30 Sep 2010 06:46:22 +0000 Sinan http://www.sinanbastas.com/?p=2155 My dad has always been a man of traditions. Firm on his beliefs, a man of his word, always prepared for though debates, he has never ceased to be an artisan on his interests. Although he has habits that I believe need a bit of modernization, I am constantly bombarded by a few that deserve undisturbed appreciation.

To start with I can think of a few examples that always push the father and son into conflict. The way he insists on getting the minimum amount of technology in his new cars, believing that they will require less maintenance that way, is something we can never agree on. I remember us fighting over getting CD players and electronic driver seats. We have now moved onto getting the outlet for MP3 players as an additional accessory. A similar conflict is apparent in avoiding custom fit clothing and going for clothes that are a litter bigger in size, thus more comfortable, reliable and fattening-friendly.

Despite the few conflicts, there are also details that I once complained about and now can’t get enough of. I don’t know how long I have criticized the way my dad tests out a new pair of shoes at the store, walking around with them for at least 20 minutes, putting me and the salesperson into cardiac arrest. I am now a big supporter of this unusual habit helping me avoid shoes that stab the feet to death whenever one takes a long walk.

Dad’s barber shop has been the same since 1979. His shoe repair shop must have been around for more than a century. I used to think they were outdated, but now I confess that they are still incredible.

I must have gone to his hair salon until the age of 7 when I took a detour to try “cooler” places with funkier hair styles. I left only to come back. I want my hair to grow faster so I can get that I-am-so-relaxed-I-can’t-help-falling-asleep head massage as a complimentary service. Everything is so good at this salon that I can even endure the hairdresser’s “My dear Sinan I remember the days when you had such beautiful blond hair. Now you are brown and going bold” comments.

I keep noticing that I specifically wear leather shoes to the office to be able to take a break at the Pangaltı Lostra Salonu, take my place on the famous red leather chair and watch the professionals take my shoes to a luxurious spa. Pangaltı is a landmark and you are reminded of its legacy the moment you step inside: the smell of fresh paint, the colorful shoe-ties hanging from the ceiling, the blue work aprons on the employees and the legendary always-a-bit-somber owner Ibrahim Varlık looking over all at the end of the tiny shop.