The times they are a literally changin'

Talking about the weather in Canada is not relegated to the realm of chit chat conversation. We above the 49th love to talk about how sunny it is, or how sad the rain was, or the size of hail, or how although it was overcast where you lived my area was sunny and dry.

Moreover, Canadians value the option of four seasons to choose a favourite from more than perhaps any people in the world; and this is where my mind has been lately.

For the longest time, my favourite season was Autumn for myriad reasons: foliage; sweater-but-no-jacket weather; my birthday; halloween candy; the World Series.

As age has ravaged me however, I find myself increasingly basking (sometimes literally) in the joy of sunshine. As a result, and at the risk of seeming disloyal, I came to the sudden realization today that I have been disillusioned by my own romanticism for the vast majority of my life. Let's get real -- #TeamSpring is where it's at.

The warming thaw of sunny days after a long Winter (or historically short, whatevs) is simply too much to ignore. Throw in everyone starting to strip off cumbersome pants, the NBA and NHL playoffs, the start of baseball season, the first BBQ of the year and the first patio visit and Spring just look like it's holding a stacked hand.

Sure, everyone loves Summer with good merit, but I've always found it insufferably hot. Likewise, Winter obviously has it's shortcomings. But saying Fall is your favourite seasons always seemed like it actually told something about a person; it meant you like Dylan albums and vintage clothing, y'know? Autumn seems more artsy. But at this point in my life, artsy just doesn't keep warm my heart's cockles anymore. I need more from a season than nice pictures and knit sweaters.

My point is, Autumn, I can't wait till you come around. But for now, I'm going to enjoy the flowers blooming and plaid tube-top wearing concert going hipster girls.

Ideal weather: 22 degrees celsius, 35% humidity, Sunny with some cloud cover, gentle breeze, 0% POP.

Hypothetical #589714

Do you ever wonder if the guy who invented the clock radio is happy with his life?

I mean, sure, it was a great idea. He's probably rich. But did he really invent anything? Do you wonder if he ever feels like a fraud? Or that he just got lucky and doesn't deserve his fortune -- like someone winning the lottery?

Birth of a Boat Shoe

It's a coincidence the recent Kelefa Sanneh article over at the New Yorker was passed around this weekend here at the blog, because I've been thinking about all this racial paradigm business recently and for me, it all starts with feet.

Sure, it might seem more macro when Sanneh wonders aloud if "white is the new black" in observing a new burgeoning visible majority; just as wondering what that would make "old black" or "new white" a question wrought with grey tinged complexities. Still, it's not the social, political or even anthropological issues that I find most confusing.

It's the shoes man. Boat shoes, to be specific.

I can't wrap my head around the latest trend in sneaker culture (a community as intertwined with hip-hop and urban minorities as vegans are with tofu) hypebeasting the hell out of boat shoes. It's even evolved, with Nike and Vans getting into the act of mashing boat shoes with classic Dunk and Chukka silhouettes.

There are aspects of boat shoes I do get. I mean, they look neat. Some of them have piping and tassels, great. But at what point did wanting to dress like a retired investment banker on holiday become certified street fresh? I realize this look isn't particularly new, it snuck up slowly but now that the ensemble is complete, is anybody else stepping back and asking "really? what the fuck?"

Let's break down some popular male streetwear trends: Louis Vutton bags, Gucci loafers, gingham shirts, bow ties, bespoke suits. Isn't this how Ted Kennedy dressed? I can only assume this reverse co-option is apropos of white people hijacking rock music, blues and Michael Jackson.

Ironically of course, (mainly white) hipsters continue to attempt to go the opposite route, purposely using socioeconomic advantages to try and purchase authenticity. Basically, that means paying two-thousand dollars on designer clothes to look like you only spent two dollars at the local Value Village. Grinding sneaker collectors want to look like they're heading to the Hamptons while kids from upstate all want to dress like sneaker collectors.

So I mean, if rich white people want to look like less rich black folk, while less rich black folk want to look like (old) rich white guys, doesn't this all turn into some sort of Donnie Darko catch-22 cyclical space continuum tear type of deal or whatever?

Or maybe not? I mean, maybe boat shoes are actually not being appropriated. Maybe people just like wearing boat shoes. Who decided white people own Fred Perry kicks anyways? Who decided it had to be an us vs. them proposition all the time with clothes, or shoes, or music?

I guess in my mind I wonder about the value of Sanneh's piece after having given it time to simmer. Important to note that I'm not aiming for piety here, I'm merely wondering aloud: if we're aiming for post-racial shouldn't we be wondering how our race paradigms are confining us more than how we should best observe and redefine our differences?

Kind of like how no one actually wears fucking boat shoes on a boat anyways -- it's a name that no longer means anything so who cares if you're rocking them at the club?

Maybe one day we'll get to that point with race as well.