Slim Aarons spent his life documenting jet setters, movie stars, and beautiful people doing beautiful things in beautiful places during the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. In “The High Life,” the story behind some of his most iconic photographs come to light. We loved it and think you will too.
It was one of tennis’ greatest rivalries. Fire and Ice. The gentleman and the superbrat. The cool Swede versus the troubled youth from Queens. While it lasted only three brief years, the utterly compelling rivalry culminated in one match—widely regarded as one of the greatest of all time—at Wimbledon in 1980…the men’s singles final.
Björn Borg versus John McEnroe.
The film is cinematically beautiful, sweeping, and captures the game of tennis like no other film before it. It’s the summer of 1980, days before Wimbledon. Borg is chasing his fifth consecutive Wimbledon title (or maybe it’s chasing him) and the ferociously abrasive McEnroe is the only man standing in his way. Their origin stories are intricately woven into the three days leading up to the tournament, all set against the emotionally swirling original score by Jonas Struck and Vladislav Delay.
“You have to find it. No one else can find it for you.”
Shia Lebouf as McEnroe and Sverrir Gudnason as Borg marvelously mirror the demigods they play on the screen. The costume design is as magnetic as the rivalry itself. This particular era in tennis sportswear is nothing short of inspired. Each man serves as a brand muse in his own right. With Borg armored in Fila and McEnroe brandishing Sergio Tachini, both men laid claim to the red, white, and navy war paint.
The rivalry between Björn and John changed the world of tennis and changed both men forever. It’s a thriller of a film that only ends in tears for both…and, inevitably enough, for the audience too (yes, Fred got emotional during the epilogue).
It’s May in the year 1904 and Henry Collins Walsh—journalist, historian, explorer of Central America and Greenland—rounds up 50 prominent explorers for dinner at the Aldine Association in New York. They are there to make a simple but elegant promise: to promote exploration by all possible means. They are there to form The Explorers Club.
The club’s centenarian townhouse headquarters on 70th street may be one of New York’s best kept secrets. A cross between the American Museum of Natural History and the Jacobean east wing of Crewe Hall, taxidermic polar bears, walruses, and snow leopards take up residence in this shrine to man’s curiosity of the natural world. One-of-a-kind artifacts gathered from the four corners of the earth quietly sit on display, whispering tales of adventure and daring to anyone pausing long enough to listen.
The Explorers Club (then) president, Lorie Karnath, opened their members-only* doors to Todd Selby for The Selby Book back in 2009 for a rare look inside (view the rest of his images at your leisure). It necessarily exaggerates what we love most about interiors: bringing the outdoors in, maximalism, and storytelling by way of collections.
* While membership to The Explorers Club may be elusive, its regularly held public lectures are not. One can attend as a guest for $20. We condone such intellectual curiosity.
Outside of his beautifully melodramatic feature comedies, Wes Anderson has kept busy creating product commercials for companies for years. If you’re racking your brain to recall any spots besides his American Express spot (by far one of his best, as he also stars in it), that’s because many of them ran internationally. One of his best is...Read More
Fred has this recurring fantasy where he flies home for the holidays, pulls up to his childhood home, and fishes his bags out of the trunk amidst a light snowfall. The warm glow in each window a flickering neon "vacancy" sign after a long stretch of flight delays. Floating into his old room, it's exactly how he left it in 1999. The plastic trophies, acoustic guitars, foosball table, love notes, and trading cards—all waiting for him like old friends. Here, the 17 year-old him never ages, immune to the years, months, and days. Weezer's Blue Album is on compact disc while My So-Called Life reruns (he secretly wanted to be Jordan Catalano) flicker on his television. Time just…stands....Read More
It is finished. The love letter Jack Carlson and I have been writing to the elaborately striped, piped, trimmed, and badged jackets, and the elite athletes and clubs to which they belong, is finally finished. What took three years, 237 athletes, and thousands of trans-Atlantic air miles to and from Europe can now be had in a 9" x 12 " coffee table book. Rowing Blazers is essentially a gentle curtain pull taking you inside the highly atmospheric boathouses, campuses, and trophy rooms of clubs around the world. In that same spirit, I will pull back a curtain of my own, sharing some of my favorite shots from the book with commentary you won't find in the 255 pages of Rowing Blazers...Read More
Last minute travel might be one of the greatest pleasures in life. One day you're on your couch channel surfing and the next, you're on a plane to Iceland, waking up to someone else's sun. It's magic.
We recently indulged in such an adventure...to Istanbul, though. Iceland will have to wait. "Istanbul in the summer" happened to be number 67 on our 101 in 1,001 list (a short-term bucket list of sorts—101 things to do and places to see in 1,001 days). That means we’re practically obligated to say "yes" when a list item presents itself. That's how the list works...you get to say "yes" before you talk yourself out of it...Read More