ReadyMade
ZIPPER
VASE
RICE
MASSAGE
PICNIC
ZIPPER
In the final analysis, zippers are actually at their zenith. Mysteriously, maybe even presciently designed, they have morphed into a million sizes, materials and applications, but essentially the design is timeless.
Hail the Z! Whitcomb Judson (of forked-beard and Pneumatic Street Railway fame) invented the first zipper in 1893, and Gideon Sundback perfected and patented it in 1917. Ole Gideon upped the number of fastening elements from four per inch to eleven and widened the opening for the teeth, guided by the slider. B.F. Goodrich takes mad props for the zippy name. Today, YKK—that's Yoshida Kogyo Kabushikikaisha to you and me—rocks the international zipper-scene so hard, their site boasts an active anti-counterfeit campaign. Oh, and check out their interestingly earnest zipper-testing methods: www.ykkfastening.com. Kids, Mr. Tadao Yoshida and YKK's Cycle of Goodness philosophy begs of you: don't try this at home.
Zipper advice is classically simple. Zippers work by interlocking teeth by squeezing them together, so crappy zipper-action usually comes from ill-fitting teeth or loose fabric surrounding the zipper. Working a stuck zipper's tag backwards helps; digging in there with a crochet hook can do wonders. If you like the jacket but despise the zipper, just replace it. There's 1,200 more miles of YKK zip created every day; why struggle with an antique?
—Jude Stewart for ReadyMade, May/June 2004
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VASE
Vases are tough. Either you're just married, stocked with the full rainbow of ugly ones; or you're a minimalist who owns just one. And yet, flowers crowd the streets and storefronts, begging for impromptu invites to your house. Just after you've won your Emmy or turned 29 again, there's that mass influx of bouquets to house. How scalable can vase-making really be?
Very. Raid your recycling for vases aplenty. Cut off the top of a green two-liter soda bottle with scissors and fill generously with water for stability. Weedy-gorgeous flowers like dahlias or chrysanthemums nestle their tough stalks in the bumps in the bottom of the bottle, and flair into a surprisingly graceful circle. (Don't forget to wet the soda-label before rubbing it off easily with your fingers.) As the stalks moulder, trim them diagonally and change the water daily; change to a one-liter if needed. Abundant and leafy, daisies or tulips look good against the lovely, liquid jiggle of green plastic. Who knew?
When more formal flowers age—like roses, lilies or African daisies—snip off the heads with a little stalk and float them in a glass bowl of water. Save your glass jam-jars for baby flowers like violets or the last remaining tulip. Grace and celebrity inevitably bring flowers: now you're ready for anything.
—Jude Stewart for ReadyMade, May/June 2004
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RICE
Rice hardly makes the heart race or the tongue tingle. Mostly it sits shyly in a little dollop, inches from the meal's real excitement. No more! Nothing could be sexier than perfuming your rice with subtle favors to complement the big dish. Remember the modest-mouse shoe salesgirl in ZZ Top's “Legs” video? Perfumed rice hits the taste buds in a similarly delicious sneak-attack.
Boil rice as usual in water, but toss in a handful of whole cardamom pods and a cinnamon stick as the water heats. Ping Yan, personal chef in New York City and heavy-duty rice-perfumer, recommends the pistachio-colored ones “that look like sunflower seeds on steroids.” (Keep in mind you need to fish those puppies out before serving.) Once you've tried it, the temptation to sauce up your rice-water will be overwhelming. In addition to old standbys—bouillon and saffron—try tossing in leftover bits of ham or Chinese smoked sausages.
As you ransack your spice rack for more ideas, stick to two rules of thumb. First: any blend can work if it balances strong with subtle, savory or acidic with sweet. Dab a thumb in each flavor and lick; if you're doubtful, try again. Second: rice is cheap, baby, so play hard and try everything. A billion options can't all be wrong.
—Jude Stewart for ReadyMade, May/June 2004
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MASSAGE
Kneading, pummeling, thwacking: is this pizza dough you're manhandling, or your lover's (aching) back? Applying an elbow or even a chin to mash out a knot might seem deliciously MacGyver—until your massage-ee yowls, arching her back in pain. On the flip side, anyone who's suffered through a mealy-mouthed, tentative backrub knows the frustration of going too soft. Here's how to rub-a-dub like a pro.
First, lube up. You want your fingers to glide over the skin, minimizing irritating friction. Massage therapist Cassandra Bliss from Asheville, NC, recommends unscented massage oil from The Body Shop as a staple. Warm muscles loosen naturally: put a towel over the parts you're not rubbing, and work some warming energy into the skin as you rub.
Move your hands fluidly over the back, observing first where the kinks actually are. Start by rubbing up and down the spine's center; an easy relaxing start makes all the nearby knots loosen. When you find a knot, move deliberately, working the tension along the line of the muscle to release it. (Jabbing a knot at its center does nothing to direct the tension out.) Finally, go for the killer wins that most folks forget: hands and feet. Smoothing from the wrist through each finger feels fantastic; the feet and toes, even tastier. Now, isn't that finer?
—Jude Stewart for ReadyMade, May/June 2004
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PICNIC
Picnics ain't about planning. A Dionysian jaunt loses a certain thrill when you have to think beyond food and wanderlust to make a picnic happen. On the other hand, let's face it: picnics benefit from some creature comforts. Eureka, baby! Pack a picnic-kit in your trunk, and you'll stay ever-ready for a lawn lunch or food-hike whenever the mood strikes.
Start with a decent-sized plastic cooler (not Styrofoam—you're planning picnics for the rest of your natural life with this thing, so permanence is okay). Stuff it with provisions: an old, rolled-up comforter, preferably machine-washable; two throw cushions for loafing; a stack of reusable, heavy-plastic plates; sunscreen; and a map or local parks guide. Now pack your straw catch-all bag with the funster items: a Frisbee or rubber ball; collected poems of Frank O'Hara, the original ad-hoc picnicker; a vintage Mad Libs which you must leave blank—your notepad and pens will make it last into the next millennium. Wrap some tiny speakers inside the comforter and tuck them safely in the cooler. Plugged into your iPod or mp3 player, you'll be all Say Anything in a heartbeat.
Lolling at sunset, rubbing in a few delicious grass stains—this is living. And if a picnic-kit makes it happen more often, then, by gum, planning has its uses after all.
—Jude Stewart for ReadyMade, May/June 2004
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