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Dans le Noir, 51 rue Quincampoix (33-1-42-77-98-04). A fascinating place where you eat in the dark and you experience what it is like to be blind. The food is very good...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Paris: Christian Louboutin | 12/6/2006 | See Source »

...from Bitched From the Start (a Patti Smith lyric) to Adlai Stevenson. (J. Edgar Hoover is not the gayest pattern in the store; that would be Curaçao.) After considerable deliberation, I went with a pink-and-blue stripe called Equal Rights in a single-button cuff and a dark black-and-blue pattern called Levev in Napoleonic style...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: A Cuff Above | 12/6/2006 | See Source »

...more cloyingly sweet than a depiction of a calm and serene snow-covered glen with a small, winding path leading to a cozy cottage decked with evergreen boughs for the holidays? But beyond the formidable façade of the card’s illustration, there is something dark and sinister, neatly folded and tucked into the Christmas card: the holiday newsletter...

Author: By Charles R. Drummond iv | Title: A White (Lie) Christmas | 12/6/2006 | See Source »

Although I am not eager to learn the dark secrets of my friends and family, I’d still like a bit more truthfulness in holiday newsletters. Lying may seem like a good option in some circumstances, but it destroys any usefulness that the newsletter might have for other people. Unable to determine what is true, we are left with a summary of fanciful wishes how the year should have gone. But since the lying will likely never end, perhaps we could simply stop sending holiday newsletters. My mantle space would certainly be a lot freer, and I could...

Author: By Charles R. Drummond iv | Title: A White (Lie) Christmas | 12/6/2006 | See Source »

...liberal. One evening we pulled into a white Victorian farmhouse straight from central casting, surrounded by corn - close in, like a fence around the house and barn - corn as high as an elephant's eye, rustling delicately in a slight breeze. The sun was setting; you could smell the dark, chocolaty soil. Fred's aunt and uncle clambered out of the house; I remember them carrying trays of food, but that can't possibly be true. Johnny stepped out of the camper, blinked twice, a bit stunned by the perfection of the moment, turned back and said to me, "Welcome...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Saying Goodbye to Johnny Apple | 12/5/2006 | See Source »

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