Word: sharkskins
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...kitchen are stacks of exquisite porcelain and a little gathering of tiny figures, each designed to hold toothpicks. "I only buy what I like to have in my home," says Ravestijn, of her house where everything?from the 18th century glass jars in the sumptuous bathroom to a sharkskin box holding fruit knives?is for sale. Ravestijn, a renowned antiques dealer for over 20 years, gave up her city shop when it became tiresome not being able to see the treasures she had collected. Now they are grouped like exquisite Dutch Old Master still lifes in this home where...
...know that she’s really running off to hatch a venomous chocolate bowl dragon. The last thing we want to think about when hooking up is that poop came out of there. We’d much rather focus on the panoply of intoxicating flavors and the sharkskin texture. To make things worse, HUPD has a way of always interrupting us when we’re about to put the moves on girls. And remarkably, they usually only show up because the girl called them. Those guys think that just because they have a badge...
Olympians still train like the ancients, twirling on the pommel horse for hours, waking up at 6 a.m. to run 50 laps by breakfast. But athletes are increasingly using the latest innovations to help them gain an edge. These include sharkskin swimsuits that reduce friction, video goggles that let rowers watch themselves paddle and speedometers for sprinters...
...soul and contemporary Britpop bands like Blur and Oasis are let into many of these clubs for free--it's good for the atmosphere. Piper Ferguson, a promoter at Hollywood's Cafe Bleu, says that on some nights as many as 100 twentysomethings--sporting shiny sharkskin suits, pointy Beatles boots and tattoos--line up their bikes in the club lot. But Vespa fanatics include businessmen, middle-aged women and just regular guys. Hairstylist Robert Winslow, 29, moved from a roomy loft in New York City's tony TriBeCa to a dingier but more spacious Brooklyn apartment without a kitchen, strictly...
Once upon a time in the '60s, in the days when the culture wars began, there lived an obscure first-term Governor of Maryland--a sleek-looking silvery man who wore sharkskin suits and had hooded eyes that got very small when he was angry. At such moments he looked like a bullet. His name was Spiro Agnew...