Word: soaps
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...need to know how to “read and write” to understand that fundamental nature of man. R’s most recent opus, the 12-chapter “Trapped In the Closet” series, challenged fans more than ever with its absurd soap opera plotline. Many people dismissed the experiment, which beneath the surface is a profound meditation on sexuality and fidelity in the 21st century. But I kept listening, and Kelz broadened my horizons once again. He opened up my closet door, moved aside the skeletons and Air Force Ones, and made...
Cambridge’s popular vintage store, The Garment District, could easily be mistaken for a drag show dressing room. Or RuPaul’s closet. But a soap factory? Probably not. However, the warehouse-like store best known for its eccentric style and $1.50 per pound clothing is actually housed in a former soap factory. The walls have long since been covered in fuchsia paint and Led Zeppelin posters, but according to the store’s co-owner, Brooke Fletcher, the building is “the last of its kind...
...irritable because she was tired and she hated it. The rain would come, and the wash wouldn't dry. So when you finally have these machines and all you do is make decisions and push things, or you wash something out by hand with a nice-smelling soap, this is pleasure. In a life in which most of our activity is cerebral, physical work is a great relief and pleasure...
...April 2). As well as paintings, there are cartoons, ads and photographs of characters like Sarah Forbes Bonetta, a captive from Dahomey who became the Queen's godchild. Many of the images were designed to serve a purpose: to moralize, to glorify the empire or even to sell soap. Some propagandize for or against slavery. François-Auguste Biard's The Slave Trade (1835) is a grand narrative of cruelty. On the right people arrive bound; they're examined and haggled over; they proceed across the canvas to be flogged onboard the boat that will carry them...
...town in this Indian Kashmir valley, where devastated houses barely stand at odd angles, missing walls from which crumbling rock and debris poured down. An entire row of shops has lost its front, as though sliced off by a blunt cheese wire, and bars of Lux soap, pastries and plastic toys spill out onto the street. We pass broken villages and military camps, including an artillery battery swamped by a mudslide, still vainly pointing toward Pakistan 10 miles away. There are three or four checkpoints. Then a landslide announces the end of the road and an end to any visible...