Nihon o omoidasu

If the title of this blog post leaves you lost in translation, you're not the only one. 

I woke up this morning "remembering Japan," or "Nihon o omoidasu," and wondering what it is about this time of year, this week, today, that has me reliving, and remembering, the past.

I think part of it has to do with the fact that I recently moved into an apartment that reminds me of the one I had in Japan. 

Koshigaya, to be specific. 

After a year of living large in the country, in an abode that housed a walk-in closet larger than my current kitchen, I'm back to Japanese-style living.

Think... capsule hotel.     

While my current apartment is not quite as, ummmm, cozy (real-estate talk for small), as a capsule hotel and, thankfully, isn't equipped with the (mite-infested) tatami mats it's Koshigaya counterpart was, it does remind me of the place I called home for one year when I was 23.

Minus the genkan. Which I loved. 

Imadake is another reason I've been lost in translation recently. 

Meaning "only for now," Imadake is a Japanese pub in downtown Montreal that serves small, traditional and very "oishi," or "delicious," dishes (including mochi, takoyaki and okonomiyaki) in an ambiance totally reminiscent of Tokyo.

Ever have a sake bomb? If you haven't you should.

When I say sake, you say bomb!

 the sake bomb starts at 1:02

To appease the lack, and loss, of Japan in my life I decided to watch Lost in Translation this morning while writing this blog post. Written and directed by Sofia Coppola, the movie provides moment after moment of deja-vu, as Scarlett Johansson's character finds herself living, and feeling, so many of the same things I did so many moons ago.  

Like this:

And this:

 Lost in translation indeed.

Let's go to Paris' I wanna rob

After literally months of waiting I finally did it.

Watch The Bling Ring, I mean. 

The reason I waited so long was not because I enjoy delayed gratification, or cognitive control, but because it never came out in theatres.

In Ottawa or Montreal.

No wonder it bombed. 

From the moment it started, like the fame-obsessed teenagers it portrays, I was hooked.

And the opening song, Crown on the Ground by Sleigh Bells, didn't hurt. Not one bit.

Directed, written and produced by Sofia Coppola and inspired by real-life events chronicled in a Vanity Fair article by Nancy Jo Sales, the movie provides a not so pretty look at the people who crave, and those who have, the pretty things. 

The Bling Ring was a group of seven teenagers, also referred to as the Hollywood Hills Burglar Bunch, who lived in and around the celebrity mothership: Calabasas, California. They were a bunch of fairly wealthy, fairly confused and fairly adderalled teenagers who figured that being infamous was second-best to being famous.

And they had a taste for the finer things in life.

In total, they stole over 3$ million dollars worth of celebrity loot, including designer handbags, shoes and clothes, makeup, perfume and even underwear. Not to mention booze, drugs (hello five grams of coke found at Paris Hilton's crib!) and a gun (Brian Austin Green's).

There favourite "victim" was Paris but they also helped themselves to crap owned by Miranda Kerr, Megan Fox, Rachel Bilson, Lindsay Lohan and Audrina Patridge who was particularly miffed at having to replace her custom-made denim, "jeans made to fit my body to my perfect shape."

Poor her.

Paris allowed The Bling Ring crew to film in her home and I was honestly shocked to see how much stuff she actually has. Rooms and rooms and rooms of stuff. An entire room dedicated to sunglasses. 

It's pretty gross if you ask me. And don't even get me started on the cushions depicting... what or who else?

Herself.

Narcissism 101.

In the end, The Bling Ring provides a fascinating "behind the closets" look at Hollywood's most wanted. It's well written, nicely filmed, and the music rocks.

 
As for the people it portrays... well, they're a pretty sorry bunch. Criminals and victims alike.

The Bling Ring was Rachel Lee, Nick Prugo, Alexis Neiers, Diana Tamayo, Courtney Ames, Johnny Ajar and Roy Lopez Jr.

Let them eat cake!

Marie Antoinette, the last queen of France and wife of Louis XVI, never actually pronounced the words she is most famous for (isn't it ironic - don't you think?).

Do you know what else she never did? 

Lend her left breast to glass makers to model the famous Marie Antoinette champagne coupe after.

Let me explain.

Due to my extreme nostalgia and love of most everything vintage, I started collecting champagne coupes about one year ago.

The main difference between a champagne coupe and a champagne flute is size. A coupe is a small, saucer-shaped drinking vessel (!) while a flute is a long, thin, delicate 'lil thing.

Behold...

coupes

flutes

Let's hope flutes weren't modelled after anyone's breasts!!!

Legend has it that M.A. lent her left breast (the bigger one or the smaller one? things that make you go hmmm) to glass makers to mold champagne coupes after that would be used by her courtesans to toast to her health but, in reality, coupes were actually invented in 1663 way before Marie Antoinette was drinking champagne.

The reason they made them so small and wide is because champagne wasn't as bubbly then as it is now. Despite this fact, I much prefer drinking my fizzy out of coupes because I love the way they feel in my hand... and I like pretending I'm partying chez Jay Gatsby's when I indulge in bubbly.   

Speaking of Marie Antoinette... I absolutely loved Sofia Coppola's film with the same name and have wonderful memories of watching it with the beau chez nous many moons ago.

But I was surprised by this scene... can you guess why?

 

Hint: Think Chucks.