There's no shortage of high-impact, high-priced watch releases to be oohed and ahhed over these days. Something a bit less common, though, is a new timepiece that immediately grabs your attention and imagination but doesn't require a month or more's rent to make its way onto your wrist. Enter the latest from Citizen, which, if you've been paying attention to the international market (or the deep rabbit hole of watch-centric message boards), you'll know isn't exactly brand new. The Tsuyosa—that's Japanese for "strength," in case you were wondering—has actually been out in the world for a while now. Where it hasn't been, at least until very recently, is the United States. The style was first released abroad before finally landing stateside earlier this month. |
|
|
The Tab Ultra C does it all—and most importantly—it doesn't hurt your eyes. |
| The natural impulse of government institutions is not to complicate themselves. |
|
|
Whether you've got deep pockets or are looking to save, you can still be an excellent host this season. |
|
|
| It's been 15 years since we last saw Indiana Jones on screen, and just over 40 years since the Nazi-punching archeologist discovered that the Ark of the Covenant was real. That's a lot of time—enough to possibly forget that Indy has, over the course of four films before returning for Dial of Destiny, also proved the existence of Jesus Christ, the Holy Grail, mind-controlling blood magic, and ancient aliens. It's the perfect combination of James Bond and crackpot History Channel shows, with each new entry into the franchise sending the college professor barreling into another adventure as if he didn't just learn the secrets of the universe. |
|
|
| It's been a while since we've seen a new episode of Black Mirror, the British techno-dystopian series that has proven to be such an accurate predictor of future events that it's now a shorthand way to describe reality. In the four years since the last season dropped, we've experienced a global pandemic that has bound us more tightly to our screens than ever; the attempted overthrow of American Democracy at the hands of an Internet-conspiracy-crazed mob; and an A.I. revolution that is–at least in part–responsible for the ongoing Hollywood writers' strike. It's all just so Black Mirror. |
|
|
| What I offer as a professional cuddler is platonic touch, but what platonic means starts to smear when you're curled up with a stranger in a hotel bed. This is what I realized when I met my first client in Flushing, Queens after an hour's rattle through the subway. In retrospect, I should have left as soon as he called me "nice and tiny," but I had come too far in the experiment to turn around then. As we spooned, I gave him permission to caress the skin of my belly, but even that consent was fraught with the politics of payment: because he'd handed over cash, it felt like my job to say yes. I'd naively assumed that right and wrong would be clear to me, but as his hand circled higher and higher, now grazing my bra, now veering back to an innocuous zone as though to escape reprimand, I wondered: how close is too close to my boobs? Where is the line? |
|
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment