Moments in Cocktails - Armistice

   Over a year ago, I found myself pondering how to get around the requirement of paying the price of a London cocktail in order to enjoy a cocktail whilst living in London. The answer is weirdly simple: acquire a cocktail sensei and obsessive tendencies. Adjust to taste

   Mixologists, practicing or otherwise, naturally develop signature peccadilloes and mine tend towards the sour, like my opinion of metropolitan humanity on a Thursday night, and the dry, like my humour. The Armistice cocktail, in a near-totemic manner, embodies the latter

   It's not intended to (sweetly) charm and the already endearing result is all the more so for it. It is calibrated for one who is content to drink alone, or in rare company - the sort that only offers trenchant remarks and observations, once every so often.  Despite the vaguely esoteric combination - Last Word/Final Ward stalwarts Green Chartreuse and Maraschino plus the latter's Brooklyn bedfellows, dry vermouth and rye - it is not fancy, but rather a base-heavy aromatic that produces pensive pleasantry through its mixture of herbals (no recipe puts the ever-distinctive Green Chartreuse in the corner) anchored by the rye (alright, a little fancy - quietly so). With this one, it's all in the aftertaste

• Created by Erik Hakkinen, Zig Zag Café, Seattle
• 1 1⁄2 oz Rye (Rittenhouse100) 
• 1⁄2 oz Dry vermouth (Noilly Prat, 'officially;' Cocchi Torino, in my case)
• 1⁄4 oz Green Chartreuse 
• 1⁄4 oz Maraschino Liqueur
• 2 ds Bitters, Fee Brothers Whiskey Barrel Aged

   Stir it with ice, strain it, drink it. And ponder

Mode Parade Patron Saint: Jason King

Author's note: This was originally written in 2012 for the Mode Parade Tumblr; since deactivated

   When it comes to personal style, few today are able to do it as well as the fictional

   Mode Parade Patron Saint Jason King blurred the aesthetic lines between himself and his actor, Peter Wyngarde, to the point that one of the few ways they could be told apart is that King preferred women

   Wyngarde is quite a charismatic fellow, by all accounts, so it is quite sad that the press, the public and his profession would not let his career-damaging homosexual indiscretion slide - precisely the sort of inflexible moralising that can make the world a less engaging place to live in. It’s the calibre of charisma that made him a star and sex symbol, and here makes him the picture of enviableness, inhaling from a Sobranie whilst wearing one of his many Peacock-era matching shirt/tie ensembles, practically baiting the Good Taste Brigade as so he does

   Very much of the moment, in so many ways. But moments are all we ever get, and some last far, far too briefly

XTC - 'In Loving Memory of a Name' (1983) (Lest We Forget)

   I freely admit to being the type that ranks Mummer rather highly in the XTC canon. And since I'm no longer an adolescent, I won't mind much that this is purportedly among the more combustible opinions one can share over the combined works of Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding, Swindon's very own Lennon and McCartney (if such a thing is indeed comprehendible. It's Swindon) 

   Should one wish to stereotype the band's leaders in the ultra bland sense, Moulding was always the more contemplative one - I'd try "sensitive," but Moulding wasn't the one singing screeds about his ex-wife and the denouncement of God. His best moments make gliding melodies of mournful wistfulness and this, rather than composition or clever lines, is exactly what 'In Loving Memory of a Name' exemplifies. Partridge provides my favourite emotive moments on Mummer - no surprise, given his larger rate of songwriting output - but '... Name' is the tune that brings me closest to its narrator's state of mind, where impressionistic imagery, getting lost in the moment, an ambiguous aside at Christianity  and a respect for England's fallen fighters give direction to the motoring rhythm and perhaps what feels like every rockist musical flourish Britain has produced between the 15th century and 1983. The sweet sort of sincerity, in essence

   And aptly, one for Remembrance Day. "England can never repay you," indeed

La Cabina (The Phone Box), 1972, Spain {English Subtitles}

   I certainly don't think anyone who views this will feel the same way about phone booths ever again. Whilst I couldn't help but become attuned to an apparent evocation of our great modern malaise (trapped and helpless on the Planet of the Pudding Brains, where compassion comes in last place to hedonism and self-interest), other commentators readily held up La Cabina's narrative as emblematic of the days of General Franco and all the eliding of human rights that went with it

   I suppose that one just had to be there

Cathal Smyth - A Comfortable Man, Live, October 2014

   To Wilton's Music Hall in East London last night, on the invitation of my old friend, artist Andrew Hancock, where I produced a set of photographs of the man we still call Chas Smash of Madness, resplendent amongst a sonorous orchestra, a songbird in black and the work of 50 contemporary artists directly inspired by Smyth himself. Nice work, if you can get it

   What bodes well for this album launch, which has two further nights at Wilton's to go, and indeed, the album itself is that the roguishly avuncular Smyth (who made your author, at least, feel as if in the company of the favourite uncle who casually turns the air blue and quickly moves along before the matriarch tweaks his ear) somehow managed to start out strongly and end on an even better finish. I suspect the builder's tea that he periodically topped up from with the appetite of Popeye

   Madness is one of this country's most resonant (and entertaining, lest we forget) bands. So, for anyone who may be in attendance tonight or tomorrow, or plans to be, I can assure you that rarely do you get a safer pair of hands to guide you through his new and warmly folkish material. Anticipate big choruses, assiduous charm, precision timing, band crushes and one big, open heart

   For you'll need every ounce of that goodwill whenever you try to get served at the Mahogany Bar

The Dutchman by LeRoi Jones; The Crate Gallery, 2014

Kedar Williams-Stirling as "Clay," September 2014

   Jotham Annan is a RADA-honed actor and director of stage and screen, whose credits include the BBC's Holby City and Casualty, and versions of As You Like It and The Browning Version (everyone's favourite Rattigan?). To disclaim, he is also my cousin. I'm proud

   Over the past month, I have provided photography and costume styling for a new production by Jotham of 1964's The Dutchman, an interracial two hander written by Jones, later Amiri Baraka, whom I have discovered late in life. An African-American playwright, activist, writer and critic with a penchant for trenchant monologues and non-sequiturs of the disquieting kind, judging from this particular work, he was a natural attractor of the controversy that dogs the outspoken; doubtless, I will find pronouncements and quotes of his to embrace and discard with time

   Tonight ushers in the opening night at Notting Hill's The Crate Gallery, helmed by my old friend Matthew Gerrish. The Crate is not known for its voluminousness and thus each performance of this short run (tonight to Friday, this Sunday and next Wednesday and Thursday) will accommodate less than 30 people only. Nevertheless, compromised though I may be, it is worth purchasing tickets for next week's performances, which were added after the promising selling out of this week's

   In these days of Michael Brown and Trayvon Martin, to name but two, a text like The Dutchman is not only entertainment, but something of a yardstick for America's entangled multiracial structure, exactly 50 years prior, with which to compare to today. And it is exactly this challenge to muse on where America has been going in light of these atrocities that makes it worth producing today

BON

http://www.thecrate.co.uk/events/performance/dutchman/

Instagram, FYI

I'm there as well:

http://instagram.com/barima_on

#Menswear

Butler of Style Forum and Winston Chesterfield at an I am Dandy drinks reception hosted by tailor Steven Hitchcock, September 2013

Pinterest on (Mode) Parade

   I am now assembling a small collection of boards on design, architecture, photography and style right here:

http://www.pinterest.com/barimaon/

   The collection of images on my Pinterest boards is presently rather modest, but I anticipate that it will grow in tandem with my developing understanding of it. I've already begun utilising it for my photography efforts, at the very least, and it is a curious way of determining what one finds attractive, even in the face of what seem to be the labile tastes of the rest of the planet. Which reminds me that of the smorgasbord on offer, the pins of most utility appear to be cookery recipes

   Happy image hunting