Friends of mine, David Hernandez and Tereasa Surratt, husband and wife/father and mother/web developer/author/and superstar ad folks, have added a new slash to their already impressive list of titles: Shopkeep.
Their Camp Wandawega in Elkhorn, Wisconsin might be recognizable to you, as virtually every clothing company and editorial publication in the United States have used their well-appointed, idyllic summer camp setting to sell you on their version of The Endless Summer.
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“The part I have a hard time with, buying things I wouldn’t pick out for myself.”
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The Dose Market ladies put together this lovely video with Middle Mind Project.
Two weekends ago, in an article written by Eater Chicago’s Ari Bendersky, they were featured in the Travel section of the New York Times.
Dose rides again this Sunday, the 25th of September. I’m excited to try on the wristwatch commissioned by Harry Truman currently for sale at Division St. Watch Company, check out the new fall wares from my favorite shop in town, Penelope’s, and eat some smoked salmon and peanut brittle… potentially at the same time.
Oh and look for Dose to get a lot more dude-friendly, particularly in the soft goods department come October 16th when a certain sporting goods store will be making its Chicago debut, and it’s my understanding they may be surrounded by some of their closest friends in the retail business.
Until then, read my previous write-up of the market, and let me know if you’re heading to Dose this weekend. I’ll be there in plaid.
Dose Market
at the River East Arts Center
435 East Illinois Street
Chicago, IL
60611
Aaron Britt asked me to write a short piece about Americana-inspired interiors for the October issue of Dwell. The piece is entitled “Ain’t That America,” a tribute to John Mellencamp’s “Pink Houses.” Accompanying the piece are photos and tidbits about several cool things still made in America. Other highlights in the issue, which is devoted entirely to things Made in America, include a profile of Jack White’s Rolling Records Store, the Cricket Trailer, and a nice write-up about the Finn Lofts, a new building in Wichita, Kansas. Fittingly, I was born just outside of Wichita.
I’ve come to be known for writing about things made right here at home, and I was thrilled to have the chance to write about it for a publication that’s come to be known as the bellwether in all things pertaining to design. Special thanks to Aaron and everyone at Dwell for the unique opportunity to write about something I love for a publication I’ve loved.
Do me a favor: please go to your local bookstore or newsstand and buy two or three copies of the October issue of Dwell. Let’s make it a best-seller.
During Market Week in New York, Cause and Effect’s Billy Moore caused something of a scene while shooting photos for his look book.
Imagine the loud clang of Billy’s ball peen against the manhole cover.
He’s used to hammering horsehide against the large boulders of the Little Pigeon River, but I can imagine wailing away at some copper plating on the cobblestone streets of New York is not a far off sensation.
Look book photographer, Joe Gannon, crouches to get the shot just so, as Mr. Moore goes to town on some metal.
To read more about Billy Moore and his magnificent leather and metal accessories, see my previous post. To learn how you can get your hands on Cause and Effect’s full line, contact Billy directly: billy(dot)causeandeffect(at)gmail(dot)com.
Special thanks to Rob Babigian, Fran Ferger, and Joe Gannon for the behind-the-scenes footage of Mr. Moore in action.
“You bought the polka dot tie at Dose!” The MidWasteLand’s Monica Dimperio exclaimed while we waited for some Joe at Caffe Streets.
“Yes! Oh my God. What a memory!”
“You gonna be there this Sunday?”
“Of course.”
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When I told the good folks at Selectism about a trip I took with Joe Gannon to the home of belt maker Billy Moore, they were kind enough to feature my visit.
Barreling down I-40, on my way to Gatlinburg from Nashville, Tennessee, the rain came at me in sheets. Peering over the steering wheel, trying to keep up with Joe’s Monster Truck as he zipped in and out of traffic, all I needed were the sweet harmonies of Bill Monroe and Peter Rowan and a belly full of crappy coffee to keep the metal on the floor.
“We’re going to make belts,” Joe’s text message read.
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