Informal Poll: What’s YOUR Favorite Part of This NYT Wedding Announcement?

We know, we know. At this point, scoping out and tracking ridiculous line items in New York Times wedding announcements is so commonplace it’s practically a league-commissioned sport. (Literally. The incomparable Katie Baker over at Grantland even uses a sabermetrics-style system to measure the nuptial notices.) But yesterday, like many of you, we came across the jaw-dropping announcement of Sage Mehta and Michael Robinson, which is a doozy. Using the Baker System, I counted 32 points, including "Facebook," "first novel," "Maine," "rabbi," "yoga" and "ski trips" mentions from the grab-bag pile. And that’s probably lowballing it. 

Even without quantifying the thing, though, it’s still full of gems. Seriously, it’s hard to pick a favorite. Do you have a favorite? Tell us your favorite. A few of mine: 

  • "In conversation, their sentences are grammatical and lovely and often sound as if previously written, if not rewritten."
  • "They ran into each other at a ‘huge party given by three very popular Princeton girls,’ she said."
  • "He arrived on a black Bianchi bicycle, and this time she felt sparks."
  • "He likes modern chairs and couches, partly because they are often uncomfortable and keep him from falling asleep while reading."
  • "Without exactly discussing it, they began living together." (What does this even meeeeean?) 

Maybe the people who poke fun at this are just bitter or jilted or feel some satisfaction poking at the happiness of others. Maybe we shouldn’t get such weird satisfaction at this weird voyeuristic ritual that is making fun of the couples in the NYT wedding announcements. But "very popular Princeton girls?" The Bianchi bicycle at Lucien? Modern chairs? Come on, man. We wish the happy couple well, and please forgive this, but oy with the wedding announcements that sound like they were built from lost Wes Anderson movie ideas. 

Cats on Broadway Get A Whole New Meaning With Adorable Audition

Last week, BlackBook Senior Editor Tyler Coates, who also mans the Cats beat so no one else has to, informed us about a special production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s legendary musical featuring more than 3,000 performers. But what about a New York theatre outing for those lovers of the stage who are feline-friendly, but find the idea of a megaproduction of Cats utterly terrifying? Thanks to the newly revived Breakfast at Tiffany’s, you’re in luck.

The NYT (ON IT!) sent an intrepid reporter to visit the auditions of two rescue cats competing for the role of Holly Golightly’s cat in the show. The ginger Vito Vincent is levelheaded and curls gently into the male lead’s arms. His competition, Monty, is a bit more of a diva—leaping off stage mid-scene, ignoring the commands of his trainer and carrying himself like he owns the place. Please. Get a few more credits under your belt before you have that kind of attitude, Monty.

While Monty steals much of the screen time, Vito would be more of a traditional casting decision, with a coloring closer to that of Orangey, who played the role alongside Audrey Hepburn in the film. Orangey also won two Patsy awards, the animal kingdom equivalent of the Oscar, so, you know, the bar’s pretty high, cats. You’ve gotta earn that kitty EGOT. Watch Vito and Monty act their tails off below.

[via Jezebel]

Everything Old Is New and Then Newer Again: Zubaz Edition

It’s not really even worth starting this post by asking you if you remember Zubaz, the stretchy, neon, zebra-striped pants that typified a generation of tacky athletic-inspired fashionwear. If you’re reading this, you either remember Zubaz, because you lived through them and are probably sick of this nostalgia cycle, or you think you remember Zubaz, but really you just missed the cut but you’ve just been reading too many nostalgia-obsessed listicles around the Internet and certain things have been planted into your brain. 

The NYT (ON IT!) wrote about the regenerated interest of the brand in a trend piece this week, which isn’t really a full-blown comeback for Zubaz, seeing as the brand resurrected itself in 2008 after more than a decade out of the pants-designing game. But, as Dan Stock and Bob Truax, the brains behind the pants, are continuing their efforts to repopularize the brand, they got a boost this week from the neon Adidas AdiZero zebra-striped basketball shorts that were unveiled for the NCAA Tournament. March Madness, indeed.

The instant connection was made between Adidas’ shorts (which bear a different, non-copyright-infringing pattern), but the company founders reacted positively to the association with the brand they created, for better or for worse. And as Chris Robbins writes, "Zubaz are enjoying something of a rebirth. Zubaz refuse to die." Perhaps, then, Zubaz are a metaphor for our cyclical return to everything from the years between 1990 and 1999, our "Maaaan, remember this?" means of relevancy and branding, but really the comeback isn’t a comeback at all but a brief blip on our screens and maybe some really gaudy sweatpants purchased by people who can name all three Gronkowski brothers? What do the Zubaz say about the Zeitgeist? These are the questions. 

Also, this video has nothing to do with Zubaz, but still seemed fitting. 

‘New York Times’ Calls Nicki Minaj ‘Most Influential Female Rapper of All Time’

Yes, you read that headline correctly. No, it’s not an April Fools’ Day joke.

The New York Times profiled Nicki Minaj today in a lengthy article full of glowing, ego-boosting descriptions of what the paper calls "the most influential female rapper of all time," despite the fact she’s spent less than two years in the public eye.

What’s the Times’ reason for propping Minaj up so highly? Who knows. But let’s take a look at some choice words used to describe Minaj in the profile:

— "She’s a sparkling rapper with a gift for comic accents and unexpected turns of phrase.

— "She’s a rapid evolver, discarding old modes as easily as adopting new ones."

— "(Savvy Nicki would never be the one to throw up a middle finger.)"

— "When rapping on the songs of others, she’s often the most capable M.C. around."

— "On her own material she’s often straddling a line between hip-hop and pop that no other rapper is capable of, or would even dare."

And that’s just the first two–of 18–paragraphs! Click here to read the rest of the fluff piece, if you’re so inclined.

Sandra Lee’s Angry ‘NYT Magazine’ Interview Is Amazing

Sandra Lee is a lot of things. She’s New York’s first girlfriend. She’s the host of Semi-Homemade Cooking on the Food Network. She’s the source of some of the campiest holiday specials to ever grace TV screens. She’s a fan of cocktails. She’s Aunt Sandy (if you’re nasty). But today–especially today–she’s my hero, because Lee’s insanely passive-aggressive interview with New York Times Magazine reporter Andrew Goldman is one of the greatest I’ve ever read.

It really is worth your time to check out Lee’s full interview on the NYT website, but here’s a taste of it, regardless:

Chester Arthur was the last president to serve a full term as a single man. People without spouses don’t get elected president anymore. When are you two getting married?
That’s a loaded question. Andrew is focused on being governor. He’s not running for president. We’re happy in the relationship the way it is. Still, I can tell you that Andrew’s kids want us to get married. It’s very sweet.

Cuomo is famously hot-tempered. People who like you have described your “bulldog determination” and “blind ambition.” I picture a lot of crockery flying around at home.
We never fight. He’s so patient and mellow. He doesn’t give me grief. Can I ask a question? Is this an interview about me or Andrew?

You. You really don’t get grief at home? I get quite a bit, but I don’t mind so much.
Well, how old are you?

I’m turning 40.
When you’re older, it’ll go away. Nonsense doesn’t matter anymore because life gets shorter. I thought you were at least my age.

You’re 45. You look fantastic for your age. Evidently I look like hell.
You’re so full of it. Don’t work me. But I look great, don’t I? Please, God, tell me I do.

 I know. I know.