Are You Not Entertained?? My 100th Post

What more can I say? In December 2008, with my industry in desperate need of triage and a recession threatening to cramp my creative muscle, I endeavored to revive my long-abandoned blog.

Back in 2005, blogger was still a relatively fresh concept, but three or four years on, with once-hot social networking sites like MySpace already overtaken by newer models like Twitter, Digg, and their ilk, it seemed a little quaint to be blogging.

But I wanted a place to work through ideas in long- or short form, to co-sign creative artists, movements, trends, or just keep up the fashion/culture reporting that I'd been doing professionally.

I was reluctant to publicize BGNB at first, seeing it more as a private notepad, but the feedback when I did share it was always encouraging.

So here I am at a milestone of sorts. I mean, TV sitcoms celebrate when they hit their 100th episode; the centenary birthday is considered a feat in longevity. 100 feels special.

Anyway, I want to thank all of you guys who've been both loyal and unique visitors to the blog. I've loved getting your ideas: "You should write an article about _____"

I heard your complaints too about not updating frequently enough, but I find the posts lack something when I chase the clock.

Can't be your (media)takeout, I'm slow food y'all:) So much of pop culture is in the muck right now, deadening; more than ever we need to be Awake.

For all the site meters, analytics, and so forth, technology can't measure how you respond to a particular post. I encourage you to wield the power of your mouse and CLICK on the boxes if you think something is interesting, funny.

If you feel otherwise - have your say in the comments section! I welcome praise and criticism with equal humility.

Going forward, I'll take a short break. And then plan to deliver more focused content, more of my lens, less knee-jerking.

Finally, I've been called a romantic more times than I want to remember. I'll cop to wanting always to be inspired. I hoard images just like on the inspiration wall pictured here. What's that about?

All in service of living out my dreams. I wish you all the same.
-BGNB

More to Love: ABC Reporter Puts Loafer in Mouth During 'Entourage' Q&A

It's something of a double standard in dating: While a girl might have her figure scrutinized by a potential suitor, we typically view guys who carry around extra pounds as cuddly, more to love, hence terms like "love handles." ("Muffin top" doesn't sound quite as endearing.)

So I've been surprised that a storyline on HBO's Entourage had Turtle's character, who's dating ex-Sopranos cast member Jamie-Lynn Sigler, fretting about whether a pretty girl would really date a bigger guy unless it was scripted for a Hollywood flick like Knocked Up.

Now even if you cancelled your HBO or weren't a fan of Entourage to begin with, you might have gleaned that Jerry Ferrara (Turtle) and Jamie-Lynn are actually a couple off-screen as well, dating for nearly a year.

But the ABC news reporter who interviewed the actress clearly overlooked this tidbit in his pre-interview research and proceeds to ask her whether she'd ever date a "fat dude" in real life?! Sigh. (Click below for dude's attempt at redeeming himself.)


ABC Reporter Accuses Jamie-Lynn Sigler of Dating a "Fat Dude"

Shared via AddThis

What To Wear When Rooting for the Home Team: A (Citi) Field Guide

Went to a Mets game at Citi Field this past Friday and enjoyed amazing field-level seats in the 10th Row. Got to thinking about the perennial question of what not to wear to the ballgame.

There's probably a difference when catching say, a Cubs game at Wrigley Field, where the Midwestern fashion aesthetic is perhaps more relaxed? But in New York, where the fashion stakes are always higher, it seems stricter standards apply-even at the stadium.

While waiting for my game date to arrive at the no. 7 subway exit, I saw a full range of sporty options. But in my section, I loved how the women and the men alike casually pulled together team apparel in a way that flashed support but without going overboard.

Still, for the ladies, dressing can get a little trickier. My personal faux pas include high heels! Opt for open-toe flats, but no $3 flip-flops (I love them but not here). For makeup, all you need is sunscreen, lip gloss, and, if you wear it, your choice of mascara or eye-liner.



Finally, MLB hasn't quite nailed feminine cut on home/road tees and jerseys, so do the work: lop off collars, go a size smaller, etc. Pair with white or black ankle-fit jeans, clam diggers a la Audrey, or cut-offs that don't have fringe suspended from the hem.

If you do leggings, you'll look like you're headed for a fun afternoon at the batting cages. A game-day program, beer and cracker jacks are all the accessories you need.

As irritating as I often find her, I must say A-Rod flame Kate Hudson (top) has terrific game style. You just know all eyes are on her winning look during that 7th inning stretch.

A Love Supreme

Believe it or not, I still have a pile of CDs, and up until a few days ago, they were sitting in their clunky plastic jewel cases.

So I was separating liner notes and tossing plastic, when I came across John Coltrane's A Love Supreme in its artsy cardboard cover.

When I bought that CD I was in the middle of, let's call it "independent research" on the tenor saxophone player (this is how egghead, world-class procrastinator undergrads get down;)

Obsessed with Coltrane (1926-67), I sought out the details of his creative process but learned a lot more about him personally along the way.



Over the course of many months and biographies, I learned that after 8 years, he'd grown apart from and left wife Naima, the namesake for his classic composition. He met pianist Alice McLeod (above) the same year at Birdland.

Alice introduced him to mystical spiritual texts like the Bhagavad Gita and he took her into his quartet and as his wife. It's not a conscious thing, but I was probably looking for proof that this kind of union existed, one that was equal parts attraction, intellectual, spiritual...going behind the music inadvertently offered something up.

They'll Name A City After 'Us'

I've been recommending (500) Days of Summer, one of my favorite flicks this season, and the feedback has been glowing so I figured I should share it here.

Maybe you've seen the trailer and brushed it off as another twee, indie rom-com, but it's so much better than that.

It follows this couple (Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt) in their late 20s and tells the truth with humor and a soundtrack that burns. There's no meet cute (they meet at work), no tired set-ups, and no neat happy ending.

Check it! Bonus: For fashionistas, you'll get a kick out of how the wardrobe director uses vintage wares in a palette of blues on Deschanel to help mark her personal progression.

Love in the Afternoon

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board.

That's how Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God begins, and I could still hear my Multicultural lit instructor Eisa Nefertari Ulen's voice when I decided to crack it open again this summer.

Zora's work made me walk upright, like in those old V-8 commercials. I've discovered that while some girls gather notions about love from romantic comedies or women's magazine's, mine were coming from books.

Set in Florida (spanning Orlando, Palm Beach, and the muck of the Everglades), Hurston wrote Eyes in 1937 during a prolific seven weeks in Haiti.

Exploding the myth of the "tragic mulatto", Hurston gives us Janie Starks, married off at 17 to a crusty, land-owning older man.

By the time Janie meets 28-yo Tea Cake Woods, she's a 40-yo widow with two loveless marriages behind her. What happens in that final act, including a torrential Hurricane Katrina-like storm, stuck with me like a stubborn kernel in the tooth.

Solo Star

Recognize that girl? That's Solange Knowles, coming into her freshly cropped cut and positively radiating.

Maxwell Covers GIANT

Ummm...speechless.

Carol's Daughter, Meet Angelina's Beautiful Daughter, Zahara

This is just an aside. I always pause when I come across tabloid photos of actress Angelina Jolie with her adorable daughters if only because the adopted, Ethiopia-born Zahara regularly appears with her hair uncombed.

I could swear that I heard her partner, Brad Pitt, had been introduced to the Carol's Daughter line of hair products and was delighted. So either they learn to plait and detangle her hair or enlist someone to do it for them.

Black girls uniquely learn to manage their hair from those childhood experiences with our elders passing hands through it. With my mom, her nieces, five paternal aunts, and a grandmother frequently within braiding distance of my head, I often felt like one of those headless mannequins they use to instruct on at beauty schools. But I learned what I liked and how to care for my mane.

Not to mention discovering the vast array of hair conditioning tools available. Years before Carol's Daughter, there was grease;) Dax, Kuza, Pink Oil Moisturizer, Moisture Max, Optimum...

(Dirty) Money Talks: Diddy Makes a Band for His 'Last Train to Paris'

Diddy, Dawn, late of Danity Kane, and Kalenna (pron. Kuh-lee-na) comprise the rapper-producer's latest project, Dirty Money. Dawn has always been my favorite singer from DK, but I don't know yet how I'm feeling about this set-up. Especially after learning by way of his current MTV reality vehicle, "Making His Band," that he took voice lessons so he could actually sing on the album!

Look, I love a man like Diddy who's adventurous, unafraid of risk, but sometimes knowing your limitations can save you from yourself too. (Rapper extraordinaire Andre Benjamin pulled off crooning on The Love Below because his delivery is already so rich.) Still, I guess studio magic will ensure that it's not unbearable.

Are you hotly anticipating Diddy's next musical offering?

Black Butterfly: Model Muses at the Metropolitan Museum

I've decided that if we get a do-over, I want to come back a supermodel. Not the anonymous coat hangers from places like the Czech Republic or Estonia, but the genetically blessed creatures who by virtue of their abundant pulchritude wound up retired by 30, married to moguls and millionaires, and staring at trunks of the best couture threads, from Azzedine Alaia to vintage Versace.

You know them on a first-name basis: Naomi, Christy, Linda, Cindy...

The "Model as Muse" exhibit closed this past weekend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute. I swung by for a second time to take a good look at the dizzyingly beautiful show, which included well-curated rooms devoted to decades in fashion and modeling from the 1920s on.

Archival issues of Vogue were flung open to memorable images by lensmen, including Peter Lindbergh, Herb Ritts, Irving Penn, and Richard Avedon. In some instances, looks worn on the page were featured on mannequins arranged on plateaus.

You would have recognized looks from George Michael's "Freedom" video in the '80s room, and pieces from Marc Jacobs's infamous Perry Ellis collection in the grunge room. G.M. and Nirvana pounded from the speakers in the corresponding spaces; it was perfect, if obvious.


But I gravitated to the pioneering black models, some of whom I admittedly had only passing familiarity with: Naomi Sims, who died at 61 just days before the exhibit ended and covered the Oct. 1969 issue of LIFE; Donyale Luna (left), who was cast in William Klein's Qui-Etes Vous, Polly Magoo? (1966) and landed a 1964 cover of British Vogue.

If you missed this show, you can always grab the catalog at the gift shop. Or the souvenir Marc Jacobs lipstick tube pens!

I Hear Your Lyrics, I Feel Your Spirit: O Introduces Jay-Z to Her Book Club

You may have heard that Oprah Winfrey was recently in BK, the Marcy housing projects specifically, to interview the MC cum mogul for an upcoming issue of her eponymous mag.

If you're among the viewers who watched as she nearly disemboweled rapper Ludacris when he appeared on her chatfest promoting the Academy Award-winning Crash, then you were likely shaking your head, as I was, at the news that Winfrey's people had wrangled Hova for an intimate spread.

Umm, could Jay beam any brighter??

What's even more interesting about this image is Winfrey has clearly wasted no time inculcating Jay with her brand of self-help spirituality. Jay is toting a copy of Eckhart Tolle's "A New Earth," a recent Oprah Book Club selection.

In fact, I have to admit that while Oprah was late on this, Tolle is the truth. A certain scribe put me on to him years ago and locked doors began to unlock.

Easy, Breezy

A star of the sci-fi fantasy "Heroes," Dania Ramirez is the most recent bold-face name to sign a cosmetics contract to rep for Cover Girl. The drugstore brand hasn't been shy about embracing diversity among its ranks of spokeswomen (Latifah, Rihanna, Tyra, etc.), and I think Dania is another good choice. Sometimes it seems as if the same handful of Latina starlets get all the shine (see the seemingly reluctant-to-be-ethnic Jessica Alba, Eva Mendes, and Eva Longoria). It's great to have fresh faces.

He Is King?

Whether you're a fan or foe of Diddy, I just think you can't argue the man is clean with a rack. Take this ensemble: I think the same look, with its bold shot of color, on another man could be emasculating, but it's Sean For the Win the way he's rocking it.

A few things are key here imo, among them the well-edited ice cube selection, the perfect fit of his trousers (bonus points for veering from jeans!), and the impeccable grooming.

So he may have Invented the Remix, but he didn't invent great style. Rather, he projects his sartorial influences. There's the Harlem swag. Before his fourth birthday, Diddy lost his father, Melvin - an associate of the drug kingpin immortalized in 2007's American Gangster, Frank Lucas - to a life of crime. Combs's smooth lines feel like a throwback to that controversial era.

There's evidence of his exposure to high fashion too, a little Rat Pack thrown in, and of course his own individual imprint to tie it all up. Nothing about his choices screams trend-spotter, and unlike a Kanye, who can appear costumed, Mr. Sean John just looks effortless.

A Midsummer's To-Do List

If you live along the Northeast coast, you've been suffering perhaps through the summer that wasn't. With August in sight though it seems futile to keep fighting the elements. Better to embrace the cool afternoons and breezy mornings.

Why don't you:

1. Behold a Masterpiece. Sit on the steps of the Met after studying the heiroglyphs carved across pieces in the museum's expansive collection of Egyptian art.




2. Salute the Sun. Enroll in a local yoga class, dance course, gym, taking advantage of any introductory offers by going as frequently as you can in the first week.

3. Discover and Download. Underappreciated music. Erykah Badu's 2003 Worldwide Underground is an EP composed to get her through a spell of writer's block. But it has gems ("I Want You", "Back in the Day") and her hand-scribbled liner notes are bound to move you.

4. Put Your Fruit in Your Mouth. For a few consecutive days, I dare you to try eating 4-6 varied fresh fruits (not dried or canned) for breakfast and lunch. Thank me later.

5. Recall the worst or most regrettable thing you did in the last month. Forgive yourself for it today - and forever.



6. Go to an outdoor concert and Rock That Thing - literally. I've been to so many shows, rhythm & blues specifically, where I'm pleased and astonished by how folks step out. Talkin' Sunday best here. I'm convinced they have an even better time than I do.

7. Make it a Current Affair. Lie in the park or just perch on your porch to read an article about a subject that challenges you. The Economist is a treasure trove; The New Yorker is good too. All done? Read a book and finish it.

8. Turn the Dial. "I Can't Live (If Living is Without You)." It took me forever to register that the message in Mariah's track was absurd and downright unhealthy. Rid your iPod of love song cliches that celebrate the long-suffering man/woman.

9. Get the Scoop. Order an ice cream with every topping you can fit on it, calories be damned for one night.

10. Admit Your Blue Crush. There's something so rejuvenating about being by the water. Go to the beach, the pool, the shore, jump in or just get your feet wet.

11. Now that it's Raining More Than Ever...On a gloomy day, go out for for drinks where the menu is festive: sangria, pina coladas, margaritas, whatever. If they've tossed an umbrella in it, even better.

12. It's not About the Bike. It's just about learning to do something you never got around to: learn to swim, play aooustic guitar, ride a bike, cook three must-eat dishes...

'See If I Care, Good and Bad Hair...' Beyonce's Baby Sis Learns the 'First Cut is the Deepest'

Beyonce's baby sister parted ways with her weave this week and the critics, celebs and civilians alike, took her to task for the offense of unnecessary baldness. I thought she looked chic. What did you think - is it a glamour(ous) 'do or a glamour(ous) don't?

The junior Knowles, who's tried everything in the last year from war paint to day-glo bodysuits in her feeble attempt at shining beneath the total eclipse that is Beyonce, seems already to be buckling under the weight of the backlash.

A friend told me that Solange has since been spotted wearing a wig. (Side note: Kanye is dating a chick, Amber Rose, with a nearly bald, blonde 'do and the reaction to her futuristic 'fro has included a contract with the Ford modeling agency. Hunh?)

Feeling pressed to respond to the overwhelming response, Solange took to her Twitter account, and addressed the uproar in a hyper-punctuated series of tweets. The gist of it was that she simply wanted to get free.

We all know that in pop/soul music, big hair, long hair, fake hair, processed hair are de riguer unless you're among the bold and beautiful few like Erykah or Jill.

ONLY reason i responded to this i have is because i was disappointed to see my name more talked about then #iranelection. dont. want. a. edge. up. or a perm. because. im not trying. to make this “a style” or a statement. i. just. wanted. to. be. free. from. the. bondage. that. black. women sometimes. put. on. themselves. with. hair."

And we do. I once rode an A train to Brooklyn and realized that Every single black girl in that car had Naomi Campbell-length tracks sewn into her mass of concealed cornrows. Indeed, with my own straightened, always weave-less shoulder-length 'do, I was an anomaly. It was as if a decree had come down: If it isn't long, it's wrong.

Once, years ago, I pulled a Solange and took scissors and clippers to my head after some emotional isht and went to my brother's barber shop to shape-up the nape. The male barbers were disappointed to say the least.

But the barber who reluctantly edged me up was far more cruel than Bow Wow to Solange. He seemed personally offended, bent over my head, barking, "Did you do this shit over some guy?!"

When I saw the flicks of Miss "Soul Angel" on the 'Net, I was right back in that barber's chair on Long Island. Felt for her. You can tell when someone's reaching, searching. And black women inordinately dig deep by confronting their hair.

In that period, I learned some ugly truths but I learned some profound, enduring truths, too, that I might not have if I hadn't been stripped down to my barest essentials.

Here's hoping Solange logs off Twitter and goes deep.

Left at the Altar, NBA Star's Ex-Fiancee, Kesha Nichols, Keeps 'Dancing'

Kesha Nichols Breaks Down Her Breakup

Shared via AddThis

NBA player Richard Jefferson's jilted fiancee and former Nets dancer, Kesha Nichols, recently gave an interview to ABC's Diane Sawyer.

Watch the video linked above and you can't help but think girl is vying for someone at ABC to offer her a slot on "Dancing With the Stars." It worked for that chick from "The Bachelor", right?

At around (-2:00), notice how Diane keeps harping about how much money Nichols may have lost on the $500,000 wedding (not $2 million as has been reported). Listen for her dodgy, why-do-you-think-I-was-dating-an-athlete?? response, lol. (kidding!)

Nichols also got a six-figure parting gift from the former New Jersey Net for her trouble. Would that pacify you if you were left at the altar?

In the Age of Obama: CNN Rolls Out 'Black in America' Part 2

When it was given its premiere in July 2008, even those I knew who were largely oblivious of the 24-hour cable news cycle tuned in to CNN's "Black in America" series, hosted by Soledad O'Brien.

O'Brien's own mixed heritage (a mother from Cuba and father from Ireland and a complexion that reflects the mosaic of the black diaspora) was a clear marker that defining "black" would be a task in and of itself.

In the weeks following airing of the first installment, I heard broad complaints: The approach was too anecdotal, i.e., the segment producers focused on too few families.

Or the subjects fell under two stark extremes of the economic spectrum, either hand-to-mouth, or upper-middle class, as with the family of Harvard scholar Henry Louis Gates, Jr., who ironically finds himself in the news just as the series' second package has its debut.

There were those who were angered at a percieved lack of focus on the black success stories. After all, how many of us watched the program on TV or streamed it online with our "Obama" buttons pinned to lapels and shoulder bags?

But for many of the first-generation black Americans, whose parents immigrated to the states from the West Indies or regions such as Ghana and Nigeria across the African continent, there was a sense that our story was overlooked.

There's a unique brand of double consciousness that you learn to navigate when you're carrying the culture, customs, food, language of your parents alongside that which you've been born into.

In many ways, I represent my parents' immigrant mindset, including an emphasis on education, back-breaking hard work, and fiscal responsibility; in other respects, I've embraced the legacy of all the everyday black American heroes who made it possible for us to be here in the first place. But I think it's a story worth exploring.

On the suburban block on which I was raised, the percentage of families from the American South and from the Carribean was nearly equal. And as much as we were neighborly, there were moments that divided us... . The poet Sonia Sanchez calls that being "wounded in the house of a friend."

I don't have high expectations that part two of CNN's much-debated series will offer groundbreaking coverage tonight, but I'm sure I'll catch it. It seems the conversation is a start. Will you watch?

Arise: Obama in Accra

Regardless of your opinion on Obama's handling these past six months of the economy, healthcare policy, the two active military conflicts, and the slate of other issues he'll have to tackle in his first term, you had to be moved by images of the president in Ghana this weekend.

The son of a Kenyan, he was given a son's welcome in another country miles from his ancestral home. Obama even addressed Parliament while in Accra, remarking, "I have the blood of Africa within me." Outside, crowds cheered and chanted his name.

The scholars are always saying Obama represents an era that is post-race, but it seems dubious that another American president from say, Hope, or Little Rock, would have earned this kind of reception.

'Breathless' on Bastille Day (Gangsta Flick With Subtitles)

Is it any wonder I'm a Francophile? When I was 6, my parents took us on a family vacation to Paris, where one of my aunts was living in a flat with her then boyfriend, a long-haired Frenchman in blue-and-yellow Adidas, who's now her husband.

Who needed the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone, right?

The hotel we stayed in had a balcony overlooking a narrow street, and I remember the furnishings being velvety red. Every morning, like clockwork, a staffer came with what I can only call hot cocoa (but really doesn't do it justice), croissants, soft butter and various preserves.

We walked the Champs, visited the Eiffel Tower, and several majestic churches. There are pictures of me with chunky sneakers on and sweaters tied Preppy Handbook-style around my shoulders: I'm cheesing! So I guess the love affair started on that trip.

I tend to gravitate to all things Gallic and with Sunday being Bastille Day, I celebrated with a first-time screening of Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless sponsored by the Museum of the Moving Image (and MAD), as part of the series French New Wave Essentials.

You know it's 1959 because Jean Seberg's Patricia has an internship at a Newspaper, The New York Herald Tribune, which she hawks in the evenings on the streets of Paris. When asked by her petty-thug boyfriend, Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo), why she likes being a writer, she says, because "I make money and I'm free."

Patricia is an American student, in France as well to attend classes at the Sorbonne and she gets wrapped up with her BF, not realizing he's on the lam for shooting a cop.

But what makes this b/w 90-minute flick essential is the dialogue (Godard was a respected film critic before he tried his hand at filmmaking; co-writer Francois Truffaut devised the concept) and the radical use of the jump cut.

You keep thinking you've missed something when in fact, Godard and his cinematographer have deliberately removed footage in the editing process.

In one scene, Patricia meets up with a journalist from the Tribune for drinks in Montparnasse. He's promised to assign her stories, and he does. But why is she on a park bench making out with him a few hours later? [Laughs] A buss for a byline, I guess.