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urbantm-blog · 5 years

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— — — - * ♡ ◟ 𝙹𝙾𝚈, 𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙾𝙽𝙰 𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴. thirty - one. wedding planner. aesthetics include: neat collars and pleated skirts, pastel shades, rose gold necklaces hanging around a paled neck, an undying belief in true love, dog - eared copies of jane austen novels, a life lived through rose - coloured glasses, blush dusted across already - rosy cheeks & a half - drunk bottle of moscato.

𝟶𝟶𝟷. 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚂.

full name. winona celeste joy. nicknames. winnie, ‘nona. hates ‘nona with a passion. age. thirty - one. date of birth. august twenty - seventh. place of birth. hartford, connecticut. zodiac. virgo. nationality. american. occupation. wedding planner. gender & pronouns. cisgender female, she/her. sexuality. panromantic pansexual. hogwarts house. hufflepuff.

𝟶𝟶𝟸. 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈.

inhales ... i love winona celeste joy with all my heart, and that’s all you need to know.

so, she was born in hartford, connecticut to a doctor and his homemaker wife. from the absolute get - go, mary and allen joy were the picture - perfect ideal of what true happiness is meant to look like. they had it all: they were the nuclear family from heaven ; two kids, white picket fence, dog panting at their feet. they had everything they ever needed.

winona and her older brother grew up very loved. their mother was always at home when they got home from school, waiting to hear about their days with juice and cookies already waiting. mary adored her children with a passion unseen in most, and directed every ounce of her undying affections towards them. winona, nicknamed winnie during her childhood, understands the dynamics of it now but mary focused heavily on loving her children so she didn’t have to face the fact that her husband of ten years was cheating on her.

mary and allen separated a few months shy of winnie’s sixth birthday. her mother sat both her and her brother down and quietly explained that ‘mommy and daddy aren’t going to be in love anymore, and you won’t live with daddy anymore. you can see him anytime you like, but a lovely man said that you can live with me.’ ( this, of course, was a light overview of the nature of the situation: the custody battle was quick and easy, with allen agreeing to pay child support and accepting fortnightly visits from his kids. mary loved them too much to let them go without a fight, but it turns out that she didn’t need to. )

this should’ve absolutely shattered her belief in love, because as a kid she saw her parents as the absolute epitome of what love should look like. it didn’t, though, because something else was about to take its place.

for a while, winona and her brother were raised by their mother alone. mary did her best on a seamstress’s salary, taking up whatever jobs she could, and whilst they were never rich, they were always happy. mary made their clothes, made the best halloween costumes, cooked up a storm and never stopped to take time for herself because her kids were her entire world. one day, at one of her various day jobs, though, she met a local accountant and fell more deeply in love than she’d ever been.

david bryant and mary joy were a match made in heaven, and by the time winona was thirteen they were married. winona was her maid of honour, and cried the entire way through the ceremony like the soft bitch she is.

this is pretty much where i stop inventing my own character shit and start pulling directly from 27 dresses.

after that wedding, winona fell in love with love. her brother gave her shit for it, but she loved love. she read jane austen and the brontë sisters like they were the bible, fell down the rabbit hole of wanting to find the one, and devoted all her time to thinking about love.

it’s that drive, that genuine love of love, that leads winona to dream of becoming a wedding planner. she wanted to make sure everyone’s happiest day was truly their happiest, so that they could look at each other the way her mother and step - father looked at each other on their wedding day.

she got through school with good grades, and went straight into training to be a wedding planner. mary would’ve liked her to carry on with her studies, but winona was set on what she wanted to do. she got her license, and started working on her business and her brand. she’ll tell anyone who cares to listen that working on her business was almost the happiest thing she’s ever done.

by the time she was twenty - five, winona had already planned a series of successful, beautiful weddings for friends and the like, and business was thriving so she decided to consider moving it to somewhere else. she looked around at a few locations before deciding on seattle, and moved there on her twenty - sixth birthday.

she loves seattle, and loves planning seaside weddings. she’s set up an office in west seattle, and her business is doing amazingly well. she’s so proud of what she’s accomplished, and loves being part of someone’s special day. she attends every wedding she plans, and cries at all of them. she cries more than is warranted.

winona wants to be�� in love ! she wants to be swept off her feet the way her mother was, like the windswept character out of a harlequin romance.

her aesthetic is very season 1 betty cooper. it’s pastel colours, cardigans, ponytails and delicate necklaces. she loves a good skirt.

i love her so much and i’m never going to shut up about it tbh

also please bring me her brother / best friend tbh

#━━━ ˊ * ♡ ◟ 000. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐦. ↺ introduced.#206.intro #i LOVE one (1) angel of a woman !

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11toe11-blog · 4 years

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No autocorrect. e for stickie

“Thats such a good lesson. On patience” he says. After yanking out two of the sapota seeds he had to lovingly planted. Its sticking out of the mud, may be i should pushi it back inside, something is not right, let me pull it out and see whats going on he must have thought. And the two of the early earnets, reposnding to his watering dropped dead. Thats the garden as the zen master i suppose.

The very change that we water and nourish, when it starts expressing, we wonder why it is not how it is supposed to be - familiar, buried deep in the soil and my role to keep watering. Or final, green and with a leaf on it. The inbetweens where its neither this or that, uncertain. I assume im a doing something wrong.

I notice that as a programme running when i am doing my body work. A sense that i am not paying attention where i should be paying attention. I notice the feeling and when it dissolves more attention is generally availble and flowing.

I am feeling like now. Oh! This is not what i wanted to start the post with.

Its because R is around. Otherwise i would be more contemplative. I should have this, i should have that. I havent this, i havent that.

And its not entirely just the whiner programme. Had i woken up early i would ahve had more quiet time. But for that i have to sleep early.

Now that it is what it is, i didnt sleep early, i didnt wake up early, things arent going picture perfect, but they are not bad either. A chunck of the sticky can see that. Its sticking. Stuck like resin onto how it should have been. This is the cant-let-it-go resin. Can let anything go. Want to stick to everything and anything passing by. Like an ocptopus with a million legs and holding on to everyhthing passing by and being pulled in infiinte direction.s

Imagine if it suddenly lets go, what a whack it would get from all its legs combined recoil.

Methi paratha. Would go very well with the garlic pickle he is making.

Where is this

Where is that

Incessant. Wont look. Cant see.

I havent been making sprouts for a while. Nor micro greens.

I like the kichen counter to be clean. Spot less. A few

You this. You that.

A clean kitchen counter whre we can cook.

Its a small counter and i need it clean. Right now its a clutter.

You this you that

This is like this This is like that

Where have i seen this play out in loop. My mother. R has turned into my mother this morning. R keeps turning into my mother.

That when i hate him. Hate is strong. Intensely dislike. When he keeps driving home this point of how one is not doing what what one is supposed to be doing. That what and who one is, isnt ideal.

This was beginining to feel like a whiny pointless post with zero insight.

And R calls up his mom to ask if she minds onion in the kadala curry he is making. We are taking puttu and kadala over with us when we go to visit them today. I would have thought it odd the affection he bestows on his mother. And early on when i met him, he wasnt so expressive with his affection towards his parents. A 54 year old man being being possibly moer affectionate with his mom that i am with mine. Is actually such a wonderful and beautiful thing. In my own conditioning, formed by acerbic relations between my mom and her mom-in-law and my father’s absence, that i never got a clear idea of my fathers relationship with his mother. What do i mean by that? I suppose we form neural pathways of expectations based on what we are exposed to. Somewhere in my liberal hyper-independent idea of the free woman, modelled along the independent man, was one who didnt need anyone. And so it seems strange, for the adult man to express his affection for his aged mother. He can take care of the financial and social obligations et al. But to express geniune affection outwardly. How unstoic.

ANd how human. To actually accept and acknowlege ones need for this primary connection to the world. Than hide it in thick layers of indifference and independence as expression of masculinity.

And somewhere, the articulation of the Oedipus complex lurks suspiciously, watching out for abnormality in everything and everyone. That if one thing that has been named and labelled, and its all just that.

I know that its my own possessive tendencies and programming that assumes that every ounce of the adult male’s attention must be and must only be directed towards his “legal” mate.

Ah. There were are inching closer and notice the familiar subject in the horizon. Envy.

Yesterday when R said he was intensely attracted to E at some point in the exercise which was to gaze into the eyes of another, a stranger or friend for 10 minutes, i felt the sensations. Bubbling that demanded more space. Didnt want touch. Words that came out first - was to reassert power. “I know, i sensed it then”. And its true, i am quite sensitivve and i may have sensed it then and it may have had its effects on the evening. Sure.

But what was remarkable was how my viewing expereince of the film that E made, (and it was while watching the film that R made this statement) shifted ever so slightly. My neutral viewing and expereince of admiration shifted slowly and clearly towards disinterest and and veiled criticism. Basically, to put it simply, i found more faults with the film in the last half an hour after the greens than i did in the whole one hour before that. To the extent that i even found a scene dishonest and without integrity.

Now the question that i wont ever have a real answer to - is if the scene actually had elements that lacked a certain integrity and congruent with the position taken by the maker. And my envy allowed for a critical lens, or a wiping out of rose tinted admiration?

Or it was a discouloring and distrotion of the viewing experince, from the sensations expereinced?

I dont know.

Maybe what i am trying to ask is - is there any use of this sensation or expereince of envy. Does it serve any purpose in the larger sense of things? Because everything does, no, if we go by the idea of interconnectedness. Even the weeds have uses, unknown to us.

The sensation is sure unpleasant. It immediately put a distance between me and R and even E.

It created a distinct expereince of seperation. And with it came thoughts of security, or more like insecurity. Discrediting the other in someway as being weak. The need to claim, reclaim power. “ yea. When i have hung out with her husband, i was also quite intensely attracted to him”.

And also raised aloud once again the nature of commitment. Between R and me thats an on going conversation. How does one arrive into a mature sensible relationship.

Writing is slower today. I shared the blog link with 3 and a half people. And i know this will be read by someone other than me. Earlier there was no such thought at all.

It is changing the tone of what is being written. At this point atleast.

“ Dil mein mere hai Dard-e-disco dard-e-disco” … keeps appearing in head at random moments. Like a tape was left on and the power kept coming on and off. The two lines become backdrops to the most incognruent thoughts.

I go looking for the source. I dont find it.

In the play -

The character goes looking for the source of the song that fills the scene, and keeps looking and doesnt find it.

In another play, as ina thiriller , the song is the red color coating the pill. The memory that needs to placed into the slot to rewire the expereince of reality. Of joy. Or rights and wrongs. Of this one girl and hence of the collective. The logic is a lot like inception.

Ok. time to wrap. Dissatisfaction .

That the future gaze of another is coloring my expereince of perceiving and expressing. Maybe thats the distance between the master and the novice. The future gaze of another, for the master is also the future gaze of herself. The other not seperate from the self. And the novice rolls in the muck of otherness.

Rolling nice long distances made by the idea of such a seperation. Making huge spaces. And feeling small. Pretending to be big and feeling small.

I have had more backspaces operating today than i have ever in the recents.

Ok so envy makes some space and distance on one plane, while clingling like resin on another plane. Two opposite properties belonging to the same idea. Thats also another interpretation of duality.

HUnger hunger.

I go eat and make puttu.

I really hope i do my exercises in the evening. My knees need it. ANd not keep it off to the next morning - because only mornings are perfect. And if i cant do it in the morning i can nver do it, nonsense.

Afternoon today mom starts stitchinging classes with me.

We pulled out almost a hundred bed sheets from the trunk in the outhouse. Apparently, they are some 40-50 years old. Belonging to R’s grandmom.

Quite timely that R opened the trunks. We intend to keep some sheets for us, and for people who visit and some for the stiching classes and send the rest to La. Maybe there will still be enough to generally give away.

R and Rc are bantering int he kitching. Waiting for some sense of satisfactiong and lcarity i stick onto the word doc. Inspite of raging hunger and the smell and sight of mangoes.

Ok thats it. Today is this. Just observe it. Guilts. Nothing to do. Just watch.

I entered. I apologize if i pushed it. I have sense that i may have. Or treated it casually.

I ask for forgiveness. And i forgive. As a student would.

I leave now. To return wiser tomorrow.

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jeremystrele · 5 years

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A Dashing Expansion + Renovation For A Stellar Branding Studio

by Elle Murrell

Inside Squad Ink‘s Potts Point HQ. Photo – Nikki To.

Twin brothers Matthew and Terry Squadrito formed Squad Ink in 2008. Photo – Nikki To.

They enlisted Arent & Pyke (the interiors firm co-founded by Matthew’s wife) to expand and renovate their offices. Photo – Nikki To.

Hello the Gubi Beetle settee in emerald velvet. Photo – Nikki To.

Projects on show – how useful! Photo – Nikki To.

‘I’d say to Juliette, “Are you sure this is going to work – there is so much orange!”,’ tells Matthew. Photo – Nikki To.

The Squad Ink squad!! Photo – Nikki To.

Squad Ink has worked with brands including Archie Rose Distilling Co., The Grounds of Alexandria and Felons Brewing Co.Photo – Nikki To.

‘…a look that’s worthy of the most distinguished bars in Sydney,’ details Juliette. Photo – Nikki To.

Twin brothers Matthew and Terry Squadrito formed Squad Ink in 2008 with a vision to build timeless food, beverage and lifestyle brands that are founded on open collaboration, enduring client relationships, and design innovation.

After 10 years in the business, they felt it was time for an HQ expansion and update, as did Matthew’s wife, the incredible Juliette Arent of acclaimed interiors firm Arent & Pyke. By late last year, the transformation was complete!

‘Lighting, circulation, spatial interrelation and flow, natural rather than man-made materials, colour, plant life and the presence of beauty were all as considered here as they would be for a home,’ details Juliette. ‘The latter — beauty — is best represented by the Nimrod-hued bar topped in Esmerelda Verde marble, backed by terracotta-hued tadelakt; the Gubi Beetle settee in emerald velvet and its surrounding cluster of top-tier furniture pieces and custom shelf displays that showcase their impressive portfolio of products.’

Matthew takes us on a virtual visit to see more…

Now that we’ve cottoned-on to your design studio’s name origins, can you tell us a little bit more about Squad Ink?

Terry and I have always had a love affair with food and its profound effect on people, particularly in a cultural context. Our parents are Sicilian immigrants and our father was a fruit-and-veg providore. The ritual of sharing a meal that is prepared with love and incredible produce has always stuck with us. We found the story of food to be fascinating. There was so much to talk about and design became that conduit to start the conversation.

From our humble origins as graphic designers, we’ve enjoyed the rewards that growth brings. Ten years on and we’re a squad of specialised talent that shapes products and venues into progressive and sought-after brands. We’re brand curators, designers, writers, illustrators, and technical producers. We look at the bigger picture, so to speak and build brands from the ground up and execute across packaging, venue, and digital experiences and content-led marketing.

We’ve been incredibly fortunate to have worked alongside some inspiring people over the years, shaping brands like Archie Rose Distilling Co., The Grounds of Alexandria and Felons Brewing Co.

It comes as no surprise that your own space looks this good! Can you take us through your newly extended and renovated HQ?

My brother and I bought our office around five years ago but it was only half the size of what it is now. Ten years on, we had evolved as a studio and we needed to acknowledge our coming of age, a space that would become the ultimate portrayal of our brand personality and cultural values.

My wife Juliette really has a way of ‘framing the dream’ so to speak. We loved Potts Point and our view into the garden but the office lacked warmth and sophistication. It just wasn’t us. I remember Juliette saying to me, “Matthew, I think you should take the office next door and knock the wall down, yep that’s what you should do… shake the daggy carpet, replace with timber floors and get rid of those hideous fluorescent lights, they’re soul destroying.” Well, it’s hard to argue with that – I was sold!

Evidently very wise words! What are some of your other favourite features of the space?

One of my original references I gave to Juliette was the layered concrete bar that featured at the Noma pop-up in Sydney. I just loved the organic and handmade qualities of it. To me this visual really spoke to the artisanal nature of the food and beverage brands we create.

Brands that are often linked to a grass-roots story about the people and places behind the products. With this in mind, Arent & Pyke conceptualised a custom desk structure with the face of it rough rendered in a terracotta tadelakt plaster finish. I’d say to Juliette, ‘Are you sure this is going to work – there is so much orange!’ But she was convinced that this was the element that would transform not only the layout, (as it was also a tool to separate Account Managers from the Creative Team) but the experience of the space upon arrival.

It really delivers upon the handmade element that I was looking for. It brings so much richness and character to the space and underpins the whole design!

What kind of atmosphere have you’ve tried to create here?

I have received subliminal training via Juliette, that a well-designed space can be transformative. The moment a potential client steps into the office for the first time, you can literally see their mood change. It’s extraordinary. They’re excited and inspired. There is a resounding impression that they’ve come to the right place.

Hospitality is our studio’s bread-and-butter, so above all, this space needed to invite clients and would-be clients to ‘sip and savour the good things in life’, a philosophy that we live and work by here at Squad Ink.

Juliette adds, ‘A marble-topped bar showcases the creative output of the team at Squad Ink, (fancy an Archie Rose Gin and Tonic anyone?) it’s lower cabinets and fridge drawer in dark green stippled-matte polyurethane delivers a look that’s worthy of the most distinguished bars in Sydney.’

Who were some of the key players in helping you create this dream workspace?

This was a creative, more than a corporate place and we selected Arent & Pyke for their experience in residential projects and ethos around ‘home’.

They transferred that to our studio via rich, natural materials; by eschewing white for a series of greens on the walls and joinery (and in several plants), and by disguising technology behind custom joinery. Spotlight tracks replaced fluorescent tubes and a traditional desk layout re-designed into open-plan zones to partition account managers and creatives.

There’s a warmth and sophistication that radiates throughout our new studio. It represents exactly who we are, and where we want to be.

What’s the most challenging thing about running a picture-perfect workplace?

My brother and I have always naturally found good people that also happen to be great designers and project managers. It’s really what makes it all work. It brings me joy to see them all inspired by the space. It makes it all worth it.

A healthy studio culture is just so vital to retaining and inspiring team members. It has to come from the top… as owners and directors you have to drive it. We run a Show-and-Tell session once a month where the team share their ideas and inspiration over a few wines and good food. It reminds us why we’re all here doing what we love.

What’s some of the nicest feedback you’ve heard about the space you’ve created?

One of our clients commented that our office has a lovely openness and warmth now. The timber floors and the soft green wall colour chosen by Arent & Pyke has really transformed the feeling of the space.

What’s next for your squad?

Terry and I are at an exciting time in our career.

We’ve recently launched two food brands of our own – Frankie’s Fine Brine pickles and Friends of Frank cookies. Building products of our own has been hugely fulfilling and was a natural next step for us. I think we’ll always be connected to food and its story.

Lately, we’ve had a deep yearning to reconnect with our family origins and traditions. I have twin daughters that are five-years-old and I want them to have the same rich experiences and connection to food culture that I was afforded in my youth. I really want to channel this mission into my future business endeavours and create products and experiences that enrich other people’s lives.

Type of space

Open-plan office

Size of space

160m2

Number of employees

Completed renovation in

November 2018

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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Last Nights Oscars Tour Bus Bit Underscored a Deep Divide

It probably seemed like a killer bit in the writers room—something David Letterman would have done, or even Andy Kaufman. Get a tour bus full of unsuspecting movie fans and tell them theyre going to get to see a special exhibit about the Oscars. Then: Surprise! After winding their way through a backstage labyrinth, theyre at the Oscars. For real! They genuflect before Denzel (as is appropriate and right), shake hands with Charlize, and host Jimmy Kimmel banters a little: Where are you from?, and so on.

The bit didnt bomb, exactly. I laughed when Kimmel stole Jennifer Anistons sunglasses to give one of the tourists; I was glad Denzel Washington mugged along with the gag. Butthen Kimmel asked one of the tourists’ names. And when she told him it was Yulree—rhymes with “jewelry”—Kimmel made it a thing. Said of her husband, “Patrick. That’s a name.”Hed made a similar crack about Best Supporting Actor winner Mahershala Alis name, asking the Moonlight co-star howhis newborn daughters name could possibly live up to something so “exotic.”

Names are convenient to make fun of, especially when youre doing crowd work, but its too easy to fall into a trap: Patricks and Amys are normal; Mahershalas and Yulrees aint. And that weirdnessmadethe tour bus bit the perfect appetizer for thenight’s grand finale, the Best Picture screwup.Both were unscripted moments, and bothperfectly crystallized thesubtextual tension of the long, long evening.

Burning Bridges With Jet Fuel

Until the tour bus gag,at least, the ceremonies had skewed decidedly towardcant-we-all-get-alongism. “Theres only one Braveheart in this room, and hes not going to unite us,” Kimmel said in his opening monologue. “Black people saved NASA and white people saved jazz. Thats what we call progress.” And later, this: “We dont discriminate against people based on what country they come from. We discriminate based on their age and weight.” These are jokes at the expense of Hollywood—a tradition at the Oscars at least since the days Johnny Carson officiated.

If youre on the money side of Hollywood (it’s show business, after all), you want the Oscars to be about artistry and emotions, not how much Meryl Streep hates Donald Trump. Otherwise you lose half your audience to The Walking Deadand NCIS: Los Angeles and anything else that’s on at the same time.

The tour-bus gagchanged that, largely because it was impossible to figure outwho the audience was and who the performers were. Was Kimmel passing these “average Americans” through the worlds most expensive celebrity zoo to gawk at the preternaturally beautiful creations and creators of popular culture? Or were the tourists themselves on display: people from flyover states whom Hollywood targets with products and occasional political tirades without really understanding who they are? Kimmels name joke didnt help. It made the tourists—and by extension, the rest of us in the audience—seem like the butt of the joke.

Hollywood has never prided itself on being in touch with the working class, even when the movies were sometimes about poverty. Hollywood was always supposed to be a thing people wanted. The money, the fame, the power: The Oscars are where we got to see the people from the movies, playing characters based on themselves. Were supposed to want to be them, or have sex with them.So when a smart writer like John Robb tweets that the ceremony was an amazing example of ultra-orthodox cultural neoliberalism that was pure jet fuel for #trumpism? I think he’s saying that to the millions of people who voted against the pop-cultural elite alliances they saw in Hillary Clintons campaign, the Oscars aren’taspirational. They’re an insult.

These movies arent about elites. Yet the cultural shifts at the core of their stories get celebrated on the coasts and denigrated in the exurbs.

Our relationship with the icons of culture has changed, refracted through our politics. At the Oscars, the people who made those movies look out of touchin their Harry Winston jewelry and blue velvet dinner jackets. When they declaim a wall on the Mexican border, or quote the Koran, it sounds nave, even insulting, to a good-sized number of people. Somehow not even movies about the emotional pain of working class Massachusetts townies or tough modern Texan cowboys shooting it out against the backdrop of economic disaster could get over that hump.

After last years #oscarssowhite debacle, it finally seemed like the Academywas honoring stories about people who often feel invisible. And make no mistake: thosemovies—about gay African Americans, beautiful millennials aspiring to fame in the arts, and African American mathematician women fighting for equal treatment—arent about elites. Yet the cultural shifts at the core of their stories get celebrated on the coasts and denigrated in the exurbs. They’re stories about people who haven’t had their stories told … but somehow they made a whole bunch of other people feel invisible, too.

Ive watched the Oscars live pretty much without failfor 35 years. I always felt like I imagine one of the tourists from the bus gag must have—I gawk at the dresses, scoff at the gaffes, track whether my assessments of the movies matches the mysterious Academys. I wished I was there.

But it turns out the view from inside the theater turns off as many people as it turns on. Sure, everyone hate-watches the Oscars. But now half of us hate the way the other half hates it, too. And the winner is: nobody.