David, how could you? (And why don’t you love me?)
This is from Be Magazine (another of my stash from DeGaulle). I can only assume they have the same lack of familiarity with American slurs and vulgarisms as the French marketers tossing around the f-bomb with reckless abandon that David Lebovitz recently observed.
Thinking about it though, I’ll give a French magazine more of a pass than I do the NFL. So to speak …
Only one new brand this month.
Aqua Lacquer is neither aqua nor a lacquer. Discuss.
Why not just Yecch or Feh?
Remember my kvetching about Acne Jeans and what a ridiculous name it is? Sure you do. And it still is ridiculous, IMHO. Well, hold on to your emesis basins, because here comes another one, straight out of the pages of Marie France magazine. The latest kids’ jeans brand:
Finger in the Nose
Where do I begin? Is this name meant to evoke the endearing nature of a child performing a digital excavation of his nasal passages? I’m just not buying it. But take a look at the website and its charmingly mangled English: “[E]ach material choice has been tought [sic] to guarantee children a good feeling in their jeans whatever if it’s a slim, straigh [sic] or comfort fit.” A good feeling in children’s jeans is probably not what we want to be touting here. But there’s more: Finger in the Nose promises that these jeans are “[a] simple yet clever product, capable of following the child everywhere and for a long time to go.” So basically these are stalker/molester jeans? A good translator would’ve gone a long way here.
What a beautiful progression a French child can undergo: From Finger in the Nose to Acne. What’s next for jeans for the middle aged? My suggestion: Lumbago. You’re welcome.
We stayed across the street from this restaurant when we were in Paris in 2008:
Our girls were 12 and 10 at the time, so you can imagine how much fun they had with this name! (It was also great pizza; too bad we strolled by on fermeture hebdomadaire day).
Once again, I headed to the ville lumiere; this time, accompanying my parents to attend the 80th birthday celebration of a dear family friend. So between the kilo of magazines I picked up at the airport (hey, we all have our drugs!) and the photos I took along the way, there’s plenty to blog about.
This is a restaurant whose name has amused me for the past several years, and I now share it for your amusement as well:
That’s “Speed Rabbit Pizza.” I always envision a rabbit on speed – if it were Speedy Rabbit, maybe it’d work? Peu importe, c’est amusant.
Stay tuned for more!
I think Nancy will agree: