Patrick Pierazzoli: Love Pack
My relationship with rucksacks was never particularly good, and after my military service I broke off the relationship altogether. In the 80s, bum bags were all the rage anyway, then messenger bags, and at the beginning of this century backpacks were always suspected of being terrorists and woe betide anyone who forgot one at a bus stop. But practicality overcame fear and the backpack made a comeback. Just not for me: too retro, too gray, too smart – something always bothered me. Until I saw the new baguette packs from Fendi. It was love at first sight: the design, the colors, the materials and the workmanship – ah! And the idea of simply adding one of their legendary baguette bags where there is nothing else for rucksacks: ingenious. So much elegance comes at a price, of course (from around 2,000, on fendi.com and in Fendi stores), but good style is priceless, as we all know, so you’re guaranteed not to leave your baguette pack at the bus stop.
Marina Warth: Fuck off, Peter Pan!
Is it your own home that makes you an adult? Or the fact that you serve the matching saucer with your coffee? Is it mature to choose wine not according to the label, but according to the sommelier’s recommendations or to roll through the aisles of the supermarket with a shopping cart instead of a basket? 18 says the state, 30 says society. And what does your own feeling mean? Well, the big three is not that heavy on the shoulders. It is there, in my ID card, in the minds of those around me – even if not in mine. Yes, I’m an adult – because I spend more money on soling my shoes than on going to the club at the weekend, because I complain if I don’t like the service in a restaurant and because I take my electric toothbrush with me on vacation. Adults are responsible, logical, sensible – at least until they understand that being an adult also means being free. I can do whatever I want. And if I want to invest my hard-earned money in a leather jacket from Acne Studios for 1,300, then that’s what I’ll do.
Marco Rüegg: Bee-Sexual!
Scary Stories, Doctor Sleep, Black Christmas… One scary movie follows the next in the cinema. But none of them panic me as much as “More Than Honey” did back then. Markus Imhoof’s documentary outlines the extinction of the bee. And I’d rather walk through the Sahara without a water bottle than imagine winter without bees – or their products. Thyme honey from organic Catalan production contrasts with the bitterness of my vermouth tea, while the scent of melted candle wax warms up childhood memories. And if frosty dryness puts your lips in the state of potholed desert highways, a miracle product from the Golden Crescent can help: Soft Beeswax (Beesline, approx. 7.-). Not vegan, but absolutely essential for survival. At least until the snowflakes bloom and the spring romances start in the movies.
