Patrick Pierazzoli: Rubber Couture
Sex is a fine thing, I hope we can all agree on that. However, very few people want to get pregnant, and nobody needs sexually transmitted diseases. The condom has been providing valuable services to minimize risks and side effects during intimate intercourse since 1870. The first rubber condom mass-produced by Charles Goodyear was still two millimeters thick and sewn, but it worked pretty well for its time. End of the 19. At the end of the 19th century, the company Maison A. Claverie launched the first rolled-up condom on the market under the name “Le Parisien”. In 1912, Julius Fromm invented a method of producing seamless condoms, and from 1930 these were made of latex and produced in ever larger quantities. Today, condoms are high-tech. They come in all shapes, sizes and designs, and recently also from Saint Laurent (on ysl.com). The couture rubbers may not be able to do more than others, but they look better in their little dresses with zebra, checkerboard or polka dot prints, and for two euros each they are a bargain for a real Saint Laurent outfit.
Marina Warth: The Grinch
Since the thermometer dropped below twenty degrees, the Christmas mailings have been piling up in my inbox. I guess that’s called professional fate, having to be supplied with gift tips in October. I hate that. Yes, hate is a strong word, but I’m really not into all the glittery stuff in the fall, jingles and movies and gingerbread on the shelf when there should still be pumpkins. Treat me to a long transition period, walks in the golden forest, chestnuts in the rustling bag and red cabbage on the plate. Wham! and “Home Alone” come soon enough, not to mention the snow. The only thing on this page that will make even a Christmas stalker like me smile. Cinnamon buns, these miracle buns made from yeast dough, butter and this mixture of cinnamon and sugar, which taste best fresh from the oven and straight from the tray. There is no seasonality for me, only unconditional love.
Marco Rüegg: Spin me round
The air is so thick that it creeps viscously through the nostrils, impregnated with the smoke of cigars, the vapors of sweating bodies, the beer foam that has evaporated in the heat of the moment. End of November 1978. The taps in Zurich’s Hallenstadion are running around the clock, racing bikes race around the time-honored hall on the wooden track, 148 hours in a row. At the traditional six-day race (which has been history since 2014), the cracks pedal for points, bonuses and kisses from the ladies of honor. The graphic novel “Die Nacht, in der ich Eddy Merckx bezwang” by illustrator Marc Locatelli (Edition Moderne, 24.-) follows the fictional amateur Loki as he causes a minor sensation. A sharp-witted trip back to a romantic era of cycling, long before doping scandals and electric motors.
