I was on assignment this past weekend in Palm Beach (the reason for my absence here on Friday), and Saturday afternoon, strolling down one of the vias off of Worth Avenue, I came to a small jewelry shop where an English bulldog sat watchfully in front of the main case with an even sterner than usual don’t-mess-with-me expression. On the door was a sign: “NOTICE! We take security seriously.”
We watched the last two episodes of “Douglas Is Cancelled” on Britbox the other night, and never have I seen a series take such a dramatic and worthwhile turn. The show that starts out as a witty take on cancel culture becomes, after the halfway mark, a gripping drama about predatory men – and insensitive men who blithely accept the behavior of their predatory colleagues – in the workplace, in this case media. It’s also, winningly, about the strong women who stand up to them.
The Miami Open begins this week:
“They come every spring. In a city that values appearance, they are taller, leaner, fitter than the rest of us. They spend their days outdoors. They don’t (for the most part) waste their night clubbing. They show up on time.
“They make a mockery of our much-vaunted diversity.”
- from "The Subtropical Open," from the June 2024 issue of The Miami Native: https://www.miaminativemag.com/articles/the-subtropical-open
My friend Don first came to Fort Lauderdale for Spring Break sometime in the ’60s. Now, living in Boca, his annual tradition is to come to the Elbo Room for a nostalgic beer. I joined him on Friday, and we stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the traffic and the battalions of young people gathered on the beach
The clientele at the Elbo Room skewed much older. After we finished our beers, we took a stroll up A1A. The bars along the strip were packed exclusively with young men and women, one of whom wore a string bikini with a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. I began to feel very much out of place. But it was an entirely self-generated feeling; no one looked at me as if I didn’t belong because no one looked at me. More than out of place, I was invisible.
A writer friend of mine was recently approached by a blogger pitching him an Oktoberfest story as a guest post on his site. It would talk about the history and cultural significance of the celebration and, so to be suitable for all ages, it would not mention the consumption of beer.
That’s like writing about Wimbledon and not mentioning tennis.
Yesterday I went with my friend Ardy to CACTI Park of the Palm Beaches to watch the Houston Astros play the Washington Nationals. Spring training is the relaxing month (at least for the spectators) of a slow-paced game, so I was surprised by the sight of so many fans already in clothing announcing their affiliations. There were a lot of Astros caps and jerseys, worn by children as well as seniors (we were on the side with their dugout); the boy in front of us sported a jersey bearing Altuve’s name and number, while his father wore a Dodgers cap. I saw a man wearing a Phillies cap with a green P, indicating that his affections extended to the Eagles (and, of course, why wouldn’t they?).
Ardy and I, sitting at the top of Section 101, were about the only people in non-annotated clothing. Though Ardy wore a black cap with an hourglass on it, the logo of the Elderly Brothers – the name he and his brother coined for their recent tour through the South.