January 1998
Volume III Issue 1
In this issue:
Editors
Jennie Abbott
Robin Brooks
Submissions
The Irwin Courterly publishes original articles and
illustrations. We edit them to meet our needs. You retain copyright but grant every Irwin
Courterly publication royalty-free permission to reproduce the article or illustration in
print or any other medium. Please send submissions at least one month in advance so that
the editors can read, edit and format the submission.
by Matt Erialist
Post-industrialism, Post-modernism, Post-materialism... In
the post-Cold War era, most ordinary people feel as dumb as a post when they have to
consult Emily Post ex post facto to comprehend their lexical faux pas at the
Post Office. Rather than sending our readers to the dictionary to sort through all the
jargon of post-contemporary American life, this reporter chose to consult Polly Tickle,
scientist-on-call at the Irwin Headcourters, to clarify the key issues of Our Times.
"Forget Bill Bennett's moralistic bedtime stories for
the rich and reactionary," urges Dr. Tickle. "What America needs in these times
of high growth and negative inflation is more spending!" And our expert is referring
as much to conspicuous consumption-of flashy consumer durables, impractical haut
couture clothing, and those little non-necessities that make life more interesting-as
she is to spending on the social safety net. She bases her contention on Ron Ingelhardt's
theory of the post-war settlement, which posits that class conflict lost its salience in
the 1950s. Post-war industrialism put a chicken in every pot and allowed ordinary
Americans to stop worrying about making ends meet and instead to turn their attention to
new cleavages. Instead of a "rich-poor" dichotomy, Americans divided into
identity groups of young and old, public and private, old wealth and nouveau riche,
and, most importantly, competing interest groups. During this period, people abandoned
their loyalties to the Democratic or Republican parties, and began to cultivate authentic values.
The upshot, explains Dr. Tickle, is that "people actually care about politics in the
post-war period. This new development could lead to truly representative democracy for the
first time in the history of the world!"
There are those nay-sayers, such as Samuel Huntington, who
fear that participatory politics constitute a source of disorder, an impediment to free
markets, and an obstacle to democracy. These pessimists believe that strong states are
crucial to reining in the chaos that the masses can cause when they line up at the cash
register to buy their new platform shoes [in these cases, one former Irwin Courtesan, now
living across the street in the pink building, has been known to say "organic food,
schmorganic schmood. I'd rather have new clothes than locally grown produce any day!"
No wonder Huntington is afraid of the unchecked consumer. -eds.].
Dr. Tickle, however, reassured this reporter that such
paranoia is entirely unfounded. "When people are buying things," she argues,
"they are happy. And when they are happy, they have time to think about the
environment, ethno-regional cohesion and peace, and the plight of the less
fortunate."
In short, deflation in today's America means progressive
reforms throughout the world, which in turn means... the crash of the Southeast Asian
stock markets? Well, maybe, but Dr. Tickle suggests that the best way to ride out these
economically turbulent times is on the magic carpet of balance transfers. Buy all the
stereos, tables, reflectively striped jeans, kitchen supplies, clogs, and dry goods that
you can, and pay off your Citibank card with your Chase card. That way, you can support
the technology-based industries of Asia without ever having to actually pay for your
progressivism. There has never been a better way to extract surplus value from limited
resources.
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by Lon Dree
Sam went to the garage to do his laundry, and found one
sock sitting on the machine. He figured his landlady had left it there for him because
she'd found it in the dryer, so he threw it in with his wash, and took it back to his
apartment with the rest of his clothes.
The next day he found a note with his mail; he didn't see
his landlord much, so they left each other notes. "Did you see a sock on the dryer?
Mike left a black wool sock there for me." Sam thought how odd that her husband
should leave dirty laundry like that for her to wash, and went to look for the missing
sock. He hadn't looked closely at the sock, and, never having bought black wool socks,
wasn't sure he'd know one if he saw it. He carefully paired up his collection of socks
that are all the same, since he bought several packages of them all at once sometime, and
was left with an assortment of odd socks. But which was the missing sock he had
mistakenly taken? Were they annoyed that they'd bought these socks and now he had taken
one? Maybe he should leave some money and offer that they could buy some new socks. He
began to worry that he might get evicted for not returning the proper sock, or for taking
it in the first place.
He lives in the basement apartment with a lovely panoramic
view in a house that is entirely beyond his means. When he first visited the house he
thought how nice it would be to be related to people like this so he could have access to
such luxury.
Not wanting to jeopardize his housing arrangement, Sam
gathered up all his odd socks, stuck a rubber band around them, and put them on the dryer
with a note apologizing and explaining that he had thought she'd left it for him from the
last time, and he wasn't sure which sock she was looking for, but hoped it was in the
bunch.
When he got home later he saw that the socks were still
there. Worried, and thinking how odd the whole situation had become, he took them back to
his apartment. Was she mad that he had left all those socks? There was a message on his
answering machine: "Sam, it was so nice of you to leave all those socks. Also, some
of the neighbors have been complaining that we're renting out the basement apartment, so
if anyone asks, you're my cousin." Sam laughed with relief. Not only does he get to
stay (despite the sock incident), but now he's a member of the family.
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by Ray On
Most people appreciate a good, warm sweater made of heavy
cotton or wool. Although post-industrial society has provided Americans with the
historically unique opportunity to wear clothing made of various hydrocarbons, esters, and
plastics, time has proven that a geographical location farther than 10 miles away from the
equator radically decreases the utility of any fibers other than purely natural ones. That
is, of course, provided we are able to stay dry. Ice fishers and other athletes who
continue to engage in their aquatic sports of choice even during the winter months have
more than once been heard to publicly utter the phrase "cotton kills." Perhaps
it was Robin's professed interest in sea kayaking that led to her receipt of a Christmas
sweater synthesized from 50% nylon and 50% polyester [It should be noted that the
sweater's donor tried to pass it off as silk at first, but luckily our savvy heroine read
the tag before donning the sweater to practice her Eskimo rolls in the San Francisco Bay.
-eds.] Robin, however, is well prepared for El Niño in her water resistant jacket
and action slacks. Her bicycle is equipped with fenders, and, in the course of several
weeks of rainy weather, Robin has yet to get wet. What a relief. And she keeps warm by
wearing soft, comfortable cotton clothing under her rain gear.
Even in Colorado, where this season's blizzards seem to
come out of nowhere and drop several feet of slushy, wet snow in the course of minutes,
both fashion and practicality still dictate natural fibers for warmth and comfort. Of
course, anyone with three credit hours of biology under his belt knows that rayon is made
from wood pulp. ("Wood pulp is natural, isn't it?!" exclaimed one enthusiastic
environmentalist, upon putting his Christmas tree out for post-holiday recycling in
Louisville, Kentucky.) The IC's favorite scientific genius, USC nursing student Betsy
Brooks, who also holds down a part-time career in the clothing rental business [yes,
that's "rental," not "retail." -eds.], confirmed this reporter's
suspicions that wood pulp is not a practical component of sweaters for cold climates. She
explained that the bulk of rayon needed to keep a person warm is at least 75% greater than
an equivalently warm wool sweater. It is impossible to pull any vaguely stylish jacket
over this monstrosity!"
Stylish or not, the UN's High Commission on Sweater
Etiquette (UN-SWET), during an extra out-of-session meeting to discuss this important and
controversial issue, proposed a resolution to limit purchases of post-Christmas woolens to
highly personalized items such as hand-knit socks and scarves. In countries where this
resolution has not yet been ratified, citizens should engage in peaceful resistance
against plastic sweaters. In solidarity with the UN's humanitarian goals, the IC urges its
readers to keep in mind that it's the thought that counts. Kindness and hospitality often
substitutes for material gifts in the minds of relatives and close friends.
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by Jennie
You can tell a lot about people by their shoes. When I meet
people I often give them the disdained up-and-down once-over-not to sum up their body
type, but to see what is holding them up, their grounding. At a performance once, someone
in my sister's college singing group introduced his song by informing the audience that he
was only wearing shoes because my sister liked his shoes so much-otherwise he would prefer
to go barefoot. The other day some friends of mine were saying that in order to increase
his desirability, a mutual friend should really have better shoes.
What are good shoes? According to my friend Tamara in
Berkeley, shoes have to be comfortable. Sure, it makes sense. Even in an office job people
put in a good amount of time on their feet. So off we go for Birkenstocks, or these
special clogs with soles that give (not wood).
The young-and-hip of the mid 1990s have a dichotomous shoe
fashion. A large contingent wears running shoes regularly, from the skateboarder
One-Stars, Vans, and Air Walks to the latest Nike monstrosity or Fila engineering
masterpiece. Other chic kids are wearing various combinations of heels and platform shoes.
Who knows if the pants got longer to go over the elevated shoes, or if the shoes grew
taller to allow for long-legged bell-bottoms without the tatters from dragging on
sidewalks and school hallways. I do not mean to forget those who wear platform sneakers,
either.
I don't deny that platform shoes are fun, I even bought
myself a pair. Call it research for this article, but I wore them out in public for the
first time the other day, and other than one comment of "wow!" from a friend who
knows my normal shoe choice (no-heeled, comfortable, sensible), people couldn't tell that
for me it was a farce. They must have figured I was just wearing the fashionable footwear
of the season, as indeed I was. Practically speaking, it made sense in the rain because my
feet were far removed from the puddles.
But back when I started college (which, in fashion time,
was a while ago), I could tell the cool kids by their Doc Martens. It was a reliable rule,
I made several friends knowing that we had a taste in footwear in common, because shoes
aren't just something to wear to protect your feet (though these soles last a long time
and are resistant to various chemicals, as noted on the air-cushioned soles). Shoes are a
fashion statement, and, indeed, a political statement.
But just as politics get co-opted, local coffee shops
become national chains, and organic foods get USDA regulations, Doc Martens started
appearing in malls, not just in Greenwich Village or the Haight, and fake Birkenstocks
appear at Payless Shoe Source. Fashion for the masses becomes widely available, and you
can't tell the cool people by their shoes anymore. We'll have to start talking to people,
getting to know them before evaluating them solely on their footwear. So move on up from
the foundation; judge not just the shoes, but the whole outfit.
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From the internationally renowned
chefs at the Irwin Courterly kitchens
This month the IC is mildly embarrassed to provide its
readers with two utterly unrelated recipes. Do not, repeat DO NOT, attempt serving both of
these dishes at the same meal. Unless, that is, you are also serving up a large dose of
Starch Blockers tablets (weren't those made illegal in the mid-1980s?) to your dinner
guests.
As always, the IC welcomes recipe requests, suggestions,
and revisions. This month, in particular, we seek ideas of vegetables or fruits into which
the eggplant pilaf might be appropriately stuffed (Xip thinks cantaloupe might be fun, but
Jennie was not so impressed by that suggestion), and recipes for a garlic soup that
approximates the delicious and creamy, yet viscous, one that occasionally graced the menu
at Spoleto in Northampton back in our college days.
Cheese Biscuits
These flaky biscuits will surprise you with their
striking resemblance to the ones served as an appetizer at the Red Lobster restaurant. We
recommend serving them with a cream of garlic soup, if you can find a good recipe for one.
(Do not use the garlic soup recipe in Virginia's Cuban cookbook, unless you plan to add
about 6 pounds of potatoes and reduce the number of onions by 75%.)
2 c. flour 3 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
1/2 c. butter or shortening
2/3 c. buttermilk (this ingredient is crucial. No substitutes!)
1 tsp. garlic powder
dried parsley
1 c. grated cheddar cheese
Sift dry ingredients together. Cut butter into dry
ingredients, then add 1/2 cup grated cheese to the mixture. Add buttermilk and mix until
uniform. Drop biscuits into greased muffin tins. (This recipe makes about 12 biscuits.)
Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 cup cheese, a little extra garlic powder, and some dried
parsley atop the biscuits. Bake 12-15 minutes in a 425 degree oven. When done, brush on a
little butter, and serve while still warm.
Pilaf with Eggplant and Pine Nuts
This Turkish dish probably belongs stuffed inside
eggplant or peppers, or maybe cantaloupe, although it is also delicious on its own.
1 c. uncooked Arborio rice
3/4 pound eggplant
1 1/2 c. chopped onions
2+ Tbs. pine nuts
4 Tbs. olive oil
1 tomato, peeled and chopped
1/2 tsp. ground allspice
1/2 tsp. freshly ground pepper
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. sugar
1 1/2 c. chicken stock
1/2 c. chopped fresh dill
Soak the rice for at least 1/2 hour, then drain. Cut the
eggplant into cubes, sprinkle with salt, and let stand at least 30 minutes. Rinse and
squeeze dry. Sauté the eggplant cubes in olive oil until vaguely soft. Set aside.
In a large saucepan, cook onions and pine nuts in olive oil
until golden brown. Add tomato and cook 2-3 minutes, until soft. Add spices and sugar,
stir, then add the rice and cook, stirring constantly, for 5 minutes. Add stock and
eggplant and 1/3 cup dill. Cover and simmer about 15 minutes until all the liquid is
absorbed. Reduce heat to very low, drape a folded kitchen towel over pan, cover with lid,
and let rice steam about 15 minutes longer. Remove from heat and let stand covered about
15 more minutes. Stir gently and serve sprinkled with remaining dill.
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by Tay Bulkloth
It's not every day that one's own home gets to look like a
Williams-Sonoma catalog photo shoot, but Jennie and Robin achieved that distinction one
Sunday afternoon as they prepared for the first dinner party at their new table. The
"oak" table stood proudly on its sturdy legs, gracefully extended to its full
length with the center leaf, and tastefully adorned with cotton mats, napkins and a
hand-embroidered, Bulgarian cloth as the center-piece. Colorful, modern, translucent salt
and pepper shakers, red-stemmed wine glasses, and a matching green matte-glass
candleholder provided eye-catching, three-dimensional ornamentation to the elegant spread.
With the little, white Christmas lights around the room reflecting in the pepper mill
there was no need for silver candlesticks.
The mismatched chairs gave the party an art-deco feel,
which was only enhanced by the funky cosmopolitanism of the diners who attended. Texas
lawyer-turned-computer-programming jazz pianist Tom C. (who resisted the publication of
his full name for privacy's sake) arrived promptly at six-o'clock with cider, mulling
spices, a Merlot and Chardonnay. Syndicated columnist Leta with her husband, Neal, an
acclaimed artist and their son Dunan, pilot-in-training buzzed minutes later. All admired
the new table while Jennie and Robin alternately pulled up chairs from nearby and stirred
the vegetables for the cous-cous.
A successful evening does not begin and end with a great
table, however. The key to this party's atmosphere was the table's placement at an angle
to the entry door on a rag rug whose purple shades echoed in some of the mats and napkins,
as well as the cloth seat covers of some chairs. Beneath the rug was a clean wooden floor
made possible by a new technological addition to apartment 3.. "We owe it all to the
new vacuum!" both Jennie and Robin proclaim, after nearly two years of keeping house
with a broom. "This way the dust doesn't build up in the cracks between the
floor-boards," Robin explained, "the vacuum sucks the dirt out of the
cracks."
Besides having a clean floor for the party's youngest guest
to play on, this elegant, yet functional, apartment yielded many a surprise toy for a
three-year-old Dunan to discover. A soft little ball, Tigger and Pooh bear, and
sand-filled cloth lizards provided plenty of entertainment for young and old, and balanced
the discussion of such heady topics as new Peace Corps opportunities and the oil pipelines
of Eastern Europe and Eurasia.
Every dinner party should have the benefits of a nice table
and excellent company; the Irwin hostesses do not take their fortune in this for granted.
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"The Irwin Courterly looks very distinguished
resting on our coffee table beside The New Yorker and J. Crew."
Caitlin, Brooklyn, NY
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