Via Pleated Jeans

Happily, my last few big flights have been business class (which I’ve already enthused about), but who hasn’t been in this seat at least once? See also: the Travel Annoyance-Off.

But I was reminded of a previous fail ‘o’ the day involving backpacking in a floral onesie when I flipped through Travel + Leisure’s Best Travel Gifts of 2010. While there was one item (out of 68) that I liked, the rest seemed almost determined to avoid being useful to people who actually travel.

Via Travel + Leisure

• “Set the mood in your hotel room with a travel-size, hand-poured soy candle, from $15, Linnea’s Lights.” At least it’s not a full-sized candle, weighing down your bag and putting you over the weight limit for your checked luggage. But even so, doesn’t every single hotel in the world, much less B&B, ask you not to light a fire in your room?  Please don’t burn down the room next to me. Thanks.
• These shoes might actually be uglier than the mandles we made fun of last summer. You be the judge.
• Yikes. Just….yikes.
• This qualifies as a travel gift–how? And on a related note–be sure not to leave this behind in the hotel room. Either that, or just spend your money on a round-the-world ticket in the first place instead.
• Well, at least your travel companion won’t need GPS–they’ll be able to spot you wherever you are on the mountain or in town.
• Honey, did you pack the crock pot?
• And, lastly, “IPATH shoes are known for their ‘stash pocket,’ a hidden compartment under the tongue—perfect for hiding a few emergency bucks while on the road.” Yes, a “stash pocket” in your shoes is for hiding…cash. You know, the green stuff. Have these people ever actually met a snowboarder?

Hope your gift-giving and gift-receiving goes a little better than this, and happy xmas!

My suspicion is that people have way too much Internet-and-cable-teevee time on their hands if they’re getting seriously upset about this stuff. This Forbes writer–who, based on his profile pictures, seems way creepier than the guys in the SNL video–refers to “YouTube videos of children being terrorized by TSA screeners.”

OK, cowboy, settle down. What I saw was a kiddo having a tantrum, just exactly like every child under four on my flight on Saturday–in the security line, once the plane was in the air, in the line for the bathroom, in their seats, kicking the seats in front of them. Toddlers (mental or otherwise) should probably not decide our airport security policy one way or the other.

Prediction: “National Opt-Out Day” will amount to a storm in a Twitter teapot, but not much in real life. Seriously, middle-aged straight men of America: Your berries are just not that interesting, much less photogenic. Can you please stop holding up the security line so that I can I get to my gate already?

Imagine working at New York’s tourism office right after 9/11. Ouch.

We’ve discussed New Orleans’ smart ad campaign to combat the negative stereotypes surrounding the oil spill and Hurricane Katrina. It’s been five years since the levees broke, and the city has had a lot of attention to mark the anniversary, most notably GOOD magazine’s entire issue about the rebuilding of the city. Things seem to be looking up for the Big Easy.

The city now boasts more than 300 new restaurants, hotels have undergone $400 million in improvements, and there are new cultural attractions such as The Audubon Insectarium and The Southern Food and Beverage Museum. And tourism jobs are up to 70,000, slightly below a pre-Katrina high of 85,000.

What do tourist bureaus, do, however, when a massively popular television series takes the entire town’s system to task? For five years?

I’m talking, of course, about the HBO series The Wire, and the city of Baltimore. I’m one of those arrived-late-in-the-game-viewers of the critically-acclaimed series, and I am seriously addicted to this show. Each season looks at a different aspect of what has contributed to the city’s overall drug, unemployment, homeless and violence issues, via the streets, political and school system, and the media. It paints a completely bleak and harrowing look at the town.

How on earth do the people at Baltimore’s visitors bureau fight the perception brought on by The Wire? I have to believe that series caused a problem for their tourist industry. This is a great piece about how the show fuels this perception:

You could argue that The Wire gives a distorted image of Baltimore. The story rarely takes us to the safe, affluent areas of the city, and they do exist – the Inner Harbor, for example. Home to a public aquarium, a science centre and a “festival marketplace” (a complex of shops and restaurants), the Inner Harbor is superficially a pleasant place to visit, and attracts thousands of tourists. But if The Wire has taught us anything, it is not to trust appearances. The area was redeveloped in the 1970s and 80s under the auspices of mayor William Donald Schaefer, through a public-private partnership. As well as the aquarium, some hotels and a convention centre were constructed with a view to attracting tourist and “hospitality” dollars to the city. But an even larger convention centre was subsequently needed to make the plan work. Then, it emerged, an even larger hotel was needed to make that work. The result was a phenomenon Harvey calls “feeding the downtown monster”.

I laughed hysterically when I saw the city’s latest campaign: Find Your Happy Place in Baltimore. They’re using social media, and made their website all friendly and whatnot. But after watching that show, and visiting a few times myself, it feels like a serious stretch.

I wonder if New Orleans is at all concerned about David Simon’s (the creator of The Wire) new series, Treme. Named after an area in New Orleans, and set three months after the Katrina disaster, the show explores how citizens of the city rebuild their lives. I’ve heard it isn’t as gritty as The Wire, but it’s only begun. Simon’s genius is how he shows a city’s dysfunction on every level.

I’m not convinced even the savviest of PR tourist campaigns can salvage a town’s image once Simon rides into town.

Your Reader Tips section is the worst. It’s a mix of un-eco buy-this-at-a-dollar-store-in-Hawaii advice, mixed with Reader’s Digest style inanity. In short, it’s Boomers Gone Wild, and they are inordinately preoccupied with pickpockets, plastic bags, and preventing moisture damage. Please stop encouraging them. To wit, some examples from this month’s issue. Each of these are from individual writers, but I don’t want to list their names–I’m too embarrassed for them.

“Talcum powder…full-size bottles are too bulky to fit in my suitcase. Instead, I fill up an herb jar.”

May I recommend an incredible new invention called the travel-sized item?

“Luggage tags with zippers are great for carrying credit cards and cash. Just fasten one to your belt loop, tuck it under your waist band and inside your pants.”

Let’s just set aside the horror of the French shopkeeper as you reach into your sweaty waistband to pull out your cash. Instead, I’m going to think about the Thai waitress who assumes that all Americans don’t understand what a luggage tag is. Please stop.

“I like to collect silica gel packs…[and] when I travel to humid locations, tuck them into Ziplock bags with my camera…no moisture problems yet!”

Have you considered not locking your camera into a plastic bag in the first place?

“I always bring a Polaroid PoGo instant mobile printer…whenever I give someone my business card, I print a picture of myself on adhesive Zink photo paper and attach it to the back of my card.”

“Hold on a minute, please. I’m just going to take this picture of myself, pull out my travel printer, and affix this to the card.” Awkward 10 minutes follow, when the card recipient wishes she had stayed in her hotel room. Also, they make cards now you can get at home with your photo already on them. Some items shouldn’t be travel-sized–like printers.

“Before I go traveling with my laptop, I download product manuals….Not only can I leave the bulky instruction books at home, but I never have to leaf through reams of paper.”

Two things. You read product manuals? And take them with you on trips? Really?

Budget Travel, these posts diminish your brand. They make me think you don’t understand modern travel, and are instead are most interested serving the same group of people scared to leave their house for the pickpocketing wilds of Paris.

One small other tidbit: The piece this month on the Oregon Coast was just lazy. The writer stopped in a crab shack, and then he popped in a couple shops in Manzanita and Cannon Beach.

From the way it was written, it seems as thought he never made it past the lot at Oswald West State Park (“when I arrived, surfers were wrapping up a midday session tugging off hoods and wetsuits”–no description of the trails, protected cove, or tidal pools that you’d see from the beach itself). Oswald West has gotten crowded anyway, so I guess that’s a good thing. But a write-up of the Oregon Coast should include details about hikes, places to stay, and the beaches themselves, not just ruminations of how it’s changed since the author was there last.

I’m worried about you, Budget Travel. In an era where guidebooks are becoming ever-less relevant compared to social media, a print magazine needs to be fantastic, inventive, and innovative. It needs to have advice and tips that apply to us, the modern travel set, not to the crazy people who carry everything in their bag in a ziplock, and not to the lazy, indulgent writers who want to ruminate about their own childhoods instead of offering advice.

Please get better soon. We really are fond of you, and want you to survive the Great Recession.

Via the Guardian

But a fashion journalist should know better. Which is why “What to Pack: Fashion and Gadgets for Backpackers” from the otherwise savvy Guardian earned a big fat fail.

Let’s start with the smaller violations, and work our way up to the big one.

Fugly boots are not fashionable, no matter who wore them for an Amazon trek.

Admittedly, I’ve never seen a stylish backpack, but even so, I’m pretty sure this is just run-of-the-mill.

How about an impractical, be-tasseled scarf, sure to add some extra weight to your pack?

But it’s this item–both impractical and hideous–that just kind of makes me angry. In general, I’m not a fan of the onesie for women. Add to that the idea of stripping off my top in the woods to pee in order to bunch up an eyesore of a floral jumpsuit in one hand. Fail.

If I was a Photoshop whiz, I’d create an artists rendition of this fashionable backpacker, rocking her onesie, scarf, boots, and backpack on the trail. But it might cause seizures upon viewing.

I was carrying powdered soap and a scented candle someone had given me as a gift, and that just about threw the Midwest TSA guys into a complete tizzy.

“We’ve got a live one here.”

Yes. That’s what they said. About my scented candle and powdered cleanser. In Madison, Wisconsin. Before I knew it, SIX of them were staring at the x-ray machine determining whether or not I was carrying materials for some sort of explosive device. They tore apart my entire bag. I was beyond annoyed.

I seriously hate checking my luggage, but my biggest challenge with carrying on is the liquid conundrum. The whole must-be-under-3 ounces thing really drives me nuts, and fitting everything in the small ziplock bag thing is beyond stupid. I find myself ripping apart my bathroom before every trip searching for my travel-sized bottles while I stand there maniacally squeezing my various cleansers, shampoos, etc. into these containers.

So lately I’ve been obsessed with circumventing this issue à la powdered soap. And I recently came across this product by Flight 001 that bills itself as paper shampoo. I bet a zillion dollars it doesn’t work well, but I’m intrigued.

Who knows, though, it might just make the Madison TSA dudes have a total mind meltdown.

Dezeen magazine reports on his unbelievably hideous Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health which recently opened in Las Vegas. Imagine the low man on the totem pole in Gehry’s office stuck on this project for three years. He or she would seriously have to have his or her own brain examined upon the building’s completion.

Photo credit: Christophotographer

Don’t get me wrong. I think some of Gehry’s buildings work. I don’t mind the Experience Music Project in my own backyard because it accurately reflects its content: a rock and roll museum. And Lia is a fan of the Bilbao Guggenheim because it’s a museum of MODERN ART.

But CENTER FOR BRAIN HEALTH? Why can’t he stop with the funky curvy buildings? Was he REALLY the best architect for this project?

This just makes me angry. And it’s so classic Vegas.

Thankfully, the comments in the Dezeen piece provide great comedic relief:

Clark Says:

Is it just me or should structure dedicated to brain health and function not be so… well… crazy? As a form and building, I love it. But the application almost seems insulting.

Jan Says:

Maybe they can accept Gehry as the first patient…

However, when I saw this on Virgin America’s Twitter feed, I was immediately annoyed.

Look, I can appreciate attempting to green your business. But flying isn’t green. At all.

It irritates me that Virgin is publicizing this. It’s like an oil company promoting itself as sustainable. Feels hollow these days, doesn’t it?

I would caution the airline on capitalizing too much on this newest ranking. Because this is essentially the definition of greenwashing.

The tweet does link to the piece which has this at the end (thank goodness):

No matter which way you cut it flying is a highly carbon intensive activity–though interestingly when TreeHugger compared different long distance travel methods, driving from New York to Los Angeles by yourself in a car getting average fuel economy was similar–the notion of a green airline when fossil fuels are involved is a bit of an oxymoron.

At this stage, the airline business cannot be green. Period.

Admittedly, I’m hampered by two things: A hope for a stylish interior, and a desire for ample amounts of the single most important hotel entity. I know it’s possible, mostly because of my new favorite NYC hotel.

The Crescent Hotel was an early failure, because of a design that allowed lobby parties–and D.J. selections–to waft directly down the hall to my room. I was woken up by two people drunkenly banging against my door in the middle of the night.

Maison 160 had admittedly beautiful interiors–I painted a wall in my house a green-grey shade based on what I saw there. But I asked to change rooms based on ambient noise from the room next door. No one likes a 6 a.m. TV that’s not their own.

I had fun staying at the Avalon with Betty, but that was more about the company than the room. They put us in an adjacent building that required crossing a scuzzy alley to get back and forth to the lobby. Fail.

Normally, I like Kimpton hotels, but Palomar wasn’t quite as good as their others. First, the location is truly in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, I had a rental car, but it’s also in one of those L.A. locations that necessitates paying for parking, which topped $20 a day. Yuck.

So I should have gone into a night at the Farmer’s Daughter with eyes wide open. But I was hopeful. It has a location in West Hollywood, close to both a good friend and the farmer’s market, where I pictured myself having a second cup of coffee in the morning. Maybe we’d go steady.

I checked in, and thought: So far, so good. The photo of the lobby below wasn’t that far removed from their wide-angle shot on their website:

Unfortunately, that’s where the similarities ended.

As it turns out, the building was essentially two no-tell motels that had been converted into one hipster hotel.

I’m assuming that’s why there are no photos like this that appear on their website’s photo gallery:

Seriously? It should, by rights, be called the Farmer’s Daughter motel.

I hate exterior hallways–there’s always going to be more noise by the very fact that it’s exposed to the elements (and, in this case, a restaurant, bar, and pool). The floors in the room were some kind of linoleum, which also carried noise…and wound up denting my iPhone when I dropped it during the night.

The Dutch have a great word, gezellig, which basically means cozy. Every hotel I’ve stayed at in L.A. is so obsessed with coolness that it’s thrown coziness out the window and then shot it a couple of times for good measure.

Gluing farm implements on the wall isn’t cozy or good design. Of course, I probably got what I deserved for staying in a place that thinks that this is a savvy advertising strategy (marginally NSFW).

Yeech.

Hope–and bad plastic surgery–springs eternal when it comes to L.A., though. And if you know of a spot you’re loyal to that’s got the golden ingredients of quietness, cozy, and good design, won’t you drop us a line?