Dog Running: Easier Does It


By SARAH TUFF
Published: February 14, 2008

FOR those who run with their dogs, trying to stay fleet of foot with a dog on a leash can be an exercise in futility. While the two-legged jogger aims for an even pace, the four-legged set sniffs, pulls, doubles back and dashes forward, yanking the shoulder socket. Regular leashes can also cause gait problems for serious runners, said Kelly Liljeblad, a dog owner and marathoner from Boulder, Colo. “If you run with the leash in the left hand, you’ll naturally bend to the left,” she explained.

In the last few years, some entrepreneurs and pet-gear companies have introduced hands-free systems, which loop a belt, attached to leash, around the runner’s waist. Recent innovations include swiveling mechanisms for tangle-free runs, quick-release buckles, fixtures for multiple dogs, reflective trim and pouches for personal items.





While recovering from a 2:47:13 finish (the women’s winning time) at the Miami Marathon last month, Ms. Liljeblad tested five sets of hands-free leashes on 20- to 30-minute runs around the Boulder Reservoir. Her co-testers were her yellow Labradors, Aggie and Pre.

LARZ PET GEAR Z-HANDS FREE LEASH $56 ($85 and up for multiple dogs), www.larzpetgear.com. At first, Ms. Liljeblad said, she found the modular attachments “overwhelming” but added that “it is nice to have options.” She rated this system her second favorite. She said, “This swivel mechanism was the best out of all the leashes” and “the padding is great on the belt if your dog pulls a little.” Because of the variety of attachments, “you can basically design your own belt.”

THE BUDDY SYSTEM $26, ($20 for smaller dogs); Lunge Buster, $12.50, www.buddysys.com. A “lightweight, easy-to-use and nonbulky” design earned this “simple” leash best-in-show for Ms. Liljeblad. She liked how it slid around the belt as she ran with Aggie. Also “nice” was the “bungee like” Lunge Buster (the Buddy System has a regular leash). “It was a perfect stiffness and length because it didn’t jerk me around,” Ms. Liljeblad said.

CARDIO CANINE $55, www.cardiocanine.com. Ms. Liljeblad appreciated the water-bottle holder and pocket on the back of this system, modeled after a rock-climbing belt. “This would be great for a long run or even a hike,” said Ms. Liljeblad, who also used the leash’s shortened loop to help steer Aggie. But the “metal latches were bulky and heavy” and she missed the bungee leash and swivel action of some other systems. Pre and Aggie, top, fight over the Cardio Canine.

RUNNING DAWG $21.95, www.runningdawg.com. “This is a nice, simple leash,” said Ms. Liljeblad, who thought the nylon belt pack was very useful. But the bungee-type leash was “a little too soft and flexible” for Ms. Liljeblad and Pre, who “kept forgetting he was on the leash.” She also wished it had a swivel system, and she had concerns about chafing. “The belt strap wasn’t that comfortable,” Ms. Liljeblad said. “But I like the simplicity.”

DOGMATIC FREELEASH PRO $24.99, www.dogmaticproducts.com. New this month, the updated Freeleash Pro has a buckle system designed to withstand 500 pounds of force, but after using it on Pre, Ms. Liljeblad said she “wasn’t crazy about the heavy metal latches.” She did like the quick-release system and the anti-tangle swivel, though it got caught on her jacket a few times. She gave a thumbs-up to the simple design and lightweight, reflective strap.

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A Long-Running Mystery, the Common Cramp


By GINA KOLATA
Published: February 14, 2008

IT can happen for no reason, it seems, taking you completely by surprise. And it can be excruciating. Suddenly, a muscle contracts violently, as if it had been prodded with a jolt of electricity. And it remains balled in a tight knot as painful second after painful second drags on.

A seized calf muscle or a hamstring can be frightening. Swimmers fear they will drown. Cyclists nearly fall off their bikes. Runners drop to the ground, grimacing, gritting their teeth.

The contraction is so strong that you could not will yourself to ball your muscle that tightly. And your muscle is likely to feel sore the next day.



You have had a cramp, an experience so common among endurance athletes, researchers say, that almost everyone who has tried endurance sports has had a muscle cramp or has a friend who has had one.

Cramps afflict 39 percent of marathon runners, 79 percent of triathletes, and 60 percent of cyclists at one time or another, said Dr. Martin P. Schwellnus, a professor of sports medicine at the University of Cape Town.

Cramps can occur during exercise, immediately after, or he said, as long as six hours later.

Yet common as they are and terrible as they can be, no one really understands cramps. They are a medical mystery.

“I would say, bottom line, there is no really convincing biological explanation for muscle cramps,” said Dr. Andrew Marks, a muscle researcher and chairman of the department of physiology and cellular biophysics at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons.

Medical textbooks skirt the topic, he added, often avoiding any explanation. And few scientists have studied cramps.

But as anyone who has ever complained of cramps will attest, lots of advice is circulating on how to avoid them and lots of people — friends, coaches, doctors — think they have a solution.

Take a multivitamin pill to get zinc and magnesium. Massage the muscles. Drink plenty of water. Be sure to get enough electrolytes like sodium and potassium. Stretch before you start to exercise. No, stretch as soon as you finish. See a nutritionist to correct imbalances in your diet. See a trainer to be sure you are moving correctly.

Of course, Dr. Marks said, medical conditions can lead to cramps, including narrowed blood vessels, usually from atherosclerosis, or compression of a nerve, as happens in spinal stenosis. Cramps also can arise from hypothyroidism. And they can be a side effect of medications like diuretics, used to lower blood pressure, which can lead to a potassium deficiency that can cause cramps.

But, he and others said, those conditions do not explain the vast majority of cramps.

“You are left with the fact that cramping usually occurs in healthy people without any underlying disease,” Dr. Marks said.

There are three leading hypotheses about how to treat cramps and how to prevent them.

There’s the dehydration proposal: you just need more fluid. But, Dr. Schwellnus said, he studied athletes who cramped and found that they were no more dehydrated before or after a race than those who did not have cramps.

Then there’s the electrolyte hypothesis: what you really need is sodium and potassium.

Michael F. Bergeron, who directs the environmental physiology laboratory at the Medical College of Georgia, said the electrolyte hypothesis applies to a specific type of cramp that is related to excessive sweating. It occurs, he said, when the fluid that bathes the connection between muscle and nerve is depleted of sodium and potassium, which was lost through sweat. The nerve then becomes hypersensitive, Dr. Bergeron said.

“Usually you feel little twitches first,” he explained. “They last for 20 to 30 minutes and if you don’t do anything you can be in full-blown cramps.” Those cramps, he continued can move from place to place on your body, from one leg to the next, to your arms, stomach, even your fingers or your face.

The solution, Dr. Bergeron said, is to drink salty fluids like Gatorade (the company sponsors his research). He said he had prevented cramps in tennis players this way.

But asked whether there are any rigorous studies to confirm this hypothesis, he said no. “We haven’t done the study yet,” he said. “We’re at the point of kind of connecting the dots.”

The third hypothesis is advanced by Dr. Schwellnus. He questions the electrolyte hypothesis because his studies of Ironman-distance triathletes as well as other studies of endurance athletes found no difference in electrolyte levels between those who suffered cramps and those who did not.

DR. SCHWELLNUS proposes that the real cause of cramping is an imbalance between nerve signals that excite a muscle and those that inhibit its contractions. And that imbalance, he said, occurs when a muscle is growing fatigued.

His solutions for cramps are to exercise less intensely and for shorter times, to be sure you had enough carbohydrates to fuel your muscles, to train sufficiently and to regularly stretch the muscles that give you problems. These recommendations are based on his recent study of Ironman triathletes, Dr. Schwellnus said.

But while he advocates those practices, he said, they have not been proved in a rigorous study.

In the meantime, some doctors have resorted to experimenting on themselves, devising their own explanations and cures.

Dr. Charles van der Horst, an AIDS researcher at the University of North Carolina, said he was stunned when his calf started to cramp without warning when he was running. The pain was almost unbearable, he said, and even when the muscle finally relaxed, it cramped again when he resumed running.

“I started carrying a cellphone with me on long runs,” Dr. van der Horst said. When a cramp struck, he called his wife to ask her to drive out and get him.

“I think I was getting calcium deposits or something,” Dr. van der Horst said.

His solution was to massage his calves at all hours, pushing deep into the muscle. This seems to work, he said, explaining that it’s been a year now since he had a cramp.

Dr. Stephen Liggett, a professor of medicine and physiology at the University of Maryland, has a different solution. He got terrible cramps in his calf during yoga. The culprit, he decided, was the drugs he takes for asthma, which can diminish the body’s supply of potassium. He knew that potassium is sold over the counter. But because high levels of potassium can be dangerous, store-bought potassium supplements are not very strong.

Dr. Liggett’s solution is not one anyone who is not a doctor should try at home. Before he does yoga, he measures the potassium levels in his blood before and after taking what he describes as a hefty dose of over-the-counter supplement. Then he calculates how much additional potassium he thinks he needs, securing it from concentrated potassium tablets from his research lab — how much he declined to say.

“I didn’t want to drink two gallons of Gatorade,” Dr. Liggett explained. He hasn’t had cramps since he began “preloading,” as he calls it, with potassium. But, he said, “I haven’t done a controlled trial.”

Dr. Marks, for one, is not convinced by the evidence for any of the hypotheses, nor by any of the proposed remedies.

What causes cramps?

“I would say the answer to that question is still open to investigation,” he said. And, he added, he hopes someone takes it up.

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Beautiful Models, Hairy Legs and All


Diane Ehricht, with Gidget, at the Westminster dog show in New York on Tuesday.

By GUY TREBAY
Published: February 14, 2008

NOW that Uno, the 15-inch beagle, has captured the crown, becoming the first of his breed to win best in show at the Westminster Kennel Club dog show, and now that more than 2,600 other canine competitors have been leashed and crated and hauled home to familiar kennels and sofas, it seems fitting to consider an overlooked aspect of this crowd-pleasing sport: the strange collision of fashion and dog shows.

“You want something sparkly,” Teri Rosenblatt-Tevlin explained on Monday as she circled her dog through the sawdust of a fenced enclosure by the staging area at Madison Square Garden. “But tasteful,” she added. “You want to look classy but not draw attention away from the dog.”


The dog in question was an Afghan hound named Ch. Poseidon of Mountain Top One, known familiarly as J. P., and based on what he was wearing before the show, he would be a hard dog to outshine. There were the patterned snood and the glossy belted jumpsuit, custom made by Ms. Rosenblatt-Tevlin’s mother to protect the dog from his urine stream.

He also had a luxuriant coat, combed to the texture of the cascading tresses in a L’Oréal ad. The coat was his own, of course, developed to help cope with the frigid winters in mountainous Afghanistan.

While nature provided J. P. with a reason for his foppish appearance, dog show humans have no such excuse for the strangeness of their attire. The rule of thumb at dog shows is “for handlers to be invisible, so they don’t take away from the breed,” said David Frei, the director of communications for the 132-year-old Westminster Kennel Club show.

And for the final night of judging, that rule was generally observed. Under the bright lights in a packed arena, the dogs shone and the handlers, in their dark suits and rubber-soled shoes, tended to recede. Or most did, if one omits Alessandra Folz, who appeared to be making a style statement by wearing a suit of bubble gum pink to conduct the 4-year-old Weimaraner called Marge through the ring.

And why shouldn’t she wear it? Dog shows are essentially fashion shows, after all, demonstrations of the many ways that selective breeding can be used to accommodate alterations in taste. Despite all the marketing and mythologizing about bloodlines extending backward into antiquity, many canine breeds are relatively modern and man-made.

In more than one sense, Westminster bears a resemblance to the New York fashion shows that folded up tents just days before the dog show rolled into town. Both are hybrid forms that marry entertainment to merchandising. Both have a tendency to stir up questions about the relationship between aesthetics and genetics. Both take place in a setting one associates with a circus, although they sell hot dogs at the Garden, and that will never happen under the big top at Bryant Park.

Replace the poodles with Latvian giantesses and the staging area at the Garden could have been any backstage segment from “Full Frontal Fashion.” Everywhere you looked there were fur-bearing divas parked passively on tables, surrounded by adoring and long-suffering handlers who primped and arranged their coiffures. In every corner were Jiffy Steamers, blow-dryers, rat combs, curlers, manicure scissors, cylinder brushes, hot combs and all the other weaponry of the beauty arsenal.

As at many fashion shows, a pale nimbus of hair spray floated above the backstage area. And this caused one to think that when people of the future wonder why they are forced to live in underground tunnels, it will be explained that in the early 21st century the hair spray used to make models look like poodles and poodles look like Lady Bunny ate a hole in the atmosphere.

At Madison Square Garden, as at many fashion shows, a chasm yawns between those who are blessed by nature and those whose job it is to prepare Cinderella for the ball. At Madison Square Garden, as at fashion shows, the anointed beauties perform for a moment and then rush to let down their fur. At Madison Square Garden, there are many reasons to envy dogs their essential nakedness.

These reasons include metallic brocade jackets, novelty jumpers, purple sweatsuit ensembles, sweatshirts with dog portraits outlined in Swarovski crystals, trousers with origami pleats and lug-soled walking shoes of a sort one associates with the lady ornithologist in Hitchcock’s “The Birds.”

“Her coat is called oyster brindle,” said Juan Miranda, a Mexican breeder, as he methodically used a hot comb to straighten the fur of an Afghan bitch known as Ch. Dolce Gabbana of Damos. Unlike many of the handlers at Westminster, Mr. Miranda was simply attired, in a trim D & G suit. He was three hours into a grooming process, he explained, all for perhaps a half-hour in the ring.

In this way, too, dog and fashion shows are alike: orgies of effort yielding transitory effects. “It’s about eight hours altogether,” explained a groomer slumped in a chair beside Remy, the white standard poodle formally known as Ch. Brighton Minimoto. “It’s three hours just for the bath and a couple hours more to clipper her,” the groomer went on, adding that two more hours would be devoted to washing the hair spray out of Remy’s tortured Bret Michaels bouffant, using Dawn dish soap.

Although a favorite to win Westminster, Remy was ultimately beaten by the little beagle Uno. And even in this unanticipated result could be detected elements of fashion.

With her topiary hairdo and visual allusions to the go-go ’80s (“a masterpiece carved with a pair of clippers,” in the words of The Associated Press), Remy’s was probably the wrong look for tough economic times. She was a Christian Lacroix pouf, to strain the analogy. And Uno the beagle was an honest cloth coat, much like the ones Michael Kors showed a week ago in Bryant Park.

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The Sweet Smell of ... Nothing


By NATASHA SINGER
Published: February 14, 2008

PERFUME has long been an aphrodisiac decanted sparingly from an iconic glass bottle. But for Leslie Ware, a fashion editor at a quarterly magazine in Huntsville, Ala., fragrance has worked its magic in the opposite direction, as a romantic deal breaker.

SNIFF, SNIFF The fragrance display at Barneys New York.
Several years ago, Ms. Ware was engaged to a gentleman who did not like Trish McEvoy 9, the fruity vanilla blend she had been wearing for seven years.

“He thought I smelled like a traveling carnival, the kind where they sell corn dogs, because I guess the smell was reminiscent of cotton candy,” Ms. Ware, 28, said. “This was the demise of Trish No. 9.”


It was a bad omen.

Soon after, Ms. Ware said she broke up with the perfume-averse boyfriend. She has not worn fragrance since.

A more recent boyfriend fared no better after he bought Ms. Ware what she called “an old-lady perfume” against her wishes.

“It made me mad,” she said. “I told him not to bother buying me fragrance since I am picky, and now I have a $125 bottle of perfume sitting in a closet.”

Like red roses and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, perfume has traditionally been one of the fail-safe offerings of Valentine’s Day. But this year, as couples sit down to romantic dinners, a small but growing cohort of American women will emit scents that are more corporal and less Chanel. At a time when the number of perfumes on shelves has dramatically increased, consumption of fragrances is declining, industry analysts said. Last year, department stores carried 1,160 different fragrances for women compared with 756 in 2002, according to NPD Group, a market research firm that tracks consumer product sales.

Yet, last year in the United States, spending on upscale women’s fragrances declined, as part of a multiyear trend. The group said $1.97 billion was spent, down from $2 billion in 2002.

Like Ms. Ware, more women are forgoing scent altogether. Last year, about 15 percent of women said they did not wear fragrance, up from 13 percent in 2003, according to a survey of 9,800 women conducted by NPD.

“That may sound like a small number, but nationally that translates into two million more women who are saying ‘I don’t wear fragrance,’ ” said Karen Grant, the senior beauty industry analyst at NPD. “Eighty-five percent of women are still buying fragrance, but an increasing number tell us they are wearing fewer scents, less frequently or not at all.”

Fragrance fatigue is probably inevitable, with heavily fruited scents wafting out of everything from dishwashing liquids to hotel linens to candle displays at the mall. But perfume aversion seems to be tapping into a larger societal phenomenon that may have its origins in bans on cellphones and cigarettes: the idea that the collective demands of the public space trump one’s personal space.

“People are shying away from fragrances not for the traditional reasons that you’d expect, that it is too expensive or that they are wearing alternative products like body sprays or lotions,” Ms. Grant said. “Many people said it bothers them that fragrance has an effect on other people, that they are trying to be considerate by not overcoming others with scent.”

Indeed, Rochelle R. Bloom, the president of the Fragrance Foundation, an industry trade group, said that people who worry that their fragrance may offend others simply may be wearing perfume improperly.

“Your fragrance should never be perceived beyond an arm’s length, it should not proceed you into the room,” Ms. Bloom said.

She suggested that people wear ancillary scent products, like body lotion and bath gel, during the day and save perfume for the evenings and weekends. “The art of wearing fragrance involves not having it interfere with your neighbor.”

People may be noticing and shying away from perfume more at the moment because of a current vogue for potent scents, said Tania Sanchez, an author of “Perfumes: The Guide” (Viking), which is to come out in April. Other industry observers point to the changing nature of romance — less intimacy combined with the greater license to comment on a partner’s personal habits — as, pardon the pun, a disincentive.
“Something in the fabric of relationships is contributing to women, or the men who would have given them fragrance, buying less,” said Leigh Anne Rowinski, a director of client solutions at Information Resources Inc., a market research firm that tracks sales of mass consumer products.

Lapo Elkann, right, spritzes Simon Doonan, Barneys’ creative director, with Outrageous by Frédéric Malle.
Americans spent about $340 million last year on women’s fragrances at chains of big box, food and drug stores, down from about $346 million in 2004, according to Information Resources.

“As people’s lives have gotten busier, their relationships are less intimate, and you have to know someone pretty well to walk into a store and explain what kind of fragrance they might like or not like,” Ms. Rowinski said.

Several women interviewed for this article said their mates had complained on occasion about strong scents that leave a trail in their wake. Daryl Rubin, 21, an account coordinator at a beauty marketing firm in Manhattan, recalled how a college boyfriend begged her to stop wearing her favorite perfume, Angel by Thierry Mugler, which emits a scent not unlike chocolate fondue.

“One day it was just too much for him,” Ms. Rubin said.

Although the relationship ended, she has not risked wearing Angel again because she is worried other people might not be as forthcoming with their distaste as her old boyfriend. “A man is in your personal space, so perfume is like a collective decision for the both of you,” she said.

The idea that some people’s perfumes are other people’s fumes is not new.

In 1738, Alexander Pope wrote in a disparaging verse about over-fragranced nobles: “And all your courtly civet-cats can vent, Perfume to you, to me is excrement.”

Now a few workplaces and cultural sites are trying to become fragrance-free zones. Some doctors’ offices ask patients not to wear perfume because some medical personnel or patients may have allergies or asthma that could be exacerbated by scent. Some schools ask students to forgo perfume and even scented deodorants if a teacher has a fragrance allergy — much like peanut butter has been removed from some cafeterias.

Halifax, Nova Scotia has instituted a “no-scent awareness policy,” which encourages its employees to wear fragrance-free cosmetics. Some arts groups, like the Madison Symphony Orchestra in Wisconsin and the Orlando Opera Company in Florida, ask patrons to curb the cologne.

Wendy Roberts, a mystery writer, said she attends many literary conferences, some of which are designated as fragrance-free. Other conferences, she finds, are mightily perfumed.

“If I am a wearing my strawberry lotion and the person next to me is wearing her apricot soap, then together we smell like a fruit salad gone wrong,” Ms. Roberts said. “If it is a romance conference, my God, you are ready to keel over when you are trapped in an elevator with those smells.”

Indeed, the pervasiveness of such ambient smell may be putting some consumers off scent.

Ms. Roberts said she recently recommended that a fragrance-fatigued friend rip the scent strips out of magazines and throw them in the trash before she carried the periodicals into the house.

The sheer abundance of fragrances on the market these days also may paralyze consumers, said Ms. Sanchez, the author.

“The exhaustion of wading through a tremendous number of fragrances which all smell alike has just turned people off,” Ms. Sanchez said. “If the perfume in the $80 bottle smells like the thing you have in the shower you wash your hair with that you bought for five bucks, then I can imagine you want to hold off until you have the right scent.”

But sometimes couples can reach olfactory accord. Last fall, Robert Flood, a retired technology platform tester in Allen, Tex., worried how to tell his wife of 25 years, Amy, that he could not abide her new perfume, Elizabeth Taylor’s Passion.

“It was very atrocious, at least to me,” Mr. Flood, 52, said in a phone interview last week.

The couple later worked out a compromise so that he would not be discomfited should her scent again stray into his air space. Henceforth, each will choose a fragrance for the other to wear.

“On Valentine’s Day, we will go to one of her favorite stores and she will buy me English Leather and I will buy her Jean Naté, which is the fragrance she was wearing when we had just met and she was 17 going on 18,” Mr. Flood said. “We are not smelling the perfume so much as the memories.”

Indeed, for the Floods, fragrance brings with it the Proustian power of recall. One could argue that those who forgo perfume now may inadvertently diminish at some future date the textural memories of relationships past.

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The Fun Starts Here


Left to right, from top: Tatty Devine Lovely Lady Leigh flower brooch, £26 (about $51) at tattydevine .com. Tarina Tarantino Kokeshi lucite and crystal drop earrings, $75 at tarinatarantino .com. Luc Kieffer resin and crystal cuff, $490, and ring, $250, both at Henri Bendel. Delphine Charlotte Parmentier Gloria Lucite ring, $130, via e-mail, yann.lp@dcp-corp .com. Tatty Devine Lovely Lady Leigh brooch, £53 (about $104) at tattydevine .com. Chanel resin and metal cuff, $1,950 at Chanel. Tarina Tarantino carved Lucite earrings, $45 at Tarina Tarantino (117 Greene Street).

By KRISTINA DECHTER
Published: February 14, 2008

LIGHTEN up, people. When times are tough, take a cue from Mary Poppins and eat some sugar, or go fly a kite. If that doesn’t put a smile on your face, you might delve a little further into the Disney songbook for inspiration. Think a little more “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” and less “Oh, Bother.”



Fortunately, many of this spring’s accessories — bright, playful and plastic — offer a droll antidote for these worrisome days. Created before the “R” word (no, not ruffles) was jumping out at us from the front page, some baubles — from the cultish London label Tatty Devine, from the Paris designer Luc Kieffer, even from Chanel — look straight out of Tom and Jerry.

“Even when clothing trends veer toward conservatism, accessories can break the mold,” said Cynthia Rowley, whose accessories are always good-humored and amusing (as is she). “A playful, unconventional necklace or handbag remains an expression of personal style, even paired with a basic wardrobe.”

While these may be designer pieces, you won’t have to take the hammer to the piggy bank. Actually, that sounds like fun.

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And What About the Straws?


SIP BY SIP Soyeon Lee in a dress from the Nina Valenti juice-pouch collection.
If she wanted it to be purple, she needed more grapes.

By ERIC WILSON
Published: February 14, 2008

IF ever Nina Valenti had fielded a client’s request that sounded less like a challenge from “Project Runway,” she did not know what it was. Ms. Valenti, a Brooklyn designer, was at work on an ensemble for the concert pianist Soyeon Lee, who had asked for a dress made entirely of used juice pouches.


Patrick Andrade for The New York Times

Ms. Lee, who will perform a series of reinvented or reimagined classical pieces at Carnegie Hall on Tuesday, had asked for a dress that was also recycled to promote a program started by her fiancé, Tom Szaky, who collects the juice pouches from schools to be remade into new designs.


“It’s not the most comfortable dress for her to be wearing onstage,” said Ms. Valenti, who designs a line called Naturevsfuture. “But this is about what it represents.”

More than five billion juice pouches are discarded annually by American consumers, said Mr. Szaky, the chief executive of TerraCycle, a company that makes products like plant food and fertilizer from waste. Millions of the pouches have also been sewn into handbags, pencil cases and totes that some of the nation’s largest retailers, including Target, OfficeMax and Walgreens, are to begin selling for $3.99 to $7.99 in April.

The idea, Mr. Szaky said, is to teach young consumers about reusing garbage to make new products, since some children will presumably be able to carry their lunches to school in bags made from the refuse of their lunches.

Ms. Lee’s dress offers a prettier way of seeing the bigger picture. In total, Ms. Valenti stitched together square panels cut from more than 5,000 pouches of Honest Kids Goodness Grapeness (grape flavor had the prettiest shade of purple) into a strapless dress with elaborate layers and wings. It has a silk taffeta lining to give Ms. Lee some breathing room.

“The only thing I’m having trouble with now is figuring out how to come on stage and sit down elegantly,” Ms. Lee said. “The dress sort of has an octopus effect — lots of arms and tentacles.”

Inelegant, perhaps, but easier for playing the piano.

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Chug-a-Lugging Aphrodisiacs


By CINTRA WILSON
Published: February 14, 2008

GRAVITY shifted the items in my dish rack the other day, making the blade of one of my better knives suddenly slide its entire length along the stem of a wet wineglass. It gave me goose bumps, it was such an unexpectedly erotic sound; the kind of foley you’d hear if Liliana Cavani (“The Night Porter”) directed a Batman movie: Zing!

The wineglass shatters on the floor. The finger of a huge black glove stops the quiver of the pale vixen’s lower lip.

Subtleties of eroticism can turn the banal into the fantastic, but Victoria’s Secret has not made its money by being subtle. Its apparent formula for mass-marketing fantasies is to turn the erotic into the banal.


Like a porn star with too many memoirs, Victoria’s secrets are pretty much overexposed at this point. “Ahh, whatever,” Victoria says. “Let me let you in on a little something, girls. You want sex? Hit the guy real hard with blunt sex objects.”

Voilà: Eros demythologized. All double entendres reduced to one big fat entendre for your retail convenience.

The Victoria’s Secret near Herald Square is a slick, two-story mega-sexopolis, catering mainly to the boudoir needs of angry tourists. If Siegfried & Roy ever wanted to start a Nevada chicken-ranch-plus-amusement park — a stretch-lace and animal-print McDonaldland of acceptable corporate erotica for the family casino crowd — this would be the ideal jumping-off point.

Valentine’s Day is a big deal for this chain that regards itself as the answer to the question, “What is sexy?” Victoria’s Secret is, to this holiday, what Toys “R” Us was to Christmas: your one stop for totally unimaginative shopping.

Victoria, after all, can’t be bothered with nuance: She’s got thousands of seductions to perform today. There is a slow striptease happening on the product shelves, at a subconscious level.

Judging by their names — Love Spell, Romantic Wish, Endless Love — lotions on a perfectly innocent, nursery-color wall seem to be hoping a nice boy will ask them to dance at the church mixer. The smell of these hormone-sick unguents is, without exception, both sanitary and cloying, and remarkably like those cardboard fruit deodorizers that livery service drivers hang on their rearview mirrors.

Next comes an entire section of novelties devoted to the martyrdom of St. Valentine: gifts that do all the bedroom begging for you — e.g., boxer shorts that say “Love Me.” A plastic didgeridoo full of Sexy Candy turns out to be those sugar hearts from grade school, but with a PG-13 power dynamic: Beg Me, Dare Me.

“Dream Angels,” according to Victoria’s propaganda, is America’s No. 1 fragrance, which makes sense in an obese nation with no self-control: it smells like an alcoholic Twinkie. In any case, shiny his and her gift boxes are an eyebrow-raising $69.

For lovers aspiring to cannibalism, there is a Very Sexy Edible Body Icing package ($19.50), featuring jars labeled Hot Vanilla, Craving Chocolate and Strawberry Kiss. (A handful of Duncan Hines tubes wrapped in a note that says “Remove Your Clothes” apparently doesn’t pack the same wallop.)

A sticker on the Sexy Little Things body mist begs, “Pick Me Up ... I Purr!” ($20). Sure enough, when I lifted this bottle off the shelf, it propositioned me. I set it down quickly and wiped my hand on my pants.

The nail polish is decidedly more flirty in its pursuit of puppy love: I Won’t Bite, Nibble, Skinny Dip.

And Pet. (Come hither, Gloria Steinem, and bring your flamethrower.)

The lipstick colors are brazenly uninhibited: Satin Sheets, Beg Me, Don’t Stop, Sex Kitten, Sensual.

But the Lip Stain is basically just an all-out, no-frills, escort service drive-thru menu: Quickie, Nubile, Proposition, Unzipped.

“Very Sexy,” shout the rhinestones of a velvet makeup bag, just to hammer the point into a wet pink pulp.

Upstairs, the jailbait orgy is in full swing. “Pink” squeal the bottoms on an entire wing of sorority-style underpants and slumber-sportswear. Mamas, don’t let your babies go to the Royal Academy of Pink. After all, one of the primary goals of parenthood, to paraphrase Chris Rock, is to keep your daughter “off the pole.”

There is a certain charm in directness, if it’s done right. I am concerned, however, that Victoria seems to be acting out feelings of low self-esteem through indiscriminate promiscuity.

Victoria’s Secret did nail my consumer reptile brain a couple of times. There was a small section devoted to rockabilly-esque, vintage undergarments, ripped right off a 1950s pinup girl.

I was taken by a pair of black, high-waist lace knickers that had that paneled, retro-support garment look I think is fetching with garters and black seam thigh-highs ($24). Very Mickey Spillane.

An attractive saleswoman, whose chest was covered in enough body glitter to be a solar panel, disagreed: “Put that down! You don’t need that. You got nothing to hold in.”

I asked about her experience of this annual rush.

“At least people are happy when they come in for Valentine’s Day. The rest of the time? Thpppppf.” She punctuated this raspberry with a thumbs-down.

She consoled me after informing me they have discontinued Size 32C in my favorite push-up bra, and offered alternatives. (I bought the 34B, but I must say, it doesn’t hold the same magic.) When I finally reached the cashiers at the end of the long, casino-buffet-style, human-cattle-processing line, I confess I also bought the Mickey Spillane panties. They don’t go overboard. They’re almost subtle.

Batman, I thought, might like them. Hey, Dark Knight. Wanna be my Valentine? I’ll crack open a bottle of sparkling body mist. It talks a blue streak, but it smells like a bundt cake.

Puurrrrrrfect.

Victoria’s Secret

1328 Broadway (Herald Square); (212) 356-8380.

SEXY An exhaustive inventory offers goods suggestive enough for even the most torpid imaginations.

TOO SEXY Among the vampish sateens on the second floor, look for the batch of ruffly pastel costume-drama pantaloons, perfect for that Malmaison weekend, or perhaps a community production of “The Best Little Whorehouse on the Prairie.”

O.K., ENOUGH WITH THE SEXY Avoid the shamelessly overpriced Just Cavalli collection, a line of Vegas-style bras and thongs halfheartedly graffitied with the Cavalli signature in rhinestones. But a certain red lace push-up with rhinestones flourishes and leopard-print interior might inspire even Miss Havisham to put a trapeze in the bedroom ($68).

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