Here at OC, we are struck by how often we end up in everyday conundrums. The ones that land you in the thick of semi (or full-blown) awkwardness, or maybe, the doghouse.
So, we turned to SIMON COLLINS, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons. Collins recently penned a TOME that explores how and why people get to be so dang successful. To glean a bit of that for ourselves, we've launched SIMON SAYS, in which Collins lends tongue-in-cheek, Brit-bloke advice to our pain-point questions and social entanglements. In honor of Simon's very young birthday today, we're running a special edition on why to choose soufflé over Champagne, every time.
Imagine the following scenario: your friend invites you over to his apartment in New York and fills you to the brim with 2006 Dom Perignon the night before you head to China. Fourteen crumpled hours later, you arrive in Beijing, for your international book tour. Not the best situation. So, I thought this week, rather than addressing the important questions of the moment, I would instead offer some advice on travel. The first one being that the third bottle of any alcohol––while delicious––is not entirely helpful.
Beijing is a glorious city, huge and grid-like, a grid that no one ever escapes. The soupy smog seeps in through any crack in the window and you edge to the shady side of the car hoping the AC will endure. Last night, I went local with my film crew and took a motorcycle rickshaw to meet friends. How anyone can think hurtling down crowded, darkened streets with no lights can be dangerous clearly doesn’t know about the 100 percent safety record that I convinced myself of.
Arriving at a restaurant called Opera (serving Italian fare naturally, as no one eats Chinese food in Beijing), I enjoyed—without question—the best soufflé I have ever had. This was a soufflé so light, it was almost invisible. Which is ironic; the lighter and less noticeable the soufflé, the more it costs. I suppose the ultimate soufflé will be entirely weightless and invisible. The Emperor’s New Soufflé, if you will.
And so I’m left to wonder, is soufflé the new Champagne? You can have more of it, it's just as delightful if not more exquisite, and there are no hangovers to speak of. Luckily, I’ve never found such wonders in New York City, so the problem is moot. Onwards and upwards, like a feather-light soufflé.![]()
Photo courtesy of Simon Collins
So, we turned to SIMON COLLINS, the dean of the School of Fashion at Parsons. Collins recently penned a TOME that explores how and why people get to be so dang successful. To glean a bit of that for ourselves, we've launched SIMON SAYS, in which Collins lends tongue-in-cheek, Brit-bloke advice to our pain-point questions and social entanglements. In honor of Simon's very young birthday today, we're running a special edition on why to choose soufflé over Champagne, every time.
Imagine the following scenario: your friend invites you over to his apartment in New York and fills you to the brim with 2006 Dom Perignon the night before you head to China. Fourteen crumpled hours later, you arrive in Beijing, for your international book tour. Not the best situation. So, I thought this week, rather than addressing the important questions of the moment, I would instead offer some advice on travel. The first one being that the third bottle of any alcohol––while delicious––is not entirely helpful.
Beijing is a glorious city, huge and grid-like, a grid that no one ever escapes. The soupy smog seeps in through any crack in the window and you edge to the shady side of the car hoping the AC will endure. Last night, I went local with my film crew and took a motorcycle rickshaw to meet friends. How anyone can think hurtling down crowded, darkened streets with no lights can be dangerous clearly doesn’t know about the 100 percent safety record that I convinced myself of.
Arriving at a restaurant called Opera (serving Italian fare naturally, as no one eats Chinese food in Beijing), I enjoyed—without question—the best soufflé I have ever had. This was a soufflé so light, it was almost invisible. Which is ironic; the lighter and less noticeable the soufflé, the more it costs. I suppose the ultimate soufflé will be entirely weightless and invisible. The Emperor’s New Soufflé, if you will.
And so I’m left to wonder, is soufflé the new Champagne? You can have more of it, it's just as delightful if not more exquisite, and there are no hangovers to speak of. Luckily, I’ve never found such wonders in New York City, so the problem is moot. Onwards and upwards, like a feather-light soufflé.
Photo courtesy of Simon Collins