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WE'RE SUPPORTING

Born in St Petersbourg, and raised in Beirut by his Russian-Estonian mother and Lebanese father, autodidactic photographer Sherif Elhage now lives in Paris. Phew! He employs no corrective methods to his photography, so the composition of the colour and the original framing are integral elements of Sherif’s work. Read more

WE'RE THINKING

Argentinean artist Benito Laren’s illustrations roll through the mind like a restless childhood memory. They remind me of building blocks — solid, inviting and always full of potential.

Back in the day, New Zealand pop absurdists, Split Enz were the finest damn Australasian band around. This track, I Walk Away, off their final album — Spellbound — is their ultimate moment: a hefty dose of pure melodic majestry, wrapped around the aching lyrics and quirky arrangements of genius frontman, Neil Finn.

WE'RE TRAVELLING TO

Located just off of the J train on the Marcy stop is Marlowe & Sons at 81 Broadway. Whatever the night of the week, this place seems to always be packed. Dimly lit, and intimately laid out, Marlowe & Sons offers a low-key vibe, with a great selections of cheeses and meats, as well as a limited dinner selection. It’s a great place to head to when all you want is to unwind from the frenzy of Manhattan. Consider this your first tasty rest stop in Brooklyn.

WE'RE READING

Now, c’mon, if you had the chance to lay a clever one liner on William Shatner, you would, right? Yeah. If you could look him in the eyes, gently brush his laser gun out of your face, and unleash that killer put down that you’ve had swirling around the deepest cavaties of your subconcious ever since episode six of the fourth series, you’d grab it with both hands and offer up a thanks to those strange looking alien creatures who rule our universe. Well, guess what? You can. And while you’re at it, why don’t you give Dustin Diamond an ear full, too. Ah, the joys of unrequited paybacks.

WE'RE LISTENING TO

I’ve heard whispers that Kings Of Convenience, the Norwegian duo of folkloric proportions, have split. I hope they’re unfounded, but like all good rumours, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Perhaps Erland Oye is enjoying the unlimited scope of his solo career too much? And then there’s his new submorphic guitar pop project, The Whitest Boy Alive, to keep him occupied. The whitest boy alive? Indeed he is. But damn the guy can sing.

WE'RE WEARING

LA-based designer label Grey Ant has been under my radar for quite some time now, but the Spring 08 collection is what really made me a ‘Grey Ant junkie’. Read more