When I'm rich and eccentric,
I'm gonna put a mini photography studio in my kitchen. No, not the main kitchen--I wouldn't mess with the setup and layout of my personal chef's stuff. The auxiliary kitchen, where I get to cook when I want to. (Side note: yes, I will have two kitchens. That's not that eccentric, is it?)
There's good food photography and there's bad food photography. Good food photography is like the stuff they do for fast food chains--it can make even crappy food look delicious. It's a whole industry (or at least a large niche in the professional photography industry) and people have jobs based solely around arranging and photographing food--these people are called "food stylists."
Bad food photography is the type used by cheap Chinese restaurants--all washed out and unappetizing. Bad food photography is the kind you snap in a restaurant on your cell phone. It's dark, yellowish due to lack of good white balance, greasy-looking from the shine on the flash, and most importantly, it makes food look bad. Even food that tastes delicious and looks delicious in person looks disgusting in most people's pictures.
Picture this:
In the corner of my kitchen will be a standard countertop, with that rounded edge that fades into the wall of the backdrop (like the pros). When I want to photograph something I've made, I put the item on that part of the counter. Then I press a button and bam! a camera swings down from the underside of the cabinet, with a big touch-screen monitor to control it on the back side. Meanwhile, the photo-quality fill lights rotate in from arms embedded in the underside of the cabinet to provide that 6500K pro-photo look. The other lights automatically dim, and I can take the perfect photo. Now my food looks as gooooooood as it tastes.
When I turn it off, everything will recede into the underside of the cabinets, the lights will come on again, and I can keep cooking.
Last thing: since I'm putting all this tech in my kitchen, why not wire up a sweet sound system and disco ball setup in there? How about projectors on the walls pointing the way to the next ingredient in the recipe? How about an interactive floor, like in Wall-E or the Metreon?
I'll take one of each.
P.S. While I was looking up Wall-E on google, this came up. WTH?
December 15, 2011
October 21, 2011
Concept Cafés: Part 1
When I'm rich and eccentric,
I'm gonna start several concept café chains across the nation. I won't care if they don't make any money, and they'll be too hip and edgy to stay out of the news, thus solidifying my reputation as a rich eccentric.
Café the first:
Sac
First, an honorable mention to my friend Aaron, who came up with the concept itself. I know it's kind of cheating to post this online when it's his intellectual property, but I retell this idea so often that I think it's high time more people saw it. I've also embellished the concept significantly.
Picture it: you walk in to the bar. It's halfway between steampunk and distressed-industrial chic, with dark hardwood floors, brass-and-leather booths, and mahogany everywhere. Everywhere. On the ceiling, copper tracks crisscross over the tables, passing through windows high in the walls to disappear into the kitchen.
You sit down at the bar, a table, or a booth with your friends and order drinks. But your expected portioning of "pitcher", "bottle", and "glass" is nonexistent. The waiter takes your order with a quill on handmade paper, using a pounded brass sheet as a writing surface. He walks away.
After a few minutes, he arrives with a platter. Instead of the glasses you're expecting, atop the tray lie several leather-and-wood goblets in the rough shape of egg holders. These goblets bear small leather bladders, stitched together with catgut. He passes these out and hands each of you a straw that's like yerba mate meets capri-sun, all ornamented up. How to get at your drink? Stab that bladder with the straw and drain your drink!
Edgy. Vintage. Sac.
Let's say you order something larger than a single drink--something like a bottle of wine. A couple minutes after ordering, you notice a dark shape looming at you from the ceiling. As it comes closer, you see your waiter acting the railroad conductor, pulling a giant hanging leather balloon of beverage along the tracks in the ceiling. It'll be suspended from twine like one of those old-school hot air balloons, but upside down. You receive several hookah-style hoses with sharp ends and little nozzles right by the mouthpiece. Stab the bottom and turn the nozzle and you're all enjoying some '64 Syrah. So there you are, sipping on hookah-beer from a giant looming leather hot-air balloon hanging over your table.
Classy. Awesome. Sac.
Some advantages of bladders: easy cleanup, lowered possibility of spillage, and no open-container laws to worry about. Plus, passing a drink down the bar would be badass on tracks.
I myself would have a table set up on a balcony with a motorized section of track to send drinks up. I'd have premium leather on my drinks, printed with some cool designs or something--not that I'd need to do anything else to be more eccentric. I think leather-bound drinks on ceiling tracks is pretty out there.
Look for Sac in your city soon.
I'm gonna start several concept café chains across the nation. I won't care if they don't make any money, and they'll be too hip and edgy to stay out of the news, thus solidifying my reputation as a rich eccentric.
Café the first:
Sac
First, an honorable mention to my friend Aaron, who came up with the concept itself. I know it's kind of cheating to post this online when it's his intellectual property, but I retell this idea so often that I think it's high time more people saw it. I've also embellished the concept significantly.
Picture it: you walk in to the bar. It's halfway between steampunk and distressed-industrial chic, with dark hardwood floors, brass-and-leather booths, and mahogany everywhere. Everywhere. On the ceiling, copper tracks crisscross over the tables, passing through windows high in the walls to disappear into the kitchen.
You sit down at the bar, a table, or a booth with your friends and order drinks. But your expected portioning of "pitcher", "bottle", and "glass" is nonexistent. The waiter takes your order with a quill on handmade paper, using a pounded brass sheet as a writing surface. He walks away.
After a few minutes, he arrives with a platter. Instead of the glasses you're expecting, atop the tray lie several leather-and-wood goblets in the rough shape of egg holders. These goblets bear small leather bladders, stitched together with catgut. He passes these out and hands each of you a straw that's like yerba mate meets capri-sun, all ornamented up. How to get at your drink? Stab that bladder with the straw and drain your drink!
Edgy. Vintage. Sac.
Let's say you order something larger than a single drink--something like a bottle of wine. A couple minutes after ordering, you notice a dark shape looming at you from the ceiling. As it comes closer, you see your waiter acting the railroad conductor, pulling a giant hanging leather balloon of beverage along the tracks in the ceiling. It'll be suspended from twine like one of those old-school hot air balloons, but upside down. You receive several hookah-style hoses with sharp ends and little nozzles right by the mouthpiece. Stab the bottom and turn the nozzle and you're all enjoying some '64 Syrah. So there you are, sipping on hookah-beer from a giant looming leather hot-air balloon hanging over your table.
Classy. Awesome. Sac.
Some advantages of bladders: easy cleanup, lowered possibility of spillage, and no open-container laws to worry about. Plus, passing a drink down the bar would be badass on tracks.
I myself would have a table set up on a balcony with a motorized section of track to send drinks up. I'd have premium leather on my drinks, printed with some cool designs or something--not that I'd need to do anything else to be more eccentric. I think leather-bound drinks on ceiling tracks is pretty out there.
Look for Sac in your city soon.
September 22, 2011
Honorable Mention: King Ludwig II
A shout out to my definitely rich, definitely eccentric homey, King Ludwig II.
For those of you who don't want to check the article on this guy, he was the king of Bavaria from 1864 to 1886 and was definitely, definitely crazy. Aside from commissioning the Neuschwanstein castle (which is credited with inspiring Walt Disney to build Disney castle in that style), he had some really interesting stuff built in his Versailles-themed castle, Linderhof Palace.
Before I get to the thing I really enjoy about Linderhof, I'll quote from the Wikipedia article about one room in the castle:
But that's not even the best part about this palace. No, the best part is the so-called Venus Grotto. What is this grotto, you ask? Well, it's a cave. An artificial cave.
You see, Ludwig II clearly spent no time ruling the country, so he had to take up his time doing something. So he commissioned an artificial cave to be built in the image of something from Richard Wagner's operas. In fact, he liked Wagner so much that he built a room in his castle to house the composer. (Wagner, apparently, was happy to accept boatloads of money from the king.)
What did he do in the cave? First, take a look at the thing. It's awesome. He listened to Wagner's operas while floating around his private bat-cave. He had a stage and an orchestra pit. He even had dynamos installed to light the cave in different colors. He had a swan boat to float around an artificial lake in an artificial cave with dynamic lighting. Might I remind you that this was the 19th century?
So, to summarize: In one of his many castles, King Ludwig II built a private underground lake/cave in which he could float around on a swan boat listening to private performances of Wagner operas.
He was obviously very rich. And if an opera cave isn't eccentric, I don't know what is.
For those of you who don't want to check the article on this guy, he was the king of Bavaria from 1864 to 1886 and was definitely, definitely crazy. Aside from commissioning the Neuschwanstein castle (which is credited with inspiring Walt Disney to build Disney castle in that style), he had some really interesting stuff built in his Versailles-themed castle, Linderhof Palace.
Before I get to the thing I really enjoy about Linderhof, I'll quote from the Wikipedia article about one room in the castle:
Hall of MirrorsApparently this room had an ostrich plume carpet. That's class. It's also worth specifically pointing out that Ludwig used to sleep during the day and stay up all night. My kind of guy.
This room was used by the king as some kind of living room. He enjoyed sitting in the niche, sometimes reading there the whole night. Because Ludwig II used to sleep in the daytime and stay awake in the night, the mirrors created an unimaginable effect for him when they reflected the light of the candles a thousand times.
But that's not even the best part about this palace. No, the best part is the so-called Venus Grotto. What is this grotto, you ask? Well, it's a cave. An artificial cave.
You see, Ludwig II clearly spent no time ruling the country, so he had to take up his time doing something. So he commissioned an artificial cave to be built in the image of something from Richard Wagner's operas. In fact, he liked Wagner so much that he built a room in his castle to house the composer. (Wagner, apparently, was happy to accept boatloads of money from the king.)
What did he do in the cave? First, take a look at the thing. It's awesome. He listened to Wagner's operas while floating around his private bat-cave. He had a stage and an orchestra pit. He even had dynamos installed to light the cave in different colors. He had a swan boat to float around an artificial lake in an artificial cave with dynamic lighting. Might I remind you that this was the 19th century?
So, to summarize: In one of his many castles, King Ludwig II built a private underground lake/cave in which he could float around on a swan boat listening to private performances of Wagner operas.
He was obviously very rich. And if an opera cave isn't eccentric, I don't know what is.
September 14, 2011
Bigass Gabled Awning
When I'm rich and eccentric,
I'm gonna have a huge fucking awning on the front of my house. Just like this.
I actually passed this building on my way back from Santa Rosa. It's a winery and hotel between Santa Rosa and Sonoma, and it's absolutely fucking ridiculous. I thought the slant of the roof was the best part of the building--it would be nowhere near as awesome as it is without that improbably steep roof.
And nothing says 'old money' like those hotel awnings that people pull through in front of the hotel and the valet grabs your car from you. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. You may even be cheap like me and not even park your car at the hotel or let the bellhops take your bags (because you don't want to have to tip them, and besides, you need the exercise), but you still feel classy pulling up under a huge fucking awning.
The higher the ceiling on the awning the better. You need at least twenty feet minimum above your head before the awning is even worth it. The steeper the roof, the better. Let's say 55-degree slant minimum. I might even put some gargoyles on it. There could be old-school torches on the walls by the door, and a big glass chandelier to light the part of the driveway and steps that's covered. And I'll have ivy climbing up the pillars, just for effect.
You can't buy that kind of class. Well, maybe you can. You definitely can.
So, no matter what kind of house I have, I'll have the architect slap a big fuck awning on the front. To be honest, I wouldn't even want to live in an old house like this. I really enjoy more modern stylings (for example) in a house. But I would feel so classy getting out of the back of a car under an awning like this. And all my party guests would feel the same way.
I'm gonna have a huge fucking awning on the front of my house. Just like this.
I actually passed this building on my way back from Santa Rosa. It's a winery and hotel between Santa Rosa and Sonoma, and it's absolutely fucking ridiculous. I thought the slant of the roof was the best part of the building--it would be nowhere near as awesome as it is without that improbably steep roof.
And nothing says 'old money' like those hotel awnings that people pull through in front of the hotel and the valet grabs your car from you. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. You may even be cheap like me and not even park your car at the hotel or let the bellhops take your bags (because you don't want to have to tip them, and besides, you need the exercise), but you still feel classy pulling up under a huge fucking awning.
The higher the ceiling on the awning the better. You need at least twenty feet minimum above your head before the awning is even worth it. The steeper the roof, the better. Let's say 55-degree slant minimum. I might even put some gargoyles on it. There could be old-school torches on the walls by the door, and a big glass chandelier to light the part of the driveway and steps that's covered. And I'll have ivy climbing up the pillars, just for effect.
You can't buy that kind of class. Well, maybe you can. You definitely can.
So, no matter what kind of house I have, I'll have the architect slap a big fuck awning on the front. To be honest, I wouldn't even want to live in an old house like this. I really enjoy more modern stylings (for example) in a house. But I would feel so classy getting out of the back of a car under an awning like this. And all my party guests would feel the same way.
September 1, 2011
Hot Wheels Lazy River
When I'm rich and eccentric,
I'm going to build a lazy river in my backyard. You know, the ones in the water parks that you can float down in an inner tube? They were my favorite part of going to water parks as a kid--fuck big-ass water slides. (To be fair, I also liked the wave pools, but they lacked some je ne sais quoi.)
So, I'm gonna have one all to myself. But since I have no liability to worry about, I'm going to treat it like a Hot Wheels track. My original idea was having it shaped like an infinity sign (or figure-8, if you're boring), but a friend suggested the classic hot wheels cloverleaf shape, which could include "boosters" underwater, like the real rivers.
Whatever shape I choose, there are gonna be intersections for tubes to crash in. Because it's water, there'll be rapids from two rivers colliding. What should I do to counteract the possibility of slowdown? Put big-ass boosters right before each intersection. That way, sheer inertia will keep my tubers on track. This will also make the collisions that much better. It'll be like Hot Wheels meets bumper boats.
For my mellow days, I'll devise some sort of system of metering (like on the freeway) so people can only enter the water at precise times. These will sync up to the intersections so no one will crash and my cloverleaf will be a splendid ballet of rocketing inner tube trains weaving in and out of each other but never crashing.
But Zach! I hear you cry. Couldn't someone slow himself down and disrupt the delicate timing? And to that I reply: well, sure. You can't win 'em all.
I'm going to build a lazy river in my backyard. You know, the ones in the water parks that you can float down in an inner tube? They were my favorite part of going to water parks as a kid--fuck big-ass water slides. (To be fair, I also liked the wave pools, but they lacked some je ne sais quoi.)
So, I'm gonna have one all to myself. But since I have no liability to worry about, I'm going to treat it like a Hot Wheels track. My original idea was having it shaped like an infinity sign (or figure-8, if you're boring), but a friend suggested the classic hot wheels cloverleaf shape, which could include "boosters" underwater, like the real rivers.
Whatever shape I choose, there are gonna be intersections for tubes to crash in. Because it's water, there'll be rapids from two rivers colliding. What should I do to counteract the possibility of slowdown? Put big-ass boosters right before each intersection. That way, sheer inertia will keep my tubers on track. This will also make the collisions that much better. It'll be like Hot Wheels meets bumper boats.
For my mellow days, I'll devise some sort of system of metering (like on the freeway) so people can only enter the water at precise times. These will sync up to the intersections so no one will crash and my cloverleaf will be a splendid ballet of rocketing inner tube trains weaving in and out of each other but never crashing.
But Zach! I hear you cry. Couldn't someone slow himself down and disrupt the delicate timing? And to that I reply: well, sure. You can't win 'em all.
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