ISSUE 008
CHAUVIN, LA |
WAL E S | M E X I C O
FA S H I O N
Where the Fashionable Things Are
T R AV E L
T R AV E L
FOOD
Land of Little Places
The Magic of the Mexican Mercado
Martin’s Marshlands
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CONTENTS Reading Check List
FAS HION
FO OD
Tim Labenda - Brittany Templeton P.04
Martin’s Marshlands Summer Johnson P.10
TRAVEL Land of Little Places David Perry P.08
The Magic of the Mexican Mercado - Nicole Stanton P.14
C O N TA C T
U PWARD MAGAZ I NE.COM
U PWARD MAGAZ I NE
HELLO@UPWARDMAGAZINE.COM
U PWARD MAGAZ I NE
U PWARD MAGAZ I NE
FO U N D E R
Summer Johnson
SENIOR EDITOR
Dakota Arkin
O P E R AT I O N S D I R E C T O R
Sandy Anderson
DESIGN
Jessica Bailey
E D I T O R I AL
Summer Johnson, Anne Foong, Nicole Stanton, Brittany Templeton, Ashley Puckett, Emma Cunningham, Jessica Nabongo, Natalie Holloway, Noemie Trusty, Michael Marquand, Iris Pop
WEBSITE DEVELOPMENT
Kawsar Siddik
ADV E R T I S I N G
Ilka Pandilovska
C OV E R P H O T O
Tim Labenda
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People travel for many reasons. Some are explorers, some adventurers. Some are gatherers some and some scatter. But I believe that at the heart of every true traveler is a need to learn, and a humility concerning one’s own existence and origins. These lessons are sometimes shared with family and friends who may or may not have the same focus. But overall, the human experience is limited without the ability to learn from those who are different for ourselves. To glean understanding from others is a major key to enjoying travel and enjoying life. If we skip this step in our life studies, we might end up in the dark. In this mini issue, we focus on some very different people in very different places. We also give a short lesson on the beauty of learning a little bit of the language of your country of choice. Keep in mind that Upward is now in print and feel free to make an order for your copy on our website.
NO.1 Fashion
Where the Fashionable Things Are Garments Inspired by Literature and Adventure
TEXT: BRITTANY TEMPLETON
PH O T OG R AP H E R
M O DE L
HAI R
MAKE UP
BASTIAN JUNG
AN T O N IA W E S S E L OH @ M O DE LW E RK
ANNE TI MP E R @ BAL L S AAL
DE NI S E GRUN D M A N N @ BAL L S AAL
TIM LABENDA
“...I liked the idea of furry monster structures, unique textures and the overall rumpus idea in fashion.”
Growing up in a family of tailors, painters and child caretakers, fashion designer Tim Labenda was engulfed in a creative environment. With a cultivated imagination, he followed his two great passions: fashion and architecture. Tim took a tailoring internship with Hugo Boss, and it seemed he was destined to pursue the former. A German native, Tim’s cultural background has influenced his very own fashion label — named Tim Labenda — and its dedication to function. He says, “I am a very practical person who thinks very methodically. I think it’s safe to say that both of those are German characteristics.” With an eye for clean cuts and simple silhouettes, his collection is smart and well made. While Tim’s background comes through in his work, it’s his adventures all around the world that inspire him in each collection he designs. His recent Fall/Winter Rumpus Line was inspired by, “a picture book that I loved from my childhood, Where The Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. The story follows a young boy through a land of wild things; I liked the idea of furry monster structures, unique textures and the overall rumpus idea in fashion.” Tim likes to tell stories through his collections, bringing them to life, visually. “When everything can seem so serious, I wanted this collection to be more fun and ironic,” he says.
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Whether Tim is answering emails, meeting with his team, cutting patterns or setting up photoshoots, he never strays far from his lessons in German production. “Our process is quite hands on and may not seem very creative, because we do not sketch each garment. We work very practically, working directly with the fabrics. In the end, I think this is the very magic behind the process, especially the moment when the garment is ready for the model.� Tim has had his eye on Antelope Canyon for quite some time so we wouldn’t be surprised if his next garments are inspired by the navajo silhouettes and color splash of Arizona.
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NO.2 Travel
Land of Little Places When in Wales, it pays to think small
TEXT & PHOTO: DAVID PERRY
“Mackerel sky, mackerel sky; never long wet, never long dry,” I muttered, fumbling to keep my camera out of the rain. But I had to admit: Wales looks better wet. The pastures take on an emerald hue, the rivers turn to steel. Flowers glow. Good thing I was in a garden, the only one of its kind, in fact, dedicated solely to governance. The stand of birch trees addresses tort and crime: “All damage which a man does unwittingly, let him compensate for wittingly;” the willows represent women’s law; a wife can leave her husband if he has bad breath.
Daf has a king. Welcome to the irony of Britain’s wild Welsh west: The cities of Cardiff and Swansea have everything a tourist wants, but travelers take to the hinterlands. That’s where the stories are, sometimes literally.
The Windings of the Sea Idling on the banks of the River Taf south of Carmarthen (birthplace of Merlin!), Laugharne is as “literal” as it gets as home and final resting place of Dylan Thomas. The greatest poet Wales has yet produced, you heard the heart-rending verses of his And Death Shall Have No Dominion throughout the 2014 flick Interstellar. King Hywel Dda was merciless. Romantic, forlorn, and tragically touched with the “beautiful madness” so many (incredibly self-destructive) artists have, Thomas Village People transfigured Laugharne into Llareggub, the dreamy setting to his Fun fact: Celts are lousy at making cities, but their country towns seminal Under Milk Wood. The romance, however, was prickly: take gold. Like in Hendy-gwyn ar Daf, an out-of-the-way hamlet Spell “Llareggub” backwards. far in the Welsh southwest that, circa 930 AD, was the royal seat of Hywel Dda, or Hywel the Good, who first codified Welsh law. The But how time heals! Since his death in 1953, Laugharne gleefully modern garden details just a few. drenched itself Thomas lore. If he lived, stayed, ate, wrote, walked, or drank there, it’s on a poetry-laced treasure trail threading through Trod by the armies of Rome and King Arthur, the land called Laugharne. “Stayed” took me to the Browns Hotel, the favorite “Cymru” by its people seems almost muscular from shouldering the watering hole from which Thomas watched and learned; it’s now weight of the ages. Good thing, too — its vales shelter the villages one of the best boutique B&Bs in Wales. “Walked” took me to the where Wales safekeeps its soul. Tregaron has the last jeweler to use poet’s escape in the arboreal paradise of Sir John’s Hill, and which Welsh gold. Tyddewi is the final resting place of the St. David, became the hill of Milk Wood. “Drank” took me everyplace else... patron of Wales (but his holy well is in Llansteffan). Hendy-gwyn ar A strategic outpost on the awesomely tidal Taf, and with 900
DAVID PERRY
years of history and a Norman Age castle to prove it, Laugharne nevertheless hit its stride with Thomas. Buried beneath a simple white cross at St. Martin’s Church, his grave is a literary pilgrimage site; his home, the famous Boathouse, is a museum and temple to his verses; the Writing Shed, where he did most of his work, is restored to what it would be in his day. Both are nexuses for the three-day Laugharne Weekend, a springtime arts festival with the gravitas to pull in the likes of Patti Smith and actor Michael Sheen. Read It and Weep Wales stills revels in the bardic tradition of old; the annual Eisteddfod, a music-and-poetry slam that is as ancient as it is hotly competitive, is Europe’s largest. The last had over 6,000 wordsmiths and 150,000 spectators; do NOT get between the Welsh and their words. Don’t mention you read them on an e-reader, either. They are, in fact, illegal in Hay-on-Wye. Seriously. It’s on the banner: “Kindles are banned from the Kingdom of Hay.” Kingdom? At the top in the Annals of Oh My God It Worked, local bibliophile Richard Booth thought it’d be nifty to declare this town on the English border its own book-based “kingdom” in 1977. It was purely for publicity, meant only to stir up tourism, not at all serious, and so inexplicably successful that Hay-on-Wye is today not only one of the world’s largest second-hand book emporiums, but hosts two world-renowned love-ins for brainiacs 1
of all sorts, the Hay Festival for literature and HowTheLightGetsIn for philosophy. Bill Clinton called the May-to-June mindfeed the “Woodstock of the mind.” But hungry minds can visit “Hay” all year, and will find the town has so many books that sellers specialize; with a sign that leaves no doubt what the genre is, Murder & Mayhem focuses on whodunits. Mostly Maps is just that. And, being straight outta Jane Austen, or maybe even Chaucer, there is Hay-on-Wye itself. Take away the power lines and the town the Welsh call Y Gelli is a time-warp. Even more than Laugharne or Hendy-gwyn ar Daf, Hay-on-Wye looks the part of the classic, almost archetypal, charming country market town. Surrounded by old village squares, slate-roofed cottages, and a medieval doodle of streets, I had a good time simply “taking a turn” through town and grabbing a cup of strong Darjeeling, crumpet included, in the shadow of Hay Castle in one of the many tea rooms. I felt so gentry-y. It’s just not an experience I would get in a city; Wales isn’t shiny and new. It is mysterious dales and tiny villages, is standing stones and rugged headlands, is more castles than the rest of Europe combined. All of that would be lost in a cityscape. And you know what? I’m cool with “country.” I always was a smalltown boy.
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NO.3 Food
Martin’s Marshlands TEXT: SUMMER JOHNSON / PHOTOS: RUSH JAGOE
F E AT U R E D P L ACE
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MOS QUI TOS UP P E RCL UB
MELISSA MARTIN
Chef Melissa Martin is on our radar as she opens the doors to her supper club this fall. Her style of Cajun cooking is specific to how she grew up in the Bayou Petit Caillou in Chauvin, Louisiana. Influenced by her family of shrimpers, oyster fisherman and crabbers, much of her cuisine is centered around seafood. “My parents have never bought fish, even to this day,” says Martin; “Everything is always fresh.” Martin grew up with a farm (and ocean) to table model that holds true in her newest endeavor — The Mosquito Supper Club. Her new restaurant is an exquisite expression of her style of Cajun food from the best ingredients possible. “I would watch my mom, aunts, and grandmother cook from their garden,” says Martin, who continues a tradition that stems from being in a large family that worked together to create beautiful meals. Martin learned a lot from the way her family cooked over the years. “The women in our family would guard their stoves,” says Martin, whose mother was one of ten, and she being one of six herself. With so many people to cook for, the women in her family ran their kitchens very strictly, and so watching closely as a child paid off. As a chef, she was taught to create flavor and deconstruct a dish which helped her recreate the flavors of home. She says, “In [cooking] school when I needed help, I would ask my mother, and she would walk me through it.”
“I would watch my mom, aunts, and grandmother cook from their garden.”
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MELISSA MARTIN
The Mosquito Supper Club is an experience that differs from your everyday restaurant. It’s open one night per week: Thursday nights at 7:30 p.m. from September through May 2017 and serves one meal to 24 guests seated at two tables. The fixed eight course menu is revealed for all to see
MELISSA MARTIN
prior to visiting and designed according to what is fresh and ripe in the season. Martin says, “It sort of feels like a wedding. You show up with your spouse or friend, sit next to someone you don’t know, learn something new about someone else and have an amazing night.”
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NO.4 Travel
The Magic of the Mexican Mercado TEXT & PHOTO: NICOLE STANTON
Most countries have markets — farmers, artisans, food — but Mexico takes the market or mercado to another level. A market in Mexico is an experience — it is seeing pride of country through food, art, tradition and culture. Most markets I have experienced are centered on giving tourists the chance to buy souvenirs or to give farmers a chance to sell their fares. Going to a market in Mexico is a sensory overload of smell, sound, color and sights. At every corner is something new — tables of freshly cut watermelon and papaya, little girls running up to order quesadillas de cabeza, women squeezing the thick white liquid out of maiz to make tejate or pouring out a cup of chilacayote. It is equally common to see children carrying live turkeys and chickens tied at their feet alongside vendors selling poultry already dressed to eat. The smell of baked cakes mingles with pollo al carbon and tacos al pastor. The only thing that can break the heat is glacial ice cream or nieves wheeled through the crowds by a man with a pushcart. All of this is crammed under tarps to shade visitors from the scorching sun in the plaza of an 18th century church. One thing about the Mexican mercado that was especially remarkable to me, was that everyone is busy doing something. Elsewhere, it might be typical to see vegetables neatly stacked or the clothing and jewelry nicely displayed. However in Mexico — especially Oaxaca — the women are on the floor peeling onions and gar-
“Going to a market in Mexico is a sensory overload of smell, sound, color and sights. At every corner is something new..”
MEXICAN MERCADO
lic together, painting ceramics, or weaving haupiles, traditional hand-stitched shirts with flowers or birds that represent their village, and the men stretch leather. For me, it changed the way I approached buying a craft when I could witness it being made before my own eyes. There is a high standard set for quality in food,livestock and sold in the street markets. Vegetables are washed and wiped, bread is baked on site and juice is squeezed to order. In one hour, I witnessed someone carry fresh maize to the local miller to be ground,, and those wet mounds of ground maize brought to the local tortillería, where tortillas are made fresh and hot off the press Markets in every city around Mexico are visited to seek out produce, pottery, ceramics, leather and so on. Each region is known for something unique. In Chiapas, amber, 1
rugs, and wool are renowned. Oaxaca is famous for its black ceramic, pasilla peppers, and mescal. The Yucatan offers an array of souvenirs centered on Chichen Itza, one of the world’s seven wonders, or limestone from the cenotes. In Mexico City there are more than 660 markets ranging from traditional to pop-up corner markets that bring people together over quesadillas, gringas and tortas. Everything is mixed in with the normal stands so one is never sure if they are going to find tacos and leather, or the traditional Mexican crickets, scorpion-mescal, traditional medicine healers selling live snakes and dead owls, or sausages and entrails hanging over open barbecues. There is no arguing with poet Pablo Neruda when he said, “Lo recorrí por años enteros, de mercado a mercado, porque México está en los mercados…I went from market to market for years, because Mexico is in its markets.”
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