Introducing Mumumelon

Okay, the business pages these past months have been full of stories about Canadian sportswear manufacturer/marketing powerhouse/success story Lululemon™: Lululemon™ founder sells out for a gazillion bux! Lululemon™ goes public with a monster IPO! And just yesterday: LuluLemon™ snags a former Starbux™ CFO for its board! Omigawd!

Lululemon™ purveys yoga wear featuring built-in "butt bras". These are purported to make any woman's ass look great. No, great!

Quibbles re: jawdropping prices, and non-yogis wearing the ultra-casual gear in inappropriate business & formal situations are summarily thrust aside by acolytes worshipping at the lululemon™ altar, because their asses look great. No, great!

There are, of course, flies in the lemonade. There always are. The trademark completely-synthetic nylon-spandex pants themselves are said to be prone to pilling faster than cheap 70s leisure suits. Hey, they're synthetic. The fashion police are starting to realize that fashion-impaired teens are stuffing themselves into low-rise lululemons™ five sizes too small, for that winsome plumbers' butt look. And (gasp!) obese people are buying and wearing lululemon™ stuff hoping the pants will whittle 10-odd cheeseburgers from their thighs. These poseurs are driving the brand's cachet downmarket. Unlike, say, all the poseurs I see every day, running around downtown, dressed in lululemons™ and carrying yoga mats™, but for some reason never actually attending any actual yoga™ classes.

But anytime life hands you a sackful of bagged-out, overstretched lululemons™, hey, it's a chance to make us some lemonade. I'm pretty sure no less an authority than Ann Landers herself said it.

So here's the scam: Aggie is becoming a crafter. Who sews quilts. Who is buying a sewing machine. Who can teach the ESIs to sew in conditions that, when we get up to speed, will echo East Asian sweatshops. All perfect for crafting stylish mu'umu'us. Ya heard it here first: Mumumelon™!!!!: exercise wear for all the people who shouldn't wear lululemon™. Given North American obesity rates, I'm pretty sure our target market ain't trivial. We are so going to make a killin'....

Muumuu Cam

The Seven Things Chain Letter

Megan, whom we normally like, fucking tagged us. So we're supposed to do a posting with seven random facts about us.

1. The Elgin Street Irregulars are six actual human beings and not one disturbed individual pretending to be different people.
2. Coyote has been reminded by 4D at least once that he is an actual human being and not a literal coyote.
3. Agatha once decided to write postings profiling each of the ESIs but only wrote one for the Chair.
4. The other ESIs have all acted like they are okay with this, but we probably all wonder why she didn't write that one profile about us instead.
5. There is no fifth random fact about the ESIs.
6. The "no fifth" running gag began when some of the ESIs decided to start using "fifth" and "muse" in their postings so that the Fifth Muse might find us if she did a vanity google.
7. The Fourth Dwarf likes to think he would be Doc, but is far more often compared to Grumpy.

Now, we get to tag others. Any nominations?

Why we love Elgin Street

Back in the heady leadup to the 'we-can-do-anything' days of Expo '67, Canadians heard a lot of talk about the cultural mosaic. No mundane melting pots for us. No sirree. Mutual respect among distinct, yet cooperative, ethnic groups was the societal agenda.

Sadly, that interesting multicultural ideal seemed to be mostly burnt up in a consumeristic hell of 80s yuppiedom. A year into the new millenium, its ashes were pretty well stomped into the mud in a spate of ethnic-profiling paranoia over terrorism.

Pretty well. But here on Elgin Street, if ya want poly-ethnic, we got it. In spades. Up the wazoo. We gotta publog this place the Dwarf spotted, when he was out airing his aspidistra the other day. Whether they serve draught ale or not.

(Oh. And for the uninitiated among our international readers, 'poutine' is a heart-stopping Québécois confection of fresh julienned potatoes, twice french-fried in peanut oil for extra crispiness, salted, covered in fresh cheddar cheese curds, then doused in lashings of hot canned gravy to create the kind of gooey gourmet goodness that only a philistine could reject. Extra salt and ketchup right there on the table beside ya, if ya want 'em....)

Google Poem: Reluctance

I am reluctant to predict possible answers to my questions
I am reluctant to post calls to action
I am reluctant to attend a meeting in West Africa.
Now I Am Reluctant to Post on livejournal.
I got an internship at Merrill Lynch, but I am reluctant to take it

I am reluctant to entertain alternatives that presuppose the traditional subservience of one class to another.

Frankly I am reluctant to adopt that course.

I am sure you will understand when I say that I am reluctant to pick up where Venus left off.
I am reluctant to go along
I am reluctant to point my fingers
I am reluctant to learn Excel
I am reluctant to make a commitment
I am reluctant to upgrade
I am reluctant to teach
I am reluctant to accept the view that there are real benefits from PPPs.
I am reluctant to upgrade software that doesn't work
I am reluctant to have ANYthing to do with formal religion.

I am reluctant to just publish an open map but would rather just add a link.
I am reluctant to venture outside.
I am reluctant to go back to the doctor
I am reluctant to call much attention to my side business
My plan is to become a surgeon, however, I am reluctant to even continue to med school.

I am reluctant to attribute a ‘meaning’ to Found Art

[*]

Does Frank know?

Near the Bayswater tube station, west London / Sunday, Oct. 7, 2007