Daily Archives: February 25, 2021

A little less than two months ago, Mike Pence very well couldve been killed by an angry mob of insurrectionists furious with him on behalf of Donald Trump for not overturning Joe Bidens electoral victory. But while such an offense might be grounds for most of us to end a friendship at the very least, for Pence its all water under the bridge, and hes apparently as loyal to Trump as ever. He spoke very favorably about his relationship with President Trump, Indiana Republican Jim Banks, chair of the Republican Study Committee, told CNN after meeting with Pence Tuesday. I got the sense they speak often and maintain the same personal friendship and relationship now that they have for years, he continued, adding that Pence plans to launch an organization defending the successful Trump-Pence record of the last four years.

While no one expected Pence to come out and condemn Trump after four years of catering to him, an in-person meeting between the two on January 11 was reportedly lengthy, stilted and uncomfortable. But CNN reported on Monday that the two had spoken twice on the phone since Bidens inaugurationwhich Pence attended and Trump did notand that a source close to the situation described their relationship as amicable, though they would not elaborate on the contents of either call.

Pence joined the 2016 ticket to balance out Trumps narcissistic hedonism with some social conservatism, and while he took every opportunity he could to lavish praise on his boss, it was never clear that there was anything more to their relationship than politics. Even if there was some personal affinity, one would think it would have dried up quickly during Trumps interregnum; after trying about 20 different ways to hold onto power and failing each time, the former president eventually began pressuring Pence to subvert the will of the people and simply hand him an election win on the day Pence was to oversee the certification of results. He had no authority to do so, of course, and what Trump and his allies on Capitol Hill were demanding of him was absurdly anti-democratic. But the harassment continued. You can either go down in history as a patriot, Trump reportedly told him, or you can go down in history as a pussy.

Much to Trumps dismay, Pence chose to perform his ceremonial role as outlined in the constitution, and convened lawmakers on January 6 to formalize the electoral college win of Biden and Kamala Harris. While that was happening, Trump was outside the White House, whipping his fanatics into a frenzy, calling on them to march down to the Capitol to fight like hell for him. They did just that, temporarily disrupting the certification process and forcing the vice president and lawmakers to take shelter as the pro-Trump mob chanted things like hang Mike Pence. Not only did Trump not call off the attack, do anything to stop it, or even check in on his deputy,but he continued to berate Pence on Twitter even as he knew he was under threat, and took pleasure in watching his supporters ransack Congress. Remember this day forever! he tweeted afterward.

For anyone with an ounce of self-respect, a guy bullying you, nearly getting you killed, and not apologizing for it would be cause to burn all bridges with him. But Pence, like a lot of his fellow Republicans, has shown for four years that he has no such self-esteem, and seems to be remaining obsequious to a guy who has proved time and again that loyalty flows only one way. He likely has some political incentive to try to keep the relationship aliveif anything, Trumps grip on the GOP has only tightened since November, as even Trump opponents like Mitt Romney have acknowledgedbut if your hopes of getting a job in future requires you to have an amicable relationship with your would-be executioner, perhaps its time to consider another line of work.

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Apparently Mike Pence Is Still Personal Friends With the Guy Who Sicced a Mob on Him - Vanity Fair

When I travel, one of the highlights for me is enjoying the variety of local cuisine. Im traveling today, and as I drove to the airport, I looked forward to picking up a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich once I arrived.

Upon selecting the coffee shop, latte and sandwich that most appealed to me, though, I was hit with a fleeting feeling of grief. By choosing those things, I wouldnt have room to try the other options.

Maybe I should have gotten the souffl instead of the croissant. How would the pistachio latte have tasted?

Theres a limit to the amount of food I can consume. Theres a limit to the amount of money I can spend. Theres a limit to the amount of time I have. And I spend a tremendous amount of time resisting those constraints, wishing I could have it all.

As an Enneagram Type 7, thats par for the course. We are terribly prone to gluttony and hedonism. I want to try everything and say no only to the things that arent enjoyable. I want to have absolute control over what Im not able to do.

But, as they say, the sweet doesnt taste as sweet without the sour.

In my work, we often ask our clients to give us creative constraints. Is there a color they dont like? A certain style? Is there a use case that has a time constraint or an application that requires a certain formatting?

Our creative director often says that the worst thing you can say to a creative is, Just make something awesome. Hes right: the most creative ideas come out of constraints.

Colleen Cook works full-time as the Director of Operations at Vinyl Marketing in Ashland, where she resides with her husband Mike and three young daughters. She's an insatiable extrovert who enjoys finding reasons to gather people.

Just look at how weve all innovated over the past year. So many things that have always been done a certain way have been disrupted, and new, amazing ideas came out of the disruptionmany of which will sustain well past the end of the pandemic. The limitation felt brutal, and while the byproduct doesnt make it all worth it, the new things that are created are good.

Most people do their best work under the pressure of a deadline. The time constraint forces them to nail down their energy to that moment and turn out something better than they would have if they felt untethered, with endless amounts of time.

Im a firm believer that, without a clear and close deadline, most things wont actually get accomplished or wont be accomplished as well as they might have with the time constraint.

I doubt Im alone in finding myself crippled by focusing on the limitation. I long to find a way to manipulate the constraint away, to free myself from it. I panic at the thought that the limitation might be too restraining to accomplish the task at hand.

Yet Im learning that if I can accept the limitationperhaps even welcome that limitationI might free myself into an exciting new place of creativity and enjoyment. I might just enjoy the croissant more because it was the best choice, given the constraints at hand.

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Commentary: Are the things limiting you actually helping you? - Richland Source

Launching on February 23, the genderless capsule collection marks a shift for the Italian label into the world of streetwear.

Launching on February 23, the genderless capsule collection marks a shift for the Italian label into the world of streetwear.

The Attico is embracing the world of streetwear with "Life at Large," a genderless capsule collection launching on February 23.

Brilliant, bold, alive and eclectic, the Milanese label by Gilda Ambrosio and Giorgia Tordini debuted in 2016, a colorful juxtaposition of vivid hedonism and electric luxury wear. Their elevated contemporary looks have, historically, been refined pieces dotted with color, embracing a lifestyle of sophistication in full saturation.

"Life at Large" departs from the chic formality The Attico has traditionally fabricated, but retains the glamour of it all, the whimsy and spark, juxtaposed instead, now, onto genderless streetwear.

True to its name, the collection is created for those whodolive life at large, those who dress up for the everyday, who are carefree and confident. Everyday looks follow a pale, colorful palette made up of creamy beiges, rosy pinks and rich, warm browns, speckled with cooler neutral shades. Outerwear and layering are strongly featured throughout, in plush hoodies, crisply tailored blazers and printed graphic sweatshirts.

The beauty of the collection is woven into its simplicity: every piece is dynamic and neutral until styled to become it's own. The core of streetwear, the adaptability and versatility of it, is seen in every garment, from a plain black tank to a baby pink, asymmetrical draped top.

Enter the slideshow below to view the collection and shop The Attico here.

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The Attico's "Life at Large" Collection Is A Playful Take on Streetwear - vmagazine.com

Long before fashion weeks started splintering, Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana set up their own haute couture ecosystem in Italy, immediately spying potential for male clients.

Six years after their first Alta Sartoria collection paraded through Palazzo Labus in Milan, the designers say men make up fully half of their couture clientele, numbering more than 200 people in Asia, the U.S., Europe, India, Russia and South America, in particular Mexico and Brazil.

Whats more, they described a close, collaborative relationship with their clients, offering them a familial, immersive experience exalting all things Italian. The designers have staged lavish couture events in Florence, Portofino, Naples, Monreale and Agrigento over the years, in addition to stops in the U.S., Japan, Mexico and China (where the companys business has rebounded after a November 2018 scandal when the designers were accused of making racist comments on social media; they apologized and the brand has worked to reestablish relationships).

Its not just a fashion show for cool clothes. Its a moment, its history, its a relationship, its food, its Italian, its everything, Dolce enthused of couture in a telephone interview. Couture is more about style of life. Prt--porter is more fashion.

While some men order styles directly from the runway, Dolce characterized the Alta Sartoria collections as a suggestion to open a conversation about wardrobing them for their unique style of life, or a very special occasion.

We speak with our customers. We try to understand what people need, he said, describing an exchange of sketches, color suggestions and swatches. Its a beautiful conversation.We discover a lot of very different lifestyles.

For example, two months ago a client asked if the Alta Sartoria ateliers could create a jumpsuit for skiing something Gianni Agnelli might have worn on the slopes in the Sixties. Dolce said he and Gabbana relished the challenge of a technical couture garment, and managed to source a stretch wool reminiscent of the period.

Dolce recalled that his father was a tailor, and he always envisioned that role far beyond mere outfitter. Its organizing dreams for the customer, he said.

The Alta Sartoria atelier stocks mannequins for all its important clients, which reduces the number of fittings required. Tailors are also dispatched with clothes to places like Singapore, Tokyo, New York or Los Angeles if necessary.

Here, Dolce and Gabbana discussed their adventures in high fashion for men:

WWD:What compelled you to launch Alta Sartoria in 2015?

Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana: Alta Moda is a project on which we reflected for many years, until we concluded that closing D&G our second line was the necessary condition to embark on this new path. Therefore, in July 2012 we presented the first Alta Moda collection in Taormina and in January 2015, in Milan, the first Alta Sartoria.

History teaches us that man, by nature, has always chosen to mark time, a particular moment, choosing a special outfit. We have seen it with high aristocracy, princes and maharajahs. Similarly, with Alta Sartoria we want to satisfy male hedonism with a proposal that is consistent with the DNA and values of Dolce & Gabbana. With Alta Sartoria, we satisfy mens desire to feel unique.

WWD: Did Alta Sartoria take off right away?

D.D. and S.G.: Yes, we immediately had an excellent feedback. Some important prt--porter customers approached Alta Sartoria, the husbands of our Alta Moda clients started ordering for themselves and word of mouth was undoubtedly helpful.

A look from Dolce & Gabbana Alta Sartoria collection.Courtesy of Dolce & Gabbana

WWD: How important are the couture shows?

D.D. and S.G.: For us, the Alta Moda and the Alta Sartoria events narrate Italy. They are not just a moment of showcase, but of sharing and exchange. We like to communicate a lifestyle, a feeling and live it with the clients now friends who participate in our events and who, after years, love to meet each other. With the Alta Moda events, we speak about Italy, its art, culture and excellence, from artisanship to food, of the places we choose. Each event has its own narrative, which represents the added value of the experience we give life to.

WWD:Has couture shopping become a couple activity?

D.D. and S.G.: Many are couples, but it is interesting to note that many young people are fascinated by the Alta Moda world. Often sons and daughters of our clients ask to participate in our events and we are happy about it.

WWD: How do you account for the growing popularity of couture for men, and how is it different from the made-to-measure suit business of yore?

D.D. and S.G.: We have a critical attitude toward made-to-measure because we think it often leads to a well-made product, but still industrialized. Alta Sartoria is a very different project that is based on the relationship, the dialogue between the client and our team from the atelier, to the tailor. It is an intimate connection, almost a confession, through which we get to know the client and his world and he learns something new about himself. He is very fascinating.

WWD: What are the most popular garments or categories of couture garment for men?

D.D. and S.G.: Usually men approach Alta Sartoria asking for a traditional suit, maybe characterized by particular details, but still a classic. But when they relax and feel at ease, their personality and hedonism comes out and they really start to appreciate the project and to ask for clothes, or accessories, in line with their passions often linked to the world of sport. So, we find ourselves working on projects that are not really fashion and that represent a challenge, which leads us to a constant technical and creative research.

WWD: Are there any specialty techniques used only for mens couture, or skills you had to bring into your ateliers?

D.D. and S.G.: Alta Moda and Alta Sartoria are synonymous with experimentation. This has led us, over time, to have to expand our ateliers and to acquire highly specialized employees. With the Alta Moda project, we want to give visibility to the artisan excellence of our country and, in each place where we choose to show, we go in search of a manufacture, of a particular technique to work on.

A watch from Dolce & Gabbanas Alta Gioielleria collection.Courtesy of Dolce & Gabbana

With the Monreale show, for example, we worked on the mosaic technique, weaving different fabrics and materials leather, brocade and sequins.

For the collection presented at the Ambrosiana Library in Milan, we instead focused on the technique of punto-puttura and piccolo-punto to re-create the emotion of the paintings that we have chosen to reproduce on the garments.

WWD: Do men order couture mostly for special occasions?

D.D. and S.G.: Exclusivity is the concept behind the Alta Sartoria project. We only make unique and non-reproducible garments.

Unlike the woman who approaches Alta Moda for a special and unique occasion, the man tends to want to build a personal wardrobe made of clothes that satisfy and tell about his lifestyle, his dream.

See also:

EXCLUSIVE: Demna Gvasalia Thinks Couture Can Change Fashion

Paris Couture Weeks Top Trends: Celebs, Mushrooms and Men

https://wwd.com/runway/spring-couture-2020/paris/jean-paul-gaultier/review/

Continued here:

Dolce & Gabbana Discuss their Adventures in Couture for Men WWD - WWD

I first read The Picture of Dorian Gray when I was on my French exchange trip in high school. Surrounded by beautiful architecture and the roaming plains of Normandy, I was entranced by the idea of reading a novel that took place in Europe while abroad. Little did I know how Wilde would make me question the world around me.

The Picture of Dorian Gray follows the eponymous character on his lifes mission to retain his youth and beauty. An artist paints a portrait of the man, which Gray consequently curses, to take the burden of aging. As time proceeds, the portrait grows to become cruel and ugly, while Gray remains youthful in his faade. Although most wont go as far as to selling ones soul for such preservation, it is these same ideals that our society operates upon.

In a way, our world resembles that of Lord Henry, a man that influences Dorian Gray to seek hedonism and to use his youth to commit horrid acts. In a similar manner, American society treats the ephemeral nature of youth as a weapon to our sense of self, as though our lives are ticking time bombs. Birthdays become less of a celebration of life, but more of a reminder of our mortality and our fading beauty. We are told that if we are older, we are less valuable. However, Wilde shows that this is not the case. In one particular profound passage, he writes, Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

While we seem to notice our external features as those that people value, it is our intrinsic qualities that will withstand the test of time. Perhaps we will grow wrinkles, and in the years to come, we might have harsh lines around our mouths, many years of laughter engraved on our skin. Regardless, we shouldnt associate growing old as a negative process, but rather, comprehend it as a blessing. Growing means maturing, understanding more and more what is important to us and realizing our place in relation to the world.

I finished this book near the end of my exchange trip. Every part of me didnt want to leave. I knew I would miss taking the bus into the city, accidentally stumbling upon the remains of William the Conqueror on one particular trip. I would miss the family dinners, the trips to museums and couch-surfing in Paris. It was everything that I could have hoped, and more.

My last day, we visited Mont Saint-Michel. The former fortress is an island, only easily accessible at low tide. Otherwise, it becomes difficult to cross the dry path that leads from the mainland to the beautiful abbey. I remember looking out upon the surrounding area when we climbed to the top, and I marveled at the notion that the sandy scape I walked upon would soon be filled with glistening water. While the world outside of Mont Saint-Michel oscillated, visitors coming and going, the water levels altering under the influence of the Channel, what it represented remained the same. Its history of pilgrimage and resiliency provided a refuge for many who were seeking something greater than themselves.

Driving back to my host familys house after our visit, I looked out onto the fields of sunflowers, knowing that it would be the last time, at least for a while, that I would see these sights. The flowers almost appeared to wave, their petals bending under the persuasion of the wind. I was filled with an insurmountable feeling of loss. In the moment, I remember thinking that I would do anything to pause that moment to escape the constraints of time that dictated my departure from a life I so desperately wanted to live.

Despite my desire to hold on, I began to understand that it was the brevity of these moments that made me want to cling to them more. I am not master of time, and like Mont Saint-Michel, I cannot control the tides that surge and recede. However, I have control over how I treat such delicate moments in life. As Wilde eloquently puts it in his novel, Some things are more precious because they dont last long.

Instead of fretting about the amount of packing I had to complete later that evening, or dreading my last night in the beautiful town, I talked with my host family in that last car ride home. I dont recall exactly what we talked about, or for how long, but I remember the way I felt. Not in control, but rather, yielding to the twists and turns of the road. In lieu of looking back at everything I was leaving behind, I sat there and realized how much I had gained. The flowers would eventually wane over time, and Mont Saint-Michel would merely be an image in my mind, but these moments would be engrained forever.

Perhaps I was looking at life through rose-colored glasses, a trite phrase that is the premise of Edith Piafs most revered song. However, I have come to realize that sometimes, we fail to cherish moments by realizing how much well miss them in the future. Lets not predict our longing for the past, but rather, appreciate the present. Maybe then we will abandon our futile attempts to turn back the hands of the clock, and instead, be content in the here and now.

Elizabeth Prater is a first-year student with double majors in marketing and the Program of Liberal Studies. In her free time, she manages her Goldendoodles Instagram account (@genevieve_the_cute_dog) which has over 23K followers. She can be reached at [emailprotected] or @elizabethlianap on Twitter.

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

Read more here:

Dorian Gray and our obsession with the brevity of time - Observer Online

Its an unhappy anniversary that comes at a time when were preoccupied with a different viral pandemic: 2021 marks 40 years since Aids was first discovered.

Karl, Richie, and Jill enjoying a night at The Pink Palace- Credit: Channel 4

Those nightmarish early years after the discovery of HIV and Aids have been charted in Russell T Davies Its A Sin, the last episode of which aired on Friday.

Set in London at the start of the 1980s and spanning the decade, it follows a group of young gay men following their dreams in the capital and having the time of their lives until the shadow of Aids appears.

Its a series which is both joyful and devastating, Davies charting the territory between the light and the darkness with customary brilliance it also reminds us of the shocking homophobia which infected Britain in the 1980s.

Jill researches the new virus affecting gay men- Credit: Channel 4

The first Aids-related death in London was in 1981, the same year that Davies turned 18 and in the show the writer charts every colour of the emotional rainbow, from joy to pain, hedonism to terror, disbelief to denial, shame to acceptance.

Based on Mr Davies and his friends experiences in the 1980s, the show was made to celebrate, commemorate and highlight the generation of lost boys who died after an HIV diagnosis before effective treatment and preventative measures were found.

He remembered the stories hed been told by families who arrived at hospital wards to discover their son was gay, that he had Aids and that he was dying, all in the same moment and it inspired Its A Sin.

The show has become Channel 4s most-watched box set, has won critical acclaim and has been credited with a massive rise in the number of people taking HIV tests which HIV charity the Terrence Higgins Trust called the Its A Sin effect.

Jill and Ash from It's A Sin attend a rally in London- Credit: Ben Blackall 2019

Fraser Wilson, a spokesperson for Terrence Higgins Trust, said: Its A Sin remembers a time in our history we must never forget when people were dying of a mystery illness and we didnt know why.

But its also important that everyone knows how much HIV has changed since then thanks to massive improvements in preventing, testing for and treating HIV.

The AIDS of Its A Sin is not the same as HIV in the UK today. It looks like that message is getting through and were seeing an Its A Sin effect in action with free HIV tests being ordered to do at home at a faster rate than weve ever seen before.

Most people will get a negative result, but its always better to know. Because you can live a long, healthy life with HIV but it all starts with a test so that you can access the treatment necessary to stay well.

Jill and Valerie in the last episode of It's A Sin- Credit: Ben Blackall 2019

I was at high school when the grim Aids tombstone adverts were on television and my school tackled the issue head on: at a girls-only sex education talk we were told that Aids wasnt something wed have to worry about. Because its that simple.

I remember the horrific Gay Plague headlines from the red-tops and the jaw-dropping interviews with vicars who claimed theyd shoot their sons if they were diagnosed with HIV.

I remember one of my best friends at school telling me he was gay and then in the same breath telling me how ashamed he was to admit it, and knowing then that the only thing wrong about what hed said was that he was paralysed by fear.

My Mum was an early supporter of The Terrence Higgins Trust and regularly donated money when my Dad died in 1992, because she had no time for the Multiple Sclerosis Society (disclaimer: I am sure they are great now) in the death announcement in the paper, she asked for donations to go to the THT.

Less than a week after my Dad died, there was a knock on the front door: someone introduced themselves to me as being from a news organisation, told me they were sorry to hear of Mr Briggs tragic death and then hit me blindsided.

Mr Briggs was a secondary school teacher, I believe, he said, we just wanted to talk to you about his battle with Aids.

As I slammed the door after an exchange which included several choice swear words, I was ashamed of myself for having pointed out hed died of Multiple Sclerosis and not Aids what business was it of anyones?

Then I realised the intent behind the question: a high school teacher with Aids would have been a great story in 1992. Thank God weve come such a long way.

Fast-forward to 1996 and I was a cub reporter on the Norwich Evening News and interviewed several people living with HIV including a gay man and a heterosexual couple. A friend suggested I wear gloves to the interview.

Alex Causton-Ronaldson- Credit: Alex Causton-Ronaldson

A quarter of a century later a frightening thought I am interviewing Alex Causton-Ronaldson who received his HIV diagnosis in 2014 at the age of 23.

He watched Its A Sin and couldnt help but draw parallels between it and some of his own life experiences while also acknowledging the huge gulf between living with HIV in the 1980s and now.

I moved to London from Norwich when I was 18 and I made the same kind of great friends and was as excited as the men in the show were to start a new life, he said.

I had a friend who used to make quite strong jokes about being HIV positive in the 1980s and I told him it made me a bit uncomfortable and he said: Im the only one left from my group of friends, dark humour was the only way we got through it.

He told me that hed been to 30 funerals for his friends before he was 25. It just hit home for me what hed gone through, how awful it had been.

So while I could see comparisons between then and now in the show, there has been so much progress since the 1980s.

My medication shrinks the amount of virus in my body to an undetectable level, protecting the immune system and stopping me from being able to pass HIV on.

Theres a medication called PrEP which prevents HIV transmission nowbut when I was diagnosed, it was very much not if my friends and I got HIV but when.

Alex Causton-Ronaldson and dog Bob- Credit: Alex Causton-Ronaldson

That said, I was convinced that I would be fine. I was the one always telling other people to be careful, the one buying condoms for friends, the one who would tell them off if I thought theyd taken risks.

And yet I was the one who ended up with HIV.

When Alex received sex education at school, in 2002, it was during the dark days of Section 28, a law passed in 1988 by a Conservative government that stopped councils and schools promoting the teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.

Margaret Thatcher said at the time: Children who need to be taught to respect traditional moral values are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay. All of those children are being cheated of a sound start in life.

The law was thankfully changed in 2003.

Its difficult to teach about safe sex for gay men when you cant say that being gay is OK, he said, so whole generations failed to get vital information about being safe.

Meanwhile, medicine was getting better and better and treatment more effective, but

Section 28 did nothing to stop young people feeling that being gay was shameful.

Back in Norwich in 2014, Alex started to lose weight which he put down to a healthy new regime (I thought: my personal trainer is AMAZING!) but when he found gravity bruises appearing for no reason, he went to the doctor and began a battery of tests.

The HIV test he took at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital on June 6 was a formality hed had a negative result in January and had not been in a position to contract the virus since.

The next day, he moved back to London ahead of starting a new job on Monday June 9 and, after a successful first day, he was starting his journey home when he received a message. It was a nurse at the clinic where hed taken the test.

When he spoke to the nurse who asked if he could come in to the clinic the next day and he told her that hed moved, he said he would have to give him his results over the phone.

Almost 33 years to the day after the first clinical report of a new virus in America, Alex was told he was HIV positive.

I passed out, he said, I thought Im going to die, no one will ever love me. All these emotions raced through me fear, disbelief, shame.

Other than his boyfriend of the time, Alex told no one: the next day he went to work and popped out at lunchtime for a second test. As he was speaking to a nurse, a doctor told him he needed to speak to him urgently.

My blood platelets were so low that a paper cut could have killed me, he said, suddenly I was in a wheelchair with a blanket over me and being rushed to A&E.

(Its A Sin spoiler alert!)

When I saw the scenes of Colin in the ward on his own, I was taken straight back to the tropical and infectious diseases ward and feeling so alone there.

You also cant help thinking that if this was the 1980s, I wouldnt be here now. I would have died. But today, HIV does not need to be a death sentence and this is a virus that we can stamp out entirely.

Alex praised the medical team who treated him and remembered the kindness of a healthcare assistant: I was all on my own so he would come and sit with me every single day, bring me trashy magazines, talk to me about boys, he was amazing, he said.

Most people have time to process their diagnosis but with me it was youve got HIV, youre really ill, youre going to hospital. My brain told me it was a manageable condition, my heart told me something completely different.

For a year, Alex stayed silent about his condition: only his boyfriend of the time knew but when the couple split, he came home to Norwich and told his parents.

My Mum was so upset not about the diagnosis, that Id felt too ashamed to tell her. She said I could have been there for you in hospital. My parents, my family and my friends have always been so supportive.

Alex Causton-Ronaldson at his sister's wedding- Credit: Alex Causton-Ronaldson

For a while, only five people knew Alexs HIV status. Then there was a brush with the Channel 4 legal department about an appearance on First Dates and a rather public interview at a rally.

I went from five people knowing to the world knowing in a day! Alex laughs, but speaking out against stigma, encouraging people to be informed and letting them know that there is no shame in being tested or being HIV positive has made such a difference to my life.

Today, I am in a really good place.

Alex Causton-Ronaldson who was diagnosed in 2014- Credit: Alex Causton-Ronaldson

Alex now takes three tablets a day hes well, hes enjoying spending lots of time with rescue dog Bob, has a new job as head of education for a branding organisation and is looking forward to lockdown lifting.

I am so grateful to Its A Sin and Russell T Davies for starting so many new conversations about HIV. Its important people know how much things have changed but also that they still need to make sure theyre informed, he said.

One day, hopefully well talk about HIV as something that used to be a problem, but that was eradicated. I look forward to that.

Timeline:

1981: Aids first noted in America where five people showed symptoms of a rare infection. On December 12, a gay man dies in London due to an Aids-related illness: he was a frequent visitor to the USA.

1982: Terrence Higgins becomes one of the first people to die of an Aids-related illness in the UK and a trust is formed in his name.

1985: Yorkshire TV hires a temporary venue for its discussion programme Where Theres Life when technicians refuse to work with HIV-positive guests.

1986: A national survey suggests 95 per cent of the public think people with HIV should carry cards showing their status.

1987: Aids is a worldwide epidemic with cases across the globe. The first antiretroviral drugs were approved and a needle exchange opens in Dundee. The Governments Dont Die of Ignorance TV ad campaign begins. Princess Diana shakes hands with an HIV-positive person in London.

1988: Section 28 prohibits local authorities from promoting homosexuality.

1991: Freddie Mercury becomes the first high-profile person to die of an Aids-related illness, a day after revealing he was ill.

1996: A combination of antiretroviral drugs becomes standard treatment for HIV meaning the progression from HIV to Aids is increasingly rare. It also prevents the transmission of HIV between same sex and opposite sex partners as long as the HIV-positive partner has an undetectable viral load.

2010: The Equality Act makes it illegal to discriminate against an HIV-positive person.

2014: UNAIDS establishes the 90-90-90 goal (to have 90 per cent of all people living with HIV diagnosed, receiving treatment and achieving viral suppression). The UK met and exceeded this target.

2019: It is estimated that 105,200 people are living with HIV in the UK, 94 per cent of whom are diagnosed. This means one in 16 people are undiagnosed.

2020: It was announced that PrEP, a drug that prevents the transmission of the HIV virus, would be available free in England from April. This could help eliminate new HIV infections within 10 years.

2021: It is estimated that around 38 million people across the globe with HIV/Aids approximately 81 per cent of people know their HIV status. South Africa has the highest number of people living with HIV in the world.

* For more information, visit the Terrence Higgins Trust atwww.tht.org.uk

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It's A Sin: Aids in the 1980s and living with HIV now - Eastern Daily Press

Its nearly a quarter of a century since Fela Kuti passed away. Yet, the influence of his music and pan-Africanist thoughts hasnt stopped. Fela was notorious for the deployment of his Afrobeat as a critical tool against human rights violations, social injustice and insensitive cum inept leadership in Africa. And the conversation as to who best fits the profile of a successor has continued unabated.

Many Nigerian artists have gone as far as naming themselves as the reincarnation of Fela. From Dede Mabiakus endless references to his closeness to the Abami Eda the name Fela gave himself a Yoruba phrase that roughly translates to the strange one and Chief Priest, to Charles Charly Boy Oputas antics, a few have pretended to be made of the sort of defiant stuff at Felas core.

Musically, Eedris Abdulkareems success with the 2004 hit Jaga Jaga appeared to have instigated a Fela complex in him to the point that he got Felas eldest son Femi Kutis saxophone support to legitimise his tribute in the single titled Fela (2013).

There have been several other musical tributes to the memory of Fela. These have included Seyi Sodimus remarkable Fela the King (2002) and W4s rather cheesy Like fada, Like son (2012). Beyond these, pop-inclined artistes have sought to appropriate different features of the great musicians legacy. This has included drawing from the rich repertoire of Felas ensemble in embellishing their works, particularly over the last decade.

Yet, undoubtedly the most powerful of the tributes to Fela is 97 (2001) which was recorded and performed by Femi Kuti, himself an accomplished Afrobeat star.

A great deal of work has been done on protest music in Nigeria. But, in my view, studies have been reticent in appreciating the works of Femi.

I set about to fill this gap. In my study, I look at Femis music through the framework of a re-democratised Nigeria and I invariably draw equivalents with Felas works which constituted a major alternative voice through military-ruled Nigeria.

I conclude that, to source for a Fela successor outside the direct lineage of his family is to court the ridiculous that is if there is any need to source for a Fela successor to begin with.

Previous research showed that Femis consciousness through art had begun during military dictatorship in Nigeria. Songs like Wonder Wonder (1995), Plenty Nonsense (1995), Nawa (1995), Stubborn Problem (1995), Sorry Sorry (1998), What Will Tomorrow Bring (1998), and Victim of Life (1998) are standouts from Femis catalogue during that particularly dark era.

The same study posited that Fela was not the only popular musician who confronted the military and tyrannous leaders of Nigeria between independence in 1960 and Felas passing in 1997.

The study discussed the protest contributions by reggae, highlife and other Afrobeat stars during the same period. These included Sonny Okosuns, Tunji Oyelana, Wole Soyinka, Victor Essiet and The Mandators, Majek Fashek, Ras Kimono, Lagbaja and Osayomore Joseph.

Femi Kutis protest credentials spans across both military-ruled and democratic Nigeria. My research further found that hip hop has constituted an accomplice to Femi Kutis work having served as a veritable vehicle in speaking truth to power in Nigeria since re-democratisation in 1999. Contrary to its critics claims, hip hop culture in Nigeria isnt always about hedonism and the objectification of women.

Kuti himself featured American hip hop acts Mos Def and Common on Do Your Best and Missing Link off 2001s Fight to Win album.

A review of Femi Kutis discography from 1989s No Cause for Alarm to 2018s One People One World shows that through all ten albums spanning about 30 years, Femi is undoubtedly the most prolific creator of protest music in Nigeria. Add to this the maturation of his first son Omorinmade Kuti. Now 23 years old, he released his debut single Free Your Mind in 2020 to respectable acclaim in the Afrobeat genre.

Omorinmade who has grown to become an Afrobeat artist in his own right under his fathers watch, makes it even clearer that Femis proximity to the title of a Fela successor is rivalled by none.

Yet, there are no signs that the family plans to rest on past laurels. A new release, Legacy+, is out. A double record comprising Femis Stop the Hate (his 11th album) and Omorinmades debut, For(e)ward, it links three generations of the Kuti dynasty.

Through Legacy+, we find a deliberate merging of Felas legend, Femis unrelenting struggle and Omorinmades forging on through youthful and possibly futuristic Afrobeat.

The sole caveat to this chain is that Felas last son Seun Kuti, also an Afrobeat artist, presents the public space in Nigeria with the most cerebral viewpoints of any artist at the present time. Following the #EndSARS protests, Seun has flown kites on the possibility of relaunching his fathers Movement of the People, a political party through which Fela attempted to run for Nigerias presidency during the Second Republic.

The truth is that no artist through Nigerias postcolonial years has contributed close to what Fela did and continues to do - for human rights and social justice. Appreciation must of course follow the efforts of Charly Boy, Eedris Abdulkareem, Dede Mabiaku, Lagbaja and Wole Soyinka. But, musically and otherwise, only Gani Fawehinmi, the late human rights lawyer, holds the semblance of a record anywhere in the neighbourhood of the organic consistency for the betterment of Nigerian lives close to Felas.

To put it simply, I re-assert the words of singer and song-writer Seyi Sodinmu:

There will never be another Fela

Fela was the King

The King of our music

Oh what a King

The King of Kalakuta

Oh what a King

From a shrine in Lagos, he gave us his music

The music of our lives

The music of our time

The awesome musician

A master composer

Songs of redemption

The fighter of oppression

The pride of Nigeria

The African superstar

Fela!

There will never be another Fela.

Read the original here:

The quest to identify Fela's successor: why it's time to end it - The Conversation CA

From the very beginning, whenever there was a crush, there was also a drink in my hand. In his novel High Fidelity, Nick Hornbys narrator Rob, an unhappy vinyl obsessive, asks himself: Which came first, the music or the misery? Did he learn to be unhappy from the sad songs he loved, or did the songs comfort him after the unhappiness was already a fact?

In my case, the question is something like this: which came first, the booze or the boys? Did I just happen to begin my romantic life at the same time as my drinking life? Or were my infatuations and love stories authored or at least fuelled by the alcohol that accompanied them?

This is not the story of a tragic, ruined woman who destroys all her relationships through drinking. In some, I drank very moderately; in most others, only to good-spirited excess, which caused no harm. There is no redemption arc here, no coming to the light. I still drink now. It is one of my personal bugbears that we seem as a culture flatly incapable of discussing many of lifes most complex issues without urgently needing to name and solve them, preferably with formal medical interventions.

And so I cant speak about a plodding, hopeless soul sickness that afflicts me at times without being cornered into describing it as depression or an anxiety disorder. This is not to say that these things dont exist; of course they do, and over the years Ive taken medication for both. But the terms and the drugs are too blunt as tools to address the infinite realm of human suffering and struggle that they sit within.

For the same reason I cant discuss drinking, how I have loved it and been frightened by it, how it has joined me in my love affairs and adventures, and silently judged me from the other side of empty flats; I cannot say any of this without using the word alcoholic. But I will.

AGED 15, I BETRAYED the first boyfriend I ever had under the influence of the little alcohol it took to get me drunk. I had recently shed a lot of puppy fat, not through the whims of nature but through smug, grim deprivation routines. I played a cruel trick on myself.

The loss of weight happened to occur at the same time as I was leaving childhood and becoming a young adult, the time that boys were beginning to look at me, and I at them. But because my debut into horny society was taking place at the same time I had become a thin person, I conflated the two experiences. I wonder now if something similar didnt happen with drinking, that it came to stand in for all manner of agreeable things it wasnt actually responsible for.

The first boyfriend smelled like sandalwood and was a passionate and brilliant musician, and I adored him. We became a foursome with another couple; the guy was my boyfriends closest friend, the girl a newly acquired pal of mine. They were the kind of people I could only have dreamed about befriending before my transformation. They appeared adult and sexy to me and exchanged witty banter with no agony or indecision.

I was served my first drink in a bar while in this glowing new formation, blissed out with the feeling of having finally stepped inside a TV show. I asked for a double Jack Daniels and Diet Coke, the sort of thing a happy and wild and pretty girl like me would order in the kind of show I was casting myself in.

A few months into our relationship, we were all four at a party in someones parentssuburban home. The tips of my ears were burning from the tepid white wine I was drinking, and I stepped outside. In the darkness of the garden I could make out a body stretched on a trampoline. It was the boy in the other couple, my boyfriends friend. He was uncharacteristically sad, which made me feel tender and dramatic. I lay down beside him and he talked about what was troubling him, some issue with his girlfriend. He was also drunk, and I felt completely alive and open to his emotions.

Before I could think about it, we were holding hands. Then a light came on in the doorway and it was my boyfriend, seeing us. I pulled down my dress from where it had ridden up, although we hadnt done anything more explicit than touch hands, and shaded my eyes and stared over at him with my heart thudding, the wine beating in my pulse.

None of us would ever mention it, this meaningless and minor betrayal, but as it took place something changed in me. I wouldnt have touched the boys hand if I hadnt been drinking; the drinking allowed me to pretend it never had happened. Alcohol made me behave a certain way and it gave me the ability to disappear the same behaviour it had induced. It had created movement. This was what I wanted above all things: propulsion.

AT 17, I WAS in a relationship with my first love. On weekend nights, we sat in the outhouse he slept in and kissed and watched films and put on disco lights and danced. We drew pictures together and made mix CDs and took photographs of each other, engorged on the gratuitous beauty of this new way to know another person. I skimmed from the bottles of spirits in my mothers cupboard and brought it there, one night swallowing a ghastly blistering few inches of Cointreau that I can still taste now, then pressing my numb mouth to his.

On Fridays, I would occasionally go for a drink by myself. I got changed in the school toilets and stuffed the uniform into my backpack, headed to a party later that night, but first I would go to a bar. Not one of the pubs where all the staff knew my parents and that I was underage, but one of the anonymous modern ones where nobody showed up until later in the evening.

I would slip in and have a whiskey and Diet Coke, and read my book or write in my diary and be so content, so cosy, nobody knowing where I was in that moment. I told my first love, whose father was a recovering alcoholic, how much I enjoyed the stolen, contained hour. Be careful, he said, Thats what my dad liked to do.

But I wasnt worried. There were two things I wanted from my life. I wanted to be with others, to have as much attention and affection and company as I was able to drain out of them and I also wanted to be left completely alone whenever I wanted. Nobody could predict which of these two opposing and equally urgent needs might want satisfying at a given time, least of all me. Drinking was magical because it enabled you to be with others fully, free of self-examination. And then when you wanted it to, it enabled you to be by yourself with pleasure, too.

Then I lost it all. Away from home, dropped out of university, I was in an ugly spiral of denial and mania. I buckled beneath my self-disgust, the disappointment and panic about what I would do with my future. Thinking beyond the immediate seemed likely to lead to the abandonment of any will to go on living. Concerning myself with boys, men, sex, romance, whatever this was one way to focus on individual hours and evenings. Drinking was the other, and for these lost years the two strategies bled into each other.

Because I had lost all the trappings of my identity the idea that I was smart, had a good future, was an interesting person the alcohol operated differently. It didnt just ornament the person I was, allowing me to enjoy people I did sincerely like and love. It compelled me to be someone I was not, a person I was not even very good at imitating.

I exhausted my few reserves of energy angling towards men I had nothing to say to, nothing in common with whom I did not so much as even like! simply because they looked a certain way and stayed out as late as I did. Perhaps, I thought, if going out and drinking could be the purpose of life for these people, then I could give up worrying about what mine might be.

And so I forgot about daytime and concentrated only on the pathetically shabby facsimile of hedonism I was aping, and the boys who propped it up. Mostly I shelved anyone who wanted to speak to me properly or treat me with kindness, because I couldnt afford to slow down. The point was to always keep moving. Until one day a few years have passed and you notice, finally, the only direction you have moved in is further down.

IN MY EARLY TO MID-20s, I lived with a man who didnt drink the way that I and most of my friends did. By now I was steadily, if meagrely, employed and partied with much less vehemence, but still we would be out and drunk at least once a week. He was a little older than me and I felt implicitly shamed by his comparative sedateness and curbed my habits. I was afraid he would come to his senses otherwise, go and find someone very different from who I was. I have never been able to fully shake the suspicion that when people tell me they love me, they are, in some sense, joking.

Drinking with the next one, the one who came after my cohabitation, was the most fun. So theatrical, such a performance. Fitting for a love that felt so dazzling and innovative and promising and, when examined, turned out not really to be there at all.

With him, there were 14 cocktails I was only pretending to be able to afford, in a dimly lit Dublin smoking garden. There was murky rich beer with an astonishingly high alcohol percentage, sitting on a pavement in Denmark eating smoked-fish sandwiches. Two-for-one nasty little old-fashioneds in a Peckham happy hour, tossed back with lustful abandon and one hand up my dress. Like the happiness that drinking creates, it was conjured, ephemeral. All of it was based on a false premise I was willing myself not to see through. It wasnt real, it had to end but, ah, what doesnt. Its hard to regret.

Unrequited love is a funny complaint, an embarrassing one when there are so many exciting and attractive and decent people in the world. Its surprising how much it still hurts to think about it, this failure of mine. How amazing it was to realise that this person with whom I felt intuitively and perfectly in tune, who understood things about me nobody else ever had, and was an inexhaustible reserve of fascinating thoughts did not experience me in the same way.

I wish he had received me with complete indifference, which would be easier to accept. Instead, he just liked me well enough until he met someone to really be with. A few times after we had been drinking a lot, as he was falling asleep, the words did leave his mouth: I love you. And although I knew they werent true, I leaned over him in the bed, my face close to his, mouth open, as though I could eat them.

This is another thing that drinking does, this thinning of veils, spirits and souls, consciousness and unconsciousness: I dont love you, I love you. Some references to the pagan festival of Samhain, when the barrier between worlds is breachable, mention the role of excessive alcohol. In our world this happens, too, the scraping back to things hidden, the descent below normal surface. The problem is that what is revealed isnt necessarily the truth. Being drunk sometimes leads to long-buried secrets emerging, catharsis, certainly. But it can also incite emotions and ideas that simply dont exist in waking life.

There was a guy friend of mine who, during my late teens, I was close to but had no romantic desire for. One night when we were both pissed at a house party, I saw him kissing a girl and was inconsolable, crying for hours. The next day I could not understand my reaction. I didnt want him; I felt nothing about him kissing this person. It was alarming to know that a feeling could be created like that. The alcohol had attached some arbitrary emotion that had risen to the top of my subconscious soup to my friend and his kiss.

I drink less now than I used to. I lack the concentrated fury of my youth. I dont feel as bad, I dont feel as good. These are the truces we make, and then at times wonder why we bothered, missing all the vivacity that made up life back then. Somehow this past year did the thing that years of self-recrimination failed to, and made me moderate. I have a single drink and find myself frustrated and bored by its inability to get me anywhere, to do anything.

The main attraction of drinking is gone for now: the illusion of movement, the way it set off a course of events you couldnt always predict. Now, whether I have one drink or 10, I know Ill still be where I started, in the nook of my sofa with the TV on at half volume, anxiously biting hangnails.

Maybe when this is over, Ill descend into Bacchanalian retribution and drink to excess every night. But I think that my body has learned the lesson, whether I wanted it to or not, that there is no magic inherent in the bottle. That what I felt to be its magic was only ever other people. Guardian

Acts of Desperation is published on March 4th by Jonathan Cape

Excerpt from:

Megan Nolan: At 15, I betrayed my boyfriend under the influence of the little alcohol it took - The Irish Times