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#psg set the bar on the floor
eliosty · 9 months
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Rin Itoshi x M! Reader ||Drunken Kiss||
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YEEEEEEE I now officialy have more time to dedicate myself to my works 🗣 DW RIN IS AGED UP IN THIS!!! Requests are ofc open <3 As always FEM aligned DNI TW: Mentions of alcohol consumption Pronouns: He/Him part 2 <-
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The loud music from the several speakers in the bar masked the voices around you as you cleaned a few cups with a small towel. You swayed your hips slightly to the beat of the music played by the hired DJ.
It was a regular Friday night shift for you, drunk dancers on the dance floor grinding against each other, people making out on the counters which you would have to unfortunately clean later on and of course, the strong smell of alcohol filling your nostrils.
You sighed at the thought of the long night ahead of you, a headache already forming. You watched as your co-workers talked with one another or flirted with some customers. Shaking your head slightly, you returned to your duty of cleaning cups. 
“Hey! (M/n), look, PSG just won against Manshine City” your co-worker pointed at the TV screen above your heads. You’ve never really cared for those Neo-Egoist League players, thinking that all they were were just some ego-filled soccer players who only thought about themselves.
You kept your eyes on the screen nonetheless, watching as their star player, Itoshi Rin, walked off the field and towards the changing rooms. The second he stepped off the field, he was swarmed by fangirls squealing his name and asking for pictures or autographs. ‘I don’t get the hype about him, isn’t he just some egoist?’. No longer interested in the topic, you hummed as you walked away to a waiting customer. 
The night went on casually, with you serving customers their drinks and sometimes food. It was nearing 10:30 PM and your shift should be over in 30 minutes or so you thought. The bar fell silent as the bell by the door rang and the famous PSG team entered the vicinity. The silence soon turned into a frenzy, some women were already clinging to some of the players. As the players dispersed into the crowd, only one remained at the bar itself. Of course, you being you, you didn’t realize that the PSG players were in the bar you worked at. Only was it when your co-worker went crazy when Itoshi Rin sat down at the bar that you realized that PSG had entered the bar.
Your co-worker was called to another customer, much to their disappointment, so they pushed you towards Itoshi. You eagerly fought back against them, not wanting to have to engage with a famous soccer player. “Oh but come on (M/n)! This will probably be your only chance to even interact with the Itoshi Rin” you grumbled as they set you in front of the said player.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before walking up to Itoshi. “Can I get you anything to drink or eat sir?” you asked in your server voice with a hint of annoyance laced into it. “Just a mojito with 2 extra shots of rum will do thank you” his politeness took you back a little, you weren’t expecting him to have manners. “Coming right up” you nodded as you gave him a slight smile.
You prepared the mojito in front of him, putting on a little performance. You threw the mixer in the air, catching it behind you as you popped it open and poured the substance into a tall glass, placing a small umbrella and lime slice on the rim. 
“It’s on the house” You pushed the glass towards him with a light smirk plastered on your lips. Rin was used to free drinks, but something about yours made him feel a certain way, he almost felt special.
Other than the soccer players and a few dancers on the dance floor, the bar was oddly empty. But, you didn’t mind, of course, it just meant less work for you. Just as you were about to walk away to another station, Rin stopped you. “How about we share a few drinks..” you looked at him confused but accepted his offer. “I don’t see why not” you chuckled as you hopped over the bar and took a seat beside him. 
“So why aren’t you with your teammates?” you asked, downing a shot of vodka. Rin sighed at the question, “I wasn’t planning on going out after our game, but they insisted that we’d celebrate our victory..” he answered with a grumble. You laid your head on your arms, “Then why not at least have a little fun on the dance floor?” you looked up at him. “I’m sure that there are tons of women who’d love to dance with the Itoshi Rin” he flinched at your statement. “My bad, was that too nosy of a statement?..” you immediately backed off. “No you’re fine, I’m just not interested in dancing with women” “Hm, understandable” you agreed as you both shared 3 more shots of vodka.
The two of you remained silent for a moment before Rin spoke up again. “But I wouldn’t mind having a dance with you” You looked at him slightly wide-eyed. “Me?, but I’m a man” You tilted your head, not because Rin would be interested in men. “Exactly, I said I wasn’t interested in women, not men” You blushed at his bold affirmation. “Then, I’d be honoured, Itoshi” You took his hand as he led you to the dance floor.
You blended into the crowd of people perfectly, Rin’s hand on your lower back as you shared a dance. The now even louder music muted your voices, so all you could do was communicate through movement. His hands on your hips and yours around his torso. You danced through the sea of people, hips swaying in sync with the music.
You didn’t know if it was the alcohol kicking in, but there was something about Rin’s gaze on you that felt so magnetic. It felt almost as if he was pulling you in with only his stare. You looked up at Rin, staring right into his teal eyes, you were convinced they were made of gems. 
The air around you grew thicker. Rin swore he could feel his heart beat quicker and quicker in his chest as he kept his eyes locked with yours. His hands grew shakier and sweatier as he slowly felt his lips inch closer and closer to yours. Your grip around Rin’s torso tightened as your breath hitched, it became heavy and quick. Your lips grew dangerously close to each other. 
It was almost as if you both acted on pure instinct, your lips crashed together in an almost desperate manner. Your bodies are pressed together within the crowd. His hands travelled to your hair, running them through your locks, pulling you in closer to him as he did so. Your grip remained on the back of his now wrinkled shirt. The kiss you shared was intense, yet it felt so passionate. Your tongues danced against one another. You moaned lightly at the feeling of his hands travelling under your shirt down your back. It was now you who had your hands in Rin’s locks and his on your waist. It was the first time you had met each other, but there was something about the way you lured Rin in with your natural charm that kept him wanting more and more of you, leaving you both sharing a kiss as if you had known each other for years.
You both pulled away, gasping for air, gazes remaining on the other. Your face was flushed red, your eyes drooping slightly. Both yours and Rin’s hair were dishevelled. Rin pulled you back in, but not for a kiss, but for a simple hug. You let his arms wrap around your smaller body, leaning into his touch.
You remained that way until you felt a buzz in your pocket. “Ah…my shift’s over, I’ve gotta head back home..” you took your phone from your pocket and turned off the set alarm. “Here let me give you my number..” Rin pulled out a card from his pocket and placed it in your palm. You looked down at it, ‘his business card?’. You looked up at him once again, “I’ll make sure to call you then, Itoshi” You smirked before disappearing into the crowd, walking towards the staff room. 
Rin remained unmoving, still gasping for air. Before he could head out of the bar, he felt an arm sling around his shoulders, “You never told me you were into men Rin~ Plus, he sure was a cutie” Karasu teased. Before he could say anything else, another arm slung around him, “Yeah Rinnie, that was some hottie you had there~” Shidou looked at him with a smirk. “Shut the hell up you two..” Rin grumbled before pushing them off. “I’m going home..” he walked off, leaving both Shidou and Karasu satisfied with his reaction. 
Rin walked out of the bar, looking back with a smirk plastered on his lips, ‘Maybe letting Shidou and Karasu drag me here wasn’t so bad after all’.
You walked into the staff room, still dazed from your previous makeout session. “Well someone certainly had their fun~” a teasing voice could be heard from the other side of the room. “Oh, shut up (c-w/n)...” you mumbled as you changed out of your uniform. “Yeah, I never thought that you out of all people would end up making out with a famous soccer player” another co-worker teased. You sighed before grabbing your things and heading out. “Yeah yeah, see you guys tomorrow..” you waved them off before quickly walking away from them. Your co-workers chuckled at your embarrassed state before waving you off as well.
Timeskip to the next morning
You were woken up by your roommate shaking the living shit out of you. “DUDE, WAKE THE FUCK UP” you groaned at his screaming. “OKAY OKAY I’M UP, WHAT IS IT” you suddenly sat up, causing your roommate to fall on his ass. He shoved his phone right up in your face. You took it and read the headline. ‘Famous soccer player, Itoshi Rin, was caught kissing a man in a bar!’ your eyes grew wide at the picture of you and Rin kissing below the headline. You looked down at your roommate, “I am so fucked aren’t I…?”
Word count: 1704
YA'LL I'M LOW KEY REALLY PROUD OF THIS ONE 😭
I'LL MAKE THIS INTO A SERIES IF I GET ENOUGH DEMAND FOR IT
Anygays, hope ya'll enjoyed this mess and LATERZZZ
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emalemaleigh · 3 years
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https://www.leprogres.fr/sport/2021/05/18/rose-lavelle-rejoint-ol-reign-lindsey-horan-bientot-a-l-ol
“Lindsey Horan soon at OL?”
I swear if this is real I’m gonna lose my mind. I’d assume it would be next offseason but come on! And I’d also assume that having a boyfriend in France could play a role too. Hoping it’s not true though.
The disparity among the French league might be one of the worst. It’s really interesting to me that OL can poach so many great players to a league where there’s only two truly competitive teams. 🤑
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ricardosousalemos · 7 years
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Patti Smith Group: Easter
In early 1977, the Patti Smith Group was on tour opening for Bob Seger, as part of Arista Records’ ham-fisted strategy to push Smith into the mainstream. She had just released her second record, Radio Ethiopia, while Seger was touring against Night Moves. While the PSG were steadfast in their resolve to win over the crowds, they were fighting a losing battle. Lenny Kaye—Smith’s guitarist and majordomo—would later say about Radio Ethiopia, “...that wasn’t an album of songs. It was an album of fields.” Fans who paid to hear “Old Time Rock and Roll” were not ready or willing to open their minds to the Smith and her band’s mix of esoteric, ecstatic punk-flavored garage-rock, performed by a bunch of scruffy, black-wearing hoodlums led by a woman who conformed to no one’s gender expectations but her own.
At a Tampa stop in January, Patti Smith whirled into final bars of “Ain’t It Strange.” As the song reached its climax, she spun, lost her balance, tripped backward over a monitor, and fell off the stage onto the concrete floor 15 feet below. Miraculously, she did not break her neck, but she still emerged from the hospital with two cracked vertebrae, broken bones in her face, and 22 stitches to close the wounds on her head. Smith interpreted the incident as God’s response to her constant challenges (“I feel it was his way of saying, ‘You keep battering against my door and I’m gonna open that door and you’ll fall in’,” she told Melody Maker a year later); but in matters more mundane, her fall cancelled the tour and obviated any support for the struggling Radio Ethiopia.
Smith’s injuries would confine her to bed rest for weeks before she entered into intense physical therapy in lieu of spinal surgery. She took to the challenge of PT with gusto and insisted to her doctors and to anyone else who would listen that she would be ready by Easter Sunday. She even had a new poem, called “Easter,” as a representation of her return to battle. 
After the commercial failure of Radio Ethiopia, there was an unspoken understanding that the next record needed to move Smith’s career forward. Smith was the first downtown artist to sign with an uptown label with her seven-album deal with Arista Records. She thought she could handle the Arista’s demands by insisting (and getting) complete creative control, but she also understood that she would lose her access to the kids she wanted to serve if she was not able to translate her vision into something for the masses. “When we started, we believed we had responsibilities that nobody else was taking on, to take this work that erupted in the ’50s and take it somewhere,” she told Circus in 1978. This was the kind of statement for which Smith would be pilloried by peers and the press, but this wasn’t just a front—she meant it.
So after working with John Cale on Horses and Jack Douglas (Cheap Trick, John Lennon) on Radio Ethiopia, she chose to work with a new producer named Jimmy Iovine, because she liked what he’d done as an engineer working with Bruce Springsteen. It was a deliberate business decision, no matter that she would later insist that the album was “more communicative. I don’t like the words accessible and commercial.” Lenny Kaye would back her up: “There was no conscious drive to sell records, that was our last thought.”
It made sense that Smith and Kaye would publicly try to disavow intent. “Ambition” was a four-letter word downtown, even though every single band that ever set foot on the CBGB’s stage hoped that it was a step up. But Smith and Kaye were sufficiently immersed in rock’n’roll history to know better. If Easter hadn’t been successful, Smith would have been dismissed as a one-hit wonder, post-punk also-rans. Even as early as Radio Ethiopia, the Village Voice’s Robert Christgau noted that Patti was “caught in a classic double-bind: accused of selling out by her former allies and of not selling by her new ones.”
The band entered the studio in November of 1977. On the shortlist were songs that were road-tested, such as “Space Monkey,” “Privilege (Set Me Free),” and “Rock N Roll Nigger,” as well as a handful of newly written songs. “Rock N Roll Nigger” was both Smith’s original choice for the album’s title as well as for its lead-off single, which was naturally a nonstarter for the label, much to Smith’s dismay. Unfortunately, out of the material Smith had assembled for the album, it was the only song strong enough to be a single. 
This was when Iovine went knocking on Bruce Springsteen’s door, asking about a certain outtake languishing in his archive. Smith was at first reluctant to even listen to the demo, wanting to write the record with her band. Iovine tried to sell her on the idea by suggesting that he loved the thought of a woman singing from a man’s point of view; Springsteen added that the song was in her key. One night, while waiting for a late-night phone call from someone she was romantically involved with, she decided to listen to the cassette, “...and the words just tumbled out of me,” she told Zig Zag later. By the time she recorded “Because the Night,” Smith already knew she had her hit single, and the rest of the album fell into place.
Smith could try as hard as she wanted to disguise or disavow her ambition, but Easter was not an accidental assemblage of material. It wasn’t an “album of fields,” it was an album of huge songs—songs that would effectively showcase the heart of the Patti Smith Group. So, yes, the album unironically opens with “Till Victory,” the kind of battle cry that made the cognoscenti roll their eyes at Smith and her band, and she doubles the cynicism by also using it as a petition to the mighty, announcing her return, and her intent: “God, do not seize me please, till victory,” Smith sings with the kind of iron-clad conviction that would make you follow her anywhere.
Even the cover concept was Smith’s twist on sex appeal; while it was probably the first major-label album cover to show a woman with unshaved armpits (which Arista tried to airbrush out), it was created with the object of selling records. After that inimitable Robert Mapplethorpe shot on the cover of Horses and the black-on-silver abstract by Judy Linn that graced Radio Ethiopia, for Easter, Smith went with Lynn Goldsmith, who had just founded the first photo agency that focused on celebrity portraiture. Smith would even tell Rolling Stone that she had masturbated to her own album cover: “I thought if I could do it as an experiment, then 15-year-old boys could do it, and that would make me very happy.”
But Smith’s version of “Because the Night” was an absolute monster of a hit. What she forged lyrically out of Springsteen’s unfinished, unwanted demo was an anthem of frank and unapologetic desire. In 1978, a woman wasn’t allowed to be an overtly sexual being in public unless she met the standards of the male gaze; if she did, there were always repercussions, and there would be constant attempts to diminish her power and/or her legitimacy. The fact that it went to No. 13 on the Billboard Hot 100 and was on every FM radio station, especially the ones who never played her before, was righteousness incarnate, as would be Easter’s eventual ascension to #20 on the Billboard 200.
The other love songs may not be as legendary as “Because the Night,” but their complexity is vital to the story being told on the album. The first line of “We Three”—“Every Sunday I would go down to the bar where he played guitar”—speaks absolute volumes. It is Smith’s history, it is rock’n’roll history, it is a quiet sentence whispered with a veneer of the innocence of early love, then immediately contrasted with a torch ballad, decisive and resolute, the expression of unresolved ardor, the saga of her relationships with Tom Verlaine and Allen Lanier. It’s not tragic so much tinged with the sadness of resignation, but it’s not the type of love song women had been writing.
Smith then flips the switch to “25th Floor.” This is when the woman in “Because the Night” takes out a match and lights the whole damn place on fire. “Love in my heart/The night to exploit/Twenty-five stories over Detroit,” she sings, tales of unabashed emotion in the ancient Book Cadillac Hotel in the Motor City, where she and Fred “Sonic” Smith had taken rooms. “25th Floor” then transmutates its closing ecstasy straight into “High on Rebellion,” the title of which is accurate and illustrative. It is about another important relationship, this time a treatise about Smith and her electric guitar: “...I never tire of the solitary E and I trust my guitar…” The band manifests its own chaos effortlessly behind Smith, before the exemplification of that solitary E fades out slowly.
On the subject of treatises, we come back to the literal black sheep of the album. “I haven’t fucked much with the past, but I’ve fucked plenty with the future,” Smith intones in “Babelogue,” plucked from Smith’s 1978 Babel, which firmly represents her artistic manifesto, issued with the pulsing energy of a heartbeat. “In heart I am an American artist and I have no guilt,” she cries as the music and the energy builds to a crescendo, before crashing head-on into “Rock N Roll Nigger.” The song is intensely rousing and absolutely spits fire, and as a rallying cry for those who feel like they were also “outside of society,” everything about the song is awesome except the title, which is the opposite of awesome.
Even in the ’70s, the slur was not something any reasonable person was going to feel comfortable yelling out loud, or feel comfortable standing in the middle of a large group of people yelling it out loud, even if the music and the performance are otherwise electrifying. Smith has been explicit over the years in her justification behind it: “The redefining of an archaic slang term as a badge for those contributing on the fringe of society was not favorably embraced,” she wrote in 1996. For someone as intelligent and empathetic as Patti Smith, this is the one moment in this otherwise triumphant record that just does make any sense. If, in 40 years, your attempt at the redefinition of a word that is pejorative and hurtful to a large part of society is unsuccessful, how, as an artist, do you not try something else? The legacy of “Rock N Roll Nigger” overlaps with the Patti Smith the iconoclast. Though Smith placed the song an album that embraces and subverts the vast spectrum of rock, underneath all of Easter is Smith’s ambivalence with rock as an art form. It is insufficient. The men for whom she wrote, the women for whom she sang, the labels to whom she catered, all are miniature underneath the soul of Smith which Easter seems to capture in spite of the limits of rock’n’roll. A hint is hidden in plain sight at the end of the liner notes, a quote from the New Testament: “i have fought a good fight, i have finished my course…” are the last words of Paul the Apostle before his martyrdom. Smith may not have known that she would soon retire as “r.e.f.m.” (radio ethiopia field marshall), but the possibility was on the horizon, and it feels like she was trying to make her departure easier by leaving clues, early warnings for her fans that she was getting ready to say goodbye.  
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glenmenlow · 6 years
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Adieu, Colette: A Tribute to the Iconic French Retailer
The worlds of fashion, design, retail, music and more are mourning today—the day after colette paris closed its doors forever. After 20 years of making redefining retail—making unexpected brand collaborations the norm, making experiences that surprise and provoke, making streetwear high fashion—the concept store closed shop on December 20th, as promised.
OMG WHAT A DAY #coletteforever #colette @saskialawaks #colettegaragedoor @klyonsnatborn
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 20, 2017 at 12:55pm PST
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All year, and particularly these last few days, legions of fans from around the world have been making a pilgrimage to the store at 213 Rue Saint-Honoré for one last time, one last look and a memento or two before store founder Colette Roussaux and her daughter Sarah Andelman said a final farewell to customers, designers and other friends.
Toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin. Après vingt années exceptionnelles, colette devrait définitivement fermer ses portes le 20 décembre prochain. Colette Roussaux arrive à l'âge où il est temps de prendre son temps ; or, colette ne peut exister sans Colette. Des échanges ont lieu avec Saint Laurent et nous serions fiers qu'une Marque aussi prestigieuse, avec qui nous avons régulièrement collaboré au fil des années, reprenne notre adresse. Nous sommes ravis du grand intérêt que Saint Laurent a montré dans ce projet, ce qui pourrait constituer une très belle opportunité pour nos salariés. Jusqu’au dernier jour, rien ne changera. colette continuera de se renouveler toutes les semaines comme d’habitude, avec une sélection unique et de nombreuses collaborations, également disponibles sur notre site colette.fr Nous vous remercions pour votre confiance, et à bientôt chez colette, jusqu’au 20 décembre! #colette BREAKING NEWS As all good things must come to an end, after twenty wonderful years, colette should be closing its doors on December 20th of this year. Colette Roussaux has reached the time when she would like to take her time; and colette cannot exist without Colette. Negotiations are under way with Saint Laurent and we would be proud to have a Brand with such a history, with whom we have frequently collaborated, taking over our address. We are happy of the serious interest expressed by Saint Laurent in this project, and it could also represent a very good opportunity for our employees. Until our last day, nothing will change. colette will continue to renew itself each week with exclusive collaborations and offerings, also available on our website colette.fr We thank you for your support and see you soon at colette–until December 20th! #coletteforever #colette20ans #colette
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Jul 12, 2017 at 2:13am PDT
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Thank you guys @coletteparis #ICICESTPARIS pic.twitter.com/9apuckwDAE
— PSG Officiel (@PSG_inside) December 20, 2017
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Off-White c/o @coletteparis ~ most recent window display titled “Place in Context” ©2017 https://t.co/jG09VxzQr4
— Off-White (@OffWht) December 20, 2017
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@colette is all about love #coletteforever #colette
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 20, 2017 at 7:41am PST
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To say it’s the end of an era is an understatement. Interbrand global director and Meta-luxury co-author Rebecca Robins shared her thoughts in a Q&A with Influencia magazine, which has kindly allowed us to run the original English-language version:
What is the value of the colette brand today ? What did colette bring to the fashion and luxury scene when it first came out ?
The inherent strength of colette was the unique point of view. Before the words ‘edit’ and ‘curation’ became the standard vocabulary that they are today, Colette gave us a way of seeing the world. Real visionaries dare to see things differently and what this unique blend of culture and commerce gave us was as insightful as it was incisive—a rare blend of vision and curation.
The magnetic appeal of this concept store, sited so symbolically on the corner of a crossroad, was that Colette was unwavering in understanding the business that she was in—he business of people and stories. This was a brand built on curiosity and discovery. The currency was in the stories that we all came back with from each visit and the surprises that we looked forward to in anticipation of the next. This was storytelling at its best.
This was a destination that transcended generations and geography. It invited people in and brought people together through everything from book signings to talks and concerts. Above all, it was a community.
What were the branding and collaboration aspects that the store democratized ?
Colette understood the relationship between brands and culture and it was a game-changer in building an inclusive ecosystem. In the fluid mix of low and high, of the named with the names that you had yet to know, the floors of the townhouse effortlessly afforded levels of access to everyone.
Colette became world-renowned in an eclectic series of collaborations, whether with Raf Simons COMME des GARÇONS x Vans in 2005, to Aston Martin in 2011 to adidas Originals in 2014 to, most recently, Saint Laurent.
Discover the unique residency of Saint Laurent at colette : a selection of Spring 18 collection, exclusive pieces and collaborationshttps://t.co/M8VOSTRqeQ pic.twitter.com/hEgg3wN0Ul
— colette (@coletteparis) November 28, 2017
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Can we express regrets or satisfaction for what colette brought us?
Do we regret Stradivarius or do we celebrate the genius that lived and who gifted the world what we value so highly and appreciate today? Stradivarius exists today through the creations that have been handed down from musician to musician, from one generation to another. But they are living testament to a unique vision that could not live on after the death of the great master. It was the anti-case of knowledge transfer. So, the legacy could never be carried forward.
The unique brand that Colette brought to the world will be missed because it was loved. It will be missed because in just two decades it had defined culture, it had become part of culture. How many brands can we think of that, over time, went on to sell out, sell off, expand, extend and ultimately diluted the DNA of the brand in the process? Colette decided not to do any of those things.
At a more macro level, Colette’s closing raises a more existential question around the life of a brand today. As change has become the new constant and brands are disrupting categories, it makes us consider what the lifecycle of a brand might look like in the near future.
What does the closing of colette says about premium concept stores and the evolution of retail ?
We talk about the future of retail today in the imperative of blending content and commerce, in the art of collaborations, in experiences and storytelling. This was the very essence of Colette. We talk about influence and influencers. Colette stood apart and set a standard in the real meaning of influence. Much of Colette’s legacy is in the way that the brand opened up the possibility of what a retail experience could be to others.
There is testament to the life of a brand, in how Colette’s mixing deck from 20 years ago is playing out across the world. The concept store Story in Manhattan describes itself as “A space that takes the point of view of a magazine, changes like a gallery, and sell things like a shop.” And inclusion has taken on new interpretations, with Story’s commitment as a platform for knowledge and community, hosting pitch nights for local entrepreneurs.
Brand partners and collaborations play out in more thoughtful and playful ways. Look at Club Monaco, which has brought together a select host of local brand partners for their New York Fifth Avenue flagship, including a Toby’s Estate Coffee & Espresso Bar and a curated collection courtesy of the inimitable eye of the legendary Strand Bookstore.
by @soandsau #coletteforever
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 19, 2017 at 3:19pm PST
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The colette website is still alive, with a series of video tributes, a space for fans to share their memories and one final gift: a mini-film by Kuntzel + Deygas starring Cap & Pep on a final canine frolic before sailing off on a tropical vacation. The credits are classic colette, a collaboration of brilliant creators coming together to delight and entice:
“Produced by Add A Dog, Paris. Hand made animations by Agnès Fauve. CG animations by Patrick Daher. Modeling by Gregory Thomas. Rendering and compositing by Pierre Chomarat. Editing by David Haddad. Music: The Kiddies Christmas Frolic (Columbia Orchestra).”
Merci, c
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joejstrickl · 6 years
Text
Adieu, Colette: A Tribute to the Iconic French Retailer
The worlds of fashion, design, retail, music and more are mourning today—the day after colette paris closed its doors forever. After 20 years of making redefining retail—making unexpected brand collaborations the norm, making experiences that surprise and provoke, making streetwear high fashion—the concept store closed shop on December 20th, as promised.
OMG WHAT A DAY #coletteforever #colette @saskialawaks #colettegaragedoor @klyonsnatborn
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 20, 2017 at 12:55pm PST
All year, and particularly these last few days, legions of fans from around the world have been making a pilgrimage to the store at 213 Rue Saint-Honoré for one last time, one last look and a memento or two before store founder Colette Roussaux and her daughter Sarah Andelman said a final farewell to customers, designers and other friends.
Toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin. Après vingt années exceptionnelles, colette devrait définitivement fermer ses portes le 20 décembre prochain. Colette Roussaux arrive à l'âge où il est temps de prendre son temps ; or, colette ne peut exister sans Colette. Des échanges ont lieu avec Saint Laurent et nous serions fiers qu'une Marque aussi prestigieuse, avec qui nous avons régulièrement collaboré au fil des années, reprenne notre adresse. Nous sommes ravis du grand intérêt que Saint Laurent a montré dans ce projet, ce qui pourrait constituer une très belle opportunité pour nos salariés. Jusqu’au dernier jour, rien ne changera. colette continuera de se renouveler toutes les semaines comme d’habitude, avec une sélection unique et de nombreuses collaborations, également disponibles sur notre site colette.fr Nous vous remercions pour votre confiance, et à bientôt chez colette, jusqu’au 20 décembre! #colette BREAKING NEWS As all good things must come to an end, after twenty wonderful years, colette should be closing its doors on December 20th of this year. Colette Roussaux has reached the time when she would like to take her time; and colette cannot exist without Colette. Negotiations are under way with Saint Laurent and we would be proud to have a Brand with such a history, with whom we have frequently collaborated, taking over our address. We are happy of the serious interest expressed by Saint Laurent in this project, and it could also represent a very good opportunity for our employees. Until our last day, nothing will change. colette will continue to renew itself each week with exclusive collaborations and offerings, also available on our website colette.fr We thank you for your support and see you soon at colette–until December 20th! #coletteforever #colette20ans #colette
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Jul 12, 2017 at 2:13am PDT
Thank you guys @coletteparis #ICICESTPARIS pic.twitter.com/9apuckwDAE
— PSG Officiel (@PSG_inside) December 20, 2017
Off-White™ c/o @coletteparis ~ most recent window display titled “Place in Context” ©2017 https://t.co/jG09VxzQr4
— Off-White™ (@OffWht) December 20, 2017
@colette is all about love #coletteforever #colette
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 20, 2017 at 7:41am PST
To say it’s the end of an era is an understatement. Interbrand global director and Meta-luxury co-author Rebecca Robins shared her thoughts in a Q&A with Influencia magazine, which has kindly allowed us to run the original English-language version:
What is the value of the colette brand today ? What did colette bring to the fashion and luxury scene when it first came out ?
The inherent strength of colette was the unique point of view. Before the words ‘edit’ and ‘curation’ became the standard vocabulary that they are today, Colette gave us a way of seeing the world. Real visionaries dare to see things differently and what this unique blend of culture and commerce gave us was as insightful as it was incisive—a rare blend of vision and curation.
The magnetic appeal of this concept store, sited so symbolically on the corner of a crossroad, was that Colette was unwavering in understanding the business that she was in—he business of people and stories. This was a brand built on curiosity and discovery. The currency was in the stories that we all came back with from each visit and the surprises that we looked forward to in anticipation of the next. This was storytelling at its best.
This was a destination that transcended generations and geography. It invited people in and brought people together through everything from book signings to talks and concerts. Above all, it was a community.
What were the branding and collaboration aspects that the store democratized ?
Colette understood the relationship between brands and culture and it was a game-changer in building an inclusive ecosystem. In the fluid mix of low and high, of the named with the names that you had yet to know, the floors of the townhouse effortlessly afforded levels of access to everyone.
Colette became world-renowned in an eclectic series of collaborations, whether with Raf Simons COMME des GARÇONS x Vans in 2005, to Aston Martin in 2011 to adidas Originals in 2014 to, most recently, Saint Laurent.
Discover the unique residency of Saint Laurent at colette : a selection of Spring 18 collection, exclusive pieces and collaborationshttps://t.co/M8VOSTRqeQ pic.twitter.com/hEgg3wN0Ul
— colette (@coletteparis) November 28, 2017
Can we express regrets or satisfaction for what colette brought us?
Do we regret Stradivarius or do we celebrate the genius that lived and who gifted the world what we value so highly and appreciate today? Stradivarius exists today through the creations that have been handed down from musician to musician, from one generation to another. But they are living testament to a unique vision that could not live on after the death of the great master. It was the anti-case of knowledge transfer. So, the legacy could never be carried forward.
The unique brand that Colette brought to the world will be missed because it was loved. It will be missed because in just two decades it had defined culture, it had become part of culture. How many brands can we think of that, over time, went on to sell out, sell off, expand, extend and ultimately diluted the DNA of the brand in the process? Colette decided not to do any of those things.
At a more macro level, Colette’s closing raises a more existential question around the life of a brand today. As change has become the new constant and brands are disrupting categories, it makes us consider what the lifecycle of a brand might look like in the near future.
What does the closing of colette says about premium concept stores and the evolution of retail ?
We talk about the future of retail today in the imperative of blending content and commerce, in the art of collaborations, in experiences and storytelling. This was the very essence of Colette. We talk about influence and influencers. Colette stood apart and set a standard in the real meaning of influence. Much of Colette’s legacy is in the way that the brand opened up the possibility of what a retail experience could be to others.
There is testament to the life of a brand, in how Colette’s mixing deck from 20 years ago is playing out across the world. The concept store Story in Manhattan describes itself as “A space that takes the point of view of a magazine, changes like a gallery, and sell things like a shop.” And inclusion has taken on new interpretations, with Story’s commitment as a platform for knowledge and community, hosting pitch nights for local entrepreneurs.
Brand partners and collaborations play out in more thoughtful and playful ways. Look at Club Monaco, which has brought together a select host of local brand partners for their New York Fifth Avenue flagship, including a Toby’s Estate Coffee & Espresso Bar and a curated collection courtesy of the inimitable eye of the legendary Strand Bookstore.
by @soandsau #coletteforever
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 19, 2017 at 3:19pm PST
The colette website is still alive, with a series of video tributes, a space for fans to share their memories and one final gift: a mini-film by Kuntzel + Deygas starring Cap & Pep on a final canine frolic before sailing off on a tropical vacation. The credits are classic colette, a collaboration of brilliant creators coming together to delight and entice:
“Produced by Add A Dog, Paris. Hand made animations by Agnès Fauve. CG animations by Patrick Daher. Modeling by Gregory Thomas. Rendering and compositing by Pierre Chomarat. Editing by David Haddad. Music: The Kiddies Christmas Frolic (Columbia Orchestra).”
Merci, c
0 notes
markjsousa · 6 years
Text
Adieu, Colette: A Tribute to the Iconic French Retailer
The worlds of fashion, design, retail, music and more are mourning today—the day after colette paris closed its doors forever. After 20 years of making redefining retail—making unexpected brand collaborations the norm, making experiences that surprise and provoke, making streetwear high fashion—the concept store closed shop on December 20th, as promised.
OMG WHAT A DAY #coletteforever #colette @saskialawaks #colettegaragedoor @klyonsnatborn
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 20, 2017 at 12:55pm PST
All year, and particularly these last few days, legions of fans from around the world have been making a pilgrimage to the store at 213 Rue Saint-Honoré for one last time, one last look and a memento or two before store founder Colette Roussaux and her daughter Sarah Andelman said a final farewell to customers, designers and other friends.
Toutes les bonnes choses ont une fin. Après vingt années exceptionnelles, colette devrait définitivement fermer ses portes le 20 décembre prochain. Colette Roussaux arrive à l'âge où il est temps de prendre son temps ; or, colette ne peut exister sans Colette. Des échanges ont lieu avec Saint Laurent et nous serions fiers qu'une Marque aussi prestigieuse, avec qui nous avons régulièrement collaboré au fil des années, reprenne notre adresse. Nous sommes ravis du grand intérêt que Saint Laurent a montré dans ce projet, ce qui pourrait constituer une très belle opportunité pour nos salariés. Jusqu’au dernier jour, rien ne changera. colette continuera de se renouveler toutes les semaines comme d’habitude, avec une sélection unique et de nombreuses collaborations, également disponibles sur notre site colette.fr Nous vous remercions pour votre confiance, et à bientôt chez colette, jusqu’au 20 décembre! #colette BREAKING NEWS As all good things must come to an end, after twenty wonderful years, colette should be closing its doors on December 20th of this year. Colette Roussaux has reached the time when she would like to take her time; and colette cannot exist without Colette. Negotiations are under way with Saint Laurent and we would be proud to have a Brand with such a history, with whom we have frequently collaborated, taking over our address. We are happy of the serious interest expressed by Saint Laurent in this project, and it could also represent a very good opportunity for our employees. Until our last day, nothing will change. colette will continue to renew itself each week with exclusive collaborations and offerings, also available on our website colette.fr We thank you for your support and see you soon at colette–until December 20th! #coletteforever #colette20ans #colette
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Jul 12, 2017 at 2:13am PDT
Thank you guys @coletteparis #ICICESTPARIS http://pic.twitter.com/9apuckwDAE
— PSG Officiel (@PSG_inside) December 20, 2017
Off-White™ c/o @coletteparis ~ most recent window display titled “Place in Context” ©2017 https://t.co/jG09VxzQr4
— Off-White™ (@OffWht) December 20, 2017
@colette is all about love #coletteforever #colette
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 20, 2017 at 7:41am PST
To say it’s the end of an era is an understatement. Interbrand global director and Meta-luxury co-author Rebecca Robins shared her thoughts in a Q&A with Influencia magazine, which has kindly allowed us to run the original English-language version:
What is the value of the colette brand today ? What did colette bring to the fashion and luxury scene when it first came out ?
The inherent strength of colette was the unique point of view. Before the words ‘edit’ and ‘curation’ became the standard vocabulary that they are today, Colette gave us a way of seeing the world. Real visionaries dare to see things differently and what this unique blend of culture and commerce gave us was as insightful as it was incisive—a rare blend of vision and curation.
The magnetic appeal of this concept store, sited so symbolically on the corner of a crossroad, was that Colette was unwavering in understanding the business that she was in—he business of people and stories. This was a brand built on curiosity and discovery. The currency was in the stories that we all came back with from each visit and the surprises that we looked forward to in anticipation of the next. This was storytelling at its best.
This was a destination that transcended generations and geography. It invited people in and brought people together through everything from book signings to talks and concerts. Above all, it was a community.
What were the branding and collaboration aspects that the store democratized ?
Colette understood the relationship between brands and culture and it was a game-changer in building an inclusive ecosystem. In the fluid mix of low and high, of the named with the names that you had yet to know, the floors of the townhouse effortlessly afforded levels of access to everyone.
Colette became world-renowned in an eclectic series of collaborations, whether with Raf Simons COMME des GARÇONS x Vans in 2005, to Aston Martin in 2011 to adidas Originals in 2014 to, most recently, Saint Laurent.
Discover the unique residency of Saint Laurent at colette : a selection of Spring 18 collection, exclusive pieces and collaborationshttps://t.co/M8VOSTRqeQ http://pic.twitter.com/hEgg3wN0Ul
— colette (@coletteparis) November 28, 2017
Can we express regrets or satisfaction for what colette brought us?
Do we regret Stradivarius or do we celebrate the genius that lived and who gifted the world what we value so highly and appreciate today? Stradivarius exists today through the creations that have been handed down from musician to musician, from one generation to another. But they are living testament to a unique vision that could not live on after the death of the great master. It was the anti-case of knowledge transfer. So, the legacy could never be carried forward.
The unique brand that Colette brought to the world will be missed because it was loved. It will be missed because in just two decades it had defined culture, it had become part of culture. How many brands can we think of that, over time, went on to sell out, sell off, expand, extend and ultimately diluted the DNA of the brand in the process? Colette decided not to do any of those things.
At a more macro level, Colette’s closing raises a more existential question around the life of a brand today. As change has become the new constant and brands are disrupting categories, it makes us consider what the lifecycle of a brand might look like in the near future.
What does the closing of colette says about premium concept stores and the evolution of retail ?
We talk about the future of retail today in the imperative of blending content and commerce, in the art of collaborations, in experiences and storytelling. This was the very essence of Colette. We talk about influence and influencers. Colette stood apart and set a standard in the real meaning of influence. Much of Colette’s legacy is in the way that the brand opened up the possibility of what a retail experience could be to others.
There is testament to the life of a brand, in how Colette’s mixing deck from 20 years ago is playing out across the world. The concept store Story in Manhattan describes itself as “A space that takes the point of view of a magazine, changes like a gallery, and sell things like a shop.” And inclusion has taken on new interpretations, with Story’s commitment as a platform for knowledge and community, hosting pitch nights for local entrepreneurs.
Brand partners and collaborations play out in more thoughtful and playful ways. Look at Club Monaco, which has brought together a select host of local brand partners for their New York Fifth Avenue flagship, including a Toby’s Estate Coffee & Espresso Bar and a curated collection courtesy of the inimitable eye of the legendary Strand Bookstore.
by @soandsau #coletteforever
A post shared by colette (@colette) on Dec 19, 2017 at 3:19pm PST
The colette website is still alive, with a series of video tributes, a space for fans to share their memories and one final gift: a mini-film by Kuntzel + Deygas starring Cap & Pep on a final canine frolic before sailing off on a tropical vacation. The credits are classic colette, a collaboration of brilliant creators coming together to delight and entice:
“Produced by Add A Dog, Paris. Hand made animations by Agnès Fauve. CG animations by Patrick Daher. Modeling by Gregory Thomas. Rendering and compositing by Pierre Chomarat. Editing by David Haddad. Music: The Kiddies Christmas Frolic (Columbia Orchestra).”
Merci, c
0 notes
Text
The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - Like A Thief In The Night
The bar at the Galway Arms has seen more than a few strange tales, but few stranger than tonight's story, which sees one of the gang on the track of a phantom anticapitalist poet.
Like A Thief In The Night
The English games were over, and the crowds were gone; Barcelona was playing, but they were getting tanked, and so the usual crowd of casuals, bandwagoners, and fair-weather fans who'd probably followed Neymar to PSG now were cleared out as well, so it was only Greg and Lou and Sarad posted up around the end of the bar at the Galway.  Greg was there live-tweeting the action and keeping an eye on trolls for the site he moonlighted for; Lou was there because Lou didn't really do 'going home' except as a consequence of 'going broke'; and Sarad was there because he was an actual Barcelona fan, forever faithful, win lose or draw – even when 'lose' meant 'get tanked 0-2 by goddamn Girona at home, with none of the team's overpaid mercenaries showing an ounce of fight'.  You had days like this as a soccer fan – following Barça just meant that there were fewer of them.
Sue noticed Sarad shaking his head, the empty glass in front of him, and came down the bar to lift it away.  "Another Stella, Sarad?"
He looked at the glass, then up at the game, the time ticking away in the upper left corner.  "Sure; but that's it, just cash me out after this one.  I've got to go up to work after the game, but one more should be okay, I'll dry out before then."  Sue was off down the bar to the taps, but Sarad's face snapped suddenly, pensive, like he'd just remembered something really important.  "Actually, no, can I change that?  Can I change it out for a coke?"
Sue nodded, half the beer poured, and tipped it over towards the drain. "Wait, hold on – no need to waste it.  Put it on my tab, I'll take it off your hands."  Lou had a hand up; the next time someone wasted alcohol in front of him would probably be the first. Sue scowled, but set the glass down on the grille and dropped the tap open, finishing off the beer as she buzzed up Sarad's coke from the gun.
"Fine, Lou, but it's the last one – you're shut off now too."  She plonked the drinks down in front of her customers, and Lou dug for his wallet.  "So what happened?  Do you have to leave sooner? Do you have something you have to do before work?"
Sarad shook his head.  "No, nothing like that.  I'm still gonna stick to the end of the game, but I really gotta be on my A-game tonight. There's a difference between showing up sober enough not to get fired, and being where you got to be to catch a prowler at three in the morning."
"Prowlers?" Sue was concerned.  "What's going on?  Don't you just call the cops?"
Sarad shook his head.  "We're supposed to – if I could get a sight of someone, prove that there was someone there, that's what I'd do: get on the radio, get dispatch, get them to put the U cops or the city police up on the doors around where I saw them.  But you gotta see something to get that far – and it's been the last two shifts, same shit, and I ain't been seen hide nor hair of nothing.  It's like this guy can walk through walls."
"Yeah, it's a good thing I was here to soak this one for you, Sarad," Lou said, glugging away at the reallocated Stella.  "And I'll tell Sai'id to come down, shadow you and smoke your extra cheeb for you – no more cats walking through the walls at work after that. Don't worry – we've got your back."
Sarad rolled his eyes.  "Man, I wish that was all it was.  Man, do I ever wish."
You know I can't talk too much about where I work, where I pick up shifts; company policy, that people don't know which guard is on which place when, but you probably got the basics: most of the time, I'm overnights on one of those big biomedical labs up the river back towards Watertown.  But I'm saving up, get some extra money so Kezia and I can get away down to Miami or Puerto Rico this winter, and there was this thing where all of a sudden they were looking for people to pick up shifts at… well, let's call it "a" university b-school, up north, not across the street.  They had their own night guy, supposed to be a student job, but all of a sudden they up and quit, and they called my company, my bosses, looking for a temp security guy to plug in.  The pay was normal, actually a little less since they were paying the company the hourly they used to have their own guy for and of course the company has to take a cut, but it was extra shifts, it was an extra two paychecks a week, so of course I took it.  And it's just a business school – nobody staying late doing, like, actual work, no expensive equipment or like substances that you'd jack to make drugs; the most trouble you'd get would be like some boat-shoes bro trying to break in and get test answers, like, right?  This was nice and simple and free money I could pick up around my normal shifts. Easy.
On the first shift, I had the facilities manager running me through it; older guy, beard, long ponytail, mad at having to pay extra to get his job done, wants to go home.  It was like any other overnight: go through and make sure the doors are all locked, do a round all through the floors, wait a bit, do another round, maybe check the doors, go eat your overnight meal in the kitchen back of the cafeteria or whatever, wait some more, do another rounds, and then coming around morning check all through everywhere again and unlock the doors that people got to use in the morning.  What's the route through the building.  Who do you call for like a medical deal or something; what's the number for the cops and what's their response time.  It was normal, nothing big, my post up in some like junior faculty area, up over a bunch of lecture halls – all just like normal, even if dude was stopping, squinting, at every hallway bulletin board we passed.
Nine to midnight, it was just fine; this was a big net of empty buildings I had to walk through and check over, but it was all empty, you get it done in thirty minutes, and then I was back on my phone, feet up on the desk.  I was thinking, like, kids, you know; what was the student guy who had this job before me doing flaking on this sweet gig?  After, though; after, that was when it started to get strange.
I was done with the cold chicken and asparagus and potatoes they had up for me, and I was coming back up through the halls to get back to the office, checking every second door out of pure habit, when I didn't see it, around the corner as I was turning back from turning on a door handle.  Like I said, I didn't see it – a shape, a blur, right at the corner where the corridor turned, and I couldn't prove that I'd seen anything or I didn't.  I didn't hear anything – and as soft as I rolled my feet I could always hear myself walking those halls.  No noise, no motion – nothing definite that I'd seen what I didn't seen.  I walked up careful, real quiet, back on the far side of the wall to see around the corner first, but when I cleared up to it, up along the lockers to the corner, there was nothing there, nothing all the way down the hall to the next turn around.  I came up along, looking at the lockers, looking at the doors, and maybe because the manager'd done it, or maybe because it was sticking out, I looked over the bulletin board.
Most of it was just normal shit: events, guest speakers, an evacuation plan.  But there was something tagged up there that didn't look like it was supposed to be: a little bit of notebook paper out of a moleskine or something, writing in pen.  I came over, squatted down to get a closer look.  It was a poem – and anytime you get a poem in a b-school, that's suspicious, but this was a hell of a lot more than even that:
the stars are for everyone the moonlight the purple misty cloud on the floorboards of heaven and when the night is poured up with neon and halogen and bright white teasing spotlights to yell Paxotracin Citgo Best Prices On Certified Pre-Owned then the hand that swings the hammer to shatter the lights into a new galaxy of impact-glassy stars is a hero for the liberation of humanity
This was bad.  I ripped the paper down.  There was anarchists or communists or something creepy-crawling in my building, and no matter how much I agreed with the ideas in, like, principle, if it was still up in the morning they'd blame me. I stiffed the poem in my pants pocket and quickened up my rounds, watching out for the corners, looking over the bulletin boards like a hawk.
After that, I was a lot more thorough; I was on my feet almost all the way through my shift, checking carefully through all of the classrooms and halls that I had keys to, opening and checking out and re-locking every outside door and landing that I could unlock the bar on without setting off an alarm.  There was no more poems, no physical sign of someone who went through putting them up that, like had to be, but there were a lot of signs and pieces, half-clues, that could be.  Piles of papers on desks that looked like they hadn't been in that order the last time I went through.  A candy bowl locked up in an AV stack where all the Tootsie Rolls had been picked all to one side.  And a couple more times, around corners or way ahead of me, flashing into a shallow doorway that no person could've passed, that idea of a moving shadow.  It was really getting to me by the time I went back down to the facilities office to turn the keys in, but I was determined not to let it show.
The day manager was back in, looking me over kind of weird as he signed the keys and the radio back over.  "How was it?  No problems?" like he was expecting something from me.
I shrugged. "Nothing.  It's an overnight.  Isn't a thing." He sighed, his shoulders flexing like he'd shed the weight of the world off them – so he was afraid that I'd've said something about the shadow, or the poems, or whoever the hell this invisible visitor was.
"Yeah; that's right, you're a professional.  Nothing to worry about." He checked the radio and clipped it onto his own belt.  I was heading out the door, since I was out and this wasn't really any of my business any more, but I realized that I could maybe find out what the hell had happened to get me onto this job, and have him not notice that I knew something weird was up.
"Yeah, this was an easy shift; you got students on this normally, right?  I gotta wonder at someone who'd just like ghost on easy money like this.  What happened, they drop out and move back somewhere?"
The facilities manager was standing board-stiff, eyes wide, like I'd said something wrong and hit the wrong switch.  "Yeah – yeah – something like that.  The last one couldn't handle the overnights with day classes, insisted he was seeing things, and quit.  We shouldn't bother with kids; I've been wanting this contracted out for a while."  His jaw was set, because he was lying: you start contracting your security, and the next thing you're contracting your janitorial and your facilities, and then this dude would be out of a job.  I nodded like I didn't understand, and went out the door to get going back home.
The next shift, a couple days after, I was ready.  I had my backpack with my James Randi-style ghost hunting kit, and I had a plan, a solid plan, to be sure that I knew when something had actually gotten moved or changed so I knew I wasn't jumping at shadows.  As soon as I finished locking up the outside doors, it was back for my backpack, and a thorough, thorough, work-through of the entire place.
Everything that might be something that would get disturbed, I took a picture of it with my phone.  Every door, I taped it shut after I'd checked out and documented everything inside: two chunks of heavy clear packing tape, one on the frame and one on the door, and between them I taped one of Kezia's hairs across the crack; of course I keep mine too short to do this, so I cleaned out her brush before I went down.  If someone went through one of these doors, the hair would break – either that or they'd have to spend time scrabbling the tape off, and I'd see that too; they wouldn't be able to if they were going fast. Every door; every single door.  It would take time to clean up in the morning, but it would be worth it to know that nobody was going to mess around on me tonight.
I took another rounds after it was all done, making sure that all the tape and the hair locks were in place still, and then went down to the caf to get dinner.  I came back up by a different way after dropping the dishes at the potsink, and on top of a stack of the school paper in an old pay-phone alcove by the stairwell, I saw it, out of place.  I checked my phone: I had a picture of the stack of papers, and I could prove that it hadn't had a poem on it the first time I came through here.  I picked it up, reading it over:
the doors are all closed and the windows are barred but love gets in the stores are all closed and the shelves are all empty but love gets in love gets in the borders are closed and the fence is electrified but love gets in the seals on the scrolls are closed and the bowls of wrath are pouring but love gets in love gets in love gets in love gets in in every nation in every language across every obstacle where it should not love gets in love gets in love gets in
There was something ominous in it – you could publish chunks of this on your aunt's Facebook and nobody would blink, but other parts about it would make anyone who read it call the cops.  Was this a threat? From whoever or whatever was hovering around at the edge of my vision, not following me around, not walking through walls?  I stuffed the poem into my pocket.  I could prove that it hadn't been here, but if I couldn't find how whoever got in to put it where I found it, the only thing that was gonna prove would be that I got bored and liked crying wolf.  I made a careful mental map of the building, and set off to check all the doors, all the locks, all my tape, all over again.
By the time I finished that, the sun was starting to come up, so I had to grab a CVS bag and my knife and clean up all the tape while I unlocked the doors.  Since I'd taped the doors shut, I knew that when I found the tape and the hair in place, everything inside would be fine – but when I actually got to the first of the lecture halls I'd taped up like this, I felt it really gnawing at me as I took the tape off and got ready to go.  I had to go in and check; I had to make sure, double sure against the impossible, and I had my pride of work as a night watchman.  Wasn't nobody going to say that I didn't do exactly everything exactly right, totally complete.
The room was a nightmare. Nothing wrong, nothing that a normal person would see or even know, but I knew it – I had proof on my phone. The order of the markers on the sill under the whiteboard had gotten swapped around.  The old-ass overhead projector in the corner was turned ninety degrees.  And the candy bowl locked in the desk, again, had gotten its Tootsie Rolls sorted out to the edges, separated by color.  I knew no one had been in here – no, all I knew was that no one opened the door – and unless I was going to admit some kind of maniac crawling around in the ductwork – which, in here, involved a minimum fifteen-foot drop from the HVAC grills down to the terraced floor – I had no idea how to explain all this shit getting screwed around. All I could do was hope this was the only place – that there had been like a midget hiding in the drop ceiling, come out to mess with me, and that they were back up there – and that something I'd done to try and solve this crazy mystery or lay down this ghost had actually worked.
No luck.  Every room – every room, every single room, and not a one of them had their hairs broken. Little things – all kinds of little things that nobody normal would ever notice, but I was looking for them, and I knew that they were wrong, and had proof, and they were driving me goddamn bananas.  It was worse than last time – it was like the poltergeist or shit was gunning for me, was doing this on purpose. I was freaking out – freaking out so bad that I didn't bother maybe-noticing the little swirls of shadows ahead of me, those hints that this was all getting set up as I was going along, some kind of crazy reverse dominoes running out ahead of me.
I was sweating and beat by the time I got back up to my seat, tied up the trash bag and tossed it in the can, and mechanically picked up my backpack to head out, get the hell out and get the hell home.  The backpack moved it – the moving air as I yanked my bag up caught a corner under the bit of paper lying face-down on the desk, and I noticed it. I turned it over, even though I was scared out of my mind about what it was going to be.
It was.
this is a commendation for SARAD K DARTMOUTH (insert recipient name here) for service far above and beyond the call of a cog in the capitalist machine for doing what was expected for accepting a paycheck for carrying out the enumerated job functions and for doing uncompensated work at his own expense to further feather the nests of the ones who already have too much. let it be known that the bearer of this certificate shall never be refused entrance anywhere let it be known that all doors will always be opened to him because, from the furthest end of the earth they will always see him coming
I crumpled up the paper and threw it at the garbage.  They were screwing with me.  They were screwing with me by name, taunting me for caring about my job, having to work for a living, that I hadn't caught them yet because I didn't have X-ray vision and I wasn't an actual ghost.  Screw this.  I slung up my pack and stomped down the stairs to turn the keys in, resolved that I was going to call Bernard as soon as I got home and cancel the other shifts here I'd already put my name in for.  I'd had enough of this.
"Of course," Sarad said, turning his straw through the ice cubes left at the bottom of his coke, "I calmed down by the time I got home, and I realized that I still needed the money.  So I'm still in for those shifts – that's the one I've got to go up for tonight."
Greg was stunned.  "After something like that?  Calling you out by name?  You're braver than me, man; if something like that happened to me, I'd've taken that last threat straight over to the cops instead of throwing it in the trash.  Just the one, and you might get laughed at, or pulled up for like missing a door, but what if there's other people been getting these?  You said it – the facilities manager was looking out for stuff on the bulletin boards, and the guy before you flaked because he was seeing things."
Sarad shook his head.  "No, nothing doing: I'm a night watchman; I'm security my own self.  We get shit on enough by the regular cops that there's no way that I'm gonna go run something in to them if I don't got it all together with a neat ribbon on top."  He slurped at his straw, the last dregs of his drink.  "This time, I'm not gonna go crazy on watching out.  I'm gonna do my job, and clean up these poems – maybe I'll make a book out of them and publish them in that English-lit journal Oliver has editorial on.  I'm gonna do exactly what they're paying me to, and ignore this black-bloc ghost or whatever – and if it wants to step, well, I carry a flashlight around same as the radio, and it can come step to that."  He finished off his drink and pushed his stool back, standing up.  "Good seeing you guys, even if the game didn't work out so good.  See you around."
Lou was fishing through his pockets.  "Later, Sarad; good luck.  I'm about tapped out, but I'll see if I got a buck fifty to light you a candle at St. Francis.  Just in case."
Greg shut his netbook with a snap.  "Don't worry, Lou, I'll spot you if you're short.  Let's go; I'm in on that too.  It's probably not gonna do anything, but something like this, you gotta check everything – you can't be too careful."
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