#Taylor's Port

[biglisbonnews]

Taylor’s Port makes TFWA World Exhibition debut with travel retail-exclusive City Edition The Portuguese brand – a key member of the family-owned Fladgate Partnership – aims to expand its footprint in the channel. https://www.moodiedavittreport.com/taylors-port-makes-tfwa-world-exhibition-debut-with-travel-retail-exclusive-city-edition/

[hyprfixations]

Taylor Zakhar Perez for PORT Magazine

[myteavsricochet]

[taylorz-nicholasg]

More pictures from Port Magazine China

[alexsleftbicep]

Nick and Tay as psycho hitmen who fall in love with each other when they get assigned the same guy to go after PLEASE

[withywindle-valley]

"Here's the horny one trying to bash it through the middle" BT please I am begging you to retire

[welivetodream]

*after Dazai left PM*

Mori: hello, Dazai-kun, this is just too much. Come back to your job RIGHT NOW

Dazai: I am sorry! The old Dazai can't come to the phone right now

Mori: why???!!

Dazai: why?

Dazai: oh.....cuz he's dead. *cuts the phone*

Mori: why is the little menace so dramatic?

Mori: I guess he will come back when he is out of money and hungry...

Ps: he never came back

[amber-jinx]

RIP Rachel Amber you would've loved The Tortured Poets Department

[yokubolordxandtrichael]

this is my favorite ship I've ever done! #Gekido #Kyofu #ship #KyofuxGekido

[honey-bri-books]

Taylor Zakhar Perez

[nocoastposts]

taylorzakharperez 純粹的破壞

Port Magazine China

Photographer: @juliannn_song

Editor: Guo Ai

Stylist: Eddy

Hair: Zhou Xue Ming

Makeup: Beata

Prop: Young-z (AZIOFSTUDIO)

Production: Shui Yan

Prop Assistant: WEN & Ulysses (AZIOFSTUDIO)

Photography Assistant: Madame Dai

[yours-stevie]

My man 😍

[taylorz-nicholasg]

Port Magazine China

[jumbostickyrice]

Sea Shanty 2 on Expert | By Ian Taylor | Full Combo | RuneScape

[jackalsinthekitchen]

pop report #8 (today's top hits, 9/24/24)

today's top twenty – short n' salty

A whole Brat Summer has come and gone since we last left off. I tumbled belatedly down Charli’s rabbit hole in January, when I was looking for something to flatter a high, and she ended up blowing my world apart. I’d slept on her a decade ago, when she was both sugar and spice – everything nice, really – in hits which have aged varying degrees of well. Yet her 2015 union with PC Music was what put the form to her urge to soundscape – unlike the DMT-addled Todd Rundgren of fifty years ago, of whom she’s a fan, she’s nothing if not collaborative. When I first played brat, besotted as any sane person would be by the effervescent “360”, I found its music too metallic and its melodies overly astringent. Mea culpa – now no less an authority than our next president [knock, knock] has validated her cultural primacy.

So you won’t catch me complaining anymore – it couldn’t have happened to a more visionary icon. But of course, the year belongs to neither Charli, nor the victor in the battle of the quarter-century (not talking about Beyoncé v. Swift, who I think it’s safe to say overdid themselves into a draw this time out). Armed with little more than a wand, a rabbit, and a kabuki-meets-Cyndi Lauper aesthetic, the Midwest Princess finally completed her year-long rise this fall. Meanwhile, in Chappell’s shadow, the Last Straight Femme has put a bow on a fascinating saga that kicked off with “Drivers License”, while Olivia takes sour selfies abroad. And the season of the sticks is long over, with the cabal of bros who once threatened to turn 2024 into the Year of the Dude proving one-hit wonders – or if not one, at least a lot less than F-1 trillion.

But the bro atop half of Today’s Top Hit, Bruno Mars, is a different breed altogether – like his duet partner, one L. Gaga, a star so massive he’s transcended this plane, if not the material world. The languidly soulful waltz “Die with a Smile” sounds to me like an AI dream about “Beautiful Things” being less annoying, and as with everything else America can’t stop listening to (including “Beautiful Things”), someday soon I’m sure I’ll love it. But it still turns on vocals which grind into sincerity, yielding more sawdust than sparks, and presumably won’t unite a wedding dancefloor like “Uptown Funk” or “Bad Romance” ages from now. I suppose each artist thought they had to remind us that they were alive, and forgive my cynicism that the song is doing so well on branding power alone (well, and maybe those outfits).

Tate McRae is another one who feels greedier for the public than vice versa, but it’s ok – “It’s ok I’m ok” is a bit more than OK, the rapid-fire rap hook and sudden wash of synth atmospherics disrupting its relative self-repetition. It's another one that promises to grow over a slow fade; I’d say pop hits are fading slower than ever, but really, it’s always been this way. It does boast some brevity, said to be the soul of something in limited currency – its brisk two and a half minutes feel closer to 75 seconds. Lasting as long is #3, a single about lingering, Short n’ Sweet (ha)’s attention-seizing opener “Taste”. Whereas Olivia’s overtures to authenticity made her so compelling, Sabrina leans into the prefab, and it’s fab every time, fam. Its throwback feel is one of its chiefest virtues – it’s a dead ringer for the Divinvyls, and who doesn't dig the Divinyvls?

The fun of Chappell Roan is which of her big hits you can’t escape at any given moment – only “Pink Pony Club”, which is basically a standard now, is falling behind the rest of the pack. #4 on today’s TTH is “Good Luck, Babe”, its chorus such a pristine flourish of frosting it’s always good for getting through, coming out or kissing off. It’s the first in a trio of queer victories down the list, followed by Charli’s zero-melody banger “Guess”, feat. Billie E, whose subsequently-slotted “Birds of a Feather” is to “we can’t be friends” (#21) as Sour is to Short n’ Sweet. Here’s a girl who writes like she earned both her Oscars. This sapphic streak goes up in flames with the Weeknd, a painfully-straight whose strongest hits sound super gay anyway. After The Idol, the flames are all he can dance in.

#s 8-12 are five stalwart inescapables – that me espresso, H-O-T-T-O-G-O, J.J. Abrams’ nepo baby keenly cornering the “wounded submissive with an acoustic guitar” half of the Taylor Swift market (her vocals softening Olivia’s bratty diction with Billie’s volume control – “I Love You, I’m Sorry”, not as good as “Risk” but still good), Hozier cornering the Adam Levine market (it’s not my aphrodisiac, but the sky still splits open at that wailing instrumental break), errybody in the bahr gittin’ tyup-seh. Then the crisp, honeyed “Apple”, one of a handful of excellent hooks (not to mention lyrics) I missed like a dumb bitch when I was being a brat about brat. Benson Boone’s “Slow it Down” (no one asked you to, BB) sounds extra hoary directly after – though yet again, he builds up to something more worth your while than you expect from the first minute.

Depending on how you look at it, no two bros need more or less help than Post Malone and Morgan Wallen. But for their stab at the song of the summer – per Billboard, it worked – six additional bros lent a hand (though, credit where due, one of them is named Ashley). “I Had Some Help” is solid, and as with all decent-plus generic pop hits gets better or worse depending on the weather in your town or head. Still, the main takeaway is that both men would love to be Sabrina Carpenter, if not Chappell Roan. Next in line is the only member of the Tortured Poets’ Department that doesn’t sound asleep, "I Can Do it With a Broken Heart", a missile aimed directly under Joe Alwyn’s skin – the same summer the latter decided it would be a canny career move to play a rapist in Yorgos Lanthimos’ hasty surrender of his newly-acquired feminist cred.

After Tommy “Temporarily” Richman’s programmatic percolator “Million Dollar Baby” – his album will be called Coyote, though he might’ve just as easily gone with I, Robot – comes a new one for the stomp-clappers Noah Kahan pulled out of the woodwork: Myles Smith’s “Stargazing”. Anyone who’s ever wondered what Chris Martin would sound like fronting Mumford & Sons will be free to turn their attention elsewhere. Then there’s an arresting little club-designed mystery I haven’t heard before – “Move”, by two white guys (Adam Port and Stryv) and a Black vocalist (Malachiii) gently cashing in on a bourgeoning Afrobeats bubble (on this hemisphere, anyway – it’s an embarrassment of riches on the other). It’s a big hit in Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Austria – shades of ABBA, who never crossed the color line in their lives.

I’d call #20 the secret song of the summer – while many of us are feeling hot to go and so Julia, there are still plenty of shitty vibes to go around, not to mention shitty men (this writer included). Justice doesn’t get more poetic than “Please Please Please” hitting the top in a surging crop of penis-pop. While Sabrina’s triumphs are often trifles, “Please” nails an almost unprecedented level of sexual-politics profundity without a speck of strain or waste (I’d be shocked if it featured more than three instruments). Sure, Olivia’s righteous rage always hits like a tonic, but something about Carpenter’s straight-to-the-point disappointment feels a great deal more potent. Imagine if Lesley Gore, not to mention Aretha Franklin, had had “I beg you, don’t embarrass me motherfucker” at their disposal. Even then, neither would’ve delivered that last word with the same score-settling perfection. Morgan Wallen and Post Malone will always have some help. 2024’s pop queens don’t need any.