#ragshop

[mikset-tottori]

〈凸集合~関連イベント~〉

展示に合わせて、なんとラーメンが食べられる！ラーメン大好きの私は楽しみで仕方がありません！！🍜

ーーー

ラーメンSUN！(ラーメンさん！)

島根県出雲市で開業予定のラーメン屋さん。「やさしさとユーモア」をモットーに現在は間借り営業やイベント出店で活動中。

2/25 11:00〜

✴︎限定30食✴︎なくなり次第終了。

〈メニュー〉

・正油ラーメン・・・¥900

[quotesfrommyreading]

It is August 1854, and London is a city of scavengers. Just the names alone read now like some kind of exotic zoological catalogue: bone-pickers, rag-gatherers, pure-finders, dredgermen, mud-larks, sewer-hunters, dustmen, night-soil men, bunters, toshers, shoremen. These were the London underclasses, at least a hundred thousand strong. So immense were their numbers that had the scavengers broken off and formed their own city, it would have been the fifth-largest in all of England. But the diversity and precision of their routines were more remarkable than their sheer number. Early risers strolling along the Thames would see the toshers wading through the muck of low tide, dressed almost comically in flowing velveteen coats, their oversized pockets filled with stray bits of copper recovered from the water's edge. The toshers walked with a lantern strapped to their chest to help them see in the predawn gloom, and carried an eight-foot-long pole that they used to test the ground in front of them, and to pull themselves out when they stumbled into a quagmire. The pole and the eerie glow of the lantern through the robes gave them the look of ragged wizards, scouring the foul river's edge for magic coins. Beside them fluttered the mud-larks, often children, dressed in tatters and content to scavenge all the waste that the toshers rejected as below their standards: lumps of coal, old wood, scraps of rope.

Above the river, in the streets of the city, the pure-finders eked out a living by collecting dog shit (colloquially called “pure”) while the bone-pickers foraged for carcasses of any stripe. Below ground, in the cramped but growing network of tunnels beneath London's streets, the sewer-hunters slogged through the flowing waste of the metropolis. Every few months, an unusually dense pocket of methane gas would be ignited by one of their kerosene lamps and the hapless soul would be incinerated twenty feet below ground, in a river of raw sewage.

The scavengers, in other words, lived in a world of excrement and death. Dickens began his last great novel, Our Mutual Friend, with a father-daughter team of toshers stumbling across a corpse floating in the Thames, whose coins they solemnly pocket. “What world does a dead man belong to?” the father asks rhetorically, when chided by a fellow tosher for stealing from a corpse. “'Tother world. What world does money belong to? This world.” Dickens' unspoken point is that the two worlds, the dead and the living, have begun to coexist in these marginal spaces. The bustling commerce of the great city has conjured up its opposite, a ghost class that somehow mimics the status markers and value calculations of the material world.  Consider the haunting precision of the bone-pickers' daily routine, as captured in Henry Mayhew's pioneering 1844 work, London Labour and the London Poor:

It usually takes the bone-picker from seven to nine hours to go over his rounds, during which time he travels from 20 to 30 miles with a quarter to a half hundredweight on his back. In the summer he usually reaches home about eleven of the day, and in the winter about one or two. On his return home he proceeds to sort the contents of his bag. He separates the rags from the bones, and these again from the old metal (if he be luckly enough to have found any). He divides the rags into various lots, according as they are white or coloured; and if he have picked up any pieces of canvas or sacking, he makes these also into a separate parcel. When he has finished the sorting he takes his several lots to the ragshop or the marine-store dealers, and realizes upon them whatever they may be worth. For the white rags he gets from 2d. to 3d. per pound, according as they are clean or soiled. The white rags are very difficult to be found; they are mostly very dirty, and are therefore sold with the coloured ones at the rate of about 5 lbs. for 2d.

The homeless continue to haunt today's postindustrial cities, but they rarely display the professional clarity of the bone-picker's impromptu trade, for two primary reasons. First, minimum wages and government assistance are now substantial enough that it no longer makes economic sense to eke out a living as a scavenger. (Where wages remain depressed, scavenging remains a vital occupation; witness the perpendadores of Mexico City). The bone collector's trade has also declined because most modern cities possess elaborate systems for managing the waste generated by their inhabitants. (In fact, the closest American equivalent to the Victorian scavengers – the aluminium-can collectors you sometimes see hovering outside supermarkets – rely on precisely those waste-management systems for their paycheck.) But London in 1854 was a Victorian metropolis trying to make do with an Elizabethan public infrastructure. The city was vast even by today's standards, with two and a half million people crammed inside a thirty-mile circumference. But most of the techniques for managing that kind of population density that we now take for granted – recycling centers, public-health departments, safe sewage removal – hadn't been invented yet.

And so the city itself improvised a response – an unplanned, organic response, to be sure, but at the same time a response that was precisely contoured to the community's waste-removal needs. As the garbage and excrement grew, an underground market for refuse developed, with hooks into established trades. Specialists emerged, each dutifully carting goods to the appropriate site in the official market: the bone collectors selling their goods to the bone-boilers, the pure-finders selling their dog shit to tanners, who used the “pure” to rid their leather goods of the lime they had soaked in for weeks to remove animal hair. (A process widely considered to be, as one tanner put it, “the most disagreeable in the whole range of manufacture.”)

We're naturally inclined to consider these scavengers tragic figures, and to fulminate against a system that allowed so many thousands to eke out a living by foraging through human waste. In many ways, this is the correct response. (It was, to be sure, the response of the great crusaders of the age, among them Dickens and Mayhew.) But such social outrage should be accompanied by a measure of wonder and respect: without any central planner coordinating their actions, without any education at all, this itinerant underclass managed to conjure up an entire system for processing and sorting the waste generated by two million people. The great contribution usually ascribed to Mayhew's London Labour is simply his willingness to see and record the details of these impoverished lives. But just as valuable was the insight that came out of that bookkeeping, once he had run the numbers: far from being unproductive vagabonds, Mayhew discovered, these people were actually performing an essential function for their community. “The removal of the refuse of a large town,” he wrote, “is, perhaps, one of the most important of social operations.” And the scavengers of Victorian London weren't just getting rid of that refuse – they were recycling it.

  —  The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic - and How it Changed Science, Cities and the Modern World (Steven Johnson)

[brandeetuckersteger]

#Repost @harlemragshop1934 with @make_repost ・・・ After I made this video I realized this is a tricky situation. I don’t want to support going out, at this time. But, I also want to support my small business, Harlem RagShop 1934. So, if you do go out, or happen to go out, or maybe need to get out, wash your hands, wear a mask, wear gloves... Hell, maybe just put on a hazmat suit and let’s go. Grab some vintage at 5213 Hollywood Blvd @vintagevortexvv OR visit us online on Etsy (Harem RagShop 1934) 🙋🏾‍♀️ Link in profile 🤍 We’ll have some new items, including mega rad vintage sunglasses, online by the end of the week 😎Thank you for your support. Please stay safe! xoxo Bee @brandeesteger - Harlem RagShop 1934 #blackownedbusiness #blackownedclothing #blackownedbusinesses #vintage #vintagestyle #love #swag #clothing #commercial #blackgirlmagic #blackwomen #blackwomeninbusiness #dresses #leatherjacket #jewelry #smallbusiness #smallbusinessowners #supportsmallbusinesses #supportsmallbusiness #recycledfashion https://www.instagram.com/p/CDfMFJBjdt2/?igshid=u1l161frjsgf

[beastlyanachronism]

Yes! Furthermore:

1. Shaw wrote a delightful essay as an epilogue to Pygmalion, in which Eliza, Higgins, Pickering and Freddy become a sort of dysfunctional but contented found family. Eliza and Freddy become a girlboss/malewife couple (I don't like the phrase but. it's them alright. also Freddy is the archetypal simp), and when they have to stay in Higgins' place at one point,

"Eliza's desire to have Freddy in the house with her seemed of no more importance than if she had wanted an extra piece of bedroom furniture...[Eliza] was quite aware that she ought not to quarter Freddy there, and that it would not be good for his character...[Higgins] denied that Freddy had any character and declared that [Freddy] was obviously intended by Nature for such light work as amusing Eliza...a much more useful and honorable occupation than working in the city".

Pickering helps Freddy and Eliza set up a flower shop, Higgins teaches handwriting to Eliza (with the same "stormy intensity" as before) and the young couple go for weekends down the country, paid for by Higgins and Pickering. And Eliza nags Higgins to her heart's content, which is no more than he deserves.

2. The ending of the original play is ambiguous and weak, it's no good Shaw saying

"the rest of the story ... would hardly need telling if our imaginations were not so enfeebled by their lazy dependence on the ready-mades and reach-me-downs of the ragshop in which Romance keeps its stock of "happy endings" to misfit all stories",

productions of the play should round things off better, in my opinion. Firstly to clarify that Eliza marries Freddy, but also to confirm that Eliza doesn't lose touch with Higgins, which would be ooc.

"She is immensely interested in him. She even has secret mischievous moments in which she wishes she could get him alone, on a desert island ... and just drag him off his pedestal and see him making love like any common man ... But when it comes to business ... she does not like Higgins."

3. The ending of My Fair Lady the musical is also, I think, ambiguous and weak. But at least it avoids committing itself to Higgins/Eliza while still, presumably, satisfying those who thought that should be the outcome. Personally I don't think the ending implies that Eliza returns to marry Higgins. But the ending could (and should) definitely be improved.

4. One of the biggest differences between play and musical is this: in the play it was never hinted that Higgins and Eliza had romantic feelings towards each other at any point. Obviously in My Fair Lady, the songs "I Could Have Danced All Night" and "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" seem to imply otherwise (at least according to theatre logic). I would argue, though, that it's pretty obvious that at no point were they both simultaneously attracted to each other.

5. Higgins is totally unmarriageable, incorrigable, irritating and bombastic but he MUST remain likeable in any production. He's my problematic fave – but is totally not husband material for ANYONE, much less Eliza (what with the age gap and the power imbalance). He is introduced to us as being

"so entirely frank and void of malice that he remains likeable even in his least reasonable moments".

For me, My Fair Lady's worst mistake is Higgins' line "How humiliating...how delightful!" as he predicts an awful downfall for Eliza.

6. That said, if there's anyone out there who really really wants to ship Higgins/Eliza, but only if they are equals and he is reformed and she has time to mature and flourish independently of him, check out Rara Avis by Coryphasia on AO3.

7. Anyone with an interest in all this should watch the terrific video linked in the notes, "The Problem With My Fair Lady's Ending (and how to fix it)" by J. Draper.

Finding out the original playwright for Pygmalion(the play my fair lady is based on) hated and fought people changing the ending to make it ~happier~ by having eliza and professor higgins end up together even though he wanted the whole point to be that she emancipates HERSELF by leaving him at the end..

[craftydeals4u19]

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[barbee]

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[chrisloria215]

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[earth-sister]

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[inspire365days]

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[grammytata]

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[brandeetuckersteger]

Goals🎺 @thecurlyvshow in a Harlem RagShop 1934 jacket 🙌🏾👌🏾👏🏾 #men #fashion #mensfashion #yass #lovestyle #swag #repost #look #lookbooklookbook #linkinprofile #musthave #loveit #instagood #instagram #instafamous #influencer #linkinbio #moments #favorites #rockstar #lookinggood #losangeles #goodstuff #goodvibes #vibes #goodlife #livingmybestlife #liker https://www.instagram.com/p/Bpdd80yBUMD/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1qsf653xem6vb

[tremendousdetectivetheorist]

Freddy Frenzy Friday | Eliza’s Choice

...what is Eliza fairly sure to do when she is placed between Freddy and Higgins? Will she look forward to a lifetime of fetching Higgins's slippers or to a lifetime of Freddy fetching hers? There can be no doubt about the answer. Unless Freddy is biologically repulsive to her, and Higgins biologically attractive to a degree that overwhelms all her other instincts, she will, if she marries either of them, marry Freddy.  And that is just what Eliza did.

- “Pygmalion”, George Bernard Shaw, 1916

Photo: Jeremy Brett as Freddy Eynsford-Hill, Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle, and Rex Harrison as Henry Higgins; My Fair Lady (1964)

(After the cut, a note about the Pygmalion quotes I’ll be posting)

This is one of a series of Freddy posts featuring quotes from the play “Pygmalion” by George Bernard Shaw, on which the musical “My Fair Lady” is based. Most of these quotes come from the “Sequel: What Happened Afterwards” essay at the end of the play, which you can read in full here! The essay begins with:

The rest of the story need not be shown in action, and indeed, would hardly need telling if our imaginations were not so enfeebled by their lazy dependence on the ready-mades and reach-me-downs of the ragshop in which Romance keeps its stock of “happy endings” to misfit all stories.

Ha, George Bernard Shaw, you got me! :-> The play and essay are quite interesting. I won’t go fully into it, but I admire Shaw’s wit and that Eliza had choices (other than marriage). When I watched My Fair Lady I wondered what would come next for Eliza, and I wondered what became of Freddy because of my huge crush on him since we didn’t see him after the taxi ride on the night Eliza ran away. So, I am only beginning to imagine what I can from it. There is so little to go off of, which makes room for lots of fan fic by the more imaginative minds...

[up2rise-blog]

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[jdoc2015]

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[starstrucksaladalienprofessor]

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[barter-or-buy]

So good I had to share! Check out all the items I'm loving on @Poshmarkapp from @ragshop #poshmark #fashion #style #shopmycloset #mudpie #justice: https://posh.mk/Jjl820Foc0