In case you didn’t know already, our blog has been moved to http://artofficialshop.com/blog. This makes it 100 times easier to use our site and our blog now that they are housed in one central location. Plus, the new site looks a whole lot cooler. In case you were wondering, we still find the time to update the blog a few times a week.

Every Monday we try to bring you a different angle or a new artist or what’s new in the industry.

Also, we continue to support the people who support and who beyond other things, offer quality product. Pathological!

And of course we still have “Makes Cynts” with Cynthia Williams every Tuesday.

Saturday at the Beacon Hotel Rooftop

Saturday’s were made roof top parties; and after a grueling winter, and the weather finally breaking through for good this weekend (fingers and toes crossed) it’s time to celebrate. Not to mention it’s Matt Green’s birthday weekend!

So come out and join the AOI team this Saturday. In conjunction with J&K, A.C.T., and BBE, we’ll be helping host The Prelude at the Beacon Hotel Rooftop in downtown DC where we’ll have our inventory out for display and purchase. This kick off event is the first of many in our “Endless Summer” series where we’ll helping host events, happy hours, photo shoots, and clothing releases. So make sure to stay tuned. Further details for this Saturdays event are below. See you there!

Also, check out the inventory on the site to see what we’ll have available this weekend. http://www.artofficialshop.com

It’s Tuesday. I’m home now, after 53 hours in the Big Easy.

I needed a real vacation following a few ultra–fast-paced work weeks and not having taken a real vacation in eons, but 53 hours would have to do. I looked forward to decompressing with folks who know me. I filled the time with activities definitely out of my usual routine: Checked out the spoken-word scene. Saw my uncle “do what he do” at a New Orleans second line. Had beignets and café au lait with a superstar (okay, just one of my best friends). Even listened to a Weezie song and half of a Cash Money oldie (couldn’t get through the whole thing).

It’s good to go back home.

Mother’s Day: replete with constant interaction, crowds, family, music, second lines, Super Sunday—with no break for the introvert. I did really well. My brain tilted toward frazzled but I kept it moving (despite the lack of vegetarian fare—New Orleans, do you have to put meat in everything?), happy to see family and get a taste of home. I even drove up to Louisiana’s capital and hugged friends I hadn’t seen in a year or so. In the end, I was gunning it back to New Orleans to make my flight. Reached the gate just as they were calling Zone 3. (I was in Zone 4; I guess sometimes it pays to be cheap.)

Even though I got some winks on the plane, my mind was still on overload. At midnight in Reagan National Airport, the dry (compared to home) air let me know I was not in N.O. anymore. Caught a cab feeling like I needed rest and relaxation from my rest and relaxation.

This weekend, I took it easy—bargain hunting to decorate my walls with something other than the lone Jimi Hendrix painting, buying plants, watching movies (or falling asleep trying to), giving into spring fever even if the DC sky doesn’t feel the same. But other thoughts kept creeping in—like Malcolm X’s approaching birthday, parole for the man convicted of his murder, and whether I truly believe in redemption (more on this next week).

Grown-up life—do we ever really vacation? I’ve been working since I was 16 years old, and I have never taken a vacation that didn’t include visiting relatives or holiday plans. I love my family and my job, but recreation from them both—a change of scenery and activity, even pampering—might serve to recharge me. I’m challenge myself to truly take a break—Bernie Mac style (video: 7:50 in). So I’m putting down this cheese sandwich, and I’m breaking, counting down the days.

Do you think stay-cations work? How often do you treat yourself to a get-away–type vacation?

3rd Annual Roots Picnic

As if a live performance from The Roots crew alone wasn’t enough for you to take a trip up 95N; maybe John Legend, Clipse, Ghostface, and Jay Electronica will. Well, just in case you still had second thoughts about it, they made sure the line up was jam packed full of good artists that would even have McNabb consider taking a trip back to Philly.

The concert takes place in Philly at Festival Pier on June 5th so you only have less than a month to coral the homies for the trip. Individual tickets are going here at LiveNation.com for $66, while a 4-pack is only $198. The show kicks off at 2pm and will probably go into the wee hours of the morning. Sounds like a perfect opportunity to pair this up with a Saturday evening Philadelphia cheese steak and make it a weekend in the city of brotherly love.

Esquire's Best Looking Woman

If you still don’t recognize Esquire’s latest cover girl Christina Hendricks, then you’re already three Mad Men seasons behind. But don’t worry, there’s still some room left on the bandwagon for you.

Hendricks as Joan Holloway

Hendricks, who plays the curvaceous Joan Holloway on the hit AMC TV series (yea, I said it, A-M-C) Mad Men; was recently named Esquire’s Best-Looking Woman. On the path to winning 30% of the vote, she managed to top a list that featured Megan Fox, Michelle Obama, and even Jessica Alba. Surprisingly enough, Hendricks arguably isn’t even the best looking woman on a TV series that features more than enough eye candy to keep even the most shallow of the male population tuned in for a full episode.

In the issue, Hendricks gives males world wide the low down on topics like chivalry, what to make sure you remember about your girl, and even what kind of drink to order.

But Hendricks is only half of what I wanted to get to. Mad Men is definitely must see TV at this point. The show takes place in the 1960s at a New York ad agency ridden with more infidelity than Tiger Woods’ blackberry. (Ok, that’s my last corny Tiger jab but did you know the newest total is up to 151? Supposedly this is the number of women Tiger wrote down as part of his therapy. Insane.) Good thing they didn’t have text messages, let alone cordless phones back then, or the series star Don Draper would have found himself

Donald Draper- AKA the guy who made having the name Donald cool again.

out of a house and home a long time ago. Aside from the cheating, the show allows you to experience what life was like in that era. From Kennedy’s assassination, racial insecurities, and even the creation of deodorant. Not to mention that the suits the men pull off are enough to  make the editor of GQ jealous.

Aside from the show appearing on AMC, (I prefer to catch it on Netflix) Mad Men is something that any TV lover will fall for. If the thought of a multi-Emmy winning series doesn’t pull you in, hopefully Christina Hendricks can.

Powering Off

Just in case you haven’t heard this track, originally provided by okayplayer.com, the New Orleans native, Jay Electronica continues to remind us why the future of hip hop is in good hands. As with any PDiddy song, he made sure we knew he was on the track throughout Jay Elects verses… and from 2:26-6:35. (No, he literally talks for 4 minutes after the song is over! Pretty funny stuff).

If you like this, check out his mixtapes “WTF is a Jay Electronica” and “Electrochemicals“. There’s quite a bit of crossover on the two but hopefully this will be enough until he actually drops an album.

- Enjoy

Left Back cover art

Although the avid Little Brother fans would probably want nothing more than for LB to hop in a hot tub machine and make everything right with 9th Wonder again, those days seem to be long gone, and so is that familiar sound we all fell in love with.

But, on their newest (and reportedly last) release, Phonte and Big Pooh try their hardest to supplant your “back in the good ol’ days” memories of the group with new ones. As Phonte put it himself on the track Tigallo for Dolo on the album, “21 years ago I used to slang verses, but 10 years later I am not the same person. Whole new perspective, not the same purpose…”. And that seems to be the overall theme of the album. Although it’s not my favorite of the LB collection, (I’ll attempt to save my opinions until after a few more listens) as with any other album from the group, it’s definitely worth a listen. Now whether or not you cough up the $9.99 for that listen is up to you.

If you’re in the DC area, you can catch LB at the Black Cat on May 14th. Tickets have yet to go on sale.

If you’ve ever driven down a District of Columbia street, you’ve probably noticed yourself a little more upset than usual. A tendency to ignore the blinking turning signal from the car in the next lane. Even an occasional side eye or vulgar exchange between you and your traffic mate. Why? My guess is that one of the main reasons are because the roads are always under construction. Always! New York Avenue, under construction. 295, under construction. You name it, and there are set of cones and idle (sometimes even non-existent) set of construction workers to go along with the barricades.

So if you’ve visited the shop lately, you may have noticed some changes. Similar to the DC streets we all hate so much, we would like to consider ourselves a work in progress. The AOI team is currently working to make the store, blog, and website one seamless work of art with the hope that the result is a better customer experience for you. So if things have been seeming a little slow on our end, don’t worry; we’re just doing the behind the scenes work to make sure our AOI followers are happy. Summer time is almost here and we have some very special things planned. Just wait and see.

Hamhocks and greens, fatbacks and sweet potatoes purring under heaping spoonfuls of sugar, cornbread, potatoes, white rice, bacon slabs, and the pig. “California mix” veggies maimed via water abuse (if they’re even on the plate), until the broccoli’s green is pukish, the cauliflower gray, and the carrots the color of a sun on its last leg. Starchy good times. In the black community, for so long (practices rooted in slavery), we’ve made meals that would stick to our bones, with carbs that would go the long haul—and it’s killing us.

Overcooked Veggies

Unhealthy eating, certainly. The practices of not including enough fresh (not overcooked) vegetables and fruit in our diets, loading the included veggies with sugar and butter—all contribute to obesity and increased rates of heart disease and diabetes in brown communities. We gotta remix what “flavor” and “tradition” mean to us.

Part of the challenge is access to fresh foods—an economic/geographical problem that manifests as a racial disparity. In my neighborhood, if I walk north (where I work) there is a Whole Foods and a farmers market or two. Popeye’s is the only fast-food restaurant in the entire area, situated among a bevy of pubs and restaurants. If I go south (which I hardly do, because there’s nothing there) I come across a McDonald’s, then a Wendy’s, another Popeye’s, Papa John’s, and more fast-food restaurants, along with the “Super” Wal-Mart, which doesn’t sell fresh produce in these parts, only canned goods. Goes without saying which neighborhood is more affluent and, coincidentally, white.

All Bad Everything

Once you get access (some might say in order to get access), you have to demand the products—through dollars. Wal-Mart is not stocking big portions of boxed Chimichangas because of a conspiracy to kill us but because it flies off the rack. And Wal-Mart orders what sells. Instead of buying Doritos or Nabisco’s never-ending menu of 100 Calorie options, the collective has to opt for oranges, pears, and—yes—watermelon.

That requires a change in thinking, for our hard-hit communities and the entire country. The task before us is to exercise power over our choices and not accept what is “given” to us regarding those choices. Not a small job. Studies have shown that processed foods trigger dopamine in the brain, giving you a high that makes you want more of the same. Couple that with the realization that many preservatives and ingredients in processed foods are distilled in much the same way as cocaine, and we’ve got some bad habits to shake.

Cliché as it may be, “all politics are local,” evidenced by actions in DC (moratorium on establishing new fast-food operations) and Chicago (initiative bridging disconnect between Muslim neighborhood store owners and African American patrons—with healthier fresh food options) of folks taking the reins to make neighborhood changes. It is critical to address the obesity epidemic from both sides: access as well as mindset/knowledge. One might say these initiatives take away individuals’ freedom to choose. Another might argue that these people and organizations are working in the public interest. We must wean our stomachs and our minds from selecting these foods, almost as if on autopilot. But whose responsibility is that?

“Some say we are responsible for those we love. Others know we are responsible for those who love us. —Nikki Giovanni

News pundits recently went hard at Jill Scott for writing in Essence magazine about the mosquito bite–like sting she felt when hearing that a brotha is in a relationship with a white woman. While I’d be lying if I said most times I walk past an interracial couple involving a black woman or man and had no sort of internal dialogue about it, I attribute this more to questioning the narrative I grew up with: who loves who, and why.

I agree with Nikki G (in the sense that one isn’t obligated to date certain men because they are of the same race as she and that you can find love anywhere). I am also ambivalent about interracial dating, can’t help bouncing questions around my mind. What I have to say here is no theory explaining 100 (or even 5) percent of interracial dating (discussed here only as black and white)—just food for thought while waiting on Hump Day.

While the post-slavery legacy is different for every black family, I do feel that, as a collective, having this heritage weighs on blacks in America—sometimes manifesting itself in battles with abrasiveness toward each other, ability to show gentleness or vulnerability or sincere emotion (other than anger or tough love), self-hatred. Much is made about the current (perceived or otherwise) disconnect between black men and women. This didn’t “just happen” with Generations X and Y, and now that our world is wider, we have dating options previously unavailable (because of racial, geographic, and economic limitations).

bell hooks, in Rock My Soul, speaks of economic gains and the civil rights movement and how “caring for the soul” was put on the back burner:

“Black folks have been . . . ‘hurt to our hearts,’ and the deep psychological pain we have endured and still endure affects our capacity to feel and therefore our capacity to love. We are a wounded people. Wounded in that part of ourselves that would know love, that would be loving.”

Am I saying that black folks can’t love? Hell no. We love romantic and familial, up and down, left, right, and through—but we love in this context that hooks lays out. And for some (often unconsciously), they may seek a place of love where this context doesn’t look back at them through the eyes of a brown-faced partner. A place where one can let down her guard in a perceived “white standard” of “healthy” (read: “Leave It to Beaver”) relationships, or at least those where one partner isn’t struggling with an oppressed history and the constant self-definition / re-definition that comes from existing as a “minority.” In short, they think, on some level, being with white romantic partners is easier.

Or maybe I am internalizing media hype. Even if that is the case, I think the development (or stunting) of our capacity for love and outward emotion is a convo worthy of taking up. Little brown babies are counting on us to do the needed work.

“A white face goes with a white mind. Occasionally a black face goes with a white mind. Very seldom a white face will have a black mind.” –Nikki Giovanni

Do you have strong feelings on interracial dating, or do you “live and let live”? What do you think is the next step for the dialogue on black love–or do you think there even needs to be one?