Film Festival Report, Tokyo Edition

I'm in Tokyo right now covering the Tokyo International Film Festival. As far as festivals go, TIFF could be a little more organized, but there are always some barriers to language and communication. But as far as bilingual festivals go - it's great! Japanese subtitles are on the right side of the screen, meaning there aren't two rows of text at the bottom of the screen like there were at Cannes and Venice. How else does TIFF compare? Let's see...

Cost 

TIFF is centered at the swanky Roppongi Hills, a large shopping/business/entertainment complex situated in one of the major expat neighborhoods in Tokyo. I found a decent studio nearby on Airbnb, which cost about as much as my flight from San Francisco to Taipei.  

Free Swag 

When I checked in to get my press badge, I received a cute canvas totebag with the TIFF logo, along with a copy of the official program that lists all the films this year. (They try to gouge you at other festivals by selling these for somewhere around $30).

Social Scene 

Approximately 97% of the press here is Japanese. The thing about Japanese people is that, while most understand at least a little English, many are reluctant to speak it because they are embarrassed of their accent. So what you see is all of the non-Japanese (i.e. white) journalists congregating. I get it - like Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation, you are automatically bonded over your inability to communicate with everyone else around you. 

Venue 

Roppongi Hills is nice, but a bit confusing to navigate at first. The main cinema has comfortable seats that are pitched such that you have a good view of the screen regardless of where you sit. The climate control can be a little wonky - sometimes entering an auditorium that has already shown several screenings that day it can smell like a wet dog. 

*You want to avoid talking to other journalists too much about films you haven't published reviews of yet, because you never know whether they might take your ideas.

You can see my TIFF coverage here. Previous festival clips are on the Writing page.

An Antidote for the Chronic Shopaholic

If you already know me pretty well and are reading this right now, I'm sure I don't need to beat around the bush when I say that I have a money spending problem. I haven't gone to therapy for it or anything (yet) but in the past there have been many poor fiscal decisions made on my part. The summer that I worked at Nordstrom during the annual Anniversary Sale, fell prey to the temptation of the employee discount and ultimately spent more than I earned (which was actually quite a lot; nothing like getting paid on commission to light a fire under one's ass) comes to mind. Usually it's clothes and accessories that get me, but I've also made some pretty bizarre and frivolous purchases. (See: the six wide-mouth quart-size Mason jars currently sitting in my brother's attic from when I went through my mixologist phase).

There is an entire psychology behind shopping, believe it or not, but in layperson's terms this piece on Man Repeller really hits the nail on the head. At the peak of my shopping addiction, which I would say spanned my university years, every time I felt the urge to buy coming on I would sit at my computer, meticulously add things to my virtual shopping cart at my favorite online stores (sometimes scouring several at once in different tabs), take a deep breath, and then - whoosh - hit command + Q. Urge temporarily sated and zero money spent. If that's not a win-win I don't know what is.  

These days it's a little different. The only online shopping I do now is the occasional purchase through Amazon.fr, because the mere thought of international shipping costs from my usual haunts sends an uncomfortably large chill down my spine. But, more importantly, I have a new job that somehow provides the same catharsis as Shopping Cart Syndrome.

As a Paris contributor for Shopikon, I go around making appointments with independent retailers to interview them and take photos of the stores. There are a lot of things that I enjoy about the process, namely the chance to meet cool people and talk to them about what they're most passionate about, practicing my French, getting to know my DSLR more intimately than ever, and exploring parts of the city that I haven't seen before. On occasion I might even get some free swag.

It's also refreshing to be inside a shop in a purely professional context. Without the pressure and expectation to make a purchase I...actually don't buy anything. Since I only pick stores that are of personal interest, of course there are things I see inside that I wouldn't mind owning. But want and need are two very different things.

Call it reformation, growing up, whatever, but I'm doing much better. So while I'm still relying on my savings to pay the rent, the money I'm earning through freelancing and other part time work at least covers food, transportation and the additional odd expense.

Food Wars: USA vs France

"French women don’t get fat. It’s a phrase forever immortalized thanks to Mireille Guiliano’s popular 2004 'non-diet' book, but as a stereotype I have to admit it’s surprisingly accurate. This is not to say that all Parisians look like size zero fashion models, but rather that in the months since moving here, the only severely overweight people I’ve seen are all tourists. Given that the reputation of the national cuisine is built upon buttery pastries and creamy sauces, the idea of perpetually svelte citizens presents a curious dichotomy. But a closer look at French culture reveals a combination of principles and common sense that optimize both physical health and overall well-being, critical elements that the diet-related disease-ridden and fat-shaming society of America could learn from."

- via Highbrow Magazine

After my editor over at Highbrow Magazine caught wind of the fact that I'm an American in Paris, she asked me to compose an article comparing the two cultures when it comes to food. Now, I previously wrote a semi-serious post about what I miss about America, but food culture is not one of them. What do I mean by this? There are many foods readily available at home that I would kill for right about now (see: peanut butter, bubble tea, yogurt-covered pretzels, extra sharp cheddar cheese, the list goes on), but it's the rituals, stereotypes and double standards surrounding the practice of eating that I can't stand.

Simply put, eating is not viewed as a pleasurable activity by American society. This has a lot to do with the media, I suspect, but there is also the fact that as individuals we tend to place arbitrary restrictions on the foods we eat in oft-misguided attempts to be "healthy." (See: girls who don't eat "carbs").

As a girl I've always found it unfair that, in general, guys can eat as much as they want and no one will comment on or judge them for it. Second and third helpings are totally acceptable for them. Whereas if I, God forbid, finish off a bag of chips, an onlooker would probably say something to the effect of, "Damn, you really went to town on those." (That actually happened once. It wasn't chips but it still bothers me because the obvious implicit meaning was "OMG why are you eating so much, stop it"). 

In that memorable instance it was a guy who said that to me, but girls are equally hard on themselves for what they perceive to be bad tendencies. The conflation of weight and diet is really key here and, yes, the two are related but not as directly as most would like to believe. (Never underestimate the power of genetics, people). I grew up being very sensitive to these issues, having spent almost half my life as a competitive gymnast and then a few odd years as a college cheerleader, and I'm sorry to say that I wasted a good portion of that time being preoccupied with them. But no more.

In the words of Emma Stone, "Life's too short. So eat the damn red velvet cupcake."

Or, in my case, I guess it would be pain chocolat.

Confessions of a Culinary Student

"'Eetz okay,' pronounced the chef in heavily accented English, after I had presented him with my apple tart. It was only my second day at Le Cordon Bleu, the culinary institution famous for producing chefs like Julia Child and Giada de Laurentiis, but for the nth time I felt myself slipping into a soon-to-be-familiar state of passive anxiety." 

- via Bonjour Paris

This is me receiving my certificate in Basic pâtisserie.​ PC - ...the photographer LCB always uses. Currently trying to track down his name.

I've avoided writing much about everyday student life at LCB because there are countless others who have done it before and much better than I could. You'll probably find that most LCB student blogs deal in food porn (I'm an addict myself so I don't mean that in a derogatory way), but if you really desire to know what goes on inside 8 rue Leon Delhomme, I suggest you pick up a copy of LCB alumna Kathleen Flinn's The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry.

I read it over winter break and, honestly, it prepared me a lot more for my first day than anything the school ever sent me over countless emails, admission proposals, etc. Flinn was a cuisine student (I'm pâtisserie), but regardless her descriptions of the school and the characters in it are spot on. (The school sells the book on-site near the reception area, but I think they should consider making it required reading for incoming students).

So when the opportunity arose to write about my experience at culinary school for Bonjour Paris, I took it. The story is probably about as comprehensive as I'll ever get about being at LCB, so I encourage you to read it in its entirety if you get a chance.