But for those on the receiving end, that principle is fundamentally flawed – as people like Formula One boss Max Mosley, whose sadomasochistic encounter with prostitutes was broadcast across the web by the News of the World, would argue.

Fervently taking the protection of privacy side of the argument, Mosley successfully sued Rupert Murdoch’s tabloid for claiming that his sex romp had had a Nazi theme, but he insists the £60,000 he was awarded does not begin to make up for the damage done by the exposure. It wasn’t just the inaccuracy of what was said. It was the very fact of making public the details of his private life. “If someone takes away your dignity,” as he puts it, “you will never replace it.” Or in Othello’s words: “He that filches from me my good name / Robs me of that which not enriches him / And makes me poor indeed.”

Mosley is now seeking a ruling from the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg that would force newspaper editors to consult a person before publishing something he or she might reasonably wish to stay private. In this way, a public figure could go to court and get a gagging order before publication irreversibly damaged his good name.

But there’s another side to this argument. Wouldn’t such a consultation requirement just become a device for the rich and powerful to cover their tracks. Or become, in the words of Index on Censorship’s John Kampfner, a “battering ram against good and legitimate journalism”? Is it really possible to define a point at which the private lives of public figures cease to be a fair subject for public discussion? Or has the balance of power tilted so much in favour of the press that it has become impossible for public figures to have any sort of private life whatsoever? These are some of the big questions that will be raised at the next Intelligence Squared debate in London next week.

Jeremy O’Grady, co-founder of Intelligence Squared (IQ2) and editor-in-chief of The Week magazine, introduced the first debate of the autumn 2010 season on Tuesday, 7 September at Cadogan Hall in London. For video of the debate and for future events, visit Intelligence Squared Events.

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The city of St. Paul's conversion, at night. Photo credit: C & More

DAMASCUS, Syria.- As the new moon approaches the skies, the Muslim world, from Kuala Lumpur to Casablanca, gets ready to celebrate the end of the holy month of Ramadan while America and Europe debate their part in the feast.

My watch marks thirty minutes past 7pm and the thermometer still rises over the line of 35 degrees celsius. The air is dry and still and my body temperature does not cede despite the air conditioning circulating in the room and the liter of water I just thirstily drank. I left the house early in the morning and just made my way back home from the office. It has been a tough day; summer days usually are in this city of over four million people. Waking or driving turns strenuous under the regular heat waves and it takes time for the mind to keep a coherent stream of ideas. However, I feel privileged. At least, in spite of the harsh weather, I have been able to eat and, more importantly, drink whatever I pleased throughout the day. Not like most pious Damascene Muslims, who, complying with the strict rules of their beliefs, have been fasting for a great part of the past month.

We are on the 20th day of Ramadan, ten more to go before the ninth month of the Islamic calendar comes to an end. And with it, the season that the followers of the Prophet Mohammad dedicate from dawn until sunset to fast and restrain from other earthly pleasures such as smoking and having sex in order to purify themselves, repent of past sins and get closer to God by exercising piety and compassion for those less fortunate.

Otherwise filled with people, cars and even donkey-carts, at this time of day the streets of Damascus come to a complete standstill. The Syrian capital better known to the world press for its links with the axis of evil (as defined by the Bush administration) than for its glorious historical past — it is here that Saint Paul converted to  Christianity — looks like a ghost town during these bleak hours of the day when everybody, inside their houses, waits keenly for the muezzins to announce the sun has set through theirs chanting on top of the city’s multiple minarets.

According to tradition it is the moment in which at clear sight you can’t differentiate whether you are holding a thread in your fingers when one can break fast. After more than 15 hours of not having ingested anything (nor having drunk a single drop of water) the eating protocol has to be accurately followed — more for physiological reasons than for religious ones. Right after the singing comes a little symbolic prayer before one can eat a date and officially break fast; followed by freshly squeezed juices and a series of sweet delicacies. All in preparation for a lavish buffet including oriental mezzehs and numerous types of minced beef and chicken, rice and salads. Entire families, which in this side of the world can easily reach 20 members each, get together to enjoy this nightly feast, sometimes joined by friends and neighbors.

After the copious meal, conversations run fast and range from the clearly banal to the more current world affairs. A favorite one of this Ramadan season is the debate in Europe and more recently in America, about the presence of Islam in the West. Surprisingly enough most people here oppose the idea of a Mosque and Islamic Cultural Center being built next to Ground Zero in New York. Something they consider disrespectful. Too bad they are not invited to take part in the debate. Certainly their opinion would come as a surprise to many

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3-D made Avatar - but can it do the same for other films? And should it?

But Avatar is not every movie. In the next two years there are 60 3-D films scheduled for release, and some will be as bad as Cats and Dogs: Revenge of Kitty Galore. That is a lot of times to ask movie-goers to fork out a £3+ premium to bathe in the 3-D experience. As 3-D increasingly becomes the norm, premium prices will be hard to justify. And what of the actual (fabled) 3-D ‘experience’? In the big, bold world of 3-D, the incessant car crashes and explosions steamrollered into every modern action film can make some viewers feel nauseous. Others hate wearing the mandatory glasses. Even if they’ve tried to make the specs more “on fashion” with the Ray-Ban Wayfarer shape. My chief reservation about the march to 3-D is that it further glorifies the spectacular, crash-bang-wallop, effects-laden film to the detriment of good, old-fashioned films which rely on a simple story told well. There are already too few independent, European films shown at the multiplex without 3-D gobbling up more screen space. I say give me a thriller like Tell No-One or a Werner Herzog documentary like Grizzly Man in the old, “flat” style any day.

I agree with Archie that it is good news for anti-piracy measures. I’m less sure that “jaded” film audiences need the lure of 3-D to entice them to the cinema. Are film audiences really jaded? Or are they simply finding new means of getting their filmic fix?

Sure DVD sales are tanking; but that is part of a far wider digital phenomenon that is also decimating the music industry – not to mention the newspaper one. When it comes to the medium of film itself, it seems to me that people are as hungry as ever.

UK cinema attendances in 2009 were at their highest level since 2002 – and this at a time of recession and heavily reduced leisure spending. In the US, they rose 10 percent from 2008.

The novelty (and hype) of 3-D films such as Avatar certainly helped; but I’m not convinced that this was all. People like the social experience of going to the cinema. No evolution in technology will stop people enjoying films en masse, even if the framework in which they do this – from drive-ins to open air – does change. The saviour of the film industry is more likely to be good film-making – and bold choices from cinematic programmers.

Meanwhile, anyone who is really interested in helping the film industry in the UK might start by fighting the recent axing of the Film Council.

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So how does a place become an “It” place? What does it take? Let’s narrow it down to the best and most popular places to vacation in Western Europe. Like all good things in life, there are only a handful of these places around the world, and everyone seems to want a piece of St. Tropez, Courchevel, Ibiza, Mykonos, Sardinia, Mallorca, Megeve, St. Moritz, Gstaad, and Bodrum.

Mykonos was sniffed out and then popularized by the gay community. Don’t ask me why, but they found it and unveiled it to their other fashionable friends who wanted to party—and the rest is history. Even after decades of intense nightlife, it’s still a magical locale. Everything about Mykonos (and all the “It” places I mention here) is so well-known to this readership that it would be silly-almost cliché-for me to even mention the places on the island that I love.

Little Venice, Mykonos, Greece. Photo credit: Sailko via Wikimedia Commons

Back in the Sixties, hippies were the trendsetting group, representing as they did, the counterculture of free love, music and great times. And Ibiza, a free love outpost that hosted all of the biggest musicians in the wildest way that we cannot possibly imagine, quickly came to represent that counterculture. Rumour has it that Bob Dylan lived in the lighthouse in Formentera, partying with the Rolling Stones, the Beatles, and Jethro Tull, who were all regulars. Ibiza has been at the center of Western society’s music culture since 1963, and continues to this day in the vibrant music scene which makes or breaks the biggest electronic and DJ acts in the world every summer.

A perfect example of a celebrity-created “It” place is St. Tropez; Brigitte Bardot singlehandedly made that once quiet fishing village the hottest place to party in the summer. Decades later, and despite the inevitable influx of trashy people coming to see what all the fuss is about, St. Tropez remains a mythical, fun, and beautiful place, attracting an exceptional crowd during many weeks of the summer.

Port of St Tropez. Photo credit: Adrian 777 via Wikimedia Commons

Another example of celebrity influence is Mallorca in Spain. While it became fashionable at first because the Spanish royal family have their holiday home there (Marivent), it reached a new level when Michael Douglas took a shine to it.

In other cases, it is the lack of celebrity that has played a role in the development of an “It” place. Disinterested in the extravagance of Courchevel and the celebrity party scene of St. Mortiz, the Rothschild family invested in and developed much of Megeve in the French Alps. They attracted their friends, and the circle of French families with which they associate, to this Alpine village so famous for its picturesque charm. The magic continues to this day, but in large part the town’s “It” status owes much to the Rothschild imprimatur.

Place de L'Eglise, Megeve. Photo credit: Leo-seta via Flikr

Sardinia offers another example. Prince Karim Aga Khan had it all, at least in superficial terms:  money, power, title, and beautiful women surrounding him. He built Porto Cervo in Sardinia in the 1960s. I don’t know whether it was he who first dubbed that storied coastline “Costa Smeralda” – Emerald Coast – but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had. Not that it’s not lovely, but the story of Sardinia smacks of the genius branding required to make an “It” place “It”, and that’s exactly what the Aga Khan had in mind. He created an exclusive holiday village for the rich and famous with high-end fashion boutiques, expensive restaurants, and luxury hotels. He served as trendsetter and unofficial ruler, imposing his will at every step, all the way down to having the final word in approving what building materials his friends, the Agnellis, could use in constructing their villas.

Is there an Aga Khan among the trendy royals out there, who is going to stake his or her claim to some beautiful island and fashion it for his or her friends into the next Costa Smeralda? Is there a new Rothschild or other family scion investing in a small village to protect its natural beauty for his own enjoyment and the chance to attract friends to the next hot spot?

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I smiled and thanked the immigration officer as he handed my passport back to me. It was just about eight a.m. and, aside from wanting to get some sleep, I was practically ecstatic. I entered the immigration hall at the Jordan-Syria border and found no one on the “Foreigners” line. After hearing too many tales of delays at the border, delays at the security checkpoints, and delays even at the “Departure Tax” window, I obtained my visa beforehand and managed to complete the whole process of entering Syria in under ten minutes. I was on my way to Damascus.

And I was right. When I next opened my eyes, I was being offered a cup of Nescafe in Damascus. Ra’ed had stopped for some coffee and to wake me up, and a few minutes later we were parked in front of the Beit Zaman hotel, with a grinning bellhop beside the car ready to show me inside.

The Beit Zaman, like Damascus, is old. But the building feels modern enough that one isn’t deterred from spending a night or two or three, as I did. The main entrance has an automatic door, but there are no elevators. There is a small restaurant and bar within the hotel, but no room service to speak of. All the rooms are air conditioned, nicely decorated with fine linens and equipped with mini-bars, but there is no gift shop, business center or pool. Beit Zaman is the right size hotel, with the right amenities, level of comfort and quiet for a solo traveler looking to relax and explore a city.

Evening in the courtyard of one of the other Damascus hotels, the Beit Al Mamlouka. Photo credit: Jon via Picassa Web Albums

After checking in and taking a short nap, I headed out for a walk around the Old City. The oppressive summer heat was starting to ease and I was hungry. Hungry and had a shopping list. The scent of fresh hibiscus leaves, fresh almonds, coffee and colorful silk scarves surrounded me. As hot as it was under the midday sun, I wanted to keep going. The Old City can be tiring as one navigates the cobblestones, uneven sidewalks and whispers of vendors calling passersby into their shop (which can be either welcoming or downright annoying) but I had the time and was curious to see what this historic area of Damascus had to offer.

First impressions
I have found Damascus to be a pleasant, safe and somewhat welcoming city. Adaptability is a necessity and one must accept certain things when entering new cities and cultures. Internet cafes and wireless Internet is available, but good luck getting to Facebook or a number of other sites. Need a mobile phone? You can easily purchase one, but be ready to be fingerprinted once it’s given to you. Simply put, “those are the rules”. The frank words of a local.

Walking the souk alone, I didn’t feel the level of craziness I felt when at another famous Middle Eastern souk, the Khan-el-Khalili in Cairo. Damascus’s Al Hamidiyeh souk is fairly well-organized, bustling and offers enough variety to keep one interested and coming back to the Old City. From oil paintings, cotton, silk and cashmere scarves, linens, dozens of teas, sweet Arabic ice cream and coffees, I didn’t once tire of walking the mazes of Bab Sharki, Bab Touma, the Christian quarter and beyond.

But one must take care walking the streets.

An evening meat feast
Evening arrived and I met with my friend Diego, who has been living in Damascus for about three years now. “Dinner?” Sure. We walked further into the Old City and settled in at Naranj, a two-story restaurant in the Old City that sits across from the Church of the Assumption, a historic and famous church with a cross that is illuminated in light blue every night.  It was still warm out, but we opted for a table on the terrace, overlooking the crowds and shops below. Naranj offers a warm setting and decent service with an extensive and interesting menu. I stopped eating red meat last year but was convinced to try the kebab keraz, a dish of lamb cubes in cherry sauce. It was one of the best meat dishes I have had in the Middle East; the meat perfectly seasoned and not conflicting with the cherry flavor.

After dinner we walked the town a bit, and Diego was gracious enough to give me a tour of the neighborhood and some historic sites. Before we knew it, it was after midnight and I was ready for a good night’s rest.

Last impressions
In such an old city, I found it more tolerable to remain outside than to stay indoors during the summer. The heat was almost unbearable and being inside old buildings was not agreeing with me. I spent my last afternoon in Damascus walking from neighborhood to neighborhood, making new friends and discovering the many candy shops, falafel stands and juice bars the capital has to offer.  My last find was Besan One, a tiny falafel shop that sits on a quiet street one block away from Hamra Street. The crowd outside told me it was worth stopping by.  The falafel was perfect, and worth the 15-minute wait.

Damascus is a historic, emerging and dynamic capital. Get your visa and go.

]]> http://www.periscopepost.com/2010/08/you-have-a-voice-and-it%e2%80%99s-being-heard/feed/ 0 http://www.periscopepost.com/2010/08/diablog-of-harem-pants-and-gladiators/ http://www.periscopepost.com/2010/08/diablog-of-harem-pants-and-gladiators/#comments Thu, 05 Aug 2010 13:19:02 +0000 Natalie Theo and Thomas Gommes http://www.periscopepost.com/?p=14191

Harem pants and gladiator sandals -- fashion triumph or disaster?

What do you get when you cross a dialogue and a blog? A Diablog, of course. We’re kicking off this latest Periscope feature with a light-hearted diablog between The Periscope Post founder and publisher, Thomas D. Gommes, and fashionista extraordinaire, Natalie Theo, on the topic of women’s fashion.

Thomas, publisher of The Periscope Post and fashionable man: Gladiator sandals. Why? Since the sun first came out for London’s summer of 2010, the female of the species – in every size, shape, and age – apparently cannot get enough of these strappy, stringy, strandy, sandals. But to be clear, the gladiator sandals I’m talking about are the ridiculously over elaborate, tassle-slash-random-fabric-festooned objects. Now if women are anything like men (which I realise of course is not a given), most of them are interested in looking attractive to the opposite sex – or at the very least, not looking entirely absurd. It’s my reluctant duty to inform those fair ladies that, according to a scientific survey of men in London – i.e., me and any men I happened to have mentioned this topic to – that it’s not working.

These things look totally ridiculous and are an instant repellent for most men interested in striking up a conversation with any such unfortunately attired fair maidens. The main objections are first, that they’re distracting, and second, that they just seem so . . . well, unnecessary. And there’s nothing elegant or flattering about them.

My second, related question goes to that close but foreign cousin of the gladiator sandal: harem pants, or, as I prefer to call them, Aladdin pants. That is to say, any of those blousy trousers that look like a cross between an errant boat sail and a pair of diapers designed by a blind Arabian try to dispose of excess cloth.

Again, ladies, I can absolutely assure you that this item of clothing is entirely un-flattering. In fact, it raises suspicions on a number of fronts. “What is she hiding with such monstrously baggy trousers?” we ask ourselves. “Did she perhaps escape from a circus?”

“Hogwash!” say you of the fairer sex, “men just don’t understand women’s fashion.” Well, be that as it may, wouldn’t it be in the best interests of the continued existence of the human race to help us understand, or better still, leave gladiator sandals to gladiators and Aladdin pants to Aladdin?

Women dress for each other, and not for men.

Natalie, former fashion editor for The Daily Mail and fashion blogger: Actually, I agree with you. Yes, I can hear you and the male fraternity’s shocked silence.  Gladiators! Harem pants! But, when it comes to fashion trends, women dress for each other, and not for men. A simple fact really. Nonetheless, as I was saying, I agree with you.

Since gladiators hit our fashion shores way back in 2006, they’ve become a brand new wardrobe staple, and you simply cannot move for all the fashionable interpretations of a shoe that only Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix could get away with wearing – and that was in a Hollywood blockbuster. But – shock! horror! –  not all fashionistas embrace every fashion trend. I am much more partial to a high heel sandal, platform, stilleto, you name it, than a gladiator. I don’t have the patience to deal with a shoe that has so many zips buckles and straps to navigate my way around each day, that my stress level has elevated before I’ve even left the house. I don’t particularly want to have reams of leather, suede or fringing, clawing its way up my leg like poison ivy (leaving strange marks after a long hot day) or caging my perfectly pedicured feet in like a prized tiger.

But, there is a but. I completely get the obsession. They’re fun. They’re feisty and they give a fierce edge to a demure floral print, a chic toned down shift, a comfortable pair of jeans. What’s fashion if it cannot be fun? What’s a shoe if it cannot be fierce? And what’s more, what’s our alternative when days are spent running around a city in the summer heat a – beach flip-flop? Another classic pump? The really good news is that men can snap up a pair to test dive themselves at Topman. Go on – you know you want to. [Says Thomas: “Perish the thought!”]

Now harem pants. Pretty much the same concept applies. It’s fashion, it’s fantasy, it speaks of foreign lands, and not having to worry about VPL [“Vancouver Public Library?” queries Thomas] or other mishaps. I blame that Ralph Lauren ad with a smouldering model in the desert heat decked out in a molten-liquid-like pair of gold sequinned harem pants that float and swim around her body like a reed in the wind. And I was sold – and conquered by a pair of fine, figure hugging silk Alexander McQueen trousers with only a hint of the harem. It’s a fashion thing.

Don’t ask me to explain. You boys have golf. We have fashion. I urge you to look beyond the jungle of straps and of swathes of diaper-like fabric to the women within. After all . . . I’ve never heard of a gladiator too afraid to take on a harem.

Proving Thomas wrong, this gentleman seems to be happily embracing the gladiator sandal, harem pant trend. Photo credit: Yatenkaiouh