Blogging@NYPL

A lot of the stories in The Fashion Conspiracy describe the means whereby the various designers and companies establish their brand. Product branding is extremely important these days, as more and more consumers—especially young ones—pledge allegiance to specific brands. Sneakers are a famous example. Linking fashion and beauty products with famous faces is another time-honored device. If you want to get a good idea of the business process involved in all this, the SIBL Library has a great work: Packaging design: successful product branding from concept to shelf. While researching brands as a subject, I discovered to my surprise that this topic has not been greatly written about. I wonder why?

There is also something online that proves to be great fun. The Origins of Brands Blog makes a lot of connections with the same wryness that Nicholas Coleridge displayed in The Fashion Conspiracy. I’m bemused myself over my predilection for national brands. For example, I remain loyal to English perfume (Penhaligan) and French purses (Longchamps), and always, always wear only authentic American Indian-made jewelry.

Do any of you who might be reading this post have these kinds of loyalties? And do you think they’re an inherited or acquired trait?

With only a few notable exceptions, I haven’t been very lucky with theatrical productions of Shakespeare. Of course, I’ve seen the Olivier and Branagh movies and some fine BBC productions, but film isn’t really theatre. In the theatre, especially here in New York, bad Shakespeare generally outweighs good Shakespeare. The problem with these productions, I find, usually stems from a distrust of Shakespeare’s language, either of the audience’s ability to understand it, or of the actors to speak it. I’ve seen the tragedy, Timon of Athens, played with irrelevant slapstick stage business fit for the Marx Brothers. I’ve seen a production of The Merchant of Venice, which contains subtle hints of homosexuality, embellish that subtext by dressing its characters in day-glo robes and platform shoes, like bit players in The Rocky Horror Show, and having them mince about in degradingly stereotypical fashion. I once even saw a Royal Shakespeare Company version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in which Titania, while speaking some of the most sensual love poetry ever, was lying on her back using her bare foot to massage Bottom intimately, driving him to eye-rolling ecstacy, as if the language weren’t already making enough of an erotic point. (Unfortunately, I did not see Ian McKellen or Patrick Stewart in their recent appearances at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, which I heard were wonderful; before I could muster myself to making the trip to Brooklyn, all tickets had disappeared.)

In my last post a few weeks ago I wrote of the history of rioting and protesting in Tompkins Square Park. New York has always been a riotous city, where citizens have time and time again taken to the streets to demonstrate, strike and protest. Over the centuries the nature and character of these events has evolved, as has the reaction of the general public and the police to these group manifestations of displeasure. The subject of popular disorder and collective action or violence tends to be a fairly popular topic among researchers at the library and I’ve found that studying riots and strikes in New York provides a great way to gauge the social and economic climate of the city at different points in time.

Early on in the city’s history, from colonial times up until the first decade of the 19th century, rioting in New York was generally an accepted part of the city’s political culture, a legacy of English tradition. Many scholars who have written on the history of public protest in early America note that prior to the 1830s, most of the protests and more violent riots were of two kinds; either they were of a distinctly political nature, such as the post-revolutionary Anti-Federalist riots, or they were aimed at enforcing community standards and widely held moral values, such as the Doctors’ Riots in 1788 or the bawdy house raids of 1793 and 1799.

Reading The Fashion Conspiracy reminded me how the fashion industry has produced its own versions of the Cinderella story. Moving from conspiracies to happy-ever-after stories, I was struck again by the career beginnings of a young guy from the Bronx named Ralph Lifshitz, son of an Orthodox Jewish immigrant from Minsk. He lived in the Mosholu Parkway section and attended DeWitt Clinton High School in New York City. By this time, he’d changed his last name to Lauren. From the very beginning of his modest start in the clothing trade, he preferred the preppie style.

His rise to fashion designer stardom is straight out of the best fiction, and was undoubtedly based on hard work. Ralph Lauren had a persistent dream that became reality. “We sell a way of life” was his mantra, and in this he has been wildly successful. What I like about his brand is the consistency of its visualization, down to selling a fantasy lifestyle (how many polo players do you know?). The Art Reading Room has two biographies on his life and work, but the more recent title says it all - Ralph Lauren: the man, the vision, the style. Perhaps I also have a bit of a bias towards a designer who uses Southwestern Native American textile themes in his leisure clothes. I still remember the Fashion Week in the late 1990s when his models all wore exquisite turquoise squash blossom necklaces and heavy silver concho belts...

Ah, the joys of going to the ophthalmologist, a.k.a. the eye doctor. The long wait in the lobby, having to choose the correct lens when tested (who doesn't dread the question "is it clearer this way or this way?"), and the fun of having your pupils dilated all make for an unforgettable experience. On a recent visit, I also noticed a large number of pamphlets, posters, and other promotional materials detailing the benefits of LASIK eye surgery. My physician even mentioned it as an option when discussing a new pair of lenses. The information presented all seemed very positive with promises of getting rid of your glasses forever but the connection of the terms eye and surgery made me a little nervous. Time to do some research.

Labor Day has become a holiday mostly associated with blow-out sales and backyard barbecues, but looking back at its origins reveals a highly political past. While its roots can be traced back to decades of civil discontent in the United States, the first Labor Day was on September 5, 1882 (which was actually a Tuesday). The celebration was a general strike in New York City, declared by the Central Labor Union, and consisted of a parade, a train ride to a local park, a picnic and other festivities. The parade took place in New York City, starting in lower Manhattan and ending at 42nd Street and 6th Avenue, at that time the site of the Croton Reservoir.

Thus the holiday was celebrated without the sanction of the federal government for twelve years. Although many states recognized the holiday by 1885 it wasn’t until 1894 that President Cleveland signed the Labor Day holiday bill making it an official national holiday. By this time another similar holiday was created, May Day, first celebrated on the first of May, 1886. It took a more militant approach: one circular called it “a day of revolt, not rest!” (found in this book on page 248). Ms. Olive Johnson, a socialist of the early twentieth century, explains the differences between the two holidays in her pamphlet, May Day vs. Labor Day.

Works consulted in the creation of this blog post include: Red white and blue letter days, an American calendar; The first Labor Day Parade, Tuesday September 5, 1882: Media mirrors to labor’s icons; Origin of Labor Day and chronology events pertaining to the establishment of Labor Day and May Day: a short history. If you're interested you may want to look at Your library can serve your union, which documents five library's efforts to raise awareness of Labor Day and Shinnecock Labor Day pow wow, which I haven't yet seen but imagine would offer an interesting perspective.

“Things are entirely what they appear to be and behind them...there is nothing.”
-Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980)

One weekend this summer, I bought a paperback copy of an amusing book in our collection, The Fashion Conspiracy by Nicholas Coleridge. Published in 1988, the book is still relevant today in the portraits it draws of fashion wealth, 80s excess, and the striking contrasts between high-end designer showrooms and Asian sweatshops. Coleridge, a British journalist and novelist, uses a form of the then-developing creative nonfiction to make his profiles and encounters more interesting. I find him a bit too credulous as a reporter, however; he recounts the story of Oscar de la Renta as the inventor of the “fashion victim” term without any demur, and repeats similar questionable anecdotes as a matter of course.

Having just finished the book, I’ve found that his title stretches the point a little. An avid reader of murder mysteries, I like to think of myself as an expert on conspiracy theories. Coleridge’s thesis really denotes a nudge and wink conspiracy, in which market players all work together to make the couture garment an amazing piece of expensive sleight-of-hand. If you want to read about someone ready and willing to link fashion with terrorism, look at this interview with Bret Easton Ellis.

I went to The Museum of Modern Art recently to check out some of the new photography exhibitions. In addition to the stark repetition the Bechers’ work and some of my favorites from Diane Arbus there was a wonderful exhibition of vernacular photography. The snapshots by anonymous photographers all depict the shadow of the photographer. The photos are hung salon style with a variety of different frames, bringing to mind a Victorian parlor or a page taken from a vintage photo album. Seeing all these photographs together also made me think of one of the downsides of the advent of digital photography: mistakes like these are now easily and instantly deleted.

Keep your back to the sun. This is one of the basic rules of photography for obvious reasons. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your view of these things) this often led to the photographer inadvertently placing himself, or to be more specific, his shadow, into the picture. Sometimes it is apparent that this was intentional, with the photographer having a little creative fun by finding a way of inserting himself into the photograph while remaining behind the camera. The majority of the time though the shadow is unintentional, with the photographer concentrating on the subject in the view finder and not noticing the dark shape until after the prints were made. It’s kind of ironic, focusing on the subject and getting results that make the intended subject secondary. The shadow becomes the center of attention. The shadow becomes what the photograph is about. We no longer have a photograph of Sally playing in her own yard. We have a photograph of Sally being approached by a stranger in her own yard. The shadow of the photographer changes what is happening in the photograph. The results can be playful and lighthearted or an ominous and disconcerting dialogue between the subject and the unknown.

100 Shadows, an exhibition of anonymous photographs all depicting the shadow of the photographer, will be on display in the lobby of Jefferson Market through October.

Click through here for books on vernacular photography.

I’ve always believed that diversity makes for a more beautiful world. I also thought that most people felt that way, these days. Imagine my surprise when word began to leak out this past year that the fashion shows were employing more and more white models, and less of those of other colors. Having only skinny white girls on the runways is far from completing fashion’s dreamscape. I know Naomi Campbell is bad-tempered, but honestly—we need black, white, Hispanic, and Asian (and would a Native American hurt, either?) women to represent our global world.

For years now, Saudi, Middle Eastern, and Asian women have been major couture buyers. The big designers have customers in all shades of the rainbow as a result of the global economy. Furthermore, as Cathy Horyn says, who writes for the New York Times blog On the Runway, diversity can be a means for “Beauty and Soul.” I hope the Fall 2008 New York Fashion Week organizers are listening: put more models of different races out there for all to see. Fashionable fantasies shouldn’t be for just one group.

Josephine Baker had to leave 1920s America for France in order to receive the acclaim she deserved for her talent. Do we really wish for a return to those times? This is a clear-cut case of NOT wanting everything old to be new again…

A man toils in the hot sun. He is picking the fruit and vegetables, the kind that are on our sandwiches purchased from a fast food restaurant, the kind that grace the salads we prepare for dinner. If the man working in the field is lucky, he is able to garner a spot closest to the truck where he turns out his bushels. If not he must walk down a long row of plants to deliver his bushel of just picked fruit and vegetables. His walk is long and makes the day seem endless and tiring. It is hot and the sun is burning bright. There is no shelter from the beating rays of the bright sun. His day is not a mere eight hour shift, with a one hour lunch. More likely it is a “sun up” to “sun down” shift, with a half hour lunch break thrown in where he can fit it. It is picking season, the harvest is ready, and time is of the essence. The more he picks the more he is paid. It is a constant grind, a six day a week job. From this crop he will move onto to another, following the fields that are ready to harvest. From the field he does not go to a nice home or a warm meal. His home is a cramp dilapidated trailer. Many men live in the trailer that was meant for no more than four people. Dirty mattresses cover the floor, the shower is filthy and a bare bulb hung from the ceiling lights the room. No one would choose to live this way.

Many of us have a romantic notion about where our food comes from. We see beautiful fruits and vegetables displayed at the store and notions of a man on a tractor, a quaint farmhouse in a pastoral setting come to mind. We simply don’t think about the path our food takes before it ends up on our table.

The food industry is no longer made up of small farms run “mom and pop” style. Instead a huge corporation will own a company that purchases the crops that go into making their product, like tomatoes for Del Monte. Someone else owns the land and someone else acts as a middleman who supplies workers to work the fields. These workers are desperate. They will be lured into working and living in dreadful conditions and then too scared to leave, only because they were gullible enough to think they would be treated fairly and paid a living wage. These are modern day slaves and they exist right here in the good old USA.

Many factors contribute to hiding the practice of slave labor. Big companies distance themselves from the actual illegal practice by not owning the land that is being farmed and not hiring the workers directly, but hiring a labor contractor to secure the workers. Big companies hide behind the letter of the law, knowing full well of the abhorrent conditions of the workers who supply the corporate giant with a product. If the law does not deter these companies to do the right thing, sometimes community protest can. Consumers who become educated will often boycott a product simply based on the knowledge that the company is engaging in shady practices. Globalization, greed and money is the motivation for this inhumane treatment of workers. If a company’s bottom line is being threatened, then suddenly what is being called into question will be dropped. No questions asked. If only we knew.

New York Public Library will host a FREE progam on Tuesday September 9th 2008, at 6:30 PM on the 6th floor of the Mid-Manhattan Library. Author John Bowe will be discussing his new book, Nobodies: Modern American Slave Labor and the Dark Side of the New Global Economy. John Bowe has contributed to The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, GQ, The American Prospect, National Public Radio’s This American Life, McSweeney’s, and others. He is the co-editor of , Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs, one of Harvard Business Review’s best books of 2000, and co-screenwriter of the film Basquiat.

John Bowe's website and blog.

Eee – gads, my morning muffin has how many calories?

Remember, back in the day, when one could enjoy one’s morning muffin under
the delightful cliché, ignorance is bliss. Really, how many calories can a blueberry muffin have; it’s mostly fruit, right? Yes, I tell myself, a blueberry muffin is indeed a breakfast of champions, quite worthy of the Olympic festivities.

Well, the blissful days of guilt-free morning muffins are over. To my great horror, climbing out of the subway and following the aroma of fresh baked goods into my favorite little shop for my morning meal of a blueberry muffin, I came face to face with the sign proclaiming, “460 calories per blueberry muffin.” Oh my.

A quick calculation and I realize that my morning muffin should easily convert to no evening wine. Calorie posting is now the law in NYC and with it the mourning of the passing of my morning ritual. Faced with the glaring fact that my muffin will easily take up a significant chunk of my daily allotted calories, leaving little to no room for later pleasures in the day, I have chosen to resist, on a daily basis, my favorite little blueberry confection. How did this happen; why do we now know this information?

A view of San Quentin. (Image from NYPL Digital Gallery)

I've been reading World War I-era newspapers lately (using America's Historical Newspapers, a full-text database available at NYPL), in a search of mention of famous knitters on the home front whose flying fingers supported the war effort. And yesterday I found a small article from the Daily Alaska Dispatch that painted a vivid picture of such efforts. A report from San Francisco published Dec. 7, 1917, begins: "Knitting needles are flying in the cells and workshops at the San Quentin and Folsom state penitentiaries, and a big assortment of socks, sweaters and other sartorial comforts are being turned out for the American troops in France and in the domestic service." As the article goes on to explain, both men and women inmates knit their bit, via programs administered by the Red Cross.

I'll continue reading and with luck will report on other knitters of note in the future.

"I have wrought my simple plan / If I give one hour of joy / To the boy who’s half a man / Or the man who’s half a boy." (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, introducing The Lost World)

One of the most unnerving things about the Internet, I find, is the way it reveals the commonality of our human experience. No matter how unique I imagine myself, the online world usually demonstrates that someone else has been there, seen it, and done it all—if not before me, at least at roughly the same time. Back in July I wrote about an obscure young-adult novel, Danger: Dinosaurs! which had made a big impression on me during my formative years. I thought I was the only person alive who knew such a book even existed. To my surprise, two readers wrote back immediately, recalling a similar fascination with the very same book! Carl Eddy even went on to list as his childhood favorites many of the touchstones of my own youth: the movies King Kong and The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, the paintings of Charles R. Knight, and Turok, Son of Stone. My God, when was the last time I heard anyone mention Turok? What wouldn’t I give to have on hand again that beloved series of comic books from the mid-fifties about two Native Americans, Turok and Andar, who became trapped in a lost valley of prehistoric animals (which they called “honkers”) and spent episode after episode trying to find their way out? I could also go on about Gorgo, The Giant Behemoth, The Valley of Gwangi and the other dinosaur-related fantasies which colored my younger days. . .at least until I discovered that perfect television show, The Avengers, with John Steed and Emma Peel--especially Emma Peel, who gave this teenage boy something even more compelling to focus on than dinosaurs.

“A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.”
-Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Of course, there’s the little matter of how will we pay for our new fall fashions? You’ll be reassured to know that this question won’t bother that sector of the population that attends fashion shows and buys directly from couturiers. For the rest of us who await the trickle-down of readymade fashion must-haves, the question is a little more acute.

One secret of success is to pick and choose. Picking a new accessory—which the Vogue editors pushed as an idea—has always been a way of getting a modish look without too much financial pain. There are bound to be a lot of inexpensive costume jewelry knock-offs of statement necklaces and faux bijoux. I admire those who can sew and adapt the latest outlines or features, whether they are the new silhouettes or an alluring bias cut. One of my favorite books, available at the reference desk in the Art Reading Room is a wonderful resource, full of pictures and retro chic suggestions, called Collectible fashions of the turbulent 30s. Now, those were the days when your dress dollar had to go a long way! Unless you were Marlene Dietrich.

Those who know how to do canny shopping will benefit this year. If you live in the metro New York area, check out two sites that offer ways to shop frugally: TheElegantTightwad.com and fashionswapandmeet.wordpress.com

Well, the September issue of Vogue has hit the stands. I’ve been scrutinizing it, as I do every year, to see what will be on the runways and in the stores this fall. What I encountered is pretty much what I expected: cautious optimism and a whole lot of conservatism. Economic slumps don’t inspire risk-taking or an emphasis on the extraordinary. Clothes with good, classic lines were shown, and there were less retro looks than expected. The slim line in dressing discounts room for breasts and hips, not unlike the body aesthetics of the 20s and 30s. Colors favored were red and blue (election year, surprise!) followed by black and white. Muted metallic tones appeared plentiful, a hangover from last season. Dries Van Noten and Alexander McQueen provided the necessary alternative avant-garde looks. Armani followed the other established designers in subdued clothes, but utilized a winning bias cut.

There were few remarkable photographic studies, other than a radiant Gwyneth Paltrow hawking Tod’s leather goods. The Vogue editors’ concession to the weak economy was a number of articles on the value of accessories, including faux jewels and a statement necklace. In the area of shoes, things looked frightening. Nothing but wickedly threatening stilettos, which Christian Louboutin calls the “skyscraper pump,” except for one page of handsome flats- which made me want to either applaud or cry. I was informed, however, that the flat jazz lace-up shoe is in fashion now. Much more intriguing was mention of the “armorial gladiator ankle boot” as a must-have. Whatever that is…

Vogue, the magazine, has been the subject of some interestingly speculative publications. Academia has begun examining the magazine’s effect on the American fashion industry. One title, As Seen in Vogue, evaluates the effect of its advertising on consumers. Another viewpoint investigates Beauty Photography in Vogue, while drawing some rather bland conclusions about the social impact of fashion photography. Much more amusing—and revealing—is former editor Grace Mirabella’s take on the magazine in her In and Out of Vogue.

I wonder how many of you saw the small article in The New York Times in early July, titled “Texas Ranch Moves from Raid Toward Runway,” in which the polygamist sect raided for alleged underage brides and child abuse announced that they were selling versions of their old-fashioned clothing online. Yes, the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints claims that on the basis of overwhelming interest in their children’s garments, they are now marketing their various conservatively-styled outfits for sale.

In order to raise money, which their spokeswoman admitted was important to them, the sect has established a website, fldsdress.com. The clothes are variations of toddler’s suits, overalls, and dresses with and without bloomers. Colors seem to be “Easter egg” pastels. One thing not on offer, however, will be directions for creating the women’s distinctively retro hairstyles… Look in NYPL’s Digital Gallery under the subject hair dressing to get an idea of the time period these styles came from.

And the demise of the Liz Claiborne Inc. sponsored brand, Sigrid Olsen, leaves many people in the fashion and consumer world unsettled.
 

One day last year, as I was walking home from work, so wrapped up in my own furiously careening thoughts that I wasn’t paying much attention to anything but the general direction my feet were taking me, I found myself momentarily halted in the middle of a crowd alongside Gramercy Park. As I looked around, it dawned on me that the men in the crowd were all wearing fedoras, like 1950s Madison Avenue executives, most of the women wore long pleated skirts to the knee and some had gloves on, and at the same time I realized that all the cars parked on the street were vintage models I remembered from my childhood. This prompted an eerie moment of disorientation before I realized that I had stepped into the middle of a movie shoot, in this case Revolutionary Road, based on the novel by Richard Yates. I clearly remembered the story of Frank and April Wheeler, whose lives in 1955 suburban Connecticut become inexorably and tragically unglued, but was strangely distressed to learn that a book by an author who was always sort of a secret treasure of mine was being given the big-time Hollywood treatment. Soon, I imagined, I’d be spotting people on the subway holding movie tie-in paperbacks with photos of Leonard DiCaprio and Kate Winslet on the cover. Yes, great books are meant to be shared--but the act of reading them is inherently a private one, the emotions they engender are deeply personal, and I confess to a smug satisfaction in keeping certain books to myself.

It isn’t even that Yates is so much of a secret any longer. At the time of his death in 1992 he was out of print, virtually forgotten, his name and books known only to a select and cultish group of readers and a few admiring fellow writers. Much of this neglect was due to the fact that these novels and stories are not comfortable reading. Yates knows who you are: your weaknesses and cruelties, the humiliations you receive and inflict, even the lies you tell yourself in order to get through your day. His fiction is fashioned without a hint of contrivance or fabrication, wherever absolute truthfulness will lead, no matter how painful.

Ah, the Dog Days of summer started very early this year, but they’re here now with a vengeance. The city needs daily intervals of icy downpours, or cold rain showers, while The Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me” blasts away in the background.

Well, if we can’t have that, let’s think of something cooling. The ancient Egyptians understood the usefulness of unbleached, durable linen. They wore fine linen garments to counteract the heat and humidity of the Nile Delta. Their production of linen is a remarkable story in itself, going back about three thousand years or so.
 
 
People in tropical countries also learned the value of wearing white, lightweight textiles. Our own modern era tropical wear is a variation on combinations of linen and khaki fabrics. The Filipinos devised costumes that merged elegance and utility. The nineteenth century gentleman in the illustration above is wearing a white shirt that is actually intended for formal wear—yet note how this shirt woven from pineapple fiber appears the height of casual dress to our untutored modern-day eyes. The shirt’s whiteness also proclaims the wearer’s affluence, for it would have to be laundered frequently.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Our visual world is made up of many bits and pieces. It is the fragments merging together to make up a whole that really make a difference in what we see. Taken alone, these individual parts tend to go unnoticed by most people. For example in architecture, it is the color of the stone, the decoration, the lettering on the sign above the door or the carved letters on a gravestone that help define the structure and create a feeling.

Lettering is a small part of the ornamentation of an architectural structure. It is generally the colossus of the structure itself that grabs the eye first, but if you look carefully and take in the entirety of a structure, a visual reward is there waiting and it is often in the letters of the words that adorn it.

Words are as much a part of our visual landscape as the buildings, streets and trees or the people we see every day. A vibrant visual world indeed. Many of us are inured to the most vulgar visual sights, as well as the sublime. Some of us don’t even notice the first spring flowers or the glowering flashing lights of a neon sign, advertising a dingy car service business. We may take a second glance but we easily move on, letting our eyes wonder aimlessly, registering nothing. But really there is much to admire in the letters of the words that plaster our visual landscape. It is the design of the letters that make words noticeable. Most us recognize what we like in structures all over the city without really even knowing why. Buildings are adorned with incised or raised letters above entryways, signs are brightly lit and splashes of paint in cryptic words jump off building walls on dimly lit streets. These visual displays are designed as a feast for our eyes and it is impressive and purposeful.

On Sept 2. at 6:30 PM, on the 6th floor, Mid-Manhattan will host a FREE slide lecture program From Gravestones to Graffiti: 250 Years of Lettering in New York, with guest speaker Paul Shaw. Paul Shaw is a designer and design historian. His specialty is lettering, whether written, drawn, carved or typographic. He teaches at Parsons School of Design and at the School of Visual Arts. He is also the author of Looking for Letters in New York: A Tale of Surprise and Dismay. Paul Shaw is the recipient of many prestigious grants and lectures widely. Mr. Shaw is an expert on the subject of letters and can speak eloquently on the design, complexity and craftsmanship of letters that are everywhere from subway signs, to grave markers, to graffiti. Please join us for a wonderful evening.

Books on letter design and graffiti can be found at the library in both the circulating and non-circulating catalogs. Also at the Picture Collection at the Mid-Manhattan Library, there are an abundance of images on letters/alphabets/graffiti that can be viewed.

More upcoming programs at Mid-Manhattan.

An article on Paul Shaw by New York Times' Streetscapes columnist Christopher Gray.

The hype surrounding the Olympic games in Beijing has brought attention to a distressing health topic, namely air pollution and its impact on human health. There are daily updates and concerns about the air quality in Beijing and its effect on the athletes' performance as in this blog entry from the NY Times. New York City, especially in sweltering August, is far from immune to air quality problems. If you want a good resource concerning smog, ozone, and other forms of air pollution and their effect on human health, try this MedlinePlus health topic page which should give you the answers you need.