Another Barrier to EV Adoption

Junk-filled garages.

There are plenty of reasons to be pessimistic about electric vehicle adoption here in the US. The current administration has made no secret of its hostility toward EVs and, as promised, has ended as many of the existing EV subsidies and vehicle pollution regulations as it could. After more than a year of month-on-month growth, EV sales started to contract, and brands like Genesis and Volvo have seen their customers reject their electric offerings, forcing portfolio rethinks. But wait, it gets worse.

Time and again, surveys and studies show that fears and concerns about charging are the main barriers standing in the way of someone switching from gas to EV. A new market research study by Telemetry Vice President Sam Abuelsamid confirms this, as it analyzes the charging infrastructure needs over the next decade. And one of the biggest hurdles—one that has gone mostly unmentioned across the decade-plus we've been covering this topic—is all the junk clogging up Americans' garages.

Want an EV? Clean out your garage

That's because, while DC fast-charging garners all the headlines and much of the funding, the overwhelming majority of EV charging is AC charging, usually at home—80 percent of it, in fact. People who own and live in a single family home are overrepresented among EV owners, and data from the National Renewable Energy Laboratory from a few years ago found that 42 percent of homeowners park near an electrical outlet capable of level 2 (240 V) AC charging.

But that could grow by more than half (to 68 percent of homeowners) if those homeowners changed their parking behavior, "most likely by clearing a space in their garage," the report finds.

"90 percent of all houses can add a 240 V outlet near where cars could be parked," said Abuelsamid. "Parking behavior, namely whether homeowners use a private garage for parking or storage, will likely become a key factor in EV adoption. Today, garage-use intent is potentially a greater factor for in-house charging ability than the house’s capacity to add 240 V outlets."

Creating garage space would increase the number of homes capable of EV charging from 31 million to more than 50 million. And when we include houses where the owner thinks it's feasible to add wiring, that grows to more than 72 million homes. And that's far more than Telemetry's most optimistic estimate of US EV penetration for 2035, which ranges from 33 million to 57 million EVs on the road 10 years from now.

I thought an EV would save me money?

Just because 90 percent of houses could add a 240 V outlet near where they park, it doesn't mean that 90 percent of homes have a 240 V outlet near where they park. According to that same NREL study, almost 34 million of those homes will require extensive electrical work to upgrade their wiring and panels to cope with the added demands of a level 2 charger (at least 30 A), and that can cost thousands and thousands of dollars.

All of a sudden, EV cost of ownership becomes much closer to, or possibly even exceeds, that of a vehicle with an internal combustion engine.

Multifamily remains an unsolved problem

Twenty-three percent of Americans live in multifamily dwellings, including apartments, condos, and townhomes. Here, the barriers to charging where you park are much greater. Individual drivers will rarely be able to decide for themselves to add a charger—the management company, landlord, co-op board, or whoever else is in charge of the development has to grant permission.

If the cost of new wiring for a single family home is enough to be a dealbreaker for some, adding EV charging capabilities to a parking lot or parking garage makes those costs pale in comparison. Using my 1960s-era co-op as an example, after getting board approval to add a pair of shared level 2 chargers in 2019, we were told by the power company that nothing could happen until the co-op upgraded its electrical panel—a capital improvement project that runs into seven figures, and work that is still not entirely complete as I type this.

The cost of running wiring from the electrical panel to parking spaces becomes much higher than for a single family home given the distances involved, and multifamily dwellings are rarely eligible for the subsidies offered to homeowners by municipalities and energy companies to install chargers.

by Jonathan M. Gitlin, Ars Technica | Read more:
Image: Getty

Bohemian Seafood Rhapsody

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How Cheaply Could We Build High-Speed Rail?

At the end of April, the Transit Costs Project released a report: it’s called How to Build High-Speed Rail on the Northeast Corridor. As the name suggests, the authors of the report had a simple goal: the stretch of the US from DC and Baltimore through Philadelphia to New York and up to Boston, the densest stretch of the country. It’s an ideal location for high-speed rail. How could you actually build it — trains that get you from DC to NYC in two hours, or NYC to Boston in two hours — without breaking the bank?

That last part is pretty important. The authors think you could do it for under $20 billion dollars. That’s a lot of money, but it’s about five times less than the budget Amtrak says it would require. What’s the difference? How is it that when Amtrak gets asked to price out high-speed rail, it gives a quote that much higher?

We brought in Alon Levy, transit guru and the lead author of the report, to answer the question, and to explain a bunch of transit facts to a layman like me. Is this project actually technically feasible? And, if it is, could it actually work politically? (...)

 I’m excited for this conversation, largely because although I'm not really a transit nerd, I enjoyed this report from you and your colleagues at the Transit Costs Project. But it's not really written for people like me. I'm hoping we can translate it for a more general audience.

The report was pretty technical. We wrote the original Transit Costs Project report about the construction cost of various urban rail megaprojects. So we were comparing New York and Boston projects with a selection of projects elsewhere: Italian projects, some Istanbul subway and commuter rail tunnels, the Stockholm subway extension, and so on.

Essentially the next step for me was to look at how you would actually do it correctly in the US, instead of talking about other people's failures. That means that the report on the one hand has to go into broad things, like coordination between different agencies and best practices. But also it needs to get into technical things: what speed a train can go on a specific curve of a specific radius at a specific location. That’s the mood whiplash in the report, between very high-level and very low-level.

I think you guys pulled it off very well. Let's get into it —  I'll read a passage from the intro:

“Our proposal's goal is to establish a high-speed rail system on the Northeast Corridor between Boston and Washington. As the Corridor is also used by commuter trains most of the way… the proposal also includes commuter rail modernization [speeding up trains], regularizing service frequency, and… the aim is to use already committed large spending programs to redesign service.”

As a result, you think we could get high-speed rail that brings both the Boston–New York City trip and the New York City–Washington trip under two hours. You'd cut more than a third of the time off both those trips.

And here’s the kicker: you argue that the infrastructure program would total about $12.5 billion, and the new train sets would be under $5 billion. You're looking at a $17–18 billion project. I know that's a big sticker price in the abstract, but it's six to eight times cheaper than the proposals from Amtrak for this same idea. That’s my first question: Why so cheap?

First of all, that $18 billion is on top of money that has already been committed. There are some big-ticket tunnels that are already being built. One of the things that people were watching with the election was if the new administration was going to try to cancel the Gateway Tunnel, but they seem to have no interest in doing so. Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy talks about how there’s a lot of crime on the New York City subway, and how liberals want people to ride public transportation more and to drive less, but I have not seen any attacks on these pre-existing projects. So, as far as I’m concerned, they’re done deals.

The second thing is that along the length of the Northeast Corridor, this investment is not all that small. It’s still less than building a completely new greenfield line. With the Northeast Corridor, most of the line pre-exists; you would not need to build anything de novo. The total investment that we’re prescribing in Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and most of Maryland is essentially something called a track-laying machine.

The Northeast Corridor has this problem: Let’s say that you have a line with a top speed of 125 mph, and the line has six very sharp curves that limit the trains to 80 mph. If those six curves are all within a mile of each other, there’s one point in the middle of the line where you have six 80 mph curves. That couple-mile stretch is 80 mph, while the rest of the line is 125. Now, what happens if these curves are evenly spaced along the line?

You have a way longer commute, right?

Yes. If you have to decelerate to 80 mph and back five times, that’s a lot slower. That’s the problem in the Northeast Corridor: there are faster and slower segments. Massachusetts is faster. Rhode Island is mostly fast. Connecticut is slow. If you have a line that’s slow because you have these restrictions in otherwise fast territory, then you fix them, and you’ve fixed the entire line. The line looks slow, but the amount of work you need to fix it is not that much.

The Northeast Corridor (red is stretches with commuter rail)

Most of the reason the Northeast Corridor is slow is because of the sharp curves. There are other fixes that can be done, but the difficult stuff is fixing the sharp curves. The area with the sharpest curves is between New Haven and southern Rhode Island. The curves essentially start widening around the point where you cross between Connecticut and Rhode Island, and shortly thereafter, in Rhode Island, it transitions into the fastest part of the Corridor.

In southeast Connecticut, the curves are sharp, and there’s no way to fix any of them. This is also the lowest-density part of the entire Northeast: I-95, for example, only has four lanes there, while the rest of the way, it has at least six. I-95 there happens to be rather straight, so you can build a bypass there. The cost of that bypass is pretty substantial, but that’s still only about one-sixth of the corridor. You fix that, and I’m not saying you’ve fixed everything, but you’ve saved half an hour.

Your proposal is not the cheapest possible high-speed rail line, but I want to put it in context here. In 2021, there was a big proposal rolled out by the Northeast Corridor Commission, which was a consortium of states, transit providers, New Jersey Transit, Amtrak, and federal transportation agencies. Everybody got in on this big Connect Northeast Corridor (Connect NEC) plan, and the top line number was $117 billion, seven times your proposal. And this is in 2021 dollars.

They didn’t think that they could do Boston to New York and New York to DC in two hours each, either. There are two different reasons for their high price tags. The first reason is that they included a lot of things that are just plain stupid.

For example, theirs involved a lot of work on Penn Station in New York. Some of it is the Gateway Project, so that money is committed already, but they think that they need a lot beyond the tunnel. They have turned Gateway into a $40 or $50 billion project. I’m not going to nitpick the Gateway spending, although I’m pretty sure it could be done for much cheaper, but they think they need another $7 billion to rebuild Penn Station, and another $16 billion to add more tracks.

And you don’t think that’s necessary.

No. We ran some simulations on the tracks, and it turns out that the Penn Station that currently exists, is good enough — with one asterisk — even if you ran twice as much service. You can’t do that right now because, between New Jersey and New York Station, there is one tunnel. It has two tracks, one in each direction. They run 24–25 trains per hour at the peak. This is more or less the best that can be done on this kind of infrastructure. (...)

Unfortunately, they think Penn Station itself can’t handle the doubled frequency and would need a lot of additional work. Amtrak thinks that it needs to add more tracks by condemning an entire Midtown Manhattan block south of Penn Station called Block 780. They’re not sure how many tracks: I’ve seen between 7 and 12.

To be clear, the number of additional tracks they need is 0, essentially because they’re very bad at operations.

Well, let’s talk about operations. You say one way to drive down the cost of high-speed rail is just better-coordinated operations for all the trains in the Corridor. The idea is that often fast trains are waiting for slow trains, and in other places, for procedural reasons, every train has to move at the speed of the slowest train that moves on that segment.

What’s the philosophical difference between how you and the rail managers currently approach the Corridor?

The philosophical difference is coordinating infrastructure and operations. Often you also coordinate which trainsets you’re going to buy. This is why the proposal combines policy recommendations with extremely low-level work, including timetables to a precision of less than a minute. The point of infrastructure is to enable a service. Unless you are a very specific kind of infrastructure nerd, when you ride a train, you don’t care about the top speed, you don’t care about the infrastructure. You care about the timetable. The total trip time matters. Nobody rides a TGV to admire all the bridges they built on the Rhone.

I think some people do!

I doubt it. I suspect that the train goes too fast to be a good vantage point.

But as I said, you need 48 trains per hour worth of capacity between New Jersey or Manhattan. You need to start with things like the throughput you need, how much you need to run on each branch, when each branch runs, how they fit together. This constrains so much of your planning, because you need the rail junctions to be set up so that the trains don’t run into each other. You need to set up the interlockings at the major train stations in the same way. When you have fast and slow trains in the same corridor, you need to write timetables so that the fast trains will not be unduly delayed.

This all needs to happen before you commit to any infrastructure. The problem is that Connect NEC plans (Connect 2035, 2037) are not following that philosophy. They are following another philosophy: Each agency hates the other agencies. Amtrak and the commuter rail agencies have a mutually abusive relationship. There’s a lot of abuse from Amtrak to various commuter rail operators, and a lot of abuse by certain commuter rail operators, especially Metro North and Connecticut DOT against Amtrak. If you ask each agency what they want, they’ll say, “To get the others out of our hair.” They often want additional tracks that are not necessary if you just write a timetable.

To be clear, they want extra tracks so that they don’t have to interact with each other?

Exactly. And this is why Amtrak, the commuter railways, and the Regional Plan Association keep saying that the only way to have high-speed rail in the Northeast Corridor is to have an entirely separate right of way for Amtrak, concluding with its own dedicated pair of tunnels to Penn Station in addition to Gateway.

They’re talking about six tracks, plus two tracks from Penn Station to Queens and the Bronx, with even more urban tunneling. The point is that you don’t need any of that. Compromising a little on speed, the trip times I’m promising are a bit less than four hours from Boston to Washington. That’s roughly 180 kilometers an hour [~110 mph]. To be clear, this would be the slowest high-speed line in France, Spain, or Japan, let alone China. It would probably be even with the fastest in Germany and South Korea. It’s not Chinese speed. For example, Rep Moulton was talking about high-speed rail a couple of months ago, and said, “This is America. We need to be faster. Why not go 200, 250 mph?” He was talking about cranking up the top speed. When we were coming up with this report, we were constantly trying to identify how much time a project would save, and often we’d say, “This curve fix will speed up the trains by 20 seconds, but for way too much hassle and money.” The additional minutes might be too expensive. Twenty seconds don’t have an infinite worth. (...)

I want to go back to something you said earlier. You were contrasting the aesthetic of this proposal with Representative Moulton’s proposal, who wants our top speeds to be faster than Chinese top speeds. How do you get voters to care about — and I mean this descriptively — kinda boring stuff about cant angles?

Voters are not going to care about the cant angle efficiency on a curve. They’re not going to care about approach speed. However, I do think that they will if you tell voters, “Here's the new timetable for you as commuters. It looks weird, but your commute from Westchester or Fairfield County to Manhattan will be 20 minutes faster.”

With a lot of these reports, the issue is often that there are political trade-offs. The idea of what you should be running rail service for, who you should be running it for, that ended up drifting in the middle of the 20th century.

But also, the United States is so far from the technological frontier that even the very basics of German or Swiss rail planning, like triangle planning of rolling stock/infrastructure/operations, that's not done. Just doing that would be a massive increase in everything: reliability, frequency, speed, even in passenger comfort.

 The main rail technology conference in the world, it's called InnoTrans, it's in Berlin every two years. I hear things in on-the-floor interviews with vendors that people in the United States are just completely unaware of.

by Santi Ruiz and Alon Levy, Statecraft |  Read more:

Image: uncredited

[ed. Fascinating stuff! (I think, anyway). And, for something completely different, see: How to Be a Good Intelligence Analyst (Statecraft):]

***

I think the biggest misconception about the community and the CIA in particular is that it's a big organization. It really isn't. When you think about overstuffed bureaucracies with layers and layers, you're describing other organizations, not the CIA. It is a very small outfit relative to everybody else in the community. (...)

What kinds of lessons were consistently learned in the Lessons Learned program?

There's an argument that the lessons learned are more accurately described as lessons collected or lessons archived, rather than learned.

Because learning institutionally is hard?

Learning institutionally is hard. Not only is it hard to do, but it's also hard to measure and to affect. But, if nothing else, practitioners became more thoughtful about the profession of intelligence. To me, that was really important. The CIA is well represented by lots of fiction, from Archer to Jason Bourne. It's always good for the brand. Even if we look nefarious, it scares our adversaries. But it's super far removed from reality. Reality in intelligence looks about as dull as reality in general. Being a really good financial or business analyst, any of those kinds of tasks, they're all working a certain part of your brain that you can either train and improve, or ignore and just hope for the best.

I don't think any of those are dull, but I take your point about perception vs. reality.

I don't mean to suggest those are dull, but generally speaking, they don't run around killing assassins. It's a lot less of that.

Breakneck: China’s Quest to Engineer the Future

I didn’t write a letter last year. Rather, I wrote seven, all of which is new material.

They make up my book BREAKNECK: China’s Quest to Engineer the Future. It’s driven by a few simple ideas. That Americans and Chinese are fundamentally alike: restless, eager for shortcuts, ultimately driving most of the world’s big changes. That their rivalry should not be reasoned through with worn-out terms from the past century like socialist, democratic, or neoliberal. And that both countries are tangles of imperfection, regularly delivering — in the name of competition — self-beatings that go beyond the wildest dreams of the other.

The simplest idea I present is that China is an engineering state, which brings a sledgehammer to problems both physical and social, in contrast with America’s lawyerly society, which brings a gavel to block almost everything, good and bad.

Breakneck begins with a bike ride I took from Guiyang to Chongqing in 2021. China’s fourth-poorest province, I was delighted to find, has much better infrastructure than California or New York, both wealthier by orders of magnitude. Five days of grueling climbs on stunning green mountains gave me glimpses of what socialism with Chinese characteristics really looks like. But there is more to the engineering state than tall bridges. The heart of the book concerns how badly Beijing goes off track when it engages in social engineering. My handy formulation of the Communist Party is that it is a Leninist Technocracy with Grand Opera Characteristics — practical until it collapses into the preposterous.

The idea of the lawyerly society became obvious when I returned to the U.S. in 2023. The Paul Tsai China Center (as I say in my acknowledgments) was the best possible place to write this book, not only because it’s so supportive, but also because it set me inside the Yale Law School. Elite law schools, now and in the past, fashion the easiest path for the ambitions to step into the top ranks of the American government. The dominance of lawyers in the American elite has helped transmute the United States into a litigious vetocracy. I believe that America cannot remain a great power if it is so committed to a system that works well mostly for the wealthy and well-connected.

The engineering state versus the lawyerly society is not a grand theory to explain absolutely everything about the U.S. and China. Rather, the book is rooted in my own experiences of living in China from 2017 to 2023. I offer this framework to make sense of the recent past and think about what might come next.

It helps to explain a number of things. For example, the trade war and the tech showdown. The U.S. has relied on legalisms — levying tariffs and designing an ever more exquisite sanctions regime — while China has focused on creating the future by physically building better cars, more beautiful cities, and bigger power plants. Though China has constructed roads and bridges abroad, it struggles to inspire global cultural appeal, because engineers aren’t smooth talkers and tend to censor whatever they can’t understand. The Chinese state is sometimes too rational, proceeding down a path that feels perfectly logical, until the country’s largest city is suddenly in a state of lockdown for months.

Breakneck will be published on August 26. I hope you’ll order this book. You can also send me an email if you would like a review copy for your publication or Substack, or to book me for speaking.

***

It’s a bit boring to write only a book announcement. This is also a space for me to reflect on the bookwriting process.

The hard part of bookwriting is the beginning, the middle, and the end. Each stage demands unrelated skills. The opening phases involve engaging an agent, beating ideas into the shape of a proposal (which typically stretch over 50 pages), and approaching a publisher. The long middle is the writing. The end is the mishmash of tasks related to revision, production, and promotion. Fortunately I had a superb agent and a faithful editor to navigate the first and third stages. Overall the process was more fun than I expected, such that I now actively encourage friends to pursue their own book ideas.

Writing is necessarily a solitary task. My usual process is to putter around until late evening, until I finally cannot bear to avoid the page any longer, at which point I spend a lot of time picking out appropriate music, and finally get to the task. I knew that could no longer be a sane approach for a lengthier writing project (not that it ever was). Every day I repeated my mantra to be a cool, calm, collected Canadian, through which I achieved a modest degree of discipline. I met my deadline.

I became a better writer over the course of the book. Breakneck, as I said, is seven annual letters. I thought I understood this format, but I still saw myself improving, such that the final chapter was much easier to write than the first. I felt my prose loosening and my confidence rising as I moved from chapter to chapter. Bookwriting is a bit like climbing a mountain: best not to look up too much at the beginning and feel daunted by the task ahead. When I had completed two-thirds of the book, I started feeling elated about how much I’ve written, which propelled me towards the end.

Writing is thinking. As I worked on my final chapter, I found myself reflecting on my Yunnan heritage. Yunnan is, in my estimation, China’s freest province: far away amid southwestern mountains, it has mostly escaped sustained attention from the imperial center, which would be attracted to greater wealth or restive minority issues. My parents both have deep Yunnan roots. They would have been in China’s middle class, only the concept did not really exist when they emigrated to Canada when I was seven. I’m glad to have had an upbringing in this economic backwater, which is undeveloped in part because it’s inflected by a bit of the suspicion of the state that is common to mountain peoples everywhere. Growing up in the periphery endowed me with greater skepticism of the state glories that Beijing chooses to celebrate and greater reluctance to participate in the competitive culture common in Shanghai or Shenzhen.

I wrote this book partly to sort out my own thoughts about China. It really was staggering to write about how many miles of roadways, how many new nuclear power plants, how much steel China has produced over the past four decades. China is a good operating model of abundance. I state clearly in the book that America doesn’t have to become China to build infrastructure; it would be sufficient to reach the construction cost levels of France, Japan, or Spain. Still, the U.S. should still study some aspects of China’s method: how do they build it? What are the tradeoffs? How do we learn? China has gotten a lot of things right with mass transit, plentiful housing, and functional cities.

The problem is that China’s leadership just can’t stop at physical engineering. Sooner or later, they treat the population as if it were another building material, to be moulded or torn apart as the circumstances demand. That’s why America shouldn’t look to China as the model. My favorite chapter concerned the one-child policy. I had been completely unprepared to study the brutality of its enforcement, which was only possible through mass sterilizations and forced abortions. At its peak in the 1980s, the one-child policy morphed into a campaign of rural terror meted out against female bodies, namely the mother and the cruelly discarded daughter.

Nearly all the letters are focused on China. The final one is about the United States. I concluded my book by writing about what my parents gained and lost with their emigration. They lost the chance to build wealth as part of China’s luckiest generation: urban residents born after 1960 who were able to acquire property or build businesses after the 2000s. But they would not trade that for their gain of living in the suburbs of Philly, which I find boring, but their friends find enviable. I also reflected on America’s own legacy as an engineering state, focused on two engineers: Robert Moses and Hyman Rickover. Too many parts of America feel like the well-preserved ruins of a once-great civilization. Americans should take a clearer look at the industrial achievements that are usually ignored and frequently scorned. (...)

I cooked a lot of fish as I wrote, in the Cantonese style: steaming a whole bronzino or a filet of sea trout for ten minutes, then drizzled with ginger, spring onion, soy sauce, and sizzling olive oil. My wife and I also planned a few writing retreats, in which we would park ourselves in new places to focus on food, exercise, and writing. After six years of intensively eating Chinese cuisines, I was also pleased to move into new culinary worlds. (...)

When I last visited Shanghai, at the end of 2024, I was surprised to feel that the average person might be eating worse than before. The trend of consumption downgrading has been real. Smart restaurants are no longer difficult to book. Sichuan and Hunan restaurants are taking over. A lot of the restaurant foods are prepared in centralized commissaries. Many more places focus more on deliveries than the sit-down experience. And there seems to be a trend of chain restaurants from third-tier cities moving to first-tier cities, offering slightly worse food at much cheaper prices.

The worst part is the influencer culture. China’s influencer culture is much more intense than America’s. It’s easy to see, in public spaces, how many people are glued to their phones. Anywhere charming, whether a café or a mountaintop, is full of people intently taking photos. It’s common to see Chinese couples or groups of friends barely interacting with each other over a meal, leaning over their phones. I remember having coffee once at the Ritz-Carlton in Shanghai, where a group of girls sat near me photographing each other over cakes for over an hour. Influencer culture has pushed restaurants to make dishes better photographed than tasted.

It doesn’t mean that China will fall behind America in food. No way. China retains a commanding lead, and it has so much vitality in smaller cities and the countryside. But I wonder whether China will maintain its culinary peaks, or if they will be corroded by consumer-driven homogenization and the priority of convenience over tastiness. On present trendlines, America is learning to get better, while China is slightly worse.

by Dan Wang |  Read more:

Image: Breakneck

[ed. I've been a fan of Dan's annual China summaries since discovering them back in 2021 (see here, here and here). When 2025 rolled around and none appeared I wrote and asked if he was still planning something. That's when he told me about this book. Definitely plan to get it when it's released.]

Elon’s Edsel

Tesla Cybertruck Is The Auto Industry’s Biggest Flop In Decades

The list of famous auto industry flops is long and storied, topped by stinkers like Ford’s Edsel and exploding Pinto and General Motors’s unsightly Pontiac Aztek crossover SUV. Even John Delorean’s sleek, stainless steel DMC-12, iconic from its role in the “Back To The Future” films, was a sales dud that drove the company to bankruptcy.

Elon Musk’s pet project, the dumpster-driving Tesla Cybertruck, now tops that list.

After a little over a year on the market, sales of the 6,600-pound vehicle, priced from $82,000, are laughably below what Musk predicted. Its lousy reputation for quality–with eight recalls in the past 13 months, the latest for body panels that fall off–and polarizing look made it a punchline for comedians. Unlike past auto flops that just looked ridiculous or sold badly, Musk’s truck is also a focal point for global Tesla protests spurred by the billionaire’s job-slashing DOGE role and MAGA politics.

“It’s right up there with Edsel,” said Eric Noble, president of consultancy CARLAB and a professor at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, California (Tesla design chief Franz von Holzhausen, who styled Cybertruck for Musk, is a graduate of its famed transportation design program). “It’s a huge swing and a huge miss.”

Judged solely on sales, Musk’s Cybertruck is actually doing a lot worse than Edsel, a name that’s become synonymous with a disastrous product misfire. Ford hoped to sell 200,000 Edsels a year when it hit the market in 1958, but managed just 63,000. Sales plunged in 1959 and the brand was dumped in 1960. Musk predicted that Cybertruck might see 250,000 annual sales. Tesla sold just under 40,000 in 2024, its first full year. There’s no sign that volume is rising this year, with sales trending lower in January and February, according to Cox Automotive.

And Tesla’s overall sales are plummeting this year, with deliveries tumbling 13% in the first quarter to 337,000 units, well below consensus expectations of 408,000. The company did not break out Cybertruck sales, which is lumped in with the Model S and Model X, its priciest segment. But it’s clear Cybertruck sales were hurt this quarter by the need to make recall-related fixes, Ben Kallo, an equity analyst for Baird, said in a research note. Tesla didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment.

The quarterly slowdown underscores the fact that when it comes to the Cybertruck, results are nowhere near the billionaire entrepreneur’s carnival barker claims.

“Demand is off the charts,” he crowed during a results call in November 2023, just before the first units started shipping to customers. “We have over 1 million people who have reserved the car.”

In anticipation of high sales, Tesla even modified its Austin Gigafactory so it could produce up to 250,000 Cybertrucks a year, capacity investments that aren’t likely to be recouped.

“They didn't just say they wanted to sell a lot. They capacitized to sell a lot,” said industry researcher Glenn Mercer, who leads Cleveland-based advisory firm GM Automotive. But the assumption of massive demand has proven foolhardy. And it failed to account for self-inflicted wounds that further stymied sales. Turns out the elephantine Cybertruck is either too large or non-compliant with some countries’ pedestrian safety rules, so there’s little opportunity to boost sales with exports.

“They haven’t sold a lot and it’s unlikely in this case that overseas markets can save them, even China that’s been huge for Tesla cars,” Mercer said. “It’s really just for this market.”

More than a decade before Cybertruck went into production, Musk hinted that Tesla would eventually do some kind of electric pickup. When he unveiled his design to the world for the first time, Musk was clear that he did not want a conventional aesthetic or even something that played with pickup looks a bit but was still familiar, the approach Rivian took with its R1T pickup.

“Pickup trucks have been the same for 100 years,” and Cybertruck “doesn’t look like anything else,” said Musk, who earlier that month had proudly told an audience at a conference for space entrepreneurs, “I do zero market research whatsoever.”

That would be an apt tagline for Musk’s preposterous pickup. “The spectacular failure of Cybertruck was a failure of empathy,” said CARLAB’s Noble, whose company helps carmakers develop products based on consumer research. “Everything from the bed configuration to the cab configuration to its performance and all sorts of pickup truck duty-cycle issues, it’s just not empathetic to a pickup truck buyer.”

Cybertruck’s distinctive look resulted from two key forces, said a person familiar with the development process, who asked not to be identified because the information isn’t public. One was Musk’s passion for sci-fi designs. The other was an early decision to create a vehicle that didn’t need to be painted.

If Tesla opted not to paint the trucks, it wouldn’t need to install a new $200 million paintshop, a big potential cost savings. And it wouldn’t have to worry about EPA scrutiny from the harmful emissions and runoff those facilities often produce.

Ultimately, Musk opted for a stainless steel exterior, the same choice Delorean made for his ill-fated sports car four decades earlier. But because Musk isn’t a production engineer, he may not have fully appreciated the challenges it presents versus aluminum or composite materials, the person said. Aside from the fact that stainless steel shows handprints–a common gripe about kitchen appliances–it’s hard to bend and likes to snap back to its original shape, one of the reasons there have been problems with Cybertruck body panels.

“This is where I think they misconstrued the tradeoff,” Mercer said. “They drooled over not spending $200 million on a paint shop, but probably spent that much trying to get the stainless steel to work.” 

by Alan Ohnsman, Forbes | Read more:

Image: Fernando Capeto for Forbes; Photos by Andrew Harnik/Getty Images and Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

Land Rover
via: here/here

[ed. Iconic vs. Not So Iconic: Tesla's Cybertruck (designed on a napkin?). Starting at $99,990.]

Optical Glass House, Hiroshima Japan

NAP Architects has designed Optical Glass House located in Hiroshima, Japan.

from NAP Architects:
This house is sited among tall buildings in downtown Hiroshima, overlooking a street with many passing cars and trams. To obtain privacy and tranquility in these surroundings, we placed a garden and optical glass façade on the street side of the house.

The garden is visible from all rooms, and the serene soundless scenery of the passing cars and trams imparts richness to life in the house. Sunlight from the east, refracting through the glass, creates beautiful light patterns.

Rain striking the water-basin skylight manifests water patterns on the entrance floor. Filtered light through the garden trees flickers on the living room floor, and a super lightweight curtain of sputter-coated metal dances in the wind.

Although located downtown in a city, the house enables residents to enjoy the changing light and city moods, as the day passes, and live in awareness of the changing seasons.

Optical Glass Façade

A façade of some 6,000 pure-glass blocks (50mm x 235mm x 50mm) was employed. The pure-glass blocks, with their large mass-per-unit area, effectively shut out sound and enable the creation of an open, clearly articulated garden that admits the city scenery.

To realize such a façade, glass casting was employed to produce glass of extremely high transparency from borosilicate, the raw material for optical glass.

The casting process was exceedingly difficult, for it required both slow cooling to remove residual stress from within the glass, and high dimensional accuracy.

Even then, however, the glass retained micro-level surface asperities, but we actively welcomed this effect, for it would produce unexpected optical illusions in the interior space.

Waterfall

So large was the 8.6m x 8.6m façade, it could not stand independently if constructed by laying rows of glass blocks a mere 50mm deep. We therefore punctured the glass blocks with holes and strung them on 75 stainless steel bolts suspended from the beam above the façade.

Such a structure would be vulnerable to lateral stress, however, so along with the glass blocks, we also strung on stainless steel flat bars (40mm x 4mm) at 10 centimeter intervals.

The flat bar is seated within the 50mm-thick glass block to render it invisible, and thus a uniform 6mm sealing joint between the glass blocks was achieved. The result　—a transparent façade when seen from either the garden or the street.

The façade appears like a waterfall flowing downward, scattering light and filling the air with freshness.

Captions
The glass block façade weighs around 13 tons. The supporting beam, if constructed of concrete, would therefore be of massive size. Employing steel frame reinforced concrete, we pre-tensioned the steel beam and gave it an upward camber.

Then, after giving it the load of the façade, we cast concrete around the beam and, in this way, minimized its size.”

by Karmatrends |  Read more:

Images: NAP Architechs

[ed. See also: Optical Glass House, Hiroshima, Japan (Architectural Review).]

via:

What is Downforce?

Each minute exterior detail on top-tier consumer performance cars like a McLaren 620R and professional race cars like an IndyCar or Formula 1 car is designed to make mechanical physics work to the driver’s advantage. Every millimeter of bodywork makes a difference in how the vehicle drives and performs, and the car’s relationship to the air it’s cutting through is paramount. A crucial part of this relationship is downforce, which can be harnessed and applied by aerodynamic parts throughout the car’s shape. The science of downforce can get fairly deep, but we’re here to give an overview of what it means and a breakdown of why it’s important to driving execution.

To define downforce with just a couple of words, it is vertical load created by a vehicle’s aerodynamic parts as it’s in motion. To boil it down even further, a car’s exterior components split, route, and direct airflow in a way that pushes the vehicle down and increases traction and stability. Front splitters, canards (also known as dive planes), rear spoilers, front spoilers, those massive adjustable air foils that Chaparral affixed to their badass Can Am race cars back in the day, and other aerodynamic bits all create downforce. Downforce keeps cars planted on the road at speed and ensures the tires are pressed firmly onto the road for maximum grip.

What’s cool about downforce is it can be used at both high and low speeds relative to the capabilities of the vehicle. Downforce is often associated with high-speed driving, especially cornering, such as an IndyCar that needs every teeny bit of grip it can muster as it courses through the Long Beach Grand Prix circuit. The Dallara-designed chassis is a prime example because of its heavy use of aerowork.

However, downforce plays into low-speed performance, too—this is why you’ll often see heavily modified autocross cars with massive wings. Despite autocross courses often featuring low-speed sections in their tight courses, cars with wings that have a lot of surface area can still use that air to help stay planted and shave thousandths of a second off of their run times.

by Peter Nelson, The Drive |  Read more:

Image: Peter Nelson

Honda Rockets

Honda’s hopper suddenly makes the Japanese carmaker a serious player in rocketry.

An experimental reusable rocket developed by the research and development arm of Honda Motor Company flew to an altitude of nearly 900 feet Tuesday, then landed with pinpoint precision at the carmaker's test facility in northern Japan.

The accomplishment may not sound like much, but it's important to put it into perspective. Honda's hopper is the first prototype rocket outside of the United States and China to complete a flight of this kind, demonstrating vertical takeoff and vertical landing technology that could underpin the development of a reusable launch vehicle. (...)

Developed in-house by Honda R&D Company, the rocket climbed vertically from a pedestal at the company's test site in southeastern Hokkaido, the northernmost of Japan's main islands. The vehicle reached an altitude of about 890 feet (271 meters). The vehicle descended to a nearby landing target and settled on its four landing legs just 15 inches (37 centimeters) from its aim point, according to Honda.

What's more, the rocket stood on its four landing legs for liftoff, then retracted the landing gear as it climbed into the sky. At its highest point, the vehicle extended aerodynamic fins akin to those used on SpaceX's reusable Falcon 9 and Super Heavy boosters. Moments before reaching the ground, the rocket folded the fins against its fuselage and deployed its four landing legs for touchdown. The flight lasted approximately 57 seconds.

by Stephan Clark, ArsTechnica |  Read more:

[ed. A company deeply committed to R&D, over short-term shareholder returns, applying its expertise across a variety of platforms. Very impressive.]

Tundra tires
via:

How Ships Escaped the Great Stagnation

In January 2024 the largest passenger ship ever built, Icon of the Seas, set sail from Miami on her maiden voyage. Icon is five times larger than the Titanic by gross tonnage (the internal volume of a ship) and spans 20 decks containing more than 2,500 passenger rooms. At full capacity she can carry nearly 10,000 people – up to 7,600 passengers along with 2,350 crew. Passengers can enjoy 40 bars and restaurants across eight ‘neighborhoods’, plus several theaters and a top-deck aquapark comprising seven swimming pools and nine waterslides. The ship is 365 meters long and 65 meters wide, giving a population density equivalent to approximately 420,000 people per square kilometer. That’s about 70 times the density of London and 50 percent higher than Dharavi in Mumbai, often cited as the world’s densest urban area.

 

Airplanes today fly no faster than they did in the 1970s. In many countries, road speeds have decreased. Flying cars never showed up. In developed countries, the tallest buildings have only inched higher. Most rich countries produce less energy per capita than they did 20 years ago, and the cost of building new physical infrastructure like railways seems to rise inexorably. Yet cruise ships continue to grow: a natural experiment in what can be achieved outside the constraints that have stifled progress on dry land. (...)

The great stagnation in everything but cruise ships

New buildings, airplanes, bridges, and trains built today are often barely distinguishable from those built decades earlier, apart from often costing much more money. There is some incremental progress, especially in safety and energy efficiency, but in many areas we have stopped making performance records at all. In some, like the speed of the fastest passenger airplanes, we have even gone backward. (...)

The cruise industry, in contrast, continues to break records. The title of world’s largest passenger ship has been broken nine times so far this century, including three times in the last five years. The trend for ever-larger cruise ships accelerated around the turn of the millennium when Carnival Cruise Line’s Sunshine became the first passenger ship to exceed 100,000 gross tons in 1995. By 2008 Oasis of the Seas had more than doubled that record at 226,000 gross tons. (...)

Passenger numbers have also increased from just over 7 million passengers per year in 2000 to 31.7 million in 2023. The industry suffered badly during the Covid-19 pandemic, beginning with the high-profile Covid outbreak aboard the Diamond Princess off the coast of Japan in February 2020, resulting in the quarantine of the 3,700 people on board. Subsequent lockdowns, capacity limits, and mask mandates that persisted long after widespread vaccination all contributed to depressed passenger numbers. But new megaships like Icon have driven a strong post-Covid recovery, and passenger numbers and revenues in 2023 surpassed pre-pandemic records. 

Part of the reason for the relatively slower progress of physical infrastructure projects, compared to rapid progress in digital technologies, is sheer technological difficulty. Software products can be built rapidly and iteratively improved. Mistakes can usually be easily rectified by editing offending lines of code. When, on the other hand, Ford discovered in the late 1990s that ignition switches in its cars could cause fires, it had to recall 14.9 million vehicles.

But not all differences between the rates of progress in the worlds of bits and of atoms can be explained by technological difficulty. In the United States, housing, medical care, and childcare costs have risen faster than overall inflation since 2000, while consumer electronics, digital services, and small manufactured goods have become significantly cheaper in real terms. British researchers found something similar: in industries where increasing supply requires building new physical infrastructure, like houses, electricity pylons, power stations, and new railway lines, prices have risen. (...)

Compared with large-scale construction projects on land, the cruise industry is something of an outlier. Large modern cruise ships are sometimes even cheaper in real terms to manufacture than flag carriers of the past when measured per gross ton in 2024 dollars. The steady improvement of European shipbuilding suggests that it isn’t technological difficulty, a lack of skills, or the prices of raw materials that make infrastructure expensive in Europe, but flawed rules and institutions.

Cruise fares have also fallen in real terms. A cruise forum user unearthed a Royal Caribbean brochure from 1983 that shows pricing for its first dedicated cruise ship, Song of Norway. The prices indicated are per person based on two people sharing a room. The cheapest seven-day Caribbean cruise fare is $995 (about $3,000 dollars in 2024 prices) per person for an interior room. An equivalent cruise in 2024 aboard Royal Caribbean’s Freedom of the Seas was roughly five times cheaper, at around $600 dollars per person. A balcony room in 1983 cost $1,750 ($5,500 per person in 2024 prices) while a balcony on an equivalent weeklong Caribbean cruise aboard Wonder of the Seas (constructed in 2022) only cost around $1,000 per person in 2024. Even on Icon, which is in greatest demand, a balcony cabin costs around $1,700 dollars per person.

And it’s not simply that cruise lines are managing to cram more people into a smaller space on modern ships. If we divide the gross tonnage of a ship by its passenger capacity we find that each passenger on Icon of the Seas has about 33 percent more space than they would aboard Song of Norway. (...)

Cruise ships spend their lives either temporarily docked at a port or out at sea, where they impose almost no localized negative externalities and there is therefore little drive to subject them to national regulation.

They also have a trump card they can play to escape regulation that might come their way: the flag of convenience. Each ship sails under a specific nation’s flag, obliging it to abide by the laws and regulations of that nation. Cruise liners, because they are mobile, can choose which flag to fly. (...)

Cruise ships are held back – by land

Cruise ships could be even bigger and more numerous. The main limiting factor is not the ships themselves, but the land-based infrastructure with which they interact, such as ports, bridges, and canals.

The issue with ports is depth. Engineers therefore aim to maximize gross tonnage (the overall internal volume of a ship) without excessively increasing its length or draught (how deep a ship projects into the water). Typically, a heavier ship would be built with a larger draught to provide stability, but this curtails the range of ports that large cruise ships can access. Popular tourist destinations like Venice and Santorini have ports that can no longer accommodate the largest cruise ships. Deepwater ports like Miami and Barcelona have the necessary depth to handle vessels with significant draughts and typically provide better infrastructure for large numbers of passengers. As large cruise ships proliferate, more artificial deepwater ports like the international cruise port in Cozumel, Mexico, are being built to meet demand.

While the depth of existing ports constrains the maximum draught of cruise ships, the height of key bridges limits size in the opposite direction, placing a cap on the maximum sailing height. This was illustrated recently when Icon of the Seas could barely sail under the Great Belt Bridge in Denmark during her maiden voyage from the Turku shipyard in Finland to her final destination in Miami. The bridge has a clearance of 65 meters above sea level, requiring Icon’s engineers to partially disassemble the ship’s masts and travel at high speed during the lowest tides to safely clear it. Symphony of the Seas has retractable funnels that allow it to shrink from its usual sailing height of 72.5 meters and squeeze under the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge (clearance 69 meters).

With ports limiting maximum draughts and important bridges restricting maximum sailing heights, the latest generation of megaships has expanded outward, resulting in the distinctive wide profile of modern vessels. The largest cruise ships are now too wide to use the Panama Canal, which can only take ships up to 51.5 meters in width, and must instead sail around Cape Horn if they are being redeployed from America’s East Coast to the West Coast or South Pacific.

by Michael Hopkins, Works in Progress | Read more:
Images: uncredited

The Most Widespread Global Restaurant Chains

via:
[ed. See also: Mixue Ice Cream & Tea (Wikipedia). Chinese.]

Paperwork
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It Must Be Nice to Be a West Village Girl

One afternoon this spring, I went to the West Village to meet a West Village Girl.

When I arrived at the whitewashed wine bar she chose, just two blocks from the brownstone stoop Carrie Bradshaw made famous, Miranda McKeon was journaling in her notebook and sipping a cup of green tea. She wore crimson leggings, a stack of candy-colored beaded necklaces, and a black sweatshirt that read SELF-EMPLOYED because she is a full-time influencer — or “creator,” as it is more polite to say in this part of town.

Online, the blonde, rosy-cheeked 23-year-old from New Jersey has over a million followers across TikTok and Instagram. She posts a lot, most often about her charmed life in the West Village: sweating it out at Pilates, treating herself to weeknight Froyo, drinking espresso martinis with her girlfriends. Over a photo of herself walking down the street, she wrote this past fall, “Life is too short. Wear the sparkly skirt!!!! Post the content!!!!! Text the boy!!!!! Leave your number on the table!!!!! Ask that girl to get coffee!!!! Wear cowboy boots year round if you love them!!!! Try! Fail! Love! Lose! Try again! Be embarrassing! Take a risk! Feel it alllllll while you’re here!!!!!”

McKeon knew she wanted to rent in the West Village long before she moved to New York. In college at the University of Southern California, she started hearing from high-school friends, girls who had migrated here before her, that it was the place to live — a cobblestoned paradise where a young woman like herself could live an entire life within a block. During her final semester, last year, McKeon started obsessively combing StreetEasy for the perfect postgrad apartment and, to prepare for the move, watched Sex and the City for the first time. (She identifies as a Carrie with some of Miranda’s “girlboss energy”; she majored in entrepreneurship.) Now eight months in, she likes that the neighborhood reminds her of being back on campus insofar as she is constantly running into people she knows, though instead of classmates, they are girls she follows or who follow her. “I feel like a freshman in New York,” she said.

In person, McKeon seems, just as she does online, to be a remarkably well-adjusted and unjaded New Yorker. On weekends, she likes going out for what she calls a “three-drinker” (a nice dinner with her girlfriends with a self-imposed three-cocktail minimum). She knows the names of the important restaurants (the Corner Store, American Bar, Dante), a couple of age-appropriate bars (Bandits, Bayard’s, the Spaniard), and even some of her neighbors. “I went out to dinner with two girls last night, both of whom live on my street,” she told me. “We met through social media. It’s nice.” (...)

“There’s a cult mentality” to the neighborhood, McKeon continued. It’s true that many of the young women passing by the bar looked like her clones. They move through the neighborhood in packs, wearing the local uniform: a white tank, light-wash jeans, and Sambas, an iced matcha latte in hand, and hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. It was chilly, so several of them, McKeon cheekily pointed out through the window, were also wearing Aritzia Super Puffs, as she was, in the color matte pearl. “I feel like everyone else here in some way,” McKeon told me. “That’s the point of it, I guess.”

The neighborhood has, in recent years, transformed into a fabulous theme park for young women of some privilege to live out their Sex and the City fantasies, posting and spending their mid-20s away. They all seem to keep impressive workout routines (“Hot this and hot that,” McKeon said), have no shortage of girlfriends, and juggle busy heterosexual dating schedules. (The boys they consort with tend to be of the fratty variety.) They work in finance, marketing, publicity, tech — often with active social-media accounts on the side. They have seemingly endless disposable income. They are, by all conventional standards, beautiful. Occasionally, they are brunettes. Whatever their political beliefs, their lives seem fairly apolitical; as one 27-year-old lawyer on a walk with her best friend, both wearing identical puffer jackets, succinctly put their collective interests to me one day in April, “Brunches, coffees, dinners, drinks with your girlfriends — that type of energy.” (They may be more political than they appear: “You can have a Cartier Love bracelet and still care about immigrant rights,” said one person who lives in the neighborhood.)

This isn’t the first time a generation of socially ambitious young women has descended on the West Village and, as one fashion executive explained to me with just a hint of an eye roll, “made the neighborhood their whole personality,” fundamentally changing it along the way. If Sex and the City washed out the last of the neighborhood’s bohemians two decades ago and turned the West Village into a celebrity playground where real adults with real incomes live, the pandemic turned it into something else entirely: a bustling sorority house. “Everyone has the same mind-set. We’re here, we’re young, we’re single. Let’s go out and have fun and be ourselves. Work hard. Play hard,” said a new arrival from Texas with blonde highlights while polishing off a bottle of rosé with her girlfriends one afternoon. They’re basic, they told me proudly. “Basic isn’t a bad thing,” a crew of Cosmo drinkers at Anton’s, just down the street, elaborated. “There’s a reason everyone wants to be like that.” (There’s a sense lately that the entire city, or at least much of downtown Manhattan and the trendier parts of Brooklyn, is going the way of the West Village. “They’re everywhere,” almost everyone I talked to for this story told me.) (...)

The young women who follow Kerrigan and Keenan — fellow New Yorkers and transplants alike — soon flooded the neighborhood. So many that it became a memeable stereotype: “the West Village Girl.” In a post last September, a TikToker named Kayla Trivieri summed up the type under the caption “POV: you’re on a date with a girl from the west village.” The monologue went like this: “So what are you into?” “Pilates, Cartier bracelets, Blank Street, Hugo spritzes, Reformation, and my dachshund …” “What kind of music do you like?” “Sabrina Carpenter, Taylor Swift, and Morgan Wallen once in a while.” When I asked Trivieri about the send-up recently, the native Canadian told me she became familiar with the type before she even moved to the States. “She was the cultural Zeitgeist on TikTok,” Trivieri said. “It became this almost idealized persona. I felt like people in Toronto were even dressing like that in head-to-toe Pilates gear.” (The influencer Tinx sells a $75 crewneck that reads RICH MOM WEST VILLAGE.) To put New York youth culture into high-school terms, Kerrigan said the West Village Girls are “the Plastics, the Mean Girls without the meanness.”

Now, years after she started posting from the neighborhood, Keenan said, she often has to wait on line to get coffee at her favorite shop, Fellini. “I’m thinking about how that’s kind of my fault,” she added. “I’ve recommended it a million times. But it’s a beautiful sharing of information, so I can’t be annoyed.” (The lines, she said, are a good place to meet friends.) Kerrigan said the West Village is now filled with “young powerhouse women with vision boards,” ambitious zoomers who idolize Alex Cooper and Carrie Bradshaw in equal measure. The appeal is “the main-character energy you get when you’re in the West Village,” which feels, she said, like a “movie set.” The irony, of course, is that when everyone’s a main character, is anyone? (...)

The original West Village Girls — those who have remained in the neighborhood and didn’t jet off to Greenwich or to a classic six uptown — aren’t entirely pleased with their new neighbors.

One Tuesday in April, I met Kim Vernon, a former Calvin Klein executive who bought a loft in the neighborhood in 1997. “I don’t want to be an old-lady bitch, but this is the pinnacle of what happened to this fucking neighborhood,” she said when we sat down at Bar Pisellino, which even at 2 p.m. was packed with young women ordering spritzes and pastries. “I see less gay men and, more than anything, groups of four or five girls,” she added. “They’re always talking at a high, high pitch. It is so intolerable. It’s so unpleasant.” Not to mention it’s impossible to get a table at I Sodi or Via Carota these days, two once-neighborly Italian restaurants that were tumbled through the TikTok recommendation machine and came out nearly unrecognizable with lines of day-trippers waiting down the block at all hours of the day. “I used to go to I Sodi when they had an answering machine. Someone would call you back. It wasn’t super-popular,” said Vernon. The last time she tried to have dinner with a friend, she was quoted a three-hour wait. (...)

The old bars and restaurants are also adjusting to the new whims and tastes. “I have regulars who come in all the time and say, ‘What happened?’ It’s just an army of Levi’s and white tank tops,” a bartender at Bayard’s, a newly popping but long-standing Irish pub on Hudson Street, told me. (Behind the bar, she showed me a box of lost phones and another box of abandoned clothes, which she lugs to Housing Works once a month.) In the fall of 2023, the restaurant and bar Cowgirl decided to convert one of its margarita machines into one for frozen espresso martinis, “the new cocaine,” the owner joked to me. “You can see the new group coming in. I don’t know where they’re getting their money from, but they have money,” she said. “Especially on the weekends, everyone’s 27. That magic number. We never had demand like this.” The Spaniard, a cocktail bar by day and a shockingly rowdy hookup spot by night, had to hire an entire security team after what one manager described as a “mass exodus” of the older, tamer clientele. (Its top-three sellers now are spicy margaritas, espresso martinis, and Aperol spritzes, which are pre-batched into kegs.) At L’Artusi, a high-end Italian restaurant, the owner, Kevin Garry, told me he’s selling less expensive wine post-pandemic. “Previously, the crowd was kind of that classic West Village type. Late 30s, early 40s, Masters of the Universe with good jobs and no kids,” he said. “A $150 bottle of wine doesn’t compare to a vodka-soda.” As a waitress at La Bonbonniere, an old-school diner that has been around since the 1930s, said bluntly, “The old people? They die. Now it’s young people with the social media. After corona, pew! The internet!”

Needless to say, no one would go on the record getting too snarky about any of this; it all makes for good business. And some former West Village Girls admitted eventually that in their descendants they could see their younger selves. “I think they’re probably doing what I did when I was 20. This is where they want to go around and get drinks and run into people and look cool,” said Hruska MacPherson. “It’s like Disneyland for them. Let’s let them be young and have fun, even if we cringe at it. Let’s let them have their Aperol spritzes. We were also discovering ourselves.” Annelise Peterson echoed this thought: “We were discovering ourselves. I stayed down there until my ex-husband told me it was time to move to the Upper East Side. Things change; things never stay the same. What the West Village will be in 20 years might be something very different. The influencer is fickle.”

It’s easy to get reflective after a few brunchtime cocktails. “Was I one of these little fuckers?” Savannah Engel wondered aloud to me one Sunday after Bloody Marys at Cafe Cluny. The question seemed to stump her. Two girls hauled yoga mats past us, and she said, “I like to kick them out of the way.”

by Brock Colyar, The Cut | Read more:
Image: Dina Litovsky
[ed. Living the dream. Trust funds, inheritances, nepo connections, rich partners. It's easy.]

As for the apartments the businesses were shipping to, the average one-bedroom in the neighborhood is now $5,995 a month, though apartments often cost much more. A dingy one-bedroom can easily go for $7,500 (expensive but doable on a finance salary or with help from parents).

How Impermanence Became Central to Japanese Thought

Nothing Lasts. How Do We Face It? (NYT)

Images:Moe Suzuki
[ed. On Japanese impermanence. Other topics: Fashion, Cuteness, Monsters, Seasonality, Walking, Iterations, Fandom, Milky, Boxes, Citrus, Koreans, Pop Music, Matcha, Ozu, America, Fermentation, Purin.]

What’s More Vacuous Than An Endless Vacuum?

Well, I watched every second of the buildup, flight and aftermath of the first Blue Origin all-female space trip. You’ve heard of one small step for man? This was one giant leap backwards for womankind. I’m kidding, I’m kidding! What could be more empowering or something than watching Lauren Sánchez make going to space sound like brunch with the girrrrrls. Sally Ride could never.

Anyway, if you missed this, Jeff Bezos’s fiancee took an 11-minute trip to the edge of space on one of his Blue Origin craft on Monday, alongside some all-female passengers – sorry, “crew” – who included CBS anchor Gayle King and pop star Katy Perry. So yes: the Woman’s World video is no longer the most plastic feminist thing Katy’s done.

Given the mixture of freebie rides and seats sold to the super-rich, the thing people always say about Blue Origin tickets is that prices range from zero to $28m dollars. A bit like a seat on a RyanAir flight to Tallinn. But these spots were all personally gifted by Bezos and Sánchez because this was an Important Mission. Which also meant the whole thing was exclusively documented by Blue Origin’s Pravda-like web channel. Here, the anchors and reporters kept explaining that – unlike when men went to space in the past – this mission was all about emotions. But look, it’s great that we’re valorising emotions above all things, because it gives me permission to say how very much I hated this entire, hilariously vacuous spectacle.

Lauren already bills herself as a children’s author, helicopter pilot, journalist and philanthropist, and kept being told she was adding “astronaut” to the world’s longest multi-hyphenate. How did she find the trip? “I don’t really have the words for this, like … ?” OK but can you at least try? “I can’t put it into words but I looked out the window and we got to see the moon.”

Back at the viewing platform in the West Texas desert, commentary was provided by, among others, Kris Jenner and a bottom-tier Kardashian (Khloé). Khloé glossed the moment of landing with the words: “it’s literally so hard to explain right now”. Other insights? “There’s one woman whose grandfather is back there and he is 92 and they didn’t even have transportation back then.” I mean, the guy was literally pre-horse. Historic scenes.

Amid extremely stiff competition, the most hardcore gibberish emanated from Perry, who served up an entire word salad bar involving the “feminine divine” and being “super-connected to love”. “It’s about making space for future woman,” she explained. “It’s about taking up space.” Imagine going to actual space and talking instead about therapy-speak “space”. When Buzz Aldrin beheld the surface of the moon, he described it as “magnificent desolation”. Honestly, if he wanted to feel desolation he could have just tuned into this corner of West Texas on Monday afternoon. When a Stem advocate came for her post-flight interview, we got to see the apparently lobotomised reporter shriek: “How do you look perfect after just going to space?!”

In truth, how the women looked had been an overwhelming part of the buildup, and by their own design. In an Elle magazine joint interview with the passengers, Lauren showed off the hot space suits she’d personally commissioned, inquiring rhetorically: “Who would not get glam before the flight?” “Space is going to finally be glam,” agreed Perry. “Let me tell you something. If I could take glam up with me, I would do that. We are going to put the ‘ass’ in astronaut.” A former Nasa rocket scientist said: “I also wanted to test out my hair and make sure that it was OK. So I skydived in Dubai with similar hair to make sure I would be good – took it for a dry run.” Still want more? Because there was SO much of it. “We’re going to have lash extensions flying in the capsule!” explained Lauren. “I think it’s so important for people to see us like that,” explained a civil rights activist. “This dichotomy of engineer and scientist, and then beauty and fashion. We contain multitudes. Women are multitudes. I’m going to be wearing lipstick.”

Ooof. I always thought space travel was futuristic, but this was the first time it came off as travelling back in time, in this case using their little capsule to take us back to the most ludicrous inanities of 2010s girlboss feminism.

by Marina Hyde, The Guardian |  Read more:

Image: YouTube

[ed. Can't even generate the energy to cringe. Everything is so sad.]