6 — Tuesday, February 19, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

By Paul Coulter
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
02/19/19

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

02/19/19

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Tuesday, February 19, 2019

ACROSS
1 Deep opera 
voices
6 Quaint “you”
10 “SOS” pop group
14 From square 
one
15 Pair on a Disney 
World hat
16 Little brook
17 *Sore loser’s 
reaction
19 Live __: party 
hearty
20 Temporary 
period
21 Clytemnestra’s 
son
23 Soap-making 
chemical
24 Often
26 Road’s end?
27 Versatile vehicle, 
for short
28 Handel’s 
“Messiah” is one
32 Vertical billiards 
stroke
35 Not fresh
36 Ambient music 
pioneer Brian
37 Apple computer
38 Fifth and newest 
member of the 
set that includes 
the starts of 
the answers to 
starred clues
39 NYPD rank
40 Zero, like 
chances
41 “Full court” NBA 
defense
42 Pat Conroy’s 
“The Prince 
of __”
43 Corporate info-
sharing system
45 Hawaiian dish
46 “Chestnuts 
roasting __ open 
fire”
47 Online craft store
49 Rap sheet abbr.
52 Elks, in Canada
55 __ Kodak
57 Top poker cards
58 *Valentine 
recipient
60 Ready for 
harvesting
61 Half of Mork’s 
sign-off
62 Novelist Joyce 
Carol __
63 Smartphone 
ancestors, briefly

64 Cookbook amt.
65 “Elder” Roman 
scholar

DOWN
1 Fragrant herb
2 Ecstasy’s 
opposite
3 Fry
4 “Your Highness”
5 Unappreciative 
one
6 Pedro’s “I love 
you”
7 WWII General __ 
Arnold
8 Crumbled 
sundae-topping 
cookie
9 Cold War power: 
Abbr.
10 Noble Brit
11 *Finale to fight to, 
with “the”
12 Treatment for 
gray hair
13 Swiss peaks
18 Irritate but good
22 90° from sur
25 How food may be 
seasoned
27 Trojans’ sch.
29 Male sheep
30 Thrilla in Manila 
boxer
31 “My bad!”

32 Revealing skirt
33 Protein building 
block
34 *Hip-hop trio with 
a condimental 
name
35 “Peter Pan” 
pirate
38 Reception server
39 Three, on a 
sundial
41 Breathe heavily
42 Kid’s favorite 
store, often

44 Elevates
45 10th-grader’s 
exam, for short
48 Start a golf hole
49 Vintage violin
50 Megan’s “Will & 
Grace” role
51 Anxious
52 __ speed: “Star 
Trek” rate
53 Fails to be
54 Q-tip
56 Greenish-blue
59 Nav. rank

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FOR RENT

The Michigan
Daily loves 
its readers
a LATTE

When I was much younger, I 
thought my family’s annual “The 
Sound of Music” Christmas tradition 
was very dumb. We didn’t celebrate 
Christmas, so when ABC Family 
rolled out its holiday programming, 
we’d record the 1965 classic on our 
DVR, watch about an hour of the 
film each night over the course of 
a few days, and bask in the joy of 
every damn word of “My Favorite 
Things.” By the time I headed to the 
University of Michigan, every fiber 
of that movie had become ingrained 
into my existence, for better or for 
worse.
Fast forward to this past spring: I 
had spent three program-structured 
days in Vienna, Austria, and I now 
had a full day to explore. I had 
recently been made aware of the 
eminent accessibility of “The Sound 
of Music” tour in Salzburg. It sounded 
like a lock, but finding company for 
the cross-country trek would prove 
difficult. I asked my roommate if he 
had any interest in going.
“I need to get a haircut,” said 
Derek. “And there’s also an all-you-
can-eat sushi place across the street.”
I thought the movie buffs we’d 
befriended would take the bait. Not 
so much.
“Uh… no,” said Will.
Eli too.
“Sorry dude.”
There’d be no hesitation on my end. 
I booked my train and tour tickets, 
party of one, while at an evening wine 
and cheese tasting. Auf wiedersehen, 
future FOMO-havers.

— 

Upon arriving in Salzburg, I felt… 
out of place. Everyone was extremely 
good-looking, and they were all 
wearing pastel-colored dress shirts, 
a stark contrast from my t-shirt and 
jogger sweatpant getup. Alas: After a 
quick beef chili bowl, I was ready to 
see the hills come alive.
At the tour bus meeting point I was 
greeted by a really cheerful tour guide 

named Eva, who was from Uruguay 
and really, really, really, loved “The 
Sound of Music.” I took a seat by 
the window — a strategic decision — 
and prayed I’d win the random new 
friend lottery. Soon after, another 
solo traveler, a 50-ish-year-old South 
Korean man named Roy, took the 

seat next to me. He explained that 
he’d found a ton of success in global 
software 
investment, 
and 
even 
though he used a bunch of terms that 
flew way over my head, I gathered 
generally that he was celebrating his 
life victory with a solo trip around 
the world. He exuded unadulterated 
joy.
Joy 
— 
that’s 
what 
brought 
everyone to Salzburg. “The Sound of 
Music” should be everything I hate 
in a movie — it’s next-level sappy 
and cliché — but it’s about good guys 
beating bad guys, family, love and 
figuring out what brings you joy. And 
it includes the waterworks factory 
that is “Edelweiss.” There’s no telling 
how the movie brings together a solo 
American college student and the 
wine-friendly, tattoo-sleeved young 
Australian surferbros who sat in 
the back of the bus and drained out 
Eva’s informational snippets with a 
deafening “Oye aim sixtain GOWING 
awn saiventaind,” all while making 
me secondhand drunk. It just does.
That kind of uncapturable magic 
is why describing the tour itself 

is 
impossible 
and 
maybe 
even 
unimportant. It was incredible, of 
course, seeing with my own two eyes 
the Mirabell Gardens and Hellbrunn 
Palace, the very images that at a 
young age fortified a soul-defining 
indoctrination. But the sightseeing, 
on its own, doesn’t capture “The 
Sound of Music”’s essence, nor should 
it have to. The people were enough.

— 

Still, what I’ll remember most from 
the excursion is the train ride back 
to Vienna. I’d say it was the most 
perfect three hours of my entire life 
— and it was — but even that wouldn’t 
do the experience justice. It was 
transcendent. The sunset gleamed 
off those Austrian foothills with rays 
that were so majestic that I began 
to question if Julie Andrews had 
telepathically transmitted some sort 
of happiness serum into my freshly 
Berlin-ed, emo-charred insides. I 
could only attempt to alleviate my 
otherworldly emotion with periodic 
tosses of Haribo candies into my 
mouth, but I had a smile on my face 
so gosh darn big that the gummy 
bears just kind of popped back out 
onto my seat as if I was some kind 
of broken automated puppet. To the 
spooked German toddlers that were 
seated across the aisle: If you’re 
reading this, I apologize. I am sane 
and stable, and I even write about 
health and wellness for my university 
newspaper. In America!
Here I am, back in America. 
There’s a lot more stress and zero 
Austrian foothills. Now I often find 
myself wondering if Favorite Things 
are meant to be enjoyed in rare, if 
not fleeting, glimpses. It’s a question 
I might need many years worth of 
maturity to properly answer. For 
the time being, however, I do know 
this: For one day, in those winding 
hills of Mondsee, among the drunk 
Aussies and Roy the South Korean 
investment magnate, I had found my 
own little slice of heaven.

The Austrian foothills: 
otherwise, my own mecca

DAILY HEALTH & WELLNESS COLUMN

JOEY 
SCHUMAN

The past few years have 
witnessed a significant rise 
in streetwear. Actually, more 
than just significant — it 
has been a colossal wave 
that hit the fashion industry 
and does not show any 
intentions of stopping. This 
style is often characterized 
by 
casual 
clothing 
and 
bright colors, inspired from 
skatewear, and has its roots 
in various parts of the world, 
from Japan to Britain to 
California. It is undeniable 
that streetwear has evolved 
over generations, and what 
started as something that 
was equated with cheap and 
easily accessible clothing for 
everyone; however, society’s 
youth 
is 
now 
morphing 
into the exact opposite. The 
single 
underlying 
reason 
for this transformation is 
the unfortunate integration 
of street style with luxury 
brands and high fashion.
The integration between 
the two seemingly polar 
concepts begin with the 
collaboration between Louis 
Vuitton and Supreme, along 
with the sudden surge in 
the popularity of names like 
Vetements and Balenciaga. 
Brands such as Louis Vuitton 
have for the longest time been 
known as symbols of not only 
wealth, but also markers to 
distinguish and elevate the 
meaning of “couture.” These 
names represent decades of 
the history of fashion and 
have always taken pride in 

the fact that they do not seem 
to follow the herd. However, 
I believe their recent work 
with streetwear screams the 
contrary.
I do not deny that the 
style has become so much 
more than just a trend — 
it has transformed into a 
culture that is ubiquitous, but 
eccentric at the same time. But 
the fact that a culture is shared 
by a massive group of people 
reflects an ideology that is 
larger than a single person 
or trend. More importantly, 
fashion has always helped 
bind communities and help 
translate that sentiment of 
belonging into an appearance, 
but the injection of luxury 
into this culture is creating 
an increasingly wide gap. 
There is now a group that 
partakes in the propagation 
of the style, not because they 
are emotionally attached to it, 
but because it has become the 
new cool thing. The division 
is a crack that soon will not 
be able to be filled and will 
radically change both worlds.
Names like Burberry and 
Chanel that are now visibly 
shifting to a more trendy 
image have always been 
associated with pieces of 
fashion that are in fact pieces 
of art on the runway. More 
importantly, these brands 
are synonymous with classy 
dressing that reflects the 
rich heritage of the brand. 
By merging with streetwear, 
they are no longer doing 
justice to either of the sides. 
At the end of the day, the 
streetwear domain should 

be dominated by those firms 
that share its culture and 
history, and luxury names do 
not fall in those categories. 
On the other hand, I also fear 
that companies like Burberry 
could end up losing their 
essence and it factor, the 
sense of elusiveness projected 
by their designs, shows and 
retail experience. If luxury 
names continue to merge 
and expand into numerous 
styles and areas, this sense of 
exclusivity would eventually 
fade.
Don’t get me wrong — 
I have no problem with 
streetwear as a style. There 
have been times where I too 
engage and advocate for it, 
but I don’t want to advocate 
for the mixing of ideas that 
do not share a common story. 
Fashion is more than just 
clothing: It is the expression 
of a sentiment. It is the telling 
of a tale, and to do so without 
truly belonging to that sub 
domain is diminishing the 
importance of the human and 
societal aspect to fashion.
Yes, the Chanel high tops 
sneakers and Gucci hoodies 
that spell “I am trendy 
but I can also afford the 
apparently finer things of 
life” are enticing. There has 
been a point in most of our 
lives where we want to wear 
the branded, yet common 
clothes. However, isn’t the 
very point of streetwear to be 
something that can be shared 
by everyone? Luxury clothing 
isn’t meant to echo these 
ideas. It’s time that we stop 
trying to mix oil and water.

Streetwear and luxury: 
Should they still mix?

PRIYDARSHINI GOUTHI
Daily Arts Writer

WIREIMAGE

STYLE NOTEBOOK

CULTURE NOTEBOOK

Yoga is a strange art. 
Strangers 
sharing 
a 
communal space, yet finding 
privacy in the four corners 
of our yoga mats. Some hate 
it with a burning passion, 
others get a rush from it. 
There is no in between. I 
fall into the latter category. 
Instead of trying to come up 
with reasons of why all the 
yoga haters out there should 
give it a second chance, it’s 
probably more interesting to 
tell a love story (fitting, since 
Valentine’s Day just passed). 
This is the love story of me 
and yoga.
My relationship with yoga 
first started in high school. A 
combination of stresses led 
me to develop an extremely 
unhealthy relationship with 
my physical body and my 
mind. I went to a performing 
arts high school in New York 
City, where I was trapped 
in a cinder block building 
for 12 hours at a time due 
to long rehearsal schedules 
and 
performance 
classes 
that extended our academic 
school day. I would commute 
on the subway in the morning 
at very early hours and back 
home late at night, getting 
little to no hours of daylight.

Being 
a 
professional 
performer, it is easy to fall 
into a cycle of self-loathing 
and self-hate, as we are 
constantly 
being 
judged 
and hired for our looks and 
talents. As a woman of color 
in the performing industry, 
I faced unique challenges 
in the performing world. 
I began to scrutinize my 
body, the way that my curves 
looked in a tight leotard, the 
fact that my singing voice 
sounded “princess-ey” and 
“white,” 
further 
limiting 
the roles I would be able 
to be cast in. I developed a 
disconnect with my body, 
choosing to ignore my curves 
and tan skin and detach 
my mind from my body in 
hopes that I would feel more 
content. Of course, this was 
not the case. I ended up 
developing a very hateful 
relationship with myself. I let 
the voices of those who put 
me down merge into my own 
voice, and I felt lost as to how 
to find my own voice again.
Junior year of high school, 
I opted to take yoga as my 
gym credit. I heard it was 
easy, and that we even got 
to sleep once a week during 
class! I did not expect to 
be impacted in the way I 
was. Yoga gave me the gift 
of 
breath. 
Even 
though 
breath is a crucial part of 

singing, I did not realize 
the importance of breath in 
everyday life, calming my 
anxieties and connecting my 
mind to my body. It was the 
key to a healthier attitude 
and 
a 
healthier 
mind. 
By using breath to move 
through postures, I was able 
to better connect with my 
body. I became more aware 
of the subtleties of my body 
movements, which improved 
my dance and performance 
technique. My body was 
no longer a foreign object 
to me. It became familiar, 
and I grew to be more 
comfortable in my own skin. 
I began taking ownership of 
my body, listening to it and 
nurturing it by making sure 
I eat healthy foods, even 
though it was easier to just 
order a plate of greasy fries to 
rehearsal. I became a happier 
person, and I was eager to 
explore my body and mind 
further.
Meditation is also a crucial 
part of my yoga practice, as 
my mind flies at 100 miles per 
hour at any given moment of 
the day. Without meditation, 
I am not sure I would have 
left high school with mental 
composure. 

A love story with yoga

ISABELLE HASSLUND
Daily Community Culture Editor

Read more at 
MichiganDaily.com

