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‘Style Junkie’ Sarah Lim Scores Her Local Cologne at In God We Trust

(Photo: Ebru Yildiz)

Sarah Lim in the shop’s backyard. (Photo: Ebru Yildiz)

When In God We Trust’s first location opened on Wythe Avenue in 2005, it was a modest shop with a little studio in the back. In that small space, founder Shana Tabor designed original clothes and jewelry with uniquely irreverent touches. For instance: the instant classic, heart-shaped Sweet Nothing necklace with a handwritten inscription reading “kiss me where i pee.” The inaugural shop has since closed but three new stores opened in its place.
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Watch the Melvins Cover the Butthole Surfers With Sir Gibby Haynes Himself

The Melvins played House of Vans in Greenpoint last night and we still haven’t recovered our hearing. Among the reasons: Dale Crover, looking half his age thanks to a Justin Bieber haircut, was joined on the double drums by newcomer Coady Willis (well, relative newcomer: he’s been drumming with the Melvins for some years, but we’re talking about a band that’s been pummeling audiences for three decades. Kurt Cobain drove them to shows back when Nirvana was something only Buddhists talked about.)
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Watch Swaai Boys Turn Their Practice Space into an African Beach Hut

It’s Tropical Thursday here on Bedford + Bowery — now that we’ve introduced you to “castaway rock,” how bout some “turf rock”? Swaai Boys take their inspiration from the idea of adventure, manifesting in a hybrid genre they also call “tropical pop.”
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It’s Called Tropical Contact, and the Guy From Call Box Wants to Give It to You

(Photo: Natalie Rinn)

Laser-dancers at The Call Box. (Photo: Natalie Rinn)

Grab a Hawaiian shirt: Timothy Traynor, of Call Box Lounge dance party fame, is debuting Tropical Contact tonight at Isa. No, Tropical Contact isn’t a euphemism for some unspeakable jungle malady: it’s an island-themed soiree involving free beer, tropical fabrics, laid-back Caribbean tracks and a “nothing pretentious” great time, according to Traynor.
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L Train Is Cutting Out Early; Driver in Sidewalk Wreck Pleads Not Guilty

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(Photo: Phillip Kalantzis Cope)

So apparently the L train isn’t going to be running late-nights in August. Guess the whole “city that never sleeps” business doesn’t extend beyond the East River. Dammit. [Brokelyn]

Speaking of the L, The L Magazine named us “best new local blog” in their Best of Brooklyn issue (yep, shameless plug). Aww, thanks, guys! [The L]
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We Played Paparazzo And All We Got Was This Lousy Simon Pegg Photo

Simon Pegg, maybe (Photo: Anna Silman)

After yesterday’s Girls shoot, we were like, stalking celebrities is fun! But how could we keep it up with Girls all the way up in Gramercy today?

The answer came to us when we spotted a bunch of paparazzi milling around outside the Bowery Hotel this morning. We see these guys all the time, but we’ve never thought about getting in on the action. This time, however, we asked them who they were waiting for. Was it Yeezus? Hova? Or could it be Solange, fresh off her laundromat tour of Brooklyn?
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A Guide to North Brooklyn For Aspiring Twentysomething Female Memoirists

Now that you’ve read the with Ashley Cardiff, you’re probably thinking, “Hey, I’m in my 20s and all about North Brooklyn, too! How can I write a memoir. Ashley’s here to show you how.

Note: those kittens are more than just cute.

Note: those kittens are more than just cute.

So you’ve just graduated from a small liberal arts college — English major, art history minor — and the only way you can realize your ambitions of being a successful writer is paying some outlandish Brooklyn rents. Granted, you’re all of 22, have lived in no discernibly interesting way and haven’t even gained enough distance from your adult relationships to analyze them with any clarity. Most offensive of all, you’re a lady (people don’t really get outraged at dudes for writing about themselves).

…Lucky for you, though, you’re young, look great in selfies, and you’re more than willing to churn out 3,000 words about your first threesome. For those ladies who relish confessional writing as much as they love spending $12 on a jar of pickles — here’s a helpful guide from one twentysomething female writer to another.
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