Carlos Slim ... porn king?

According to Forbes magazine, Carlos Slim Helú is the second richest man in the world, primarily due to his virtual monopoly of telecommunications in Mexico. Today, with the downswings in world markets, his net worth is a mere $60 billion. He lives in Mexico City, a metropolis where about half the citizens hover at the poverty level. As such, he was almost a comic-book villain for the chapter in my book about inequality.

Not long ago it surfaced that a “cybersquatter” from Jakarta named Ahmad Rusli bought the domain name www.carlosslimhelu.com, and proposed that the magnate should give up $55 million in exchange for the return of his moniker. If Slim refused, Rusli threatened to direct all traffic to that address to a porno site. (Given how obscenely wealthy Slim is, some might see poetic justice in the idea.)

However, a passel of Slim’s lawyers appealed to the U.N.’s World Intellectual Property Organization, which ruled that the domain had been registered in bad faith and should be returned to the entrepreneur free of charge. The story appeared in the Reuters web site on January 14. Click here to see it in English or here for the Spanish translation.

My girdle is killing me

Months ago I posted about the mannequins in the windows of Uniformes Oskar, a store that sells getups for anyone who labors as a chambermaid, waiter, nurse, maintenance man, doctor, gas-station attendant, et cetera (or for those who may simply fancy looking like one on the street or, um, in a more intimate moment).

Still, I don't think that the post even gives a hint of how great a part mannequins play in the everyday life in Mexico City. But not like in other cities. You see them in different states of dress or undress in many shop windows. There is at least a vague erotic suggestion. The ladies (and the gent) in the photo above are a great contrast to the middle-aged matron who confessed to another, in a TV commercial I remember from childhood: "My girdle is killing me."

In market stalls, they may or may not be clothed, and they may or may not have limbs. Or hair.

Sometimes one, or a part of one, simply serves as an ambiguous talisman.

A plug for Pamela

Longtime readers of this blog may remember that last March I wrote about Pamela, a Venezuelan in Mexico City who, apart from being what is known around here as a bombón, not only sings, but plays incredible jazz trombone. (Those who missed the post, called "Bombshell from Caracas," can find it by using the blog's search engine.) She plays Wednesday nights at the seafood restaurant La Morena (Calle Michoacan #94, Colonia Condesa) and Thursday and Friday nights at La Taverna de Torcuato (Avenida Torcuato Tasso, almost at the Corner of Avenida President Masaryk, Colonia Polanco). After you catch her act, she will haunt your dreams. In any event, she does mine.

Things that make you go hmmm …

On the eve of the U.S. presidential inauguration, two photos that were recently taken on Avenida Insurgentes, Mexico City’s largest boulevard.

To the victor, the spoils (in the form of a Fiat dealership).

To the vanquished … frozen vegetables?

Anthony Bourdain and the Mexican dream

Last October I mentioned on this blog that I worked as a consultant for Anthony Bourdain and the crew of his show No Reservations while they filmed part of an episode in Mexico City. Various readers wrote and asked when it would be broadcast. U.S. readers take note: It airs Monday, January 5th. It will be shown in Mexico considerably later; I'll let you know when I have more information.

The two photos below were taken at a cantina called La Mascota on the corner of Calle Mesones and Calle Bolívar in the centro histórico. It was one of my recommendations for the shoot. La Mascota is a traditional place, that has luckily not been remodeled with stucco ceilings or canteloupe-colored walls. The botanas – free food served in the afternoon, so long as you pay for your drinks – are first-rate.

The fellow on the extreme right in the green T-shirt is Carlos Llaguno, from Puebla, who made his way to New York, where he found work as a dishwasher at Bourdain’s restaurant Les Halles. Little by little, he worked his way up in the kitchen, and not long after Bourdain threw in the apron to become a full-time media personality, Carlos was promoted to chef. Nearly all the kitchens of New York restaurants employ Mexicans, but Bourdain told me that Les Halles is the only one where a Mexican has actually risen to become #1, el jefe.

So three cheers for Carlos, who is living the Mexican dream, along with his girlfriend Emily Cummings, who happens to be a Ford model. Immigration foes are cordially invited to eat their hearts out.