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Korea Herald
03-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
Four Seoul bars secure coveted spots on Asia's 50 Best Bars 2025 extended list
Four Seoul-based establishments have been named in the extended 51–100 rankings of Asia's 50 Best Bars 2025, released Thursday. Pine & Co., ranked No. 52, leads the city's entries with a concept rooted in symbolism and science. Named for the pine tree, representing longevity, and the pineapple, a symbol of hospitality, the bar blends high-tech cocktail craft with a warm, homey ambiance. Guests are invited into a "mad scientist's lab," complete with sous vide machines, rotovaps and vacuum-packing tools, while seated among flickering candles, leather couches and bookshelves. The bar champions sustainability, partnering with local cafes to upcycle spent coffee grounds into ingredients. Coming in at No. 54, Soko channels the elegance and intimacy of 1920s drinking culture with a distinctly Korean-Western flair. Led by bartender-owner Son Soko, its signature cocktails like the dry martini and the inventive Mr. Peanut — a mix of whisky, amaro cordial and peanut — reflect the venue's creative edge. Its wooden carvings, warm lighting and a sleek backlit bar set the tone for a fashionable and loyal clientele. At No. 63, GongGan offers a serene escape inside a restored hanok. The light-filled space centers on a leafy courtyard and minimalist design. Drinks are rooted in personal memories, such as the Si-Jang, a tipple that evokes visits to traditional markets. Rounding out Seoul's representation is Charles H at No. 96, an intimate speakeasy tucked inside the Four Seasons Hotel Seoul. The venue channels vintage glamor with world-class polish. Guests can expect elevated classics like the Velvet Martini, featuring vermouth, fino sherry and citrusy Jeju Hallabong, alongside bold house creations such as the Coconut Grove, blending rum, pineapple, coconut milk and Thai red curry for a tropical kick. The extended 51–100 list, now in its fifth year, serves as a preview to the main Asia's 50 Best Bars 2025 awards ceremony, scheduled for July 15 in Macao. Sponsored by Perrier, the list is curated by a gender-balanced voting panel of over 300 bartenders, bar owners, drinks journalists and cocktail experts from across Asia.
CBC
14-02-2025
- Business
- CBC
What's behind the death of the Duolingo mascot
Death all part of a stunt to get brand attention, says expert ⭐️HERE'S WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW⭐️ Duolingo said that its iconic mascot, Duo, died. That being said, the company says it's not the last we'll see of the owl. An expert in public relations says this is a classic marketing stunt. Read on to find out why she thinks it could be good for the brand. ⬇️⬇️⬇️ If you went onto language-learning app Duolingo today to brush up on your Spanish, you may have shed a tear in the process. You would have noticed the iconic owl mascot isn't looking so good. He has Xs where his eyes should be. On Feb. 11, Duolingo announced in a tweet that Duo the owl had died unexpectedly. The social media announcement has been viewed more than 50 million times on X (formerly Twitter) already, and one expert says that's exactly the point. Brands pull stunts to pull focus Toronto-based Courtney Khimji, founder of the public relations agency Chimera Collective, said that brands are always looking for new ways to get more eyes on their products. Sometimes, like in the case of Duolingo, they take big swings. 'It's a classic PR stunt. They've made a really bold move. Not everyone is going to like it, but it's obviously caught the media's attention globally,' she told CBC Kids News. The Mr. Peanut brand pulled a similar marketing stunt to Duolingo back in 2020 when it announced that Mr. Peanut had died. (Image credit:) Khimji said she thinks it could be part of a rebrand by Duolingo, which can be a good way for companies to 'freshen things up,' with the ultimate goal of making more money. #RIPeanut: Mr. Peanut has died at age 104 'The Duolingo owl has been the cornerstone of their brand identity and personality, and to do away with that clearly signals a big new move,' she said. She said the fact that we don't yet know what happened to the owl creates a sense of anticipation among the audience and sets up a possible rebrand. On Thursday, Duolingo used social media to reveal that their characters Falstaff, Lily and Zari had also died and said that app users could bring Duo the mascot back to life by doing their daily language lesson. In Duolingo, users are encouraged to take daily lessons to build a streak, earn points and progress on leaderboards. So whether or not a rebrand happens, Duolingo is already using the marketing campaign to get users to spend more time in the app. In an email to CBC Kids News, a spokesperson from Duolingo said: 'Duo's story isn't over yet.' 'What exactly happened to him? Well, that's a mystery we'll be unraveling over the next couple of weeks.' What can kids learn from this? If you bought into Duolingo's announcement without considering that it could be a marketing stunt, you're probably not alone. That's why Khimji said it's important for kids to develop critical thinking — to make a habit of questioning what they see before they make a decision about it. 'It's important for kids now more than ever to learn what's real and what's not, since it's becoming increasingly harder in the world of AI and deepfakes.' She said doing that is all about asking the right questions. Namely, what is the motivation behind this brand's advertisement, announcement or other action? 'Brands aren't just trying to tell a story to benefit consumers. They're doing it for themselves, and that's OK, but you need to question why,' Khimji said.
Yahoo
26-01-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Book excerpt: "Playworld" by Adam Ross
We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article. Adam Ross, the acclaimed author of "Mr. Peanut," returns with "Playworld" (Knopf), a novel dipped in nostalgia and flecked with love and sorrow, about a child actor coming of age as the object of attraction for an older woman. Read an excerpt below. "Playworld" by Adam Ross Prefer to listen? Audible has a 30-day free trial available right now. Prologue In the fall of 1980, when I was fourteen, a friend of my parents named Naomi Shah fell in love with me. She was thirty-six, a mother of two, and married to a wealthy man. Like so many things that happened to me that year, it didn't seem strange at the time. Two decades later, when I finally told my mother—we were on Long Island, taking a walk on the beach—she stopped, stunned, and said, "But she was such an ugly woman." The remark wasn't as petty as it sounds. If I was aware of it then, it neither repulsed me nor affected my feelings for Naomi. It was just a thing I took for granted, like the color of her hair. Wiry and ashen, it had the shading but not the shimmer of pigeon feathers. Naomi kept it long, so that it fell past her shoulders. I knew it by touch, for my face was often buried in it. Only later did I wonder if she considered herself unattractive, because she always wore sunglasses, as if to hide her face, large gold frames with blue-tinted prescription lenses. When we were driving together, which was often that year, she'd allow these to slide down her nose and then look at me over their bridge. She might've considered this pose winning, but it was more likely to see me better. Her mouth often hung slightly open. Her lower teeth were uneven, and her tongue, which pressed against them, always tasted of coffee. Naomi's car was a silver Mercedes sedan—300sd along with turbo diesel nickel-plated on the back—that made a deep hum when she drove. The interior, enormous in my mind's eye, was tricked out with glossy wood paneling and white leather, back seat so wide and legroom so ample they made the driver appear to be far away. It was in this car that Naomi and I talked most often. We'd park, and then she'd lean across the armrest to press her cheek to mine, and I'd sometimes allow her to kiss me. Other times we'd move to the back. Lying there with Naomi, her nose nuzzled to my neck, I'd stare at the ceiling's dotted fabric until the pattern seemed to detach and drift like a starred sky. This car was her prized possession, and like many commuters, she had turned the machine into an extension of her body. Her left thumb lightly hooked the wheel at eight o'clock when traffic was moving, her fingertips sliding to eleven when it was slow. She preferred to sit slightly reclined, her free hand spread on her inner thigh, though after she lost her pinky the following summer, and even after being fitted with a prosthesis, she kept it tucked away. "I was worried you'd think it was disgusting," she said, the digit hidden between the seat and her hip. She'd bought herself a diamond ring to hide the seam, and for the most part the likeness was uncanny, but at certain angles you could tell—the cuticle's line was too smooth, the nail's pale crescent too creamy to match the others. Like my father's fake teeth, which he occasionally left lying around our apartment, I was fascinated by it, though my curiosity wasn't morbid. I was a child actor, you see, a student of all forms of dissembling, and had long ago found my greatest subject to be adults. Excerpted from "Playworld" by Adam Ross. Copyright © 2025 by Adam Ross. Excerpted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Get the book here: "Playworld" by Adam Ross Buy locally from For more info: "Playworld" by Adam Ross (Knopf), in Hardcover, eBook and Audio formatsFollow Adam Ross on Instagram Trump reacts to Republicans who won't vote for Hegseth How much money is a U.S. president's signature worth? New Alvin Ailey exhibit reveals struggle, strength of legendary choreographer
CBS News
26-01-2025
- Entertainment
- CBS News
Book excerpt: "Playworld" by Adam Ross
We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article. Adam Ross, the acclaimed author of "Mr. Peanut," returns with "Playworld" (Knopf), a novel dipped in nostalgia and flecked with love and sorrow, about a child actor coming of age as the object of attraction for an older woman. $26 at Amazon Prologue In the fall of 1980, when I was fourteen, a friend of my parents named Naomi Shah fell in love with me. She was thirty-six, a mother of two, and married to a wealthy man. Like so many things that happened to me that year, it didn't seem strange at the time. Two decades later, when I finally told my mother—we were on Long Island, taking a walk on the beach—she stopped, stunned, and said, "But she was such an ugly woman." The remark wasn't as petty as it sounds. If I was aware of it then, it neither repulsed me nor affected my feelings for Naomi. It was just a thing I took for granted, like the color of her hair. Wiry and ashen, it had the shading but not the shimmer of pigeon feathers. Naomi kept it long, so that it fell past her shoulders. I knew it by touch, for my face was often buried in it. Only later did I wonder if she considered herself unattractive, because she always wore sunglasses, as if to hide her face, large gold frames with blue-tinted prescription lenses. When we were driving together, which was often that year, she'd allow these to slide down her nose and then look at me over their bridge. She might've considered this pose winning, but it was more likely to see me better. Her mouth often hung slightly open. Her lower teeth were uneven, and her tongue, which pressed against them, always tasted of coffee. Naomi's car was a silver Mercedes sedan—300sd along with turbo diesel nickel-plated on the back—that made a deep hum when she drove. The interior, enormous in my mind's eye, was tricked out with glossy wood paneling and white leather, back seat so wide and legroom so ample they made the driver appear to be far away. It was in this car that Naomi and I talked most often. We'd park, and then she'd lean across the armrest to press her cheek to mine, and I'd sometimes allow her to kiss me. Other times we'd move to the back. Lying there with Naomi, her nose nuzzled to my neck, I'd stare at the ceiling's dotted fabric until the pattern seemed to detach and drift like a starred sky. This car was her prized possession, and like many commuters, she had turned the machine into an extension of her body. Her left thumb lightly hooked the wheel at eight o'clock when traffic was moving, her fingertips sliding to eleven when it was slow. She preferred to sit slightly reclined, her free hand spread on her inner thigh, though after she lost her pinky the following summer, and even after being fitted with a prosthesis, she kept it tucked away. "I was worried you'd think it was disgusting," she said, the digit hidden between the seat and her hip. She'd bought herself a diamond ring to hide the seam, and for the most part the likeness was uncanny, but at certain angles you could tell—the cuticle's line was too smooth, the nail's pale crescent too creamy to match the others. Like my father's fake teeth, which he occasionally left lying around our apartment, I was fascinated by it, though my curiosity wasn't morbid. I was a child actor, you see, a student of all forms of dissembling, and had long ago found my greatest subject to be adults. $26 at Amazon $29 at Barnes & Noble Buy locally from
