Posts Tagged ‘mens wide sh’
mens wide shTune-up for men
Wednesday, May 18th, 2011
Suspenders and matching cufflinks, from Stroked Ego on Bank Street, are a top trend for men this spring. James Jefferson,
mens wide shTune-up for men,Yo, little lady, you say that your guys wardrobe is so boring it could cure insomnia? Dont despair: whipping him into sartorial splendour for spring and summer is easy. Better yet, you can do it without breaking the bank.
Accessorizing, a little pampering and feminine persuasion are the secret.
A lot of guys are open to sharpening up their look if the woman helps them or takes the first step, says Kevin Martin, co-owner of Stroked Ego, the Bank Street store near Lisgar Avenue that brims with mens shion accessories.
Its not that we men are averse to being stylish, Martin says. But, babes in the shion woods, many of us do need a guiding hand. Grab hold, gals, here are several tips to help your man find his stylish way.
SOCKS
A great place to launch your mans makeover. Now available in a rainbow of colours, patterns and textures, socks are almost the new tie; theyre perfect for dressing up a suit, says Yoni Goldstein, editor-inchief of Sharp mens magazine and The Book for Men, a seasonal, highend shion guide.
Lots of Bay Street lawyers and bankers are really going at it with socks, Goldstein adds. Because others dont usually see them, Theyre your own little secret.
Stroked Ego carries a splendiferous selection of cheeky socks at two pair for $25 by Ottawa-based Moxy-Being.
BLING
Custom cufflinks bearing your guys mily crest or anything else he ncies are available at cufflinks. com for $58 plus the cost of the cufflinks.
Fabgear 64 menswear on Wellington Street in Hintonburg sells tie clips: old-school and definitely cool. Starting at $39, the clips by English Laundry are etched with the British flag and other designs.
Watches also make a man sparkle. In ct, great watches are as important to your well-being as and taking your vitamins, according to The Book for Men. Sex and vitamins, however, can be cheaper: the Books spread on timepieces includes Urwerk, a whimsical watch by Switzerlands Felix Baumgartner and Martin Frei that sells for $71,000.
Just watch your boy abeings bling, warns Ottawa shion designer James Jefferson. Guys either do nothing or they pile on way too much. Just pick one or two accessories that will be the fun part of the outfit. Dont get carried away with bracelets and those terrible shell necklaces.
BOW TIES & SUSPENDERS
Had the late prime minister Lester B. Pearson been around for the recent Canadian federal election, the Liberals would have sewn up the vote among male shionistas.
Bow ties, Pearsons neckwear of choice, are back with a vengeance. Plain, striped, plaid -you name it, youll find it. Better yet, theyre pretied.
Starting at $35 at Stroked Ego, bow ties add a classic flair and a bit of flash to any guys look. You may have to work your man up to it, but theres even a spotted pink one: wear it with a neutral suit, says Martin. Its nice to see all these colours after a long winter. Its spring -have fun with it!
Suspenders are another colourful accessory a comeback. See the multiple colours and designs at menswear stores, including Fabgear 64, Scrim Clothing Consultants, Harry Rosen and Stroked Ego, to name a few.
SUNGLASSES
A quality pair of sunglasses are a fellas calling card, according to The Book for Men, an accessory that not only protects his baby blues from the suns rays but also helps him exude confidence.
The major sunglasses ux-pas, says Goldstein, is wearing ones illsuited to the shape of the head.4 Motionately, theres a wide selection available -the 4Motion sports line by Louis Vuitton, the same company that makes high-end purses, clock in at $600 -and The Book for Men includes a guide to choosing sunglasses: circular or oval for square ces, square or angular for the man with a head like a grapefruit.
Sunglasses give a bit of a sense of mystery, which is great for style, says Goldstein.
TOP & BOTTOM
Stick with classic styles and design, advise the experts, and your man can wear his hat with almost anything.
Fabgear 64 has a line of fedoras by Fender, the same folks who make the guitars, that are well-detailed and loaded with attitude, says the stores owner, Uncle Bob Cabana. They sell for $59.50. With the hot days of summer sneaking up on us, hes also big on Panama hats starting at $80: Theyre so light and funky, and theyre hand woven.
Dont forget shoes, adds Goldstein. Desert boots have made a big comeback. Prada has a nifty line at $385 that echo Elviss Blue Suede Shoes.
Boat shoes work with almost anything except formal wear, and penny loafers are totally Ivy League.
PAMPERING
Final step in your mate the best he can be: a session at the spa. Daniel Francoeur, owner of Bode Spa for Men in Sandy Hill, recommends a multi-pronged approach.
Start with a body scrub -$100 and up -to sluice away dead skin and allow absorption of moisturizers and sun screens.
A cial counteracts what Francoeur calls the drastic abuse, including shaving, that men inflict on their ces every day. A basic treatment, the Facial Virgin at $90 for one hour, includes cleansing, exfoliation, a mask and moisture infusion along with a light massage.
A pedicure is usually the hardest to get a guy in for, because guys are out of touch with their feet, says Francoeur. However, Once theyve had it done, they say, I didnt know my feet could look like this! Treatments start at $65 for a soak, nail trim and more.
Final touch: manscaping. If his hairy back gets kids down at the beach screaming in terror, offer him a waxing at $50. Also available: treatments for the legs, chest … just name your vourite part of him.
Suspenders and matching cufflinks, from Stroked Ego on Bank Street, are a top trend for men this spring. James Jefferson,
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mens wide shDeckers Outdoor Late Start to Spring May Provide Lift to Q1: Analyst
Wednesday, May 18th, 2011
RBC Capital Markets said Deckers Outdoor Corp.s (NASDAQ: DECK) late start to spring may provide a lift to first quarter. The company is scheduled to report its first quarter earnings on April 28.
mens wide shDeckers Outdoor Late Start to Spring May Provide Lift to Q1: Analyst,The brokerage maintained its outperform, above average risk rating on shares of Deckers Outdoor with a price target of $108. The brokerage anticipates Deckers Outdoor to earn $0.44 a share on revenue of $201 million for the first quarter versus consensus of $0.45 a share on revenue of $202.41 million and last years profit of $0.46 a share on revenue of $155.93 million.
Our model assumes sales growth of 29 percent, flat gross margin at 50 percent, and selling, general and administrative expense (SG&A) deleverage of 500 basis points to 36.5 percent. The increase in SG&A is a result of the one-time expenses related to the distribution model transition in Europe and higher legal and marketing costs, said Howard Tubin, an analyst at RBC Capital Markets.
In addition to spring merchandise, Tubin noticed select styles of cold weather UGG boots available for sale throughout the quarter in the Nordstrom stores that he visited. As spring weather was slow to come in several regions of the country, the lasting cooler temperatures may have fueled sales of classic UGG product. This could contribute to modest upside to his first quarter estimate as these are higher price-point items.
In mid-April, Deckers announced that Stephen Murray will take on the role of President, EMEA (Europe, Middle East, and Africa). International (at 24 percent of the business) is a meaningful part of the growth story at Deckers and Murray appears to be an ideal candidate to lead the EMEA business. His experience includes senior roles at Urban Outfitters, Vans and Reef, as well as at Reebok International.
Tubin said the transition to a direct distribution model in the U.K. and Benelux regions, UGG brand expansion into , and increased marketing investments, particularly to build the mens business, are examples of current initiatives that will likely fuel both top and bottom line growth in the intermediate and longer term.
There is a wide range of estimates for second quarter. Consensus is $0.07, RBC Capital is the low at loss of $0.16 and the high is earnings of $0.26.
Tubin said the second quarter quarter will be impacted by a revenue shift out of second quarter into third quarter due to the distribution model change in the U.K. In addition, SG&A will be up for similar reasons as first quarter.
While the second quarter is the companys smallest, (6 percent of annual profits last year, 3 percent the year prior) and is relatively insignificant, the shares could be weak should management guide below the Street. Wed use any weakness as an entry point, said Tubin.
Tubin said over the last several months, the shares have undergone a re-valuation in the eyes of the market due to the strong momentum in the business, increasing clarity on international expansion, continued roll-out of and strength in company operated retail stores, and tight management of inventory.
Given Tubins belief that the UGG brand is a standout in the footwear space and that momentum in the business remains strong, he applied a target multiple of 23 to 25 times, which is more in line with the niche softlines peer group average of 24 times.
Tubin believes multiple expansion from current levels is likely based on the continued strength in the UGG brand, multiple opportunities for growth, well managed inventories, potential for acquisitions, a strong balance sheet, and the strong management team. Applying 23 to 25 times to his revised 2011 EPS estimate of $4.50 yields his price target of $108.
Risks to our price target include the following: a slower than anticipated response to the expanded assortment of UGG shoes; difficulty in repositioning the Teva brand to cater to a younger customer; disruptions in the supply chain; disruptionsmens wide shoes and boots related to the new direct distribution model for UGG in the UK; an overly promotional selling environment; and a prolonged and sustained slowdown in consumer spending, said Tubin.
The brokerage maintained its 2011 EPS estimate for Deckers Outdoor of $4.50 on revenue of $1.201 billion, and its 2012 estimate of $5.10 on revenue of $1.385 billion.
Deckers Outdoor designs and markets footwear, developed for both outdoor activities and everyday casual lifestyle use. The company offers three primary product lines under the following brand names: Teva sports sandals and rugged outdoor footwear; Simple shoes that combine the comfort elements of athletic footwear with casual styling; and UGG authentic sheepskin boots. Other footwear lines include TSUBO, Ahnu, and Deckers brand.
Deckers Outdoor stock moved down 0.33 percent to $95.60 on the at 10:02 am EDT.
Sony&039;s &039;Welcome Back&039; free gift package with inFAMOUS, LittleBigPlanet for PSN outage enthralls customers
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iafrica.com?mens wide sh
Wednesday, May 18th, 2011
Want to remain ahead of the shion pack this winter? Then take a look at this seasons must-follow trends and essential shion items — as showcased in the latest issue of Fairlady magazine — that will guide you on how to update your winter wardrobe and look.
iafrica.com?mens wide sh,When it comes to pants, skinnies are out and wide-legs are in, says Fairlady shion editor Chu. Whether you are slim or fuller figured, this silhouette will streamline your shape and make you look super tall and y.
The military look also marches in this season, so think military-inspired boots with blazers and coats in grey tones, army greens, neutrals and blacks. Also go for obvious salutes to this trend — like epaulettes and brass buttons
According to Chu, the ideal military coat should have bold buttons and an oversized high collar with a tailored waist. To balance a tough military look, try a pair of tight fitting pants or a dress or skirt to reveal your feminine shape and add a pair of high heeled shoes or some ultra-feminine thigh-high boots.
Tweed also comes in out of the cold this winter and is no longer seen as a rustic, old-shioned bric. Tweed has shed its hunting party rap, says Chu. Choose tweed in a figure hugging cut that is y and sleek and pair it with lace for a beautiful, textured look that is feminine and shionable. Add some bright accessories and a slight pattern to add a quirky touch.
Many of us will be pleased to know that denims remain a timeless shion must-have this season but be sure that your jeans fit you well and flatter your shape advises Chu.
When looking for the perfect jeans, be honest about your shape and choose your cut carefully — depending on whether you are pear-shaped, slim, have a fuller or an hour glass figure.
A hot winter look is not complete without the right makeup and Candice Lee Kannemeyer, beauty editor for Fairlady magazine, advises on this season top make up trends.
This season its all about makeup that is yet edgy! Bold lips in bright reds, oranges and pinks are one of the hottest make-up trends for winter 2011. For a perfect application of lippy, dip a lip brush into your chosen colour and apply, then add a touch of gloss to the centre of the lips to enhance their volume.
With lips this bold, be sure to keep the rest of your make up subdued, advises Kannemeyer. Smooth a lightweight foundation over the ce to create your canvas whilst concealing any uneven skin tone, then add a peachy-toned blush which gives your cheeks a healthy winter glow and finally dust the upper eyelids with bronze-coloured eye shadow.
According to Kannemeyer eyes are a strong focus this season. Have some fun and use a dramatic show stopping liner thats swept up at the corners to funk up a classic cats eye shape. The strongest trend in eye shadow is a series of mauves, lilacs and purples all applied in different ways. Work the colour around the whole eye area, right up into the eyebrows — and always keep those brows perfectly groomed as this will create a frame for the ce, advises Kannemeyer.
You can also go for gold this winter as metallics shimmer to suit all skin tones and create a stylish, shion-forward look. You can choose between gold or silver — but never wear them together warns Kannemeyer.
Get the look by blending a pearlescent silver eye shadow just beyond the eye socket line, toward the crease of eye, then blend a light brown shadow into the crease to create definition. Strong lips in a rich chocolate shade perfectly complement the cold, striking eyes.
Kannemeyers enthusiasm for all things hot and trendy floods the pages of the magazines new beauty section — point in case, the new page called Candices Current Obsession — but she also takes seriously the role Fairlady plays in guiding consumers to the very best and most reliable products.
Fairlady is now calling for entries from the beauty industry for the 2011 Fairlady Best of Beauty Awards with categories including Skincare, Hair, Fragrance, Body, Mens, Anti-Ageing, Hands and Feet, Colour, Sun, Tools and the Best South African product. Every category will then be judged according to three price-based sub-categories.
Visit www.irlady.com to learn more about the Best of Beauty Awards.
You can also contact Julia Boltt on 011 322 0898 or email julia.boltt@irlady.com for more information. The 2011 winners will be announced later in the year in the November issue of the magazine.
Just blame it on the pillThe hmens wide shoes and bootsormonal contraceptive may change a womans taste in men more than we realise.
Streaking her lovely locksFinding a hairdresser that you like is tough, especially when it comes to colouring…
Middletons photo furorePippa and James Middleton will take legal action after naked pics of each suced in the media.
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mens wide shUnlocking The Mystery Of Paris’ Most Secret Underground Society
Wednesday, May 18th, 2011
Part I: Entrances On August 23, 2004, they discovered a cinema 18m beneath Paris.
The sun was shining on the Trocadro, the Eiffel Tower gleamed across the Seine, and deep belowground, police came across a sign. The officers were on a training mission, exploring the 7km of catacombs that twist beneath the 16th arrondissement. The former quarries are centuries-old, illegal to enter, and the sign at the mouth of the tunnel read, &8220;No public entry.&8221; Police are not the public; they entered. Their headlamps flashed against the limestone walls and then suddenly the officers were surrounded. Invisible dogs snarled and barked from all sides. The men&8217;s hearts hammered. They froze in their tracks. They cooed canine comforts into the dark.
mens wide shUnlocking The Mystery Of Paris’ Most Secret Underground Society,In time, the officers&8217; lights found the PA system. They found the stereo, with guard-dog yowls burned onto a CD. They found 300sqm of subterranean galleries, strung with lights, wired for phones, live with pirated electricity. The officers uncovered a bar, lounge, workshop, dining corner and small screening area. The cinema&8217;s seats had been carved into the stone itself, with room for 20 people to sit in the cool and chomp on popcorn.
On the floor of one cavern, officers discovered an ominous metal container. The object was t, festooned with wires. The police called in the bomb squad, they evacuated the suce, they asked themselves: What have we found?
They had found a couscous maker.
A few days after the couscoussire incident, officers returned to the scene. This time they brought agents from lectricit de France. But they were too late. Already someone had undone the galleries&8217; wiring, disappeared with the equipment, vanished with the booze. What had so recently been a private cinema, a secret hide-out, was now just an empty quarry. The cinema&8217;s makers had left a note. &8220;Ne cherchez pas,&8221; they wrote. &8220;Don&8217;t search.&8221;
Don&8217;t search? For what? For whom? While the Agence France Presse reported a possible &8220;extreme right-wing&8221; connection, the BBC speculated on a full-fledged &8220;underground movement&8221;. All of Paris dreamed of its subterranean screening society.
However the people responsible for the cinema under the Trocadro, a place they dubbed the Arnes de Chaillot, are not quite any of these things. &8220;We are the counterpoint to an era where everything is slow and complicated,&8221; they explain. This group also balances the aspect of today that is instant and shameless, hysterically tweeting. They are patient, serious, and keep their secrets.
After the cinema episode, it would be two years until the city would see their work again.
I am late. Paris&8217;s decaying public-transit system almost strands me at Gare du Nord and I arrive at Le Pantalon out of breath, panicked, terrified that Lazar Kunstmann has left. I slip past students in this noisy bar, searching for the ce I have seen in a handful of photographs. I crossed the ocean to meet him and I may not get another chance.
Lazar Kunstmann is stocky, in his late 30s. He has a shaved head. He is friendly. Too friendly, almost the eagerness in his eyes seems utterly unclandestine. This is not the mystery man I envisioned: Kunstmann is warm, cheerful and talkative.
He first came to public notice in 2004, the mouthpiece for a group called La Mexicaine de la Perforation (LMDP). Though it literally translates as &8220;the Mexican of the Drilling&8221;, their moniker is best understood as something like &8220;The Mexican Consolidated Drilling Authority&8221;. The organisation was named for a bar in the arrondissement&8217;s Place de Mexico. LMDP, Kunstmann revealed, were responsible for the cinema under the Trocadro.
&8220;2004 was the first big discovery,&8221; Kunstmann admits. &8220;We were really caught in flagrante delicto.&8221;
I was living in Scotland at the time. The French and British press were enraptured with the underground cinema and so was I. The appeal wasn&8217;t just in the breadth of the cinema-builders&8217; imagination but in their meticulous follow-through. &8220;We covered our tracks,&8221; Kunstmann reassured The Guardian. &8220;Short of digging up every cable in the district there&8217;s no way of knowing where we took [the electricity] from.&8221;
Giddy and well spoken, Kunstmann was at the center of every article. He had spent decades going where he wasn&8217;t supposed to: climbing onto roofs at age seven, sneaking through the subway at 12, delving into the Paris catacombs at 14. He and his coconspirators met at school in the &8217;80s, when many Latin Quarter universities still had basement access into the tunnels. Although Parisians have been sneaking into the catacombs (known as carrires) for centuries, Kunstmann and his friends had no taste for the usual &8220;cataphile&8221; hijinks. Too young to drink, not interested in drugs, they instead began to explore, map and expand the underground network.
Eventually, Kunstmann tells me, they entered a &8220;post-postexploration phase&8221;. After &8220;you go, you survey then it&8217;s time to do something&8221;.
Five years after the discovery of the cinema, Kunstmann has written a book exposing the full scale of this &8220;something&8221;. L&8217;UX: La Culture en clandestins, published by the French imprint Hazan, reveals LMDP as just one wing of a larger clandestine organisation called UX. UX (pronounced &8220;oo-eex&8221;, like the French letters) has more than 100 members, split into more than ten teams. While LMDP are dedicated to events, other branches are devoted to maps, restoration or key-. &8220;[We] are determined to make these abandoned places a theater for new experiences,&8221; Kunstmann explained in his book. This means more than it seems. In French, the word expriences connotes both &8220;experiences&8221; and &8220;experiments&8221;. UX itself, an acronym for Urban eXperiences, borrows the double-meaning.
The Arnes de Chaillot were built over a period of 18 months. Starting in 1999 and continuing every summer until the cinema&8217;s discovery, the tunnels hosted Urbex Movies. It was a festival combining careful programming and an unusual locale to present discrete visions of urban life. Shorts and features were grouped by unstated &8220;intention&8221;, to allow for each 20-30 person audience &8220;to discover, or merely to feel&8221;. A similar philosophy dominated LMDP&8217;s other major film festival, the Sesin Cmoda. Whereas Urbex Movies screened films like Eraserhead and Dziga Vertov&8217;s Man With A Camera, the Sesin Cmoda had a narrower focus on the underground showing The Third Man and Jacques Becker&8217;s Le Trou. These screenings took place nearby, but aboveground &8211; in the mous Cinmathque of the Palais de Chaillot. Which isn&8217;t to say that the Sesin Cmoda were part of the Cinmathque&8217;s official programme. No LMDP snuck in, week after week, year after year, entering (they claim) from a passage beneath the projectionist&8217;s chair.
For both festivals, audiences were drawn from among UX&8217;s friends, associates and members of the public who stumbled across scattered fliers. &8220;The LMDP are simply interested in holding events in a free way,&8221; Kunstmann explains. &8220;Clandestinity is really a detail.&8221;
It&8217;s the detail that allows them to continue what they are doing. UX slip past the functionaries, under the cordons, across miles of red tape. Their high-concept installations use secrecy as a cover but it&8217;s not their raison d&8217;tre. &8220;We don&8217;t seek out the forbidden,&8221; Kunstmann murmurs over radio-pop. &8220;We just repudiate any notion of authorisation.&8221;
At the same time, UX&8217;s anonymity is a major source of their allure. We are drawn by their gall, their pluck, but also the burnished gleam of a mystery. The Arnes de Chaillot would not the same treasure if they were sanctioned, public-funded. Kunstmann is surely aware of this, yet he balks at being part of &8220;something &8216;plugged in,&8217; elitist, VIP.&8221; UX do not wish to be a &8220;secret society,&8221; he insists. &8220;When I say secret society, you imagine, I don&8217;t know, like, in Eyes Wide Shut. But it&8217;s more basic than that. It&8217;s the patronage system. It&8217;s taking advantage of a hidden alliance.&8221; The group&8217;s operational need for clanestinity is offset by this distaste for old boys&8217; clubs. And so UX leave avenues for strangers to stumble across their works, they have published a book revealing certain details, and years ago they resolved to never hide what was in plain sight. This is why LMDP revealed themselves in 2004. Once the Arnes de Chaillot were discovered, with speculation mounting &8220;In that instant,&8221; Kunstmann says, &8220;we had to clearly explain.&8221; They didn&8217;t divulge everything.
Parisians call it a &8220;gruyre&8221;. For hundreds of years, the catacombs under the city have been a conduit, sanctuary and birthplace for its secrets. The Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables&8217; Jean Valjean both haunted these tunnels; striking students descended in 1968, and patriots during World War II. The Nazis visited too, building a bunker in the maze below the 6th.
Honeycombed across 1900 acres of the city, the vast majority of the tunnels are not strictly speaking catacombs. They house no bones. Limestone (and to the north of the city, gypsum) quarries, these are the mines that built Paris. The oldest date back 2000 years to Roman settlers but most were excavated in the construction boom of the late Middle Ages, providing the stone that became Notre Dame cathedral and the Louvre. Riddling the Left Bank, these tunnels were at first beyond the city&8217;s southern limits. But as Paris&8217;s population grew, so did the city and soon whole neighbourhoods were built on this infirm ground.
The first major cave-in happened in 1774, when an entire street collapsed not r from where the Catacombs Museum stands today. After a similar incident three years later, King Louis XVI created the office of the Inspector General of the Catacombs (IGC), designated with preventing further collapses. Officials went underground: inspecting, charting, filling chambers with concrete, digging a new labyrinth of maintenance tunnels.
Then came the dead. In the late 18th century, Paris&8217;s overcrowded central cemeteries leaked. Fetid gases would waft into the cellars of Chatelet, marinating wheels of brie and braids of saucisson. Beginning in 1785 and for about a century, the government enacted their grisly solution: they transported six million skeletons to the southern quarries. Five percent of the catacombs remain ossuaries today, and Racine, Robespierre and Marat are among the dry, dusty residents.
Entrances to the tunnels can be found in the basements of hospitals, the cellars of bars, church crypts, subway tunnels, even at the bottom of Paris&8217;s tallest skyscraper. Many of these access points have been sealed by the IGC, who both protect the city from the catacombs, and the catacombs from the city. Circulating in the carrires was made illegal in 1955.
That didn&8217;t stop the catacomb craze. By the time Kunstmann and his friends were in college, almost every Latin Quarter party would end belowground. The IGC fought back, deploying a series of barrier walls that crisscrossed the passages, blocking the flow of visitors. The plan was good, but it only had so much effect: trespassers soon found ways around and through the concrete blockades.
By definition, Paris&8217;s hundreds of catacomb ramblers, its &8220;cataphiles&8221;, decline to follow the rules. They are an odd gang of misfits &8220;urban explorers&8221;, vandals, kids who just want to hang out belowground. They chatter on online message-boards, share and hoard maps; they meander, explore, drink and drill through walls. By night they drop through manholes, and emerge from them, dusty, at dawn.
Members of UX spend time underground, but Kunstmann insists they are not cataphiles. It isn&8217;t just a matter of style. &8220;The principle of UX is to provoke experiences using every available part of the city,&8221; he says at Le Pantalon. &8220;Not as visitors but as users. Users for something other than the aesthetic of the places. And for something other than partying.&8221;
Their ideas are not new. It is Guy Debord&8217;s dtournement turned loose on geography, Situationism without the politics, a nononsense take on Britain&8217;s art pranksters, the KLF. Yet these allusions betray UX&8217;s modest code to do interesting things, without permission. This credo allows for superficial punkery, sneaking into backyards, but considered seriously, it becomes a 7 formula for being brave, for pursuing dreams. Which is a sappy way of saying it grabbed me.
The first place I looked for UX was on Facebook. I put &8220;Lazar Kunstmann&8221; into the Search box and I hit Enter. There were no results. So I set my nets wider. I put up a message saying I was looking for contacts in the Paris &8220;underground,&8221; figuratively and literally. I did the same on Twitter. I emailed friends in Paris, types who organise concerts in subway cars, asking similar questions. No one knew anything of Kunstmann, or of UX. Next I scoured cataphile messageboards, at least those that are public. Although these forums had discussed the group&8217;s works and media coverage, I found no traces of UX&8217;s authors. As Kunstmann later scoffed, these boards are full of typical internet posturing resentful quips and knee-jerk LOLs. I finally found Kunstmann through private correspondence with another journalist. They gave me an email address; that address told me to telephone a secret number; I asked for &8220;Lazar&8221;; Kunstmann answered; and we met at Le Pantalon.
&8220;Ordinary&8221; cataphile contacts are less difficult to make. My online searchlights were glimpsed by a friend-of-friends, pseudonym Cavannus, who does &8220;urban exploration&8221; in Montreal. Cavannus put me in touch with one of his cataphile pals a man with a ke Facebook account, named for a celebrated guru. He tells me to meet him at Saint-Pierre-de-Montrouge church, to look for a guy &8220;on crutches&8221;. Two days after meeting Kunstmann, as I ride the subway and climb up to Alsia Square, there seem to be broken-legged people everywhere. I imagine this as cataphile ground zero, a place where everyone has limestone dust in their hair.
The cataphile who meets me looks about 30, his dark hair pulled into a ponytail. He gestures at his crutches and says he slipped coming out of a manhole, on the rain-soaked street. He is called BHV.
&8220;Underground, everyone has a nickname,&8221; BHV explains to me. He didn&8217;t choose his own, an acronym that refers to a mous department store. Someone else picked it, about a dozen years ago, and it stuck. Other names are more esoteric, like Sork, or Crato, the man who eventually takes me into the tunnels. Some conjure deliberate images. One of the catacombs&8217; most notorious mischief-makers is Lzard Peint, the Painted Lizard, a &8220;devil&8221; with alleged scist connections, who has been known to steal fellow cataphiles&8217; lights or seal up their intended exits. &8220;What you are on the suce, you are underground,&8221; Crato later says, sucking on a cigarette. &8220;When you are a violent person, given to fighting you&8217;re the same below.&8221; Scoundrels like Lzard aside, the cataphile community is civil. &8220;In general [we] look out for each other,&8221; BHV agrees. They share knowledge, lighters, cans of beer (never bottles, which are still heavy when empty). &8220;People know that if they get too drunk or if they get hurt, it&8217;ll be hard to get out.&8221;
BHV and Crato&8217;s first descents were similar they saw a hole, or heard about a hole, and they entered. Telling me, BHV begins to cough. &8220;Sorry,&8221; he wheezes, &8220;I still have dust in my throat.&8221; On that first journey, he and his friends ran into some unlikely mentors off-duty policemen who offered to give them a tour &8211; &8220;and then I spent the whole night underground.&8221;
BHV&8217;s story is beguilingly . I could go, I realize. I could find an entrance on the internet, slip inside, wander until I find an off-duty policeman or a shy, kindly filmmaker. &8220;It&8217;s a very supernatural setting,&8221; BHV murmurs. &8220;You&8217;re completely autonomous. There&8217;s no light. There&8217;s no electricity. Just stones and water.&8221;
But I am here to understand UX and this is not the way that UX works. That group does not rely on word of mouth, happenstance, the kindness of strangers. UX sets goals and quietly executes them. They never get lost.
I find Crato online, just as I found BHV. Whereas BHV, becrutched, does not volunteer to play tour-guide, Crato &8211; lanky, vaguely grumpy makes the offer. &8220;There are a lot of reasons to go down,&8221; he allows. &8220;There are those who want to find a calm and pleasant spot. There are those who go down to meet a partner. There are those who go to party. There are even those who go to watch movies. Everyone has their own reasons.&8221; We rendezvous on a bridge over train-tracks. It&8217;s the middle of the afternoon, cars whizzing by, clouds meandering across a dirty blue sky. We&8217;re not r from Denfert-Rochereau, site of the official Catacombs Museum. That plain stone building offers historical displays, dioramas, entry onto a sanitised one-mile circuit of &8220;legal&8221; catacombs. This is not, cataphiles emphasise, the &8220;real thing&8221;. Besides you have to pay admission. We look both ways and, one at a time, jump the bridge wall. It is thick, high as my shoulders. My jump is less deft than Crato&8217;s. I struggle for a moment and then I&8217;m over, feet in the weeds, scrambling down the slope to the tracks. This is the Petite Ceinture, one of the city&8217;s abandoned railways. It is almost silent. We walk.
Crato has been visiting the catacombs for 10 years. He tells me how the original quarries were built just wide enough for a man with a wheelbarrow 1.8m by 1m. How they are a permanent 13C, day and night, winter and summer. &8220;I remember once it was hot in Paris, really hot, really horrible. Instead of dining in an overheated apartment, we went down into the catacombs to eat.&8221;
After a time, Crato and I come to a large train tunnel. The sunlight lls away behind us. It is easy to trip on the wooden ties of the tracks or on the irregular stones to either side. We turn on our flashlights yet I can see neither end of the tunnel. I assume the problem is fog but Crato speaks of fumis, cataphile smoke-bombs, made by mixing saltpetre with sugar and flour. They are hiding something down here.
Ten minutes into the gloom, Crato swings his flashlight to the right. The darkness slips into focus. Before me, where the tunnel wall meets the earth, is a hole.
In 2009, this is the &8220;grand entrance&8221; to the catacombs. A craggy break in the rock, no more than two feet wide. Cataphile refuse is strewn nearby empty beer cans, juice cartons, white paste from carbide lanterns. This is just the second &8220;grand entrance&8221; that Crato has known. One day the IGC will close it up, he says, fill it with concrete like the last one. But Crato hopes his fellow cataphiles do not dig a replacement straight-away. Better to give the losers, the troublemakers time to get bored and find something else to do. The committed ones already know different 10 ways to get in. The committed ones are patient. Even Crato seems to think that sometimes secrets are best.
For Kunstmann and his associates, there is little appeal to wandering around underground. Their cinema aside, the catacombs are a means, not an end: a way to access UX work-sites or to hide their tracks. But as a first-time visitor plunging into these gray chambers, the experience is thrilling. It is a labyrinth of branching channels and sudden openings, cool and quiet. Most of the catacombs are dry, tall enough to stand in but from time to time we duck or crawl, or swish into ankle-high water. Still, they are not the dank, sweaty caves I imagined. Even wading into a passage called Banga, whose thigh-high water swirls like miso soup, the tunnel&8217;s soft silence recalls a theater, a wine-cellar, an attic.
In Kunstmann&8217;s book, cataphiles like Crato are called &8220;bodzaux&8221;, for their wet and dirty boots, or &8220;Ravioli&8221;, for their tendency to dine on boxed dumplings. (&8220;I prefer wine and sausage,&8221; my guide retorts.) Ravioli seek to &8220;consecrate&8221; the underground, Kunstmann argues, guarding it from precisely the kind of transformations that UX enjoy. &8220;[They] are protecting an image [of the catacombs] and they want to keep this image intact for the feelings it evokes in them.&8221;
Crato speaks of these feelings without actually speaking of them. He talks about how years ago, he and his now-wife would spend all of Saturday night in the tunnels, wandering until four in the morning. They would emerge, dust themselves off, go to sleep and on Sunday they would walk the same route, retrace the same steps, aboveground, hand in hand.
While this is a beautiful image, it&8217;s the opposite of what UX hope to accomplish. &8220;It&8217;s a typically Parisian phenomenon,&8221; Kunstmann sighs. &8220;Nostalgia for a period we didn&8217;t know. Areas &8216;flashed&8217; in time. The work of UX is to de-flash, to thaw, to transform.&8221;
As Crato and I weave beneath the 14th arrondissement, the subway murmurs in a passage over our heads. You could walk these caves in jeans and sneakers, I think. I have read how the Painted 11 Lizard ordered people to do the circuit naked, for his own wicked entertainment. I am in knee-high boots and a cardigan. Crato wears the basic cataphile uniform: hip waders; waterproof backpack; strong torch; gloves; a cap to keep off the dust. The athletics stores of Paris, he says with a grin, sell a disproportionate number of fishermen&8217;s boots and impermeable packs.
Although the catacombs are covered in graffiti tags, there are also sudden instances of art amateur gargoyles, carved castles, life-size sculptures of cataphiles. Crato brings me to La Plage, &8220;the beach&8221;, a large gallery with a sand-packed floor. Our flashlights sweep across wide murals: Hokusai waves and Max Ernst-like portraits. In the Hall of Anubis we sit at a table chiselled out of stone. We light candles, drink beer, share cookies and chocolate. I am absolutely enchanted. I have no idea of the time.
For the most part, cataphiles don&8217;t dispute Kunstmann&8217;s characterisation of them. BHV says his friends enjoy &8220;taking photos, exploring a particular area, repairing things, going to spots where no one has visited for a long time.&8221; The community&8217;s holy grail, he suggests, is to clandestinely enter the Catacomb Museum. I balk at this The same place you can visit for just eight euro, six days a week? &8220;Yes,&8221; he agrees, &8220;but that&8217;s the goal of tons of cataphiles. And they succeed almost every year every year there&8217;s a hole that&8217;s drilled.&8221;
When cataphiles do stage large events, they tend to be one-off parties not permanent &8220;transformational&8221; cinema installations. Crato remembers someone bringing down oysters stupid, silly, &8220;just as heavy on the way back as on the way down&8221;. BHV has organized two Breton-themed shindigs, where more than 300 people joined dancers, musicians and amateur chefs cooking subterranean crpes. Among the largest celebrations was a rewell to Commandant Jean-Claude Saratte in 2000. Head of the catacomb police for 21 years, Saratte was respected for his knowledge, instincts and moderation pursuing the drug-user, vandal or &8220;tibia collector&8221; instead of the gentle catacomb geek.
Today, officers of BICS (la Brigade d&8217;Intervention de la Compagnie Sportive) patrol the catacomb thoroughres handing out €65 tickets. The cata-cops are regarded with resentment and disdain. But they force cataphiles to be vigilant: listening, 12 looking out for standard-issue lights, sniffing for aftershave. It is illegal to drink on public streets, Crato proposes, but not beneath them.
&8220;When you&8217;re caught, you have the chance to recognize or not recognise an infraction,&8221; he explains to me. &8220;If you choose the latter, you&8217;re supposed to get an appointment with a judge.&8221; Crato has been awaiting his court date for years and counting down the days until the automatic amnesty triggered by each presidential election.
We emerge from the maze three hours later, flashlights still shining, and again we are wreathed in smoke. It is dark as night. The opening of the railway tunnel is a circle of gold-white light in the r distance. Treading toward the open air, out and past the wild bright green of the weeds, it&8217;s as if we&8217;re passing through stained glass.
On our way back along the tracks we meet a quartet of cataphiles in black hoodies and running shoes, acquaintances of Crato&8217;s. We talk. The conversation is a mixture of bravado, feigned indifference, outbursts of earnest feeling. They talk of girls, parties, police, numbskulls with smoke bombs.
These men seem so gentle. Watching them smile, UX&8217;s rejection of this community seems unkind. No, Ravioli are not engaged in the same activities; no, their ambitions are not to the same scale. But if UX want to be something other than a secret club, at least they could be friendly with their neighbors.
Kunstmann sees it differently. UX are absolutely unrelated to these cataphiles, separate &8220;from the start.&8221; &8220;We were learning from one experience to another,&8221; he says. &8220;We had an intention for these places.&8221; Besides, his group is not based in the catacombs. As Paris was to learn, they hide in the aboveground as well.
On December 24, 2006, after 50 years of silence, the clock of the Paris Pantheon began to ring.
Two and a half years later, I arrive at the building for a tour. My group&8217;s guide is a man in his 50s, bird-haired, who talks in clipped and concentrated French. He doesn&8217;t mention the Pantheon&8217;s clock. Nor are there any references in the written program. After the tour ends, as the other tourists disperse, I ask him: &8220;Didn&8217;t something happen with this clock?&8221; We are standing directly beneath the three-foot minute-hand.
The guide looks startled. &8220;There are these people&8230;&8221; he begins to say. He does not make eye contact. &8220;They infiltrated the Pantheon.&8221; This group had all the keys; he doesn&8217;t know how. The clock had been broken. They fixed it. They have also held plays here, and projected films. He explains everything with a weird, wry solemnity, like he both hates and relishes being asked. &8220;Untergunther,&8221; he says finally, though he doesn&8217;t know how to spell it. &8220;Look it up on the internet.&8221;
What the internet will tell you is that the Untergunther are a branch of UX. Whereas the Mexican Consolidated Drilling Authority are dedicated to events, the Untergunther are the organisation&8217;s restorers. In September of 2005 they came here, to one of Paris&8217;s most important monuments and they went to work.
The Pantheon was commissioned by Louis XV in 1744, as a tribute to Saint Genevieve. By the time it was finished in 1789, the French Revolution had guillotined the church idea. Instead, the domed neo-classical cathedral became a mausoleum for great French citizens. Voltaire, Rousseau, Zola and Victor Hugo are buried in its crypt; so are Marie Curie, Louis Pasteur and Louis Braille. In the center of the Pantheon&8217;s floor, where the architect Soufflot had imagined a statue of Ste Genevieve, Foucault&8217;s pendulum swings. Tourists like me come and gape at the way this experiment, commissioned by Napoleon, offers evidence of the rotation of the planet. It is such an unassuming marvel.
Another modest wonder lies at the end of the main hall, on the left, above a doorway. The Pantheon&8217;s clock is not an elaborate timepiece, like the Prague Orloj. The ce is about as tall as a person, mounted on frosted glass. The clock-hands and roman numerals look like they are made of cast iron. Built by the house of Wagner in 1850, it is plain, even austere. But for one year, this was the Untergunther&8217;s project.
&8220;[The Untergunther] have compiled a huge list of slowly degrading places,&8221; Lazar Kunstmann told a National Geographic reporter in 2006. &8220;The list is too big to ever be completed in our lives so each year we choose [just] one.&8221; The Untergunther have only three conditions for accepting a restoration project. First, to have the technical ability. Second, to have the means. And third, to have the desire. By 2009, they claim to have completed about 12 projects, including the Pantheon, a 100-year-old government bunker, a 12th Century crypt, and a World War I air-raid shelter.
&8220;[We] are only interested in a very precise part of [French] cultural inheritance,&8221; Kunstmann writes in his book. &8220;The part that is non-visible.&8221; These are not just places that are inaccessible or hidden to the public, like the mechanism of a clock, but also sites that are invisible to their administrators. Since the city administration scarcely has enough money to maintain what is in plain view, UX suggest, they are doomed to ignore what is not.
This is a beautiful idea, but only compelling if acted upon. The Untergunther could be kers, blowhards taking credit for conveniently hidden restorations. Yet as with the LMDP and their rock-hewn cinema, the endeavour at the Pantheon dismisses doubt. The story that follows is true.
The Pantheon&8217;s 19th century clock had been broken since the 1960s, left to decay, but it caught the eye of a man called Jean-Baptiste Viot. Viot is a clockmaker, formerly head of restoration for the Swiss house Breguet. He is also a member of UX. Viot observed the rust caked on the Wagner&8217;s machinery and ruled that it was a &8220;now or never&8221; moment. If the Pantheon&8217;s clock were ever to tick again, it would need the Untergunther&8217;s help.
On September 18, 2005, the group formally adopted the project. Soon after, an eight-person &8220;core&8221; including Viot and Untergunther leader Lanso went to work. Using a copied key, they infiltrated the building after dusk, dodged security agents, and made their way up. High above the clock that had lured them there, the Untergunther arrived at a cavity along the base of the building&8217;s dome. This dusty, neglected space would become their home.
They called it the Unter Gunther Winter Kneipe, the Untergunther&8217;s Winter Tavern, taking their inspiration from a door marked UGWK. A similar whimsy had inspired the Untergunther&8217;s naming, back when they were just known as &8220;the restoration wing&8221;. Unter and Gunther, Kunstmann says, were the names of the imaginary guard-dogs in the Arnes de Chaillot&8217;s security system.
For the next 12 months, the Pantheon was the Untergunther&8217;s playground. They learned every nook and cranny, copied every key, learned the habits of every guard. It was made easier by relatively lax security. When I visited in 2009, there were still no real security badges, and both of my tour guides iled to count the group with their clickers. According to Kunstmann&8217;s stories, UX had already used the Pantheon to stage plays and other events; the Untergunther&8217;s residency was just a difference of scale, of persistence.
First they had to figure out what was wrong with the clock. The UGWK became a makeshift library, stocked with books on vintage timepieces and easy-chairs that transformed into inconspicuous wooden crates. Gradually the team concluded that one of the clock&8217;s integral components, the escapement wheel, had been sabotaged likely by an employee decades ago. The mechanism had eventually been replaced with an electric mechanism, but this too was sabotaged. Finally, they learned that fully restoring the Wagner clock would not just mean fiddling around behind its ce the antique mechanism had machinery located in several different parts of the building.
The &8220;flying-saucer-shaped&8221; atelier of the Untergunther became a not-quite-state-of-the-art clockmaker&8217;s workshop. The Untergunther carried up thousands of euros in tools, materials and chemicals. They installed thick red curtains along its chilly outer wall, because, Viot said, &8220;a clockmaker can&8217;t do anything with mittens on&8221;. They posed for photos among the Pantheon&8217;s statues; they watched fireworks from the roof; they made a new escapement wheel and cleaned the clock machinery piece by piece.
Usually, Kunstmann writes, sites restored by the Untergunther remain &8220;just as inaccessible and unknown as they were before their repair&8221;. The Untergunther do not need to trumpet their 16 accomplishments: they seek only the &8220;immediate satisction&8221; of renewing part of their city. Often, the sites&8217; invisibility even shields them from further damage. Alas for the Pantheon&8217;s clock, obscurity was not to be.
UX doesn&8217;t have a blog. Members share a single email account. Lazar Kunstmann is not on Facebook and the group&8217;s other members do not speak to the press. In this era of full disclosure, of never-ending networking, forwarding and sharing, they are an organisation that refuses friend requests. They have only as many contacts as they require and they will not invite you to events.
The group&8217;s secrecy makes it hard to check their cts. Almost everything one can check out, does check out. For the rest, you have to believe or disbelieve their claims. Kunstmann says the group has between 100 and 150 members ranging from age 11 to 56. They are mostly professionals in their late 30s and early 40s. UX&8217;s groups formed &8220;by accident&8221; in the early &8217;90s, gradually formalising and adopting names. They are the product of &8220;aggregation&8221;, the regrouping of kindred spirits within &8220;the same, very reduced, geographic area&8221;.
Of the dozen teams that Kunstmann says exist, only three have been revealed LMDP, the Untergunther, and a group called the Mouse House, recent inductees, allegedly an all-female &8220;infiltration unit&8221;. All members benefit &8220;from access to a [Paris-wide, universal, integrated] map, all the possible keys, all the possible knowledge&8221;. By sharing resources, pooling expertise, everyone is able to &8220;work less for the same results, or to work the same amount for a better result&8221;.
Viewed a certain way, UX offers the same thing as Wikipedia or Google Earth information for the community to do with as they please. But whereas Wikipedia relies on the wisdom of the masses to perfect its frustratingly imperfect data, while flashmobs rally as many participants as possible, UX remains private. They reject openness, spurn crowds. The group&8217;s discretion allows them to slip below the authorities&8217; radar, to operate with impunity, but there is more to it than that: by closing the network, they accomplish better works. There is no need to screen a film before thousands, to trumpet mysteries from the rooftops, to bring dancers and musicians and chefs crpes. UX quietly create wonders, carefully rescue treasures. Members are expected to be capable, informed, autonomous. &8220;Everything is dedicated to avoiding wasted time,&8221; Kunstmann says. The doing, not the discussion, is what matters.
Because of this pragmatism, the Untergunther always knew they would have to reveal their venture to the Pantheon staff. &8220;If you want a monumental clock to work, someone has to mount and maintain it,&8221; Kunstmann explains at the bar. Two, 10 or 50 years after the gears are set in motion, they must still be regularly tended. &8220;The logic always being to minimise the amount of work for a given project, it&8217;s a conversation we had with the whole group. At a certain point, the administrator would need to be clued in.&8221;
Standing with my tour-guide under the clock&8217;s black hands, I ask him if the mechanism still works.
&8220;No.&8221;
I glimpse the tiniest sarcastic roll of the eyes. &8220;Pfft. I don&8217;t know.&8221;
At the end of September 2006, the Untergunther claim they met with Bernard Jeannot, administrator of the Pantheon, and his assistant Pascal Monnet. (In the book, Monnet&8217;s name loses an &8216;n.&8217;) Jeannot was thrilled, delighted with the Untergunther&8217;s ingenuity, marvelling at their secret workshop and horological handiwork. Monnet was less enthused. Still, everything seemed set for the clock to be mounted, for it to resume functioning except that it didn&8217;t. Weeks passed. The administration, UX allege, did not want to reveal their ilure to maintain the clock, or the way it had been restored.
With real sorrow in his voice, Kunstmann confesses they &8220;misjudged the internal tensions that ruled at the CNM [the organisation responsible for Pariss monuments] and the administration of the Pantheon. How different interests would exploit this afir to pursue their own agendas.&8221; Shortly after the UGWK was revealed, Bernard Jeannot left or was forced out of &8211; his job. Monnet ascended to the top seat. &8220;That was the defeat,&8221; Kunstmann says. &8220;That was the -up. That we underestimated these ctors.&8221;
It was an oddly mistake. Most citizens of Paris indeed, most citizens of the world know to never underestimate the hopelessness of their bureaucrats. Blinded by their own panache, UX assumed their work would be embraced by the very people it shamed. Instead, two months later, the clock had still not been mounted.
The Untergunther are usually content for their restorations to remain hidden, but they were curious about their Pantheon handiwork. UX did not even know if the repair job had been successful. They decided to test it, on a day when the Pantheon is closed. The options were few: Christmas Eve, New Year&8217;s Day, May 1.
On December 24, the Untergunther once again slipped past security and into the building. They mounted the clock. It began to chime. The mechanism was found to lose less than one minute per day Viot deemed it &8220;acceptable&8221;.
But when Monnet returned from his holiday, he marched up the Pantheon&8217;s steps and gazed furiously at the tick-tick-ticking timepiece. He called a clockmaker to unmake the clock. The man who came, reportedly from the maison Lepaute, refused to sabotage the mechanism. Instead, he removed the escapement wheel the same piece damaged those decades before, rebuilt by Viot. At 10.51, the Wagner mechanism stopped.
Kunstmann is still livid. &8220;The notion of conservation, the value of the objects [in Monnets care], don&8217;t concern [him]. He thinks only of his career, to have a good retirement.&8221; I write to Monnet, asking for his version of events. The Pantheon administrator responds in an utakeable tone. &8220;I absolutely refuse to discuss this file. It is part of an active case and the law prohibits me from commenting.&8221;
After the story of the clock repair broke, journalists swarmed and Kunstmann once again came forward, revealing all. &8220;Underground terrorists&8217; with a mission to save city&8217;s neglected heritage,&8221; shrieked the Times of London&8216;s headline. Monnet agreed with this characterisation, pursuing the Untergunther in court. But there was one problem: They didn&8217;t seem to have committed a crime. Nothing was damaged during the Untergunther&8217;s stay at the Pantheon, and at the time there was no such thing as &8220;trespassing&8221; on public property. (This has since been rectified, with a bill passed in December 2008.) Authorities had to wait almost an entire year before finding a reason to bring UX in.
On August 14, 2007, Pantheon security claimed to find four members trying to force the building&8217;s locks. The case was heard on November 23, 2007, before the 17th Chambre du Tribunal de Grande Instance. The CNM sought a total of €51,394.76 for damage to public property. The accused: Sophie Langlade (surely Lanso, the Untergunther&8217;s leader), 35, unemployed; Dorothe Hachette, 39, nurse; Christophe Melli, 38, artistic director; Eric Valleye, 38, filmmaker. Four members of Untergunther, revealed before the court.
&8220;A real experiment never presumes its results,&8221; Kunstmann says. &8220;If someone had asked us, &8216;What are the chances that one day you will appear in court to talk about the repair of the clock?&8217; We would have said, &8216;Zero per cent? One percent?&8217; The improbable is still within the realm of the possible.&8221;
The charges were ultimately dismissed. Kunstmann says UX took back the removed escapement wheel, stealing it from Monnet&8217;s office. LMDP claim to have used the Pantheon for another full year, staging photo exhibits and a festival of police films. And the clock? &8220;[It] is simply waiting for its chance to run again,&8221; Kunstmann told Architects Journal.
The way that Untergunther tell it, this acquittal was inevitable. UX&8217;s members are so clever, after all. They are so sophisticated. They are a world awaymens wide shoes and boots from hoi polloi like Crato, caught in the catacombs and awaiting presidential amnesty. UX are not Ravioli. And you would certainly never see Kunstmann in the same room as the Painted Lizard.
The Painted Lizard, wrote the American journalist Christopher Ketcham, is &8220;one of the nastiest pranksters in the underworld&8221;. Cavannus, a former Parisian now living in Montreal, says something similar: &8220;Dangerous. To avoid.&8221; Another catacomb rat goes further. &8220;The guy&8217;s a megalomaniacal jerk and deserves no publicity of any kind,&8221; G- wrote in an email, asking that I not use his name. &8220;He is a lesser human being.&8221;
Ketcham recalls seeing a photograph of the Lzard (and a black friend) in Nazi SS uniforms, &8220;singing old German war songs at full throttle, stomping through the tunnels, sieg heiling, the songs echoing down the halls for a half-mile.&8221; He&8217;s a scist, G- tells me. &8220;In the 1990s him and another guy going by the name of Ktu used to beat people up. They had the network shared, one &8216;gang&8217; held the south, the other the north. Idiots are in awe of him because he can break into anywhere [but] an asshole is always an asshole.&8221;
I obtain the Untergunther&8217;s court records less than a week after my visit to the catacombs. I google the names Sophie Langlade, Dorothe Hachette, Christophe Melli, Eric Valleye. Slim pickings, except for Valleye. He is named in Ketcham&8217;s 2002 article for Salon. Valleye, Ketcham writes, is the real name of the Lzard Peint.
&8220;We dress up as Nazis, sure,&8221; the Lizard said, &8220;but we have no politics, none whatsoever. This is al &8230; theatre. A game of transformations, masks.&8221;
I consider the Lizard, reformed, assisting the patient restorers of the Pantheon&8217;s clock. Perhaps he met them belowground. And then suddenly the darkness slips into focus. Lazar, after all, sounds an awful lot like Lzard. Kunstmann, the German word &8220;art-man&8221;. Lazar Kunstmann Lzard art-man?
After that, I&8217;m running. I dig into the Untergunther website, UGWK.org. I discover the site&8217;s files reside on a different server, and I note the URL: I scour cataphile forums for photographs of the Lizard, search Flickr. Most photographers lack UX&8217;s discretion. I find the Lizard, head bowed, in a series of subterranean snaps. It is the same man with whom I clinked glasses at Le Pantalon.
When I go back to speak to BHV, his ankle has healed. I ask the question whose answer he neglected to volunteer last time. Yes, the cataphile admits, &8220;Lazar and Lzard Peint are the same single person.&8221;
I do not know how to feel. Thrilled by my discovery? Proud of my detective skills? Or utterly deflated, imagining UX as an asshole&8217;s practical joke? It is as if I am back underground. This time I have no leader.
&8220;[Lazar always] had a group of friends, but they didn&8217;t particularly have a name,&8221; BHV says. He suggests they adopted the name LMDP after the discovery of the cinema, Untergunther after the discovery of the clock, UX after the publication of his book. Whereas UX claim to have over a hundred members, BHV and Cavannus guess that &8220;Kunstmann&8217;s group&8221; are no more than 20. The Untergunther say they have completed a dozen different projects, LMDP to have hosted dozens of events, but there&8217;s scant evidence. Perhaps it is because these actions were secret. Or perhaps they didn&8217;t happen.
BHV points to another sign of obfuscation in Kunstmann&8217;s book. The volume is peppered with comic relief courtesy of Olrik and Peter, UX&8217;s goofy, incompetent jester duo. Olrik is real, well known underground. But Peter? &8220;He is maybe Lazar,&8221; BHV supposes. &8220;I looked into it. It might be him.&8221; Peter, I note, is the French word for rting.
At that noisy, crowded bar, as I set a pint of Leffe before him, Kunstmann confessed he sometimes &8220;gives answers to questions that deserve complicated ones.&8221; Months later, I contemplate UX as a tall tale, an exaggeration, the invention of an arrogant catacomb trickster. And yet the truth still feels just out of reach, beyond the beam of my flashlight. It is as if I can hear the footlls.
Almost a month after our meeting, I confront Lazar Kunstmann (aka Lzard Peint, aka Eric Valleye) over email. Fifteen hours later, I receive a reply. Kunstmann says the Painted Lizard does not exist. He claims that this character&8217;s reputation is intentional, invented, part of a concentrated effort to muddle perceptions of UX. Stories of villainous cataphiles quickly take over the discourse, masking any other activities. I am reminded of a comment he made at the bar that night. &8220;A secret launches any information,&8221; he said, leaning forward in his chair. &8220;It&8217;s a very principle. &8216;I am going to tell you something. It&8217;s a secret &8211; above all don&8217;t tell it to anyone.&8217; You will see two other people and say to them, &8216;I&8217;m going to tell you something. It&8217;s a secret &8211; above all don&8217;t tell it to anyone.&8217; In four seconds, everybody knows.&8221; The greater the tale, the bigger the lizard, the ster word spreads.
Met with G -&8217;s allegations, Kunstmann admits that one &8220;operation,&8221; between 1985 and 1987, &8220;was mildly violent&8221; &8211; but never, he insists, &8220;physically violent&8221;. &8220;For a Ravioli,&8221; he writes, &8220;anything outside of routine is psychologically violent.&8221; He does concede that one of Ktu&8217;s friends might have knocked some heads.
And then I receive a message from Lanso. This is unexpected. The head of the Untergunther does not relish the spotlight, hasn&8217;t written any books, never talks to journalists. She has not contacted me before. &8220;I know that [catacomb adventures] are very entertaining to foreign readers,&8221; she writes, her verbiage precise. &8220;It&8217;s the exoticism of &8216;subterranean Paris&8217;. But it&8217;s not what defines [UX]. We are people who realise projects without asking permission. That&8217;s all.&8221;
From there, Lanso acknowledges that UX&8217;s cast of regulars, the nicknames most often cited, may now seem like mischievous cataphiles. But she says these are part of a &8220;media group&8221; led by Kunstmann a team meant to dazzle and distract the press, mesmerising us with catacomb talk.
&8220;The small world of the catacombs, which is apparently your place of departure, easily amplifies the importance of Lazar&8217;s band of rascals,&8221; Lanso writes. &8220;Lazar is a good spokesman&8230; but all of the [obfuscation] and [media] diversions that he has been able to do, he and his friends, both in the press and [among cataphiles], gets linked to OUR activities, which they have nothing to do with.&8221; Kunstmann is an important member, Lanso admits, but the Untergunther and most of the rest of UX &8220;have nothing to do with &8216;cataphiles&8217;, nor even the catacombs. Nothing to do with Ravioli forums nor the beliefs and myths of these places. Nothing to do with the dozens of confusing articles conceived by Lazar and his cohorts between 1985 and 2004. Nothing to do with the folklore of the Latin Quarter so dear to the previously mentioned.&8221;
Kunstmann&8217;s tales, the activities he recounts, the cataphile culture he invokes it is, Lanso suggests, a fumis. It is smoke. It is the smoke that fills our vision, fills news pages, conceals the group&8217;s true projects and real work. Look to the Untergunther website, available in French and English, a kind of souped-up press release, useful documents for journalists. Look to Zone Tour, maintained by Olrik and Kunstmann, ostensibly a website for Paris cataphiles but purely in English. Look to an article in Zurban magazine, two years before the &8220;restoration wing&8221; of UX announced themselves. There are the &8220;Untergunther&8221;, doing nothing more than run-of-the-mill culture jamming, changing George V subway station signs to George W. Fog, smoke, misdirection.
As for what this &8216;real work&8217; is, Lanso will not say. These projects, she underlines, are secret. &8220;Don&8217;t think that I say this against you, or against journalists in general. It&8217;s the same for everyone. To be able to do what we do, this is how it has to work.&8221;
I have reached a dead end. Lanso&8217;s secrets are tantalising, but I can neither confirm nor deny them. UX&8217;s deepest riddles cannot be googled. The question I ask is: Do I believe them? And then I ask: Do I want to believe them? And then I know my answer.
Despite their unassailable secrecy, UX still have something to offer the rest of us, trapped on the r side of the smokescreen. Kunstmann talked about this as we finished our beers that night. &8220;Over time,&8221; he said, &8220;I&8217;ve noticed that the principal reason that UX completes its projects is that we dismiss past inhibitions.&8221;
The organization simply tries things. If one idea doesn&8217;t work, they move on to the next. And whereas doubt inhibits, precedents inspire new experiments. &8220;If someone says tomorrow, &8216;Ah, I&8217;d love to fly across the Atlantic,&8217; no one would say, &8216;It&8217;s impossible! It will never work!&8217;&8221; Kunstmann said. &8220;If it&8217;s already been created, it must be possible to recreate.&8221; We cannot join UX. They will not tell us who they are, or what lies at the heart of the maze. But we can do as they did. We can make our own maps.
Sean Michaels is a Montreal writer and music journalist. He blogs at Said the Gramophone.
This piece first appeared in Brick 85.
Original artwork by Gizmodo guest artist Chris &8220;Powerpig&8221; McVeigh. You can check him out on Flickr or Facebook. Or both!
And a big hearty thanks to all the readers who answered our call on Twitter and sent in photos of the Paris catacombs. You guys rule.
I read the Kunstmann book. But I cannot find any references to a &8220;between 100 and 150 members (group) ranging from age 11 to 56&8243; or to &8220;a 100-year-old government bunker, a 12th Century crypt, and a World War I air-raid shelter&8221;.
It sounds a bit like if Sean Michaels has lazily invent the information that he couldn&8217;t get. Most of the affirmations of this article is a copy and paste of older publications.
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