Latest news with #Eames
Business Insider
16-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Business Insider
Wall Street's summer status symbol
It's summer on Wall Street. Thus, enter the polo shirt. Thus, enter the golf polo shirt. Thus, enter the moisture-wicking technical golf polo shirt with the logo of the fancy schmancy golf course you've played at — the ultimate flex. In the realm of hoity-toity sports, golf is among the hoity-toitiest. Sure, anyone can golf at public courses, and there's always Topgolf, but the most sought-after courses are at private clubs, generally open to members only (and their limited number of guests). The elitist, exclusive nature of the sport manifests in fashion — at least among a certain type of guy. Golf bros are low-key showing off to each other all the time, via polos and hats and other gear with logos of specific clubs and courses. Men I spoke with for this story describe the logoed gear as a "head nod," a "badge of honor," a "talisman," being "part of a secret society," and "like porn for golfing men." Most insist it's about starting a conversation — guy A recognizes guy B's logo at work or the airport bar, and they chat. Vince Sampson, a 50-something attorney in Virginia, tells me he thinks the logos are a good ice breaker. "You end up talking about everything but the logo," he says. But these are subtle status symbols, and ones that sometimes spur some snark. They have a hierarchy to them and an unspoken set of rules for how and when they can be worn. Wearing too many logos at once is tacky, lest you become a "Bag Tag Barry." If you wear a golf polo to the office — which a lot of guys do — expect some eye rolls from the stuffier types. The most important rule: Under no circumstances can you wear a logo from a course you haven't played. It's stolen valor. There's a certain type of guy — often with a certain-sized bank account — who seeks out status symbols. Maybe it's something quieter, like a specific cologne. Maybe it's a little louder, like an Eames chair or a watch. Maybe it screams, like a Ferrari. On the status symbol decibel scale, golf club logos whisper. They're one of those things that nobody cares about unless they really care — or know enough about golf course rankings to get why someone would care. "Golfers, we're just really weird and kind of self-absorbed as a sport, and it's this entire subculture," says Todd Schuster, better known publicly as Tron Carter, who's one of the hosts of "No Laying Up," a podcast for whom he describes as golf "sickos" like himself. "This is all going on, meanwhile, the rest of society just has no idea." Logoed merchandise is a revenue driver for golf courses. According to the Association of Golf Merchandisers, golf shops generate annual sales of over $1 billion a year, thanks to a growing assortment of golf merchandise and gear (including clothing that sometimes doesn't even comply with the course's dress code). Forbes estimated in 2022 that Augusta National Golf Club, which hosts the Masters, makes $69 million in merchandise sales from the tournament alone. Historically, course golf pros ran shops, but today more courses are running their retail operations themselves, given how lucrative they are. The merch is a marketing opportunity, too. It's a way to quietly advertise to a target group of customers and generate envy and buzz. "With a course, if they want to be known as being this prestigious course or even a well-known resort course, you almost have to do this logo that you can market with your merch," says Ben Palet, a 30-something operations manager in Wisconsin who golfs multiple times a week. He compares the logo-peeking among golfers to an inside joke. Under no circumstances can you wear a logo from a course you haven't played. It's stolen valor. Alec Emerson, a 20-something trader in Chicago who's an avid golfer, wears a golf shirt to work almost every day in the summer. "Given that most of the best golf courses in the country are country club private courses, it is seen as a measure of clout of places that you've been — either, if you're lucky enough to be a member at a top, call it, 150 place, or you swim in these sort of finance circles," he says. "There's a lot of old money at these courses, and so there's this sort of conservative sense of in-group, out-group type thing going on." As we chat, he ticks off the names of various courses and logos and their significance. A managing director at a high-end firm in New York might be a member at Winged Foot. A Sleepy Hollow logo translates to "big shot." Masters merch is so ubiquitous it could actually be a "negative status symbol," depending on who you're asking. The real juice is in the Augusta National logo, "a whole different ball game" that means the person played there — at least in theory. "The No. 1 crime you can commit," he tells me, is buying a shirt on eBay from a course you haven't played. "It's so egregious." The logo ladder makes some sense, given the nature of the sport. The fact that the clubs are hard to get into — unlike a baseball diamond or basketball court — leads to a sense of scarcity, and exclusivity brings status. That you've been to an elite club is a signal of who you know (sometimes more than of how good you are at golf or how much you even like it). Some courses differentiate logos between merchandise for members and guests, or create logos for special events and tournaments, establishing an ultimate in-crowd ranking. And because golf attire isn't especially thrilling, for men in particular, the logos are a way to spice things up. "There's a lot you can glean from someone about what logo they're wearing," Schuster says. "If you're going to wear something to the Hamptons, you've got Sebonack out there, which is the new money, a little bit more loud club. You've got National Golf Links, which is as old-school golfing as it gets. Or you've got Shinnecock, which is as high society, traditional as it gets." The etiquette can be as dizzying as it can be ridiculous. Lots of people have lots of differing — and borderline catty — opinions about golf merch. One 50-something insurance professional in Chicago tells me golf attire in the office has long been a pet peeve of his. "Golf shirts are for the golf course," he says, adding that he once called one of his charges out for sporting the look in the wintertime. "I was like, 'Are we going golfing this afternoon?' And he kind of looked at me with a blank stare." A 30-something private equity professional in New York jokes that he sees a lot of "clowns" sporting golf shirts around Midtown Manhattan during the summer, while also acknowledging he's sometimes one of said clowns. It's not so much the shirts that bug him; it's the conversations he gets forced into with guys who aren't even good at the game that get on his nerves. "I'm like, 'Dude, come on, let's talk about something else.' And it's people who suck at golf, too," he says. Both spoke with me on the condition of anonymity out of fear of being ostracized over their hot takes. It's people who suck at golf, too. Nick Ribeiro, who runs Preserved Links, a private club for golf aficionados, tells me the problem isn't the logos; it's the people who get jealous of the logos because they haven't played a round at the elite clubs. They'll make comments — in jest-ish — about people flaunting the logos, or they make fun of the "rules" and who is and isn't following them. A lot of the envy is unspoken, he says: "mostly a cry session between those without logos with each other." And in his mind, they should just try harder to meet members so they can get in. "They haven't put in the effort or the work in order to meet a member at any given club and build a relationship with that person to be one of the 20 guests he's allowed to bring in a year," Ribeiro says. "Younger people, they do to an extent believe that they should just be able to walk through the gate, play the golf course, order whatever they want to order, and the club should just roll the red carpet out for them." Big-letter hats — as in baseball caps with block letters on them that are abbreviations or acronyms for certain clubs — are a point of contention among golfers. They were partially popularized by G/Fore, a golf and lifestyle brand, and its founder, who's a member of the Bel-Aire Golf Course and made "BACC" hats — a play on blood alcohol content — because the stereotype is that people drink a lot on the course. Now, they're ubiquitous, with different acronyms for different courses. Sampson tells me he finds them "distasteful." Schuster says they're "tacky," "corny," and "obnoxious." "Golf tends to be somewhat understated," he says. There's some disagreement about how many logos are allowed to be worn at once, too. "If somebody's just logoed out head to toe, all right, probably that person either is just a douche or has a total inferiority complex or just doesn't get it," Schuster says. A few people sent me a link to a document called "the sacred code of golf gear etiquette." Among the list of rules are no two of the same logo unless you're a member of the course, no driver headcover from a nonmember course, and no Masters gear unless you're under 18, over 65, or doing yard work. These supposed rules come with a wink and a nod, or as Ribeiro tells me, they're "half joke but def true." But as the saying goes, rules are made to be broken. Anthony Polcari, a 20-something consultant and "vibrant masculinity" influencer in Washington, DC, who goes by Tony P online, doesn't seem to sweat these cultural golf edicts. He likes the big letter hats. He thinks it's fine to bring Bluetooth speakers onto the golf course. Perhaps most horrifyingly, Polcari — gasp! — would absolutely wear a logo from a course he hasn't played, especially if the shirt is nice. "A lot of folks take things very, very seriously," he says. "It's kind of like how people, a lot of my followers, will get on me for why I put ketchup on a hot dog." Everyone else tells me that wearing a logo of a course you haven't played is the ultimate faux pas, because what if someone asked you about it? "It's almost the, I hesitate to say, sort of embarrassment of saying that you haven't been there. It might be awkward to have that as a conversation," says Sam Jones, a golf fashion influencer who goes by The Golf Fashion Guy online. "You're risking looking phony," says Don Bostic, the executive director at the Friars Golf Club, a virtual golf society. "I'm just going to feel weird," Sampson says. If somebody's just logoed out head to toe, all right, probably that person either is just a douche or has a total inferiority complex or just doesn't get it. I have to admit that I'm on Tony P's side here. If a stranger asks about the cute little insignia on your shirt, it's totally fine to blow them off or say it was a gift and move on. If you can bond over it, that's awesome! If not, that's fine, too! Who's played at what golf courses is a kind of lame thing to base a social power ranking on — it's probably good that golf is loosening up a little. "It's become more of a, I would say, less stuffy game, where the game is actually more reachable to the masses from an accessibility perspective and just a cultural perspective," Polcari says. There's also no guarantee the cool kids will think the logo is cool, in finance, among golf bros, or elsewhere. "The only status symbol on Wall Street is your W-2 or K-1," says Josh Brown, a cofounder of Ritholtz Wealth Management in New York, in an email. "Everything else is Mickey Mouse."
Perth Now
25-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Perth Now
Perth's iconic spots feature in indie film
A Perth-based filmmaker is set to premiere his indie-punk thriller film 'Skeleton Girls. A Kidnapped Society' at the Perth Revelation International Film Festival in July. PRIFF is an 11-day event that showcases more than 200 international films and is a 'fierce advocate for adventurous independent cinema and Australian screen culture'. It includes Skeleton Girls, follows Anna Kaiser who is on the run after a fatal incident and pursed by 24-hour TV. Your local paper, whenever you want it. As events unfold Anna finds herself drawn into the dark underbelly of a world populated by girl gangs and louts. It is directed and written by Bedford local Richard Eames, who co-created it with wife Helena who juggled multiple roles behind the scenes. 'She's also produced it, but also was kind of the art director, the production designer, and set designer — and a lot of other things as well,' Eames said. The gang marching through a set called 'Rats Nest'. Credit: Supplied 'I'm very much into experimental film, indie movies and cult films, films that just have a strong voice and aesthetic and try to do things differently. 'That's what inspired me to make something like the kind of work I like to watch. 'The film is very much about where the world is and is heading … it explores a lot of issues of polarisation, and this feeling of the world being pushed into conflicts.' Alla Malakhitova, who plays Anna Kaiser, with director Richard Eames and cinematographer Meredith Lindsay. Credit: skel The feature was filmed over nine months and was finished off with a lengthy post-production period which involved adding animation and VFX. The 107-minute film is entirely shot in WA and features many of Perth's most recognisable backdrops, from West Leederville's semi-industrial streets and Oxford Street Reserve to grungy inner-city laneways such as Wolf Lane. The team even managed to get permission from Perth Concert Hall to use a secret tunnel underneath St Georges Terrace. 'It was 100 per cent self-financed. Just years of hard work, sacrifice and living very frugally to save the funds,' Eames said. 'Even when I thought I had enough money, we blew through the budget, so I had to go back to work to fund the next bit of filming. 'We had a lot of people involved who were just really passionate about it and contributed their time either for free or at reduced rates.' According to the Revelation festival, Skeleton Girls plays 'like the mutant off-spring of Run Lola Run, Suburbia, Subway, Repo Man and Green Room, all shot through with a bold, luminescent palette, and driven by a punk and post punk score'. 'Our film really feels at home in that festival, and it just so happens to be a local festival as well, and they've been just really supportive of the film and what we were trying to do, and just really understand the vibe and the voice of the film, so we're really excited to be a part of the festival this year,' Eames said. Anna Kaiser digs deeper. Credit: Supplied The film will be shown on Thursday, July 10, at 8.10pm and Saturday, July 12, at 9.10pm at the Luna Cinema in Leederville. Tickets can be purchased via movietkts.
Belfast Telegraph
10-06-2025
- General
- Belfast Telegraph
Former Church of Ireland Primate's 50 years of service are honoured at St Columb's Cathedral
Among the congregation were his wife Lady Eames and members of his family including their sons Niall and Michael. They were joined by a number of bishops from the three dioceses where Lord Eames served, namely Derry and Raphoe, Down and Dromore and Armagh where he was archbishop and primate from 1986 to 2006. Parishioners from the Derry and Raphoe Diocese also attended yesterday, the Feast Day of St Columba, which is celebrated by both main religious traditions. In Ireland, Columba is also remembered as a patron saint of poets, and is associated with the Book of Kells. The sermon was preached by the current Bishop of Derry and Raphoe, the Rt Reverend Andrew Foster, who earlier paid tribute to Lord Eames. He said: 'Lord Eames has been a blessing to our diocese, to the Church of Ireland as a whole, and to the wider society on this island during his decades in ministry. He has been a distinguished and courageous church leader who has made an immense contribution to peace-building and reconciliation. 'We in Derry and Raphoe give thanks for Lord Eames' stewardship of our diocese in a troubled period of its history in the late Seventies. 'We are thankful for his leadership of the Church of Ireland over two decades during which our society went from the darkness of the Troubles into the light of a new, admittedly fragile peace. Even in the darkest days, Lord Eames preached a message of hope, born out of his faith in God. He is someone who can always see the good in humanity.' During his five years as Bishop of Derry before he moved to Belfast, Lord Eames worked closely with the Catholic Bishop of Derry, Edward Daly, and the late SDLP leader John Hume. He also made a special point of visiting homes in the Bogside area. He said: 'I wanted to hold out the hand of friendship to the whole Catholic community in Derry.' During his long career, Lord Eames, who is now 88, travelled widely to help solve problems in the worldwide Anglican communion. News Catch Up - Tuesday 10th June 'It was my experience in Derry which taught me much about bridge-building and reconciliation and this benefitted me greatly in subsequent stages of my ministry, including my time as Bishop of Down and Dromore and also in Armagh,' he said. When he retired as primate, he became a cross-bencher peer in the House of Lords and continued to foster the interests of Northern Ireland, and to continue his widespread ministry through preaching. With Sir John Major, he paid tribute at a thanksgiving service in Westminster Abbey for Peter Brooke, a former Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. Last year, Lord Eames was injured in a fall, but is making a steady recovery. He said prior to the Derry service yesterday that 'it was one of the most touching invitations of my career which brought back memories of the vast changes in church life and politics in the last half century'.
Belfast Telegraph
07-06-2025
- Politics
- Belfast Telegraph
Bishop of Derry: ‘I had very difficult times trying to bring comfort to victims of violence and their families… These people were the real heroes'
Speaking exclusively to the Belfast Telegraph ahead of a service in St Columb's Cathedral on Monday to mark the 50th anniversary of his consecration as Bishop of Derry and Raphoe in 1975, he said: 'This is one of the most touching invitations of my career and it has brought back so many memories of the vast changes in church life and politics during the last half-century.' Robin Eames, now in his 89th year, came to Derry as bishop when he was only 37. At his Consecration in St Patrick's Cathedral, Armagh he invited the Catholic Bishop of Derry Edward Daly to walk with him down the aisle. 'I believe that this was the first time it happened. I wanted to show that he and I were friends, and that I was holding out the hand of friendship to the whole Catholic community in Derry.' Lord Eames also made a point of visiting the homes of people in the Bogside. 'This was to let them know that I was not their enemy and that I wanted to understand their feelings. During one of the first meetings a man opened the door, shook my hand and said 'Welcome to Derry, my name is John Hume'. We met frequently afterwards and he always impressed me greatly.' After five years in Derry, Eames became Bishop of Down and Dromore. 'The divisions in Belfast were deeper than in Derry, and the attitudes had hardened. These were some of the worst years of the Troubles,' he said. 'My experience in Derry had taught me much about bridge-building and I received great warmth and support from all sides in that city. In Belfast I got on well with the Roman Catholic Bishop of Down and Connor Cahal Daly, and the relationships between all the main Churches improved greatly.' In 1986 Eames became Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of All-Ireland, a post which he held until his retirement in 2006. He worked closely with Catholic Primates Tomas O'Fiach, Cahal Daly, and Sean Brady. 'I always related to them as human beings and not only as senior Church figures. I asked them to take me as I am, and they did the same for me. Our friendships helped us through some very testing situations. It was a privilege to work with them.' One of the most difficult challenges he faced as Archbishop was the prolonged stand-off at Drumcree between residents and members of the Orange Order which led to widespread violence. 'I received many demands, particularly from the Irish Republic, to close the Drumcree parish church, but I could not shut a building where people from all backgrounds came to worship. I was severely criticized, which was personally hurtful, but closing the church was something I could not do in all conscience. "I deeply regret that the Drumcree dispute lasted so long and showed the world the deep divisions in our community. However, I believe it was the right decision to keep the church open.' In 2009 Lord Eames and the former Catholic priest Denis Bradley produced their report for the Consultative Group on the Past which was shelved amid controversy over its recommendations. 'Obviously I was disappointed but if people look at the small print it still has the seeds of a solution to our divisions. A former Northern Ireland Secretary told me if he had accepted the report it would have prevented what took place later on.' Robin Eames also travelled the world as a clerical trouble-shooter dealing with major issues facing the Anglican Communion. 'I was sent by Archbishop Robert Runcie, and my experience in Derry helped me build bridges that would last. I became friends with Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who once stayed in our home in Armagh. We shared many of the same problems in Northern Ireland and South Africa as prisoners of our past.' Lord Eames also played a key role behind the scenes in the creation of the 1993 Downing Street Declaration which, he believes, formed the path towards the Good Friday Agreement. 'I had the highest regard for Sir John Major and Albert Reynolds who played such a major part in producing the Declaration.' He has also been a cross-bencher in the Lords since his retirement as Archbishop, something he says has taught him that basic understanding of 'Englishness' and 'Irishness' has been 'one of the root causes of a great many problems between the two parts of the UK'. Lord Eames has served as chairman of some of the Anglican Communion's most important Commissions. He has received numerous awards, and is a member of the Order of Merit — a very special honour bestowed on him personally by the late Queen Elizabeth . It is confined to a maximum of 24 people, and the current members include Sir David Attenborough and the artist David Hockney Badly injured in a fall last year, Lord Eames is making a steady recovery, and reflected on the past and present. 'There have been so many changes in all the churches but for me the basic message and challenge of Christianity remain the same.' 'I had very difficult times in my ministry trying to comfort victims of violence and their families, and sometimes I am still overwhelmed when I recall how bad it all was. Yet I also remember those who impressed us with their courage and faith from the depths of adversity. 'I was with Gordon and Joan Wilson on the day their daughter Marie was killed in the Enniskillen bomb. Their Christianity and example in dealing with that immense personal tragedy was an inspiration to all of us, and they were not the only ones. They are real heroes. 'I look back on my life and praise God for giving me strength to minister to all sorts of people. I also pay tribute to my wife Christine who has been a tower of strength to me throughout my ministry. I have so much for which to be thankful.'
Belfast Telegraph
07-06-2025
- Politics
- Belfast Telegraph
‘I had very difficult times trying to bring comfort to victims of violence and their families … These people were the real heroes'
Speaking exclusively to the Belfast Telegraph ahead of a service in St Columb's Cathedral on Monday to mark the 50th anniversary of his consecration as Bishop of Derry and Raphoe in 1975, he said: 'This is one of the most touching invitations of my career and it has brought back so many memories of the vast changes in church life and politics during the last half-century.' Robin Eames, now in his 89th year, came to Derry as bishop when he was only 37. At his Consecration in St Patrick's Cathedral, Armagh he invited the Catholic Bishop of Derry Edward Daly to walk with him down the aisle. 'I believe that this was the first time it happened. I wanted to show that he and I were friends, and that I was holding out the hand of friendship to the whole Catholic community in Derry.' Lord Eames also made a point of visiting the homes of people in the Bogside. 'This was to let them know that I was not their enemy and that I wanted to understand their feelings. During one of the first meetings a man opened the door, shook my hand and said 'Welcome to Derry, my name is John Hume'. We met frequently afterwards and he always impressed me greatly.' After five years in Derry, Eames became Bishop of Down and Dromore. 'The divisions in Belfast were deeper than in Derry, and the attitudes had hardened. These were some of the worst years of the Troubles,' he said. 'My experience in Derry had taught me much about bridge-building and I received great warmth and support from all sides in that city. In Belfast I got on well with the Roman Catholic Bishop of Down and Connor Cahal Daly, and the relationships between all the main Churches improved greatly.' In 1986 Eames became Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of All-Ireland, a post which he held until his retirement in 2006. He worked closely with Catholic Primates Tomas O'Fiach, Cahal Daly, and Sean Brady. 'I always related to them as human beings and not only as senior Church figures. I asked them to take me as I am, and they did the same for me. Our friendships helped us through some very testing situations. It was a privilege to work with them.' One of the most difficult challenges he faced as Archbishop was the prolonged stand-off at Drumcree between residents and members of the Orange Order which led to widespread violence. 'I received many demands, particularly from the Irish Republic, to close the Drumcree parish church, but I could not shut a building where people from all backgrounds came to worship. I was severely criticized, which was personally hurtful, but closing the church was something I could not do in all conscience. "I deeply regret that the Drumcree dispute lasted so long and showed the world the deep divisions in our community. However, I believe it was the right decision to keep the church open.' In 2009 Lord Eames and the former Catholic priest Denis Bradley produced their report for the Consultative Group on the Past which was shelved amid controversy over its recommendations. 'Obviously I was disappointed but if people look at the small print it still has the seeds of a solution to our divisions. A former Northern Ireland Secretary told me if he had accepted the report it would have prevented what took place later on.' Robin Eames also travelled the world as a clerical trouble-shooter dealing with major issues facing the Anglican Communion. 'I was sent by Archbishop Robert Runcie, and my experience in Derry helped me build bridges that would last. I became friends with Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who once stayed in our home in Armagh. We shared many of the same problems in Northern Ireland and South Africa as prisoners of our past.' Lord Eames also played a key role behind the scenes in the creation of the 1993 Downing Street Declaration which, he believes, formed the path towards the Good Friday Agreement. 'I had the highest regard for Sir John Major and Albert Reynolds who played such a major part in producing the Declaration.' He has also been a cross-bencher in the Lords since his retirement as Archbishop, something he says has taught him that basic understanding of 'Englishness' and 'Irishness' has been 'one of the root causes of a great many problems between the two parts of the UK'. Lord Eames has served as chairman of some of the Anglican Communion's most important Commissions. He has received numerous awards, and is a member of the Order of Merit — a very special honour bestowed on him personally by the late Queen Elizabeth . It is confined to a maximum of 24 people, and the current members include Sir David Attenborough and the artist David Hockney Badly injured in a fall last year, Lord Eames is making a steady recovery, and reflected on the past and present. 'There have been so many changes in all the churches but for me the basic message and challenge of Christianity remain the same.' 'I had very difficult times in my ministry trying to comfort victims of violence and their families, and sometimes I am still overwhelmed when I recall how bad it all was. Yet I also remember those who impressed us with their courage and faith from the depths of adversity. 'I was with Gordon and Joan Wilson on the day their daughter Marie was killed in the Enniskillen bomb. Their Christianity and example in dealing with that immense personal tragedy was an inspiration to all of us, and they were not the only ones. They are real heroes. 'I look back on my life and praise God for giving me strength to minister to all sorts of people. I also pay tribute to my wife Christine who has been a tower of strength to me throughout my ministry. I have so much for which to be thankful.'
