Latest news with #MartinCizmar
WIRED
22-05-2025
- Health
- WIRED
The Best Sleeping Pads For Campgrounds—Our Comfiest Picks
The following sleeping pads didn't impress us as much as the ones above, but we'd still recommend them if none of the others strike your fancy. Kelty Kush Queen Airbed for $100: This PVC-free queen-sized airbed from Kelty includes a pump that makes inflating a snap (make sure you charge it before you go), and the 6-inch-thick pad is plenty comfortable. It is not an insulated air mattress like the REI above, so it's best for warmer months, but it can double as a spare bed at home. Sleeping Pads to Avoid Not every sleeping pad is a winner. We've tested and run into issues with the following models. Exped Flexmat Plus: What if the cheap, light, and indestructible closed-cell foam mats like the iconic Z-Rest and RidgeRest were … giant? It's a fun idea, but the Exped Flexmat Plus is a noble failure. The problem with this extra-thick, 1.5-inch, closed-cell mat is that, while relatively light, cheap, and indestructible, the foam is hard and spikey. And by 'spikey' we mean that it's literally just spikes that stab you while you sleep. Fans say it requires a break-in period. After six nights on it, reviewer Martin Cizmar begged the dungeon guard for release. Big Agnes Q-Core: Q-Core pads are comfortable out of the box, with impressive R-value and weight stats for the price. However, you should avoid them. The unique offset I-beam construction that makes this pad so light and comfortable is somewhat notorious for failing—which is exactly what happened to Cizmar after about a year of use. In our experience, which other reviews back up, the welds that hold the top and bottom together are prone to popping apart. After adding air, you'll have a large lump that grows over time, and duct tape cannot fix it. Exped DeepSleep: If you're thinking about an inflatable Exped but are not fully committed to shelling out for the MegaMat 10, you may be inclined to try the thinner and cheaper DeepSleep. Don't do it. The DeepSleep is 3 inches thick instead of 4, but you'll feel that inch in your bones. The DeepSleep has rugged 75-denier fabric on top and bottom instead of the soft and stretchy 50-denier polyester you find on the top of the MegaMat and some competitors. The DeepSleep is a sturdy mattress and probably fine for some people, but it's not the Exped experience most sleepers are looking for. Stick with the MegaMat. —Martin Cizmar Klymit Static V2: Klymit's budget inflatable pad is popular with unfussy weekend warriors because of its price point (around $50) and impressive weight (1 pound). In fact, this is why I bought one for my now 10-year-old daughter when we ventured into the backcountry for the first time, with her stuff on my back. She didn't complain, but when I used it for a night, I found it was flimsy and offered comparable cushion and less heat retention than a closed-cell foam pad like the Z-Lite. The Z-Lite weighs a couple of ounces less, and you won't have to worry about puncturing it. The more expensive inflatable beds above are great, but if you're you're looking for a lightweight budget pick, I'd stay with closed-cell foam.
WIRED
08-04-2025
- Automotive
- WIRED
The Renoun Endurance 88 Skis Have a Unique Anti-Vibration Core
I'm a huge fan of non-Newtonian substances. Admittedly, my sample size is limited. I'd never heard of non-Newtonian substances until last year, when I bought a curling toque made with D3O foam, a thin layer of goo that is spongey until it's struck, causing it to stiffen and absorb the shock. A few weeks ago, I had my second experience with extremely viscoelastic materials while testing the Endurance 88 skis from Vermont upstart brand Renoun. Renoun is a Burlington-based ski maker that's been around for just over a decade. The direct-to-consumer company's big innovation is the use of the non-Newtonian material in the core of its skis, which it calls VibeStop. Renoun launched with a D3O partnership but soon after transitioned to its own patented polymer blend, designed for subzero temperatures and high-frequency vibration. In my two days of testing at Arizona Snowbowl outside Flagstaff (11,500-foot elevation at the top with 2,300 feet of vertical), the Endurance 88s skied extremely smoothly, leaving my legs feeling fresh even though I'd only been on the mountain three times this season, several months before. Renoun Endurance 88 Skis on snow Photograph: Martin Cizmar Smooth Snow I should note here that the major benefits of Renoun's skis are probably better enjoyed by people who are more aggressive skiers than I am. I have skied since I was 5 and probably have at least 500 days on the hill, however, I generally do not seek out steep, ungroomed terrain or ski off-piste. I also ski out West, where the snow is generally better. The big advantage of Renoun's skis—and the reason they cost $700 to $1,200—is that the unique compound poured into their wooden core will dampen the rumbling when you're skiing across crud or corn snow. The company says it can't disclose manufacturing details but did share that the uncured polymer is 'goo-y/liquid' before it's applied to the skis and stabilized. (Manufacturing secrecy is common in the ski industry—I had to sign a waiver before touring the ON3P factory a decade ago.) All Renoun skis have some VibeStop material in them, but the Endurance 88 sticks have the highest concentration and, thus, carry the least chatter. Photograph: Martin Cizmar
WIRED
08-03-2025
- Lifestyle
- WIRED
I've Been Slowly Replacing All of My T-Shirts With Comfort Colors
I happened upon the budget brand at a chintzy souvenir shop in Maine. I've since sworn full allegiance to the cult of Comfort Colors. Photograph: Martin Cizmar; Getty Images If you buy something using links in our stories, we may earn a commission. This helps support our journalism. Learn more. Please also consider subscribing to WIRED I tend to buy T-shirts in bunches. Anytime I find a shirt I really like, I acquire at least a week's worth. In the era retroactively known as 'indie sleaze,' I was outfitted exclusively in American Apparel 50/25/25 tees. In the early Instagram era, I saw an ad for Buck Mason and bought a bunch of those. Then I decided I liked V-necks and switched to The Gap's tagless Jersey shirts, which had a nice soft feel and just the right depth of dip. Last summer, I found my new fave at a chintzy tourist shop in Maine. It had the name of the town, Bar Harbor, printed on a butter-hued blank from a company called Comfort Colors. After a few wearings, I liked it so much I looked at the label to see what it was. I bought a second and have since been slowly replacing every T-shirt in my closet with shirts in the brand's various comforting colors. Photograph: Martin Cizmar Comfort Colors Heavyweight T-Shirt 1717 Comfort Colors isn't an emerging brand—it's owned by Gilden, which is about as interesting and sexy as being owned by Country Crock margarine. I am not the first person from a prominent review site to notice that Comfort Colors is the best in the biz, though I believe I am the first to do so without funding Maureen Dowd and Ross Douthat for a website still approvingly dubbing new products the 'Tesla of …' in 2025. In any case, the Comfort Colors T-shirt—specifically the standard-issue 100 percent cotton model no. 1717—checks every box for me. They're boxy but not too boxy. I have a few vintage Hanes Beefy T's, and Comfort Colors are far more fitted, with sleeves that stop an inch or so above the elbow instead of drooping down the forearm. They look a little boxier than they are because of the triple-stitched shoulders and double-stiched hemline and sleeves, which give the shirt an overbuilt look and feel. For a middle-aged person, this is a cut that says you know three Billie Eilish songs, but you're not trying to dress like her. Comfort Colors tees are made with cotton from American farms, though it's spun up in Honduras. It's ring-spun, which gives it both softness and strength. These shirts are far more breathable than any blend, even though they're made from relatively hefty 6.1-ounce fabric. That means that one square yard of that fabric weighs 6.1 ounces, making it just a tad beefier (0.1 ounces per square yard) than either a Hanes Beefy T or a Uniqlo Supima cotton tee. Best of all, the American cotton ages beautifully. None of my half-dozen Comfort Colors shirts have shrunk, and they've all softened and faded just a touch with each whirl around the washing machine. Photograph: Martin Cizmar The colors I like best—flo blue, butter, pepper, crimson—come with a lightly faded look thanks to a pigment dye process that uses less water and power than traditional dying. They have a broken-in vintage vibe right out of the bag, which I really appreciate. It's a tiny detail, and there is no objective reason to value it, but I also love that the tags are dyed the same color as the shirt. Did I mention they're about $10 each? And they come in dozens of colors. And with pockets. They have sweatshirts too! Comfort Colors is so great because you can build an entire closet of basics from their line without breaking the bank. And if you get tired of plain, there are options. The wide array of colors and a very reasonable price point means they're also popular with screenprinters. There's a cottage industry of Etsy sellers printing on them, with buyers like me presumably searching specifically for the brand. Our own Parker Hall prints T-shirts for his band on Comfort Colors blanks—I'll buy one if I can make it to one of his shows. And when I'm back in Maine this July, you can bet I'll be buying a bunch more—look for me in a 'THE MOOSE IS LOOSE' T-shirt with a design transparently ripping off the Life Is Good look, but somehow with an enhanced charge for cheuginess. If you're a loyal WIRED reader, you may have seen that we recently updated a list of the best T-shirts among those T-shirts which claim they're the best T-shirts, which was compiled by our London-based team with input from a Saville Row tailor. I did request that they include Comfort Colors in their testing, though they naturally had no idea what a Col o r was. They politely declined because 'the brands have to claim they make the 'BEST, PERFECT' T-shirt' and 'Comfort Colors don't boast, sadly.' They indeed do not boast, so I will do so in their stead. Comfort Colors makes the closest thing to a perfect T-shirt I've found. You can try one for about $10. If you're like me you may find yourself tossing a fresh color in with every few Amazon orders until your whole closet is full.
WIRED
05-03-2025
- Business
- WIRED
The Carl Friedrik Carry-On Is a Very Nice Rolling Bag
With luggage, as with most things, luxury is relative. To some, it means you have a Travelpro Platinum Elite (it's got 'pro' and 'elite' right there in the name!), while for others if you're not rolling a Louis trunk, you're either doing the quiet luxury thing or you're a broke boy. I am a relative newcomer to the world of very nice luggage, having used a Tom Bihn Aeronaut 45 for the past decade until my boss informed me of the existence of Rimowa. It turns out I love Rimowa—I like the brand's luxe boho vibe and I love the way the aluminum shell picks up a little seasoning with every trip. But as someone who flies nearly every month of the year, I'm always looking to try a new contender. Carl Friedrik is a newish London-based luggage brand that makes bags with distinctive leather accents. Its full-sized suitcases suitable for checking run about $800, while a rolling carry-on is around $550. Depending your priors, these prices are likely to strike you as either very reasonable or borderline outrageous. I can say only that it's a very nice bag for transporting your belongings. Photograph: Martin Cizmar As Seen On Carl Friedrik was founded in 2012 by two Swedish brothers and its initial focus was on leather goods, specifically laptop bags and wallets. The rolling carry-on was introduced in the summer of 2019, just before a period of instability in the travel industry which some readers may recall. Carl Friedrik does most of its business direct-to-consumer, though you will see products on heavily curated retail sites like Huckberry. The brand's roots in leather goods are visible on the carry-on and the brand's other rolling luggage, thanks to its distinctive and handsome leather handles and a leather accent strip around the top of the case. Carl Frederik is the kind of brand that not only gets itself featured on Succession but uses the occasion to post an Instagram caption thinkpiece about quiet luxury. ("By its very nature, quiet luxury aesthetic rejects the vagaries of seasonal fashion, trusting instead in time-honoured design.") Niklas Mattis, who co-founded the brand with his brother, is focused on protecting the majestic but critically endangered Amur leopard. That is all to say that, yes, this brand is working diligently to curate a vibe. Successfully, I'd say. I've now used the Carl Frederik on three trips since December, having taken it to New York, New Mexico, and San Diego. It has yet to let me down, and despite being gate-checked on one occasion and being wheeled across a little desert scrubland in Santa Fe, the gray polycarbonate shell looks new. That stands in sharp contrast to aluminum suitcases from brands like Rimowa and Tumi which are designed to develop a patina.
WIRED
03-03-2025
- WIRED
Tushy Goes Luxe With Its Aura Electric Bidet
The digital display shows on the back of the seat, above the hinge that controls the seat and cover, and displays the water temperature of the seat. I don't especially like this, as I prefer bidets to blend into the bathroom as subtly as possible. Another nice feature of the Aura is the instant heater, which means you never run out of warm water—this feature is a relatively recent addition to bidets, and I'm happy to see it becoming the standard. The two things I found lacking on the Aura compared to competitors (which, to be fair, are mostly a little more expensive) were the fan and the water controls. Photograph: Martin Cizmar Drying fans are often the first place I notice the difference between premium bidets that cost north of grand and cheaper models. The Aura's fan is very loud (I measured it above 60 decibels on high) and yet not very powerful, taking a minute or more to dry me off. The Aura's remote is intuitive by way of its simplicity—unlike with Toto's higher-end models, there's no way to adjust the spray's width or angle, and there are no presets for different users—but it does have the most important spray adjustments, like back, forward, and flow strength. The fan speed can also be adjusted with three clicks of one button rather than having to click the fan button and then separately adjust its speed up or down, as with the Toto. Touché Tushy The Aura is a solid product, and I'd recommend it as a budget pick (especially if it goes on sale as often as the classic Tushys do) or an upgrade for any brand partisan looking to get into an electric bidet. For now, I take it as a welcome sign the American bidet market is maturing from the era of the 'Clean Butt Society' T-shirt toward a bright new future of heated seats, night-lights, and auto-opening toilet seats.
