When Mercedes-Benz needed always-on content for its grand, new GLS SUV, I lent a hand writing the script for influencer and businessman Oskar Hartmann. Very much incorporating Oskar’s authentic voice, the script incorporates all of the car’s stand-out features and attributes – structured like a walkaround at a dealership. With Looping Studios.
Category: automotive
Tiny house, huge freedom
I try living in a tiny home for one day.
Micro homes are one solution to the increasing lack of metropolitan living space – and Van Bo Le-Mentzel’s One Square Meter House takes this trend to its logical limits. The open-source design offers room to eat, work and relax. But what’s it actually like to spend a day on such a minimal footprint?
With Berlin bathed in seemingly permanent sunshine, many office dwellers yearn to swap their cubicle for the great outdoors. And myself? I simply stay at home, in the perfect spot near a Prenzlauer Berg metro stop, reading a book with my door open.
Okay, my current abode might be a tad unconventional. It’s the ultimate tiny house at a footprint of a single square metre. The man behind it all, socially-minded architect Van Bo Le-Mentzel, has designed this little wonder and made the blueprint available for free download. Expect to spend about €250 worth of material and a day to put this micro marvel together – a total of 200 screws are involved.
So, it sounds like the perfect temporary residence for figuring out what defines a home. Does it require a fixed address? Does everyone really need more and more space? After all, the average German now occupies twice as much living space (42.7 m²) as in the 1960s, tendency rising.
My One Square Meter House forces me to focus on the essentials. A poster on the wall, a small plant, my work surface, a book and a laptop – that’s all I need for a fully furnished place to sit, work, eat, read, play and relax. Many passers-by smile when they spot me: Who wouldn’t like to stop and check in with themselves right in the midst of a busy city?
“Huh, what kind of chicken coop is that supposed to be?” a passing local teases. After almost half a year in the German capital, I’ve made my peace with the infamous Berlin bluntness. “If you’re going to say chicken coop, then at least make it organic!”, I feel like shouting back, since organic farming allows six hens per square metre, which probably translates to humane conditions for a single journalist.
Refuge as a talking point
However, that feeling when you come home, shut the door and finally feel sheltered and undisturbed is elusive in the One Square Meter House, since – sooner or later – someone will knock on the door to catch a peek inside the odd micro cabin. I seem to have become an Insta motif for tourists: #strangedude #crazylittlehouse.
Maybe it’s time to move somewhere a bit greener? Thanks to my domicile’s rollers, a change of scene is (almost) no problem: Moving the house takes a little power and practice – and strict avoidance of all stairs or cobbled streets. In a quiet side road, I find enough peace and quiet to pick up my novel.
Hans Fallada’s “Kleiner Mann, was nun?” (Little man, what now?) follows a young family desperately searching for a home in late-1920s Berlin – and for a job to pay the ensuing rent. Would Fallada’s protagonists have thrived in a larger version of my one-square-metre house? Somehow, I doubt it. So, is it nothing but a gimmick, then?
Affordable DIY living
“I designed the One Square Meter House so people don’t have to sleep outside”, Van Bo Le-Mentzel reveals on the phone. “Together with a group of homeless people, I built four or five of them and took them on the metro. In the end, we even set up a spontaneous settlement at Mauerparkat, a public linear park in Berlin’s Prenzlauer Berg district. It was raining and we made pancakes. Sure, the house isn’t incredibly comfortable, but it’s a home of your own.”
The open source design is an integral part of the concept: Anyone should be able to build a domicile with their own hands and modify it the way they want, Van Bo adds. People shouldn’t have to accept the dictate of the housing market. “I call it constructive empowerment, since my kind of empowerment is about building and construction.”
It has always been Van Bo’s mission to give people a roof over their heads, irrespective of their situation in life. After all, the son of Laotian refugees knows what it’s like to have no home. In 2015, at the height of the refugee crisis, he spontaneously approached Berlinreception camps to turn bunk beds into two-story homes that added at least some sense of privacy and security.
His latest project, the modular 100-euro flat with its own bath and kitchen, is a “co-being”concept where flats can be docked or ditched depending on current circumstances. His long-term vision involves a world where nobody needs to pay rent anymore – thanks to a car that turns into a home, transformer-style. A bold dream, but why not?
Home is where the love is
By now, my cabin has started to heat up. If I don’t want to risk scoliosis, I need to head out to stretch my limbs for a bit. I could also use a matcha latte, so I park my tiny house at a nearby café.
Living without local limits or too much dead weight feels really liberating. I’m surprised that what started out as a little joke has led to some pretty profound thoughts.
How many things do I need to be happy? To me, home is no echoing loft, but my cat stretching on the floor to get petted. It’s all-night board game sessions with friends. And it’s a place where I can be exactly who, what and how I am – it’s a safe harbour in a crazy world. The square metre premium for this? Is probably priceless.
Sustainability, the gourmet way
Ryan Chetiyawardana – Mr. Lyan to his devotees – was crowned the World’s Best Bartender in 2015. His sustainable ethos and signature flavors can also be found in Cub, his first restaurant. Our author takes a trip to London’s East End to sample the future.
Cub is half cocktail bar, half restaurant. Drive down London’s unassuming Hoxton Street, and it’s easy to miss: in fact, only the “Super Lyan” neon sign gives a clue that one of London’s hippest, most exciting dining experience beckons behind the unmarked door.
Keen to see what the hype is all about, I arrive a tad early. As I illicitly push open the door, I bump right into Mr. Lyan himself descending into his eponymous cocktail bar below, crate in hand. I apologize and wait until two minutes later, a cheerful Ozzie waitress declares the joint open, ushering me into the ground-floor restaurant, taking my coat.
The interior is stylishly minimalist, dotted with visual witticisms. There’s a large magnetic plate behind the bar to which a jug and an array of metal utensils stick, a conic flask straight out of a chemistry lab has been repurposed to serve as a decanter of beaujolais (with a large golden ball as a stopper), and heading to the restrooms, I find that the cubicle doors and flush-buttons are illustrated with whimsical doodles.
Creative drinks – no antics
The layout is reminiscent of a diner: a row of seats lines the bar and kitchen counter, whereas most patrons sit in hip-height yellow-leather booths.
Ryan mans the bar next to an assistant chef, and if you didn’t know it, you’d have no idea that the bespectacled dude with the gentle smile is none other than the boss himself – no master-chef histrionics here, or crowd-pleasing bottle-juggling antics. Instead a comradely, industrious buzz emanates from the team, accompanied by an eclectic soundtrack of hip hop and jazzy grooves.
I have opted for the food and drink menu, booze-free tonight: It’s an affordably-priced nine-course affair in which outlandish dishes alternate with strange and imaginative drinks, all bearing the signature of the restaurant’s founding team.
Apart from Mr. Lyan, there’s chef Doug McMaster, the man behind Brighton’s zero waste restaurantSilo.
I start with a Superfly: a melon-based, slightly fizzy cocktail with jasmine and olive oil. At the bottom of the high-stemmed glass is a jellied capsule full of flavor that explodes in an entertaining final flourish. Over the next two hours, I am treated to a succession of textures and flavors that surprise and expand my culinary vocabulary with unlikely combinations.
Almost veggie
Paying homage to the zero-waste, sustainable ethos, the almost-veggie menu makes use of “volatile cheeses” that would normally have been thrown away, whey – a by-product of making cheese – citrus husks discarded by Super Lyan, “ugly gooseberries” and feta made by a Greek family in North London.
The team at Cub combine this with honest-to-God staples such as the most delicious home-made bread and home-made butter. The chicken broth is made from discarded chicken bones and – by some unknown magic – combined with seaweed-flavor. Who knew that such odd bedfellows could create such a pleasing result?
From chervil root that usually lands in the bin to tender Apple slices frozen and then thawed for a baked texture (having been immersed in a vitamin C bath), the list of novel ingredients is ever-changing. On the drinks-side, the highlight must be a delicate palate cleanser made of white tea with plum, followed by an absolutely delicious Square Mile coffee, translucent, dark caramel in color.
If modern art could be ingested, it would look and taste like this – not surprising, perhaps, as Ryan once studied at London’s prestigious Central Saint Martin’s art college.
Sustainability without sacrifice
The final, delicious praline – made of molasses from leftover bits of fruit – leaves me both sated and enthused. “Sustainable living doesn’t have to be about sacrifice,” says Ryan, “and luxury doesn’t have to be about waste.” In creating a daringly new dining and drinking experience, the team around him has more than lived up to this vision.
Gone are the days when a good conscience came at the expense of enjoyment – when sustainable products were, in some way, inferior. Cub is the embodiment of new, solution-oriented thinking, a new approach to luxury.
Click here for more information on Cub.
Sweet Harz of mine
Erst als verhext verleumdet, dann von der Mauer geteilt, später als Ödnis in der Mitte Deutschlands verschrien — der Harz, einstmals ein mondänes Kurgebiet, hat ein Image-Problem. Doch damit soll jetzt Schluss sein: Die Harzer schlagen zurück und bringen Selbstbewusstsein und Region auf Vordermann. Wir schauten uns um.
TEXT ALFRED RINALDI / FOTOS STEFFEN JAHN
Irgendwo zwischen Göttingen und Magdeburg, im Dreiländereck von Niedersachsen, Sachsen-Anhalt und Thüringen, ruft das Abenteuer. Da liegt ein Land von undurchdringlichen Wäldern, verwunschenen Bergen, tiefen Schluchten, majestätischen Talsperren und malerischen Ortschaften. Schon Johann Wolfgang von Goethe und Heinrich Heine zog es immer wieder in die kleine Wildnis zurück, und auch wir wollen heute unseren nagelneuen Mazda CX-5 weitab von ausgetre– tenen Pfaden Richtung Deutschlands bestgehütestes Geheimnis steuern: in den Harz.
Lange vor dem Zeitalter der Billigflieger war das Harzer Mittelgebirge bereits ein begehrtes Ausflugsziel: So war zum Beispiel das Städtchen Schierke so mondän, dass es als „St. Moritz des Nordens” bekannt war. Doch dann kam die Teilung Deutschlands: Quer durch den Harz verlief die Grenze, und das ehemalige Herzstück des Landes wurde zum Grenzgebiet. Als dann aus dem geteilten Deutschland wieder ein Land wurde, hatte der Harz den Trend verpasst und muss nun wie viele andere ländliche Regionen mit der Landflucht kämpfen.
Melanie Funke, Elke Roch und Dietrich Kühne ficht das nicht an. Die drei Medienprofis empfangen uns in ihrem hippen Osteroder Büro, das auch in Berlin nicht fehl am Platze wäre. An der Wand hängen frech aufgemachte Poster, auf den Computermonitoren flimmern die Layouts der nächsten Kampagne, eine legere Sitzgruppe lädt zum Loungen und Brainstormen ein. Wir befinden uns in der Schaltzentrale von harzkind.de, einer Initiative, die mit Witz und Einfallsreichtum dem Harz seinen abhanden gekommenen Nationalstolz wieder einflößt.
Die Rache der beigen Hosen
Angefangen hat alles mit einem Zeitungsartikel, in dem Osterode als sterbende Stadt beschrieben wurde, die nurmehr von Rentnern in beigen Hosen bewohnt würde.
„Da haben wir uns so aufgeregt”, erinnert sich Elke, „dass wir gesagt haben, liebe Harzer, wie lange wollt ihr euch noch anhören, dass die Journalisten euch in Grund und Boden schreiben? Denn alle, die hier wohnen, sagen: ,Wir haben Arbeitsplätze, wir können hier günstig wohnen, wir sind in der Nähe der Natur, wir haben tolle Freizeitmöglichkeiten. Warum spricht davon eigentlich keiner?’”
Melanie nimmt den Faden auf. „Da haben wir uns gesagt, wir sind alle Harzkinder und kreative Medienleute, lass uns mal was Lustiges ausdenken. Und daraus ist die Beige- Hosen-Kampagne entstanden, bei der wir alle Harzkinder über Facebook dazu aufgerufen haben, in beigen Hosen zu zeigen, wie viel Spaß man im Harz haben kann.”
Die Aktion war ein voller Erfolg, das Medienecho deutschlandweit. Es war die Initialzündung für einen Online-Shop, harzkind.de, und einen Event-Veranstalter, harzlandung.de. Noch dazu ersonnen die Harzkinder fette-betten.de, eine Kampagne, die auf stylishe Unterkünfte in der Region aufmerksam macht. Die Anerkennung blieb nicht aus: Sie wurden als „Kreativpioniere Niedersachsen” ausgezeichnet und gewannen den Innovationspreis der Stadt Göttingen.
Inzwischen sei der Harz so stark im Kommen, dass der Landstrich „das neue Sylt sei”, wie Dietrich Kühne keck behauptet. „Zu uns ziehen vor allem Holländer, die sich darüber beklagen, dass es in den Niederlanden kein Grün mehr gäbe”, meint er zufrieden. „Denn die Immobilienpreise sind hier noch sehr günstig.”
Auch die Wirtschaft hat an der Image-Arbeit Interesse, denn statt Arbeitslosigkeit herrscht hier vielerorts Fachkräftemangel. Darüber, ob dem Team wohl jemals die Ideen ausgehen, muss man sich keine Sorgen machen: Per Wettbewerb wurde ein Harzer Nationalgericht gekürt, der „Wilde Stinker” (eine Wildcurrywurst mit Kräutern und Harzer Käse), und auch eine App ist in Arbeit.
Wir verabschieden uns von den einfallsreichen Lokalpatrioten und machen uns auf über die Berge in den östlichen Teil der Region. Dem quirligen Mazda CX-5 mit seinem dynamischen Fahrverhalten bereitet die abwechslungsreiche Berg- und Talfahrt spürbar Vergnügen. Schon auf der Autobahn hat der SUV seine Stärken ausspielen können — Stichwort Spurassistent und Active Cruise Control —, doch nun besticht er mit einer temperamentvollen Kurvenfreudigkeit, die die Verwandschaft zum Mazda MX-5 eindeutig erkennen lässt.
Die zwei von der Talsperre
Unvermittelt zieht Nebel auf. Urplötzlich wirkt der Wald wie verwunschen, und es nimmt kaum wunder, dass der mittelalterliche Aberglaube die Legende ersann, der Landstrich rund um den Brocken herum sei von Hexen heimgesucht. Mit Hexenwerk hat unser nächstes Ziel zwar nichts zu tun. Allerdings wird uns die Megaswing von Harzdrenalin ein ähnliches Maß an Furcht und Schrecken einjagen. Über der Rappbodetalsperre haben sich die Brüder Maik und Stefan Berke — auch sie selbstverständlich hier geboren — einen Traum erfüllt: Hoch über dem Stausee erstreckt sich eine 483 Meter lange Seilh.ngebrücke, zur Zeit ihrer Fertigstellung die längste der Welt. Wer das Abenteuer sucht, findet es hier.
Auf einer Mega-Zipline (der längsten Europas) saust man mit bis zu 80 Sachen über das Wasser. Besonders Unerschrockene holen sich ihren Kick auf der Giga-Swing: Dabei fällt man von der Brücke steil in die Tiefe, um einem Pendel gleich hin- und herzubaumeln.
„Die Idee kam uns auf einer stundenlangen Autofahrt”, erzählt Stefan Berke. „Wir hatten vor, uns im Harz mit einem Freizeitangebot selbstständig zu machen, aber wir wollten nicht diesen hier so weit verbreiteten Wandertourismus. Stattdessen wollten wir Action reinbringen.”
Die Brüder waren schon lange Neuseeland-Fans gewesen und hatten im Internet gesehen, was es dort für ein Angebot gibt: von Ziplines und Megaswings zu Schnellbooten bis hin zu Base-Jumping. Bis zum Erfolg war es allerdings ein langer Weg. Die Ausgaben waren hoch, die Bürokratie langsam, auch beim Einkommen Fehlanzeige.
„Zwischenzeitlich war es so klamm, dass ich sogar mein Auto und meine Gitarrensammlung verkaufen musste”, erinnert sich Stefan. Doch ausgerechnet ihr Bankmanager ermutigte sie immer wieder dazu weiterzumachen. Am Schluss hat sich der lange Atem gelohnt: Harzdrenalin ist inzwischen so erfolgreich, dass demnächst der Parkplatz für die Besucher aus aller Welt erweitert werden soll. Auch eine „schicke Gastronomie” soll kommen — den Brüdern schwebt ein gehobenes Bankett auf der Brücke vor, hoch über dem See bei Sonnenuntergang. „Für die Kellner eine ganz neue Herausforderung”, schmunzelt Stefan. Ob es da oben auch den „Wilden Stinker“ geben wird?
Hello London: do I know you?
After almost a quarter of a century, it sometimes feels as if I’m personally acquainted with every lamp post, traffic light and newsagent. How wrong I was! Covering Yonda, London’s new innovative sight-seeing tour, for smart magazine I gleaned all manner of interesting nuggets on our fair city – and fell in love all over again.
After almost a quarter of a century, it sometimes feels as if I’m personally acquainted with every lamp post, traffic light and newsagent. How wrong I was! Covering Yonda, London’s new innovative sight-seeing tour, for smart magazine I gleaned all manner of interesting nuggets on our fair city – and fell in love all over again.
Blog: Why I love magazines
Ok, I’ll admit it: I love magazines. That doesn’t mean I’m some kind of dinosaur enamoured with unfashionable print – although print still has an impact and role all of its own. What I mean is that I like the idea of a magazine: a place for information, ideas, thoughts and entertainment all centred on a particular subject, or aimed at a particular community.
Because they focus on a shared interest, magazines have a personal, warm tone of voice. They’re authentic and human – at their very best, their readers will love and connect with them with an emotional depth other forms communications rarely inspire.
All of these principles apply to online just as well as to print. When I edited the Engine Room, I approached editorial planning just like a magazine editor would. The ability to share and engage are strengths unique to online. But without a narrative, a strong concept and editorial direction, there’s a risk that bits of content merely dissipate in the ether.
This is where a great content strategy comes in. It’s the strategy that defines the over-arching message, groups it into themes, then identifies individual stories to hang off them. If these stories are told in a consistent tone of voice, the resulting content will be instantly recognisable. Add craftsmanship and creative flair, and your audience will love hearing from you and your brand.
Bavarian beast
The beast springs to life, revving up menacingly before settling into an ominous burble reminiscent of a 1980s rally quattro. It’s the growling timbre of Audi’s famed five-cylinder turbo-charged powerplant – as unmistakable as that of a whisky-voiced rock star warming up his vocal cords before his next performance.
A new iteration of a legendary Audi, a delightful and justly renowned photographer in Steffen Jahn, and a deserted proving ground all to myself – the day I got a preview of the 400hp Audi RS3 will stay in my memory for a long time to come.
Read the feature here: Audi RS3 first drive
Audi RS3: Bavarian beast
A Night at the Museum
No amount of schnitzel can compensate for shooting until daybreak twice in a row – but seeing the result made it all worth it in the end. In this video, shot by the consummate pros of the The Progress Film Company, zoom-zoom’s editor and deputy editor Luke Ponsford and Sachin Rao are locked into Walter Frey’s recently opened Mazda Classic Museum – together with me, of course. With no-one around, the three of us get a chance to look at some of our favourite historic motors.
Art Direction by Matthew Reynolds (who stayed up even later than us, the “talent”), and thanks to Anna Muggeridge for keeping the show on the road and coming to the rescue with her anti-shine cosmetic brush-thing!
At the “hospital for things”
I rediscover the virtues of make-do-and-mend at London’s Repair Café.
Wenn es Krankenhäuser für Gegenstände gäbe, wäre das Goodlife Centre eine aparte Privatklinik – mit Alison Winfield-Chislett als resoluter und kompetenter Chefärztin.
Hands up if you’ve ever thrown away an object because it was easier (and, we think, cheaper) to go out and buy a replacement. But what if you could re-learn the lost skills of make-do-and-mend – solving a problem, saving money and the planet at the same time? The Repair Café in London at the Goodlife Centre teaches just that – here’s how I fared when I came to fix a broken vacuum. Like all smart features, this is available in English and German.
Photography: Julian Love.
Content and copywriting. In English and German. 