Jann Schwarz

Jann Schwarz is a friend of WITI. Originally from the Engadine Valley in Switzerland, he now runs The B2B Institute at LinkedIn, a think tank helping companies do more interesting creative work to accelerate their growth. Elsewhere, he is a traveler, ravenous reader, connector, bon vivant, and as you will read here, a bandana and vintage connoisseur. We are pleased to have him on the page today. -Colin (CJN) Jann here. By necessity more so than by choice, bandanas as make-shift face masks have become a pandemic fashion item. It’s yet another surprising turn in the long and storied history of the humble cotton square garment, which has had a unique and diverse representation in global and American culture for centuries.The origin of the word bandana (or alternatively spelled bandanna) comes from the Hindi and Urdu bāṅdhnū meaning tie-dyeing, cloth so dyed. The garment itself has a history that can be traced back to South Asia and the Middle East in the late 1600s. From there it was brought back by the British East India Company and soon produced in Scottish mills, including in the paisley pattern which originates in Asia, but took its Western name from the Scottish town of Paisley.In the late 1700s Martha Washington, had a souvenir bandana made featuring the likeness of her Commander-in-Chief husband, which popularized the printed bandana as a political campaign poster and later advertising medium.With the migration out west in the 1800s, bandanas became an inexpensive and versatile tool for protection from the sun, cold, and dust for cowboys, miners and railway workers. Most early bandanas of that period were dyed with Turkey Red dyes and imported from Scotland, and later manufactured in Rhode Island.In the 20th century, the predominant American brand was Elephant Brand, which can easily be identified by the animal logo, which started with its trunk down and then was changed to up post-1950s.In the second half of the 20th century the bandana became a symbol for different subcultures—from the outlaw motorcycle gangs to 1970s gay flagging codes and the LA Crips (blue) and Bloods (red) street gangs.It later moved into Hip Hop, from Tupac to A$AP Rocky, whose yellow bandana had its own twitter feed for a while.Most recently, as one would expect from a country partial to denim and other Americana, the Japanese have been obsessed with bandana-inspired fashion. A fine example is the brand KAPITAL, whose delightfully wacky bandanas and bandana jackets are treasured by aficionados.There is even a museum in Japan devoted to the Elephant Brand history, located next to the Kapital store in Kojima, Okayama.Why is this interesting?Bandanas are perfect in so many ways. Inexpensive, unassuming, functional, versatile and yet also subversively flamboyant. They signal all kinds of cultural subtext, depending on the wearer. Bandanas are also great to collect because they don’t cost much and don’t take up much space.I am by no means a serious bandana collector who fetishizes over tiny details, but I do enjoy a good vintage bandana for its softness and delicate, faded color. I find wearing them strangely comforting, though I was strictly a neck man until my pandemic mullet had to be tamed during Peloton sessions—a very 2020 scenario. My personal fondness for bandanas started with my childhood in the Swiss Alps, where bandanas were a household staple as a hiking and skiing accessory, so there may be a Proustian madeleine thing going on for me. But my love for the cotton squares really blossomed after a chance encounter with Scott Corey, a charismatic former cowboy and subsequent vintage Western clothing dealer and collector. Scott sold me three dozen or so exquisite examples from the 50s and 60s and taught me the basics (such as trunk up or down). Sadly, Scott passed away last year before I could visit his Santa Fe Vintage showroom. Luckily his associate Teo Griscom is carrying on with the business so I’ll definitely be paying an in-person visit post-pandemic.Teo currently has some lovely vintage red bandanas for sale, with all proceeds benefiting the Navajo Nation. (JMS)Lyric of the Day:Left Los Angeles a short while agoFlew 'cross the country back to BuffaloWalked around through the sleet and the snowWith a red bandana on my headRandy Newman, “Red Bandana”, from the 1988 Album “Land of Dreams” (JMS)Quick links: A dive into Japanese interiors in the FT (CJN)On India/Chinese border skirmishes h/t Naveen (CJN)No one is living on Dubai’s man-made islands (CJN)Thanks for reading,Noah (NRB) & Colin (CJN)—Why is this interesting? is a daily email from Noah Brier & Colin Nagy (and friends!) about interesting things. If you’ve enjoyed this edition, please consider forwarding it to a friend. If you’re reading it for the first time, consider subscribing (it’s free!).

Why is this interesting? - The Bandana Edition

Jann Schwarz (JS) is a WITI contributor and bon vivant from the Engadin valley. He wrote an exceptional piece on bandanas, which if you are a new subscriber you should be sure to read pronto. -Colin (CJN)Jann here. The Swiss Army is world-famous. Not so much for its fighting skill, but for the very high-quality standards of its procurement officers. Not unlike the Japanese, well-made things are an obsession for the Swiss. The legendary pocket knife given to Swiss Army officers (and NASA astronauts) has turned its manufacturer Victorinox into a global luggage-licensing juggernaut. But what about the other gear? Much of it was designed so well in order to function in a harsh Alpine winter environment. Maybe it was the dysfunction of power grids and the hidden fragility of busted water heaters laid bare by the recent polar vortex calamity in the US that made me think of this. Or maybe, stuck inside my Brooklyn apartment on snowy days, I just long for the virgin powder and majestic vistas of the Swiss Alps, where I grew up. Browsing through a nicely illustrated book on Alpine Cooking (a recent gift from friends) has sent me off into escapist reveries during endless Zoom calls.I have been daydreaming about sunny winter afternoons under cloudless skies spent on the terraces of ski hut-type restaurants in the Engadin Valley: enjoying the view and indulging in the hearty cuisine of Engadiner Gerstensuppe (barley soup), bratwurst, venison stew, and Apfelstrudel. I miss favorite haunts like Mouttas Muragl, Val Roseg, or the swanky El Paradiso.Why is this interesting? And what does it have to do with Swiss Army gear? Well, I remembered that growing up, one of the quirks of these Alpine outdoor dining experiences was that they would provide you with sheepskin rugs to sit on, and old surplus Swiss Army blankets to fend off the cold (see image below).Unable to get to the mountains, I figured the mountains could move to me if I tracked down a Swiss Army blanket. With it, I could sit on the patio furniture of my rooftop in the snow, heated by fragrant pinon wood burning in my Solo stove. Sipping gluhwein I would pretend that the Williamsburg waterfront condo buildings were Alpine peaks. Call it pandemic LARPing. It is the unique texture and smell of these blankets that has stuck in my mind. They are brown with a red stripe and a Swiss white cross and are made of thick felted wool. And they always seem to have the slightly musty but not unpleasant odor of something that has been stored in a basement or a horse stable for a long time. As it turns out, that smell is a tell-tale sign of their collective origin story. These blankets are a relic from a time when the army played an outsized role in the Swiss collective imagination. Unlike all of its neighbors, Switzerland survived World War II fairly unscathed. Local public opinion at the time attributed this to the Swiss Army’s immediate mobilization against possible invasion by Nazi Germany based on a strategy called The National Redoubt. This envisioned a defensive retreat into an impregnable complex of mountain fortifications that would deny an aggressor the essential passage over the Alps by controlling the major mountain passes and railway tunnels. Historians may disagree over how accurate this point of view really is, and how many financial dealings and other backroom maneuvers kept the country out of the war. Nevertheless, the Swiss military developed an obsession with holding and defending the Alps that outlasted the Cold War and bordered on paranoia about a Soviet invasion or a nuclear attack. This involved massive infrastructure like bunkers for the entire population, with bizarre details like anti-tank gun turrets disguised as quaint chalets and fighter plane hangars hidden inside mountains. The Swiss had an enormous standing militia-system army, and more small guns owned per capita than any other country except Yemen and the United States. Until 1973, horse-mounted Swiss dragoons were the last non-ceremonial horse cavalry in Europe, as were Swiss bicycle infantry battalions, until 2001. For a small country of fewer than 8 million people, 750,000 troops were maintained until 1995, when a gradual ramp-down to a more reasonable 80,000 troops by 2020 began.Such collective martial mentality required large supplies of everything, including hundreds of thousands of blankets stored in hundreds of army depots and bunkers. At the turn of the Millennium, over 300,000 blankets were still in use, and with the downsizing of the army, many ended up being sold as surplus, which is when the ski restaurants must have picked them up. They are remarkable examples of craftsmanship because they are designed for decades of continuous use and made in Switzerland, woven of ultra-rugged pure wool. Until the 1970s they were hand-finished, with the year of production painstakingly felted into the wool, along with the obligatory Swiss white cross. Their ultra-utilitarian, modernist design and the fact that they are extremely warm and indestructible make them perfectly suited for hipster survivalists and Park Slope glampers, a suddenly underserved market following Best Made Co’s ill-timed demise. There is a brisk trade on Etsy, but If you think of getting one, beware of cheap imitations made elsewhere. And be mindful that the vintage originals differ in key details from the more recent Swiss-made new versions that are available at the excellent Manufactum website: a lack of the hand-finish and most crucially, the absence of the authentic musty musk that can only be achieved by spending a half-century in a bunker.PS: To complete the full look, there is also an original Swiss Army bicycle which is available to civilians and guaranteed to turn heads among the Brooklyn-based creative classes, and Monocle Magazine subscribers worldwide.PPS: For a deep dive into this quietly fascinating topic, read La Place de la Concorde Suisse, Pulitzer-Prize-winning non-fiction legend John McPhee's rich, journalistic study of the Swiss Army's role in Swiss society, written in the early 1980s. (JS)__Partner Post: WITI x The BrowserWith the flood of newsletters, there’s a lot of similar looking links floating around. Enter The Browser. It is a beautiful synthesis of articles you won’t find elsewhere, which opens your brain and your references. Like what we aim to do with WITI, the Browser team are obsessed with quality first and the finest rather than the latest. So there’s no peg to trending topics, but rather high signal, good links. We highly recommend subscribing. Sign up with 20 percent off with a special WITI code by clicking here and using WITI20 at checkout. (CJN)___Quick Links: Official stream of the Perseverance lander (CJN)Ella drops a knit collection (CJN)Bill Gates: my green manifesto (CJN)Thanks for reading,Noah (NRB) & Colin (CJN) & Jann (JS)—Why is this interesting? is a daily email from Noah Brier & Colin Nagy (and friends!) about interesting things. If you’ve enjoyed this edition, please consider forwarding it to a friend. If you’re reading it for the first time, consider subscribing (it’s free!).

The Swiss Army Edition

Jann Schwarz (JS) is a WITI contributor and bon vivant from the Engadin valley. He wrote an exceptional piece on bandanas and also Swiss army blankets, which if you are a new subscriber you should be sure to read pronto. -Colin (CJN)Jann here. Methuselah, Salmanazar, Nebuchadnezzar. Does this ring a bell? No? Well, how about Jeroboam? Are we getting warmer? If the names sound familiar, maybe it’s because you are an avid reader of the Old Testament. Or you recognize them because you lead a life so charmed that you are at least peripherally aware of very large-format wine bottles, the subject of this deliberately decadent, exceedingly effete, effervescently escapist edition of WITI.Even if you don’t know the names, you may have been fortunate enough to partake of a Magnum or Jeroboam in happier times, hopefully at a wedding, a birthday, or a very fancy baby shower. Or maybe even during a slippery 2 AM slide into decadence at a Las Vegas nightclub years ago. We won’t judge you. Named mostly after biblical kings to invoke grandeur, large-format wine bottles date back to the 18th century. In recent years they have become particularly popular for Champagne, due to the sparkling wine’s association with public celebrations and luxury in general. You have probably seen TV footage of Formula One racing drivers celebrating victories by spraying each other with Jeroboams of whichever champagne brand happens to be the sponsor. This advertising worked, as it’s a straight line from there to the conspicuous consumption of sparkler-illuminated “bottle trains” in high-end nightclubs. Carried in with great fanfare by attractive waitstaff, they are an ideal way for oligarchs and billionaire-adjacents to flex their wealth. Even more effective than gold-leaf steaks for fleecing patrons, the bottle train racket enables Vegas club owners to charge $180K bar tabs at the end of a particularly debauched night at Tryst.According to WITI’s forensic accounting analysis of said Tryst 2011 bar tab, a Nebuchadnezzar of Veuve Clicquot, one 15 liter giant bottle equivalent to 20 regular bottles of VC Yellow Label, clocked in at twenty-five grand at the Wynn nightclub, plus 20% gratuity. That’s $1500 per regular-bottle-amount of champagne that wholesales for under $30. Not a modestly sized markup. But then again, immodesty is the name of the game, as nobody buys this stuff in a club to get a bargain, or to slowly savor the bubbles. It’s peacock feathers in liquid form.This may be just as well, since the quality benefit of large formats is questionable. The more reasonably-sized Magnums and Jeroboams are said to be good for very fine wines with long aging potential. The surface-to-air ratio between the wine and the bottom of the cork is called ullage. The amount of ullage in small bottles can oxidize the wine, causing it to age prematurely. This is why you should think twice about ordering that half bottle of vintage red in a restaurant. Very large formats of biblical proportions develop at a slower pace of maturation, but their corks are usually hand-cut to fit the larger mouth of the bottle. This means there is significant potential for air leakage that will spoil the wine in the long term unless it's an ultra-premium bottling. Besides, anything above a Jeroboam is so over the top and hard to maneuver that you really need a team of professional waiters to do it for you. Unless you want to end up like this schmuck. Why is this Interesting?“Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess,” wrote Oscar Wilde. Large format wine bottles are a kind of ludicrous, expensive visual joke, and they have next to no utilitarian value. They’re a bad idea I’ve always found irresistible. That is, at least up to a comparatively modest Jeroboam size, usually bought at a wine merchant for a reasonable sum. I am Swiss and we like our excess conducted in a measured, orderly fashion. If I were a futurist, I would predict large formats as a major H2 2021 luxury trend. Most of the world has just spent an entire year in forced moderation, acting as reasonably and cautiously as possible, and avoiding large social gatherings at all cost. The braggy, Bacchanalian vibe of large format wine bottles are the pure antithesis of all that, because they embody the spirit of getting carried away. Large format bottles bring the fun because they signal fun. As harbingers of convivial merriment during large festive gatherings, they are a kind of fetish for what we’ve all been missing during the past annus horribilis. I predict more than a handful of Jeroboams and Nebuchadnezzars will get cracked open as the summer temperatures and COVID vaccination rates start to rise…And it’s not just about showing off, at least outside of the club context. There is scientific evidence that the format of food and drink consumed quite radically changes the way we perceive its taste. Chocolate with rounded corners tastes sweeter, and champagne poured from a massive bottle tastes like you’re living the good life.I would go as far as to speculate that a love for large formats of food and drink is genetically imprinted on us from back in the hunter-gatherer days, when feast or famine was not just a figure of speech. This thread carries through to Homeric feasts, where dozens of oxen were slaughtered to mark a victory in battle in ancient Greece. And from there it’s on to our more recent farm-dwelling ancestors, preparing a whole lamb or goat on a spit only once a year for a holy day dinner celebration.The good news is that you too can join in the fun, without going too much into debt. Magnums are widely available at every price point, and a Jeroboam of decent red (4 regular bottles) can be had for under $150. I promise it never fails to elicit a lot of excitement at the dinner table.If this still sounds too pompous and flashy for your taste, you may well have a point, and I am grateful to you for reading this far. But perhaps consider substituting wine with a more egalitarian draught keg—the Jeroboam of beer—at a backyard barbecue. In the end, no matter what we’re drinking this summer in the company of friends will likely taste better than it ever has before. (JS)Friend’s Newsletter of the DayAre you interested in brief, sometimes humorous nonfiction stories told in comics? Check out my newsletter, Drawing Links. I'm Edith Zimmerman, and some themes I return to are: running, knitting, being online, and contemplating existence. If you like it, WITI readers get 20% off a paid subscription (originally $5/month or $40/year) by using this special link. Thanks! (EZ)Quick Links:How to be an agent of chaos (CJN)A new national park in central Georgia (CJN)Behind the scenes at a five-star hotel (CJN)Thanks for reading,Noah (NRB) & Colin (CJN) & Jann (JS)—Why is this interesting? is a daily email from Noah Brier & Colin Nagy (and friends!) about interesting things. If you’ve enjoyed this edition, please consider forwarding it to a friend. If you’re reading it for the first time, consider subscribing (it’s free!).

The Nebuchadnezzar Edition

If you’ve been a longtime reader, please consider upgrading your free subscription to the monthly paid tier. You also get access to the weekend edition, full of deep cuts we hold back for paid readers. We very much appreciate your support. Subscribe nowJann Schwarz (JS) is a WITI contributor and bon vivant from the Engadin valley. He wrote an exceptional piece on bandanas, which, if you are a new subscriber, you should be sure to read pronto. -Colin (CJN)The Omotenashi EditionDuring a trip to Japan in November 2014, I was lucky enough to snag an affordable rate for an extended stay at the legendary Park Hyatt Tokyo, a WITI insider favorite and something of a modern classic in the contemporary luxury hotel space. Many a seasoned traveler considers it an ideal place to nurse a jet-lag hangover—what with the late-night jazz bar and the stunning penthouse pool. Just be sure to wear your mandatory swim cap at all times when taking an early morning dip, or the staff will remind you.The trip also included a weekend excursion to Kyoto before returning for a second stay at the Park Hyatt. In my jet-lagged haze upon checkout at the end of the first stay, I forgot a jacket and a pair of shoes in my room before catching the bullet train to Kyoto. When I returned the following Monday, I was astonished to find them still untouched in that very same hotel room upon check-in. This seemed very strange. Had they not rented out this room to someone else? Had the Park Hyatt staff been uncharacteristically, unthinkably negligent in cleaning the place? How very odd.As I sat down on my bed to ponder this, I was struck by a sudden, startling realization that made me jump and stand there upright, as if frozen, for a second, before rushing to the door to check the number of my room. I couldn’t believe it, but it was true. I was in a similar-sized room, but it was on a totally different floor. I exhaled sharply.There was only one simple and devastatingly elegant explanation. The hotel staff had discovered my left-behind items, noted down their exact location in the room for “lost and found” purposes, and then realized upon checking their records that I was due to return in just a few days. Without even a mention they had simply put my stuff back into my new room, in exactly the same location, in the morning before I checked in. There is a name for this kind of magic—it’s called “Omotenashi”.Why is this interesting?Clearly pulling off a feat like this is only an option for world-class hotels, and yet there are probably well over a hundred places in the world that have the ability. But here is the truly exceptional part—there was no note. Any Western luxury hotel capable of this level of hospitality would have had a little elegant note on heavy stationary, savoring the moment in an understandably self-satisfied fashion. Something like “We noticed you left these items during your last stay, please allow us to reunite you with them. Sincerely, Your St Regis Butler.” Or they would have called and offered to FedEx the things to you—a nice gesture, but still distracting for the guest. Instead, the Park Hyatt crew chose to underplay it, because that makes it “Omotenashi”.Omotenashi as a concept has been popularized recently in the run-up to the Tokyo Olympics, which were supposed to showcase this very Japanese version of hospitality. Like many things Japanese, it is not easily defined or translated, but it evolves around bringing your full, authentic self to serve a guest, and doing so in a humble, non-ostentatious way. It is about a lack of pretence, and showing no expectation of reciprocity. According to Michelin, “‘Omote’ means public face – an image you wish to present to outsiders. ‘Nashi’ means nothing. Combining them means ‘service from the bottom of the heart’ – honest, no hiding, no pretending.” It is about exerting maximum effort to seem effortless and completely unassuming—“less but better”, to quote Dieter Rams, who also said that “the best design is as little design as possible”, another apt quote for this concept. In essence, Omotenashi is the refreshing opposite of the showy, theatrical, performative luxury that is standard across much of Western luxury. Unlike the VIP perks of frequent traveler status that bring out the entitled jerk in many of us, Omotenashi is good for the soul. It nurtures our intrinsically motivated, non-maximizer self. It feels calming, soothing, reassuring, and it makes you feel present in the moment, mindful that we should all aspire to need less, not more. (JS) Quick Links:I piece I wrote a long time ago in Skift re: the arrival at Park Hyatt Tokyo (CJN)The best ergonomic chairs according to doctors (CJN) [Also, shout-out to The Ergonomics Edition. - NRB]Understanding the gut biome (CJN)--WITI x McKinsey:An ongoing partnership where we highlight interesting McKinsey research, writing, and data.The payments landscape. The payments world took an economic hit from the pandemic, just as others did. Indeed, in 2020, global payments revenues declined for the first time in 11 years. But today there’s reason for hope: the decline was smaller than anticipated, and indicators show a nominal rebound for 2021. The latest edition of McKinsey’s long-running global payments report helps to unpack the industry’s dynamics overall and looks closer at topics such as digital currency, transaction banking, and new revenue models. Check it out.--Thanks for reading,Noah (NRB) & Colin (CJN) & Jann (JS)—Why is this interesting? is a daily email from Noah Brier & Colin Nagy (and friends!) about interesting things. If you’ve enjoyed this edition, please consider forwarding it to a friend. If you’re reading it for the first time, consider subscribing.