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7 hours agoHarry's Hofbrau Is a Late-Night Throwback for $20 Steak Dinners | KQED
Harry's Hofbrau offers a nostalgic dining experience with standout dishes like Santa Maria-style tri tip and classic mashed potatoes.
"Nostalgia is my favorite feeling," said Madison Feely '26, who referenced childhood classics including "Where the Wild Things Are" and "Little Women" in her collection, "Homebody." She emphasized that her designs celebrate a well-lived childhood, honoring the authors and illustrators who allow her to relive it each time she opens their books.
Billy Idol rode the tide of punk to new wave in the late 70s and early 80s, and then gambled on a move to the US; there he found fledgling 24-hour music video channel MTV, avid for content and always turned on by a self-destructive bad boy, which made him a big name.
The film distils the Blytonesque spirit of adventure and outdoorsy fun... and transfers it to a new world in which all generations are longing to escape electronic devices and AI.
I love reading about bands. I've read the AllMusic reviews of my favorite albums multiple times over. If my Apple Music selection has a writeup to go with, I'll read it. And I can read a good band book in a matter of hours. I'm not a professional nostalgia whore, but reading about these bands really does put me back in that time, and in that headspace. Like the music itself! I can't get enough of that particular high.
Cool Spot first appeared in 1987 to try to refresh the brand's image. The character was essentially an anthropomorphic version of the red dot in the 7Up logo. In commercials, the dot transformed into a tiny animated figure with sunglasses, sneakers, and a very cool 'tude. His chilled-out personality fit neatly into the brand's long-running "Uncola" positioning, which sought to frame 7Up as the cool and quirky alternative to traditional colas.
The category's been going around social media for a bit, but there's even a domain exclusively for Cigarette Mom Rock. There, the meaning of the genre is described as a "feminine counterpart to 'divorced dad rock,'" but is also meant to conjure up images of your own hard-working '90s mom, driving you to baseball practice with the windows down and a cigarette in one hand.
A decade and a half ago during their prime, they should have fought two or three times, producing a series or trilogy for the history books; two of the greatest to ever step into the ring meeting to crown the best fighter of their generation. The offensive relentlessness of Pacquiao against the defensive genius of Mayweather. It could have been Muhammad Ali-Joe Frazier-type stuff.
Helping people to reconnect with old memories, viewers are transported to their local corner shop, school playgrounds and childhood cupboards. "I think this project has struck a chord because there's a particular interest in hand drawn designs of the past in the current age of AI where human effort is at an all-time low. Now the first thought is 'I'll get AI to do that', rather than commissioning an illustrator," says Chris.
The snow day email arrives before dawn, glowing softly on my phone. Even after all these years, that early morning message still feels like a small miracle a quiet signal that the city has agreed to pause. As a child, it felt like winning a secret lottery. As an adult and a school principal, the feeling hasn't left me.
I particularly love it when fictional characters have visibly aged. There's a broken humanity that you don't get with flawless, collagen-rich skin. You sense you could talk to them about your sciatica and they'd get it. I got that feeling with the new series of Scrubs (Disney+, from Thursday 26 February), a show I once mainlined on E4. Scrubs was as comforting as tea and toast. Surprisingly malleable, too.
Sunday roast at six o'clock sharp. The smell of gravy wafting from the kitchen. Everyone seated around the same table, no exceptions. The clatter of cutlery on proper plates, not a phone in sight. If you grew up in a boomer household, this scene probably triggers some serious nostalgia. But describe it to today's kids, and they'd look at you like you're describing life on another planet.
For free, you could play on the Disney website (now miraculously semi-intact here) and take a virtual tour through Lizzie McGuire's closet. Much like Lizzie herself, you too could build a wardrobe of the most radioactively insane outfits. Floral-print midi skirt and leopard-print top. Pink tank top with a tie-dye heart and a teeny denim skirt with a brown fringe belt. Spiky half-updo with a purple headband. A red purse with a photo of a bunch of dogs on it. (Lizzie did not have a dog.)
As technology distracts, polarizes and automates, people are still finding refuge on analog islands in the digital sea. The holdouts span the generation gaps, uniting elderly and middle-aged enclaves born in the pre-internet times with the digital natives raised in the era of online ubiquity. They are setting down their devices to paint, color, knit and play board games. Others carve out time to mail birthday cards and salutations written in their own hand.
If you don't want to commit to yellow floral wallpaper or invest in an avocado-green oven, we invite home cooks to consider the ceramic frog sponge holder. These frog figurines were popular in the '70s and '80s, situated beside the kitchen sink to hold sponges or dish scrubber pads in their wide-open mouths. It's admittedly kitschy, but charmingly straddles the intersection of playful fun and practical utility.
Baby naming is big business. In the pre-internet days, there were books filled with names and their origins and meanings. Then perhaps driven by '80s babies who remember what it's like to be in a homeroom with two other Jennifers, lists of names became popular online. These days, parents turn to social media, apps and even baby name consultants to help them choose the perfect name for their little one.
Exactly what makes a dive bar is a matter of great debate. Whether there's graffiti in the bathroom stalls or a jukebox in a dimly lit corner, one universal quality is that a dive bar's character comes from age. So it might raise some eyebrows that a "pop-up dive bar" is coming to Alexandria in March, and running through the summer.
A weekend break: what does that really mean? It's an escape from reality; often, somewhere with a mountain of pillows and a bath you can float in. It's room service, no washing up and pressed sheets. There are times when the full hotel treatment is divine; life changing, even. Exactly what you need. But, right now, a different kind of break is creeping into our collective consciousness - and it's anything but polished.
You know that ache you get when you stumble across evidence of your past self being genuinely, effortlessly happy? It's not that you want to go back. Not really. I think what kills you is the proof staring back at you - proof that you were once capable of feeling that alive, that connected, that certain about where you belonged in the world.
Soda fountains were once a common fixture in pharmacies, and people truly thought that fizzy drinks could really cure their ailments. In the early 20th century, though, soda fountains took on their own identity. Throughout Prohibition, bars serving alcoholic cocktails and beers were no longer an option, so soda fountains, still often located in drugstores, stepped in as fun places to drink and socialize.
A magazine sent me to the ATP festival at Pontins in Camber Sands to interview the Beastie Boys of noise, Wolf Eyes. The interview fell to pieces when the band, in a state of great psychic refreshment, all wearing Manowar T-shirts, refused to stop watching a Manowar DVD and signalled they would only answer questions if they related to Manowar. The rest of the day was exemplary one of the best ever walking on the beach, visiting record shops.