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Written by Mary Ladd & Joe Andre Alam

PLAYBOY ASIA - Mushroom powder by way of Four Sigmatic is the new health craze Food fads in the social media age are inevitable and this time it’s coffee’s turn to get a makeover. Thanks to a new superfood company called Four Sigmatic, everyone from athletes to models are all about adding a double-extracted mushroom powder to your brew. Sure, at first read, it might sound unbelievable that a food you’ve had access to all along has such power, but not when you look at the endless positive studies and how other societies have and continue use them: They’re used daily in Asia, and have been used for centuries in Slavic countries for their proven ability to increase energy, fight tumors and support immunity. Ancient Romans actually used to refer to them as the “Food of the Gods.”

The powders listed on Four Sigmatic’s website are divided into, you guessed it, four options: (1) Reishi for better sleep, relaxation and fighting sickness; (2) Chaga for skin, hair and stress management; (3) Lion’s Mane for memory, concentration and digestion; and (4) Cordyceps for athletic performance, energy, sexual performance and libido. “That said, proceed with caution,” Four Sigmatic founder, Tero Isokauppila, jokes. Isokauppila is a Finnish-born, LA-based 13th-generation farmer who grew up foraging with his mother and later studied plant-based nutrition and chemistry at Cornell University. He credits a steady diet of mushrooms for keeping him from being sick for over a decade and also mentions that he naps on a mat made from nails, a modern form of acupressure, that helps him stay energized. Just like his product, Isokauppila is eccentric, but that seems to be what today’s consumers are into — going beyond the normal prescription medications and doctor’s visits in hopes maintaining a their youth. That’s why Moon Juice is an entrepreneurial force and kombucha is in such high demand it is even available in some gas stations now. Really, it’s not much of a surprise that just four years after its launch, Four Sigmatic’s retail products have spread to 55 countries and currently beat out the cold brew category in Amazon sales.

Four Sigmatic has become so popular, that it now has a brick and mortar location in the pseudo-hippie haven known as Venice, CA. Nestled in the Abbott Kinney enclave—betweenice cream shops, clothing boutiques and artisanal stores—is the world’s first ever mushroom coffee shop, The Shroom Room. Packets of mushroom coffee can be ordered to go with mild Central American Arabica beans. There’s also mushroom hot cocoa and a mushroom smoothie enhancer said to better sleep and boost brainpower and energy. Ceramic mushroom mugs and ninja pants line the shelves atop mushroom stools. While it’s all a bit gimmicky to the naked eye, Isokauppila opened the shop in a sincere effort to promote community inspired by his forest-covered birthplace. The staff is friendly—like genuinely friendly—and eager to tell customers about how mushroom can alter their daily lives.

In case you can’t make it to southern California, Isokauppilia also has a book called Healing Mushrooms: A Practical and Culinary Guide to Using Mushrooms for Whole Body Health (Penguin Random House). It’s got an average of 5 stars from 145 customer reviews and yes, as the title suggests, it too is all about his favorite fungus, with tips and a guide to the ten specific types of mushrooms that enhance whole-body health and sustain wellness. It also includes 50 recipes for mushroom-heavy salads, soups, cake and even bacon.

Obviously, Isokauppilia is mushroom obsessed, and his staff is mushroom obsessed too. Some could say maybe a bit too obsessed, but talk to anyone of them and we dare you to not at least question why you haven’t invested in some Reishi powder sooner. At the very least, we suggest you don’t knock it until you try it. The results of fungi consumption just might astonish you.

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Written by Candice Frederick & Joe Andre Alam

PLAYBOY ASIA - Playboy examines the agony and the ecstasy of an awards show that still can’t quite get it right. It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. That’s the best way to describe Sunday night’s confounding Golden Globe Awards, which patted itself on the back for its “diversity” while also reminding us that it won’t be straying too far away from the political status quo anytime soon.

It’s strange because, leading up to the ceremony—in a year when #MeToo and #TimesUp were part of the cultural zeitgeist—the Golden Globes seemed to be mildly interested in accommodating the demands of a woke TV and film audience. They hired Sandra Oh as the cohost of the evening, along with Andy Samberg. It was a move that stuffy conservatives may have considered “risqué” or “edgy.”

But weeks after this announcement, the Hollywood Foreign Press seemed hellbent on appeasing their buttoned-up stakeholders and baby-boomer audience with press statements implying that just because they hired an Asian-American host following a year when Asian talent flourished on the big screen, they were not going to get all political on us, OK? There would also be no mention of, say, Donald Trump, or Kevin Spacey, or the slew of other toxic male offenders—at least not from the hosts.
So, how do you tread that line of being a politically enlightened host and keeping the evening fun and entertaining? Well, as it turned out, by staging a round of flu shots for the (mostly repulsed) “liberal,” white Hollywood crowd. And by starting the evening with the two hosts double-downing on fun, lighthearted “jokes”—including, “Spike Lee! Mr. Do the Right Thing! Well, I’ll tell you who does the right thing: you, as a director. Lifelong fan, can’t wait to see what you do next”—that landed with a kerplunk. It was … cringey.

Thank goodness Oh knew to take a brief moment to genuinely reflect on the variety of diverse Asian talent on screen in 2018, which was met with what was probably the most on-brand Hollywood response from someone in the live audience: a loud laugh. Ironically, too, because that was the one time throughout Oh and Samberg’s monologue that wasn’t desperate for a punchline. And yet, there it was—for that one person, anyway.

Moving past the mostly awkward opening monologue, there were some truly great moments of cultural diversity among the winners that are worth celebrating. Oh herself finally—finally—won her first ever Golden Globe for her stunning performance on Killing Eve. And right before her big win, Regina King took home the coveted award for her heartbreaking portrayal in If Beale Street Could Talk. Gotta love that back-to-back winning streak for two of the most well-deserved women in Hollywood.

Likewise for the nominated men of color, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, which race-swapped the iconic superhero with an Afro-Latino lead, won for best animated film. Alfonso Cuarón was finally recognized for directing a film (the wonderful Roma) that does not star a white lead—though his Best Director win came in a category with only-male nominees. Darren Criss won for playing the hell out of gay serial killer Andrew Cunanan in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. Rami Malek prevailed for portraying the late, great queer icon Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody, and Mahershala Ali earned a Best Supporting Actor award for his performance as the gay musical genius Dr. Don Shirley in Green Book. So, kudos to the Hollywood Foreign Press for giving respect when it’s due—for a whole, maybe, 15 minutes in an exhaustive two-and-a-half hour ceremony.


But once again, this big step forward was met with several giant steps backward because the aforementioned Mercury biopic, which practically erased his queer and racial identity and also wasn’t good, had the audacity to win for Best Picture—Drama in a category where literally every other nominee was better: If Beale Street Could Talk, BlacKkKlansman, Black Panther and A Star Is Born. Oh, and the credited director of Bohemian Rhapsody, Bryan Singer, was accused of multiple cases of sexual assault in the past. Stay woke, Golden Globes.

And just so we’re all clear on where the Hollywood Foreign Press stands as far as diversity goes, the voters couldn’t stop showering Green Book with awards. In addition to Ali, the film—another one that pushes the queer identity of its co-lead character, a black man, to the background and reduces him to an elusive stereotype—won for Best Screenplay and Best Picture—Musical or Comedy. It’s a movie that’s been condemned by many critics of color, as well as Shirley’s own family, but clearly the Golden Globes isn’t going to let a little thing like cultural reverence get in the way of their own agenda.

Last night’s Golden Globes was merely the latest Hollywood attempt to get politically engaged without exacting any real change in its voting procedures or actual politics. Seeing how last year’s prevalent conversation around gender and racial equality took a backseat throughout last night’s ceremony and on the red carpet—save for one or two acceptance speeches—I can’t help but wonder how sincere the Hollywood Foreign Press is in its stride toward diversity. Only time will tell.
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Written by Zachary Schwartz & Joe Andre Alam

PLAYBOY ASIA - Inside the philosophy of the most famous Asian pick-up artist in the world. I’m waiting in a Manhattan diner to eat lunch with the most famous Asian “pick-up artist”—a man whose craft is seducing women, and teaching other men how to do the same—in the world, when a chunky, 5’5” 33-year-old gentlemen with a Fu Manchu mustache sits down next to me. “I’m JT Tran,” he says, extending his hand.

A short Asian guy, Tran does not exactly fit Western society’s archetype of a ladies man. “I’ll never be tall, dark and handsome,” he admits. “No one looks at me at first sight and thinks, ‘He’s the one.” What Tran does have though, is “game,” a concept as universally understandable yet undefinable as the Taoist “Dao.” Like the “Dao,” it can be mastered with time—at least that’s what Tran claims.

Tran’s Facebook is bedazzled with photos of him kissing and holding tall, beautiful women at high-end clubs around the world. He officially defines himself as a “dating coach,” and pens advice columns for LA Weekly, speaks at Ivy League universities, and runs “Asian Dating Bootcamps.” These three-day retreats allow virginal Asian males to study Tran’s secret methodology, “The ABCs of Attraction,” after which they are taken “into the field”, to clubs and malls, to practice techniques under his supervision.

Tran wasn’t always like this. He remembers being a shy middle child of a Vietnamese immigrant who could barely make eye contact with others. “Like most Asian American males, I was a late bloomer,” he says. “I didn’t kiss my first girl or go on my first date until I was 20. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing or how to make friends, so I mostly stayed home and read books.”

Photo of JT Tran, Courtesy of Levan TK for LA Weekly.

After college, Tran landed a job as a rocket scientist, literally, at NASA. At age 26, he had everything: a Mercedes, a six-figure salary, a seaside apartment on Hermosa Beach—and yet absolutely no one to share it with. No matter what he did, Tran couldn’t find a girlfriend. He recalls going to a speed dating event and saying ‘yes’ to all 60 girls he met with. “Not a single one said ‘yes’ back,” he says. “At that point, I realized that something wasn’t wrong with the 60 girls who turned me down, something was wrong with me. Somewhere along the line, maybe because of my Asian upbringing, I wasn’t taught the same social skills as everyone else.”

Tran, determined to lift the curse of his stereotype, attended a pick-up “bootcamp” run by pick-up artist Mystery. He then spent the next five years mired in the shadow world of night clubs and bars, applying, as he describes it, his “systems engineering” mind to his game. He started writing a blog, the “Asian Playboy Blog,” about his experiences. One of his readers was a Chinese-Canadian mother whose son, at 16, was so traumatized by bullies that he refused to make friends and had never been on a date. Desperate, she rang up Tran. “I told her, ‘Ma’am, I’m going to be the big brother he never had this weekend,” he remembers. And so the first “Asian dating bootcamp” was spoke into existence.

As a biracial first-generation Taiwanese kid from the Midwest, I understand the struggle. An Asian guy in America, among all demographics, can expect to have the lowest total average of sexual partners, three, in his lifetime. At the age of 18, nearly 75 percent of Asian-American guys are virgins, compared to 43 percent of other boys.

Any number of conspirators can be fingered for the emasculation of Asian men, but the media, which often portrays Asian men as weak, effeminate foreigners who rarely “get the girl,” plays a huge role. In the 1984 coming-of-age film Sixteen Candles, Asian student Long Duk Dong’s—whose every entrance is announced with a gong—romantic aspirations are seen as comic relief. Jet Li originally kissed Aaliyah at the end of Romeo Must Die—a 2000 action-film remake of “Romeo and Juliet”—but the scene tested so poorly with audiences that filmmakers were forced to remove it.

Racism comes from the outside, and after a while, from the inside. Growing up, I internalized stereotypes about who I was supposed to be: comic relief, academic co-conspirator, but never an American Romeo. By seventh grade, I was sitting in the back of my dad’s car, crying as I told him of my realization that “no girl will ever like me because I’m Asian.”

I eventually had positive experiences with romance and sex, but because they came so much later than that of my other friends, I always felt like I was playing catch-up on love. Many of my Asian friends still feel downright doomed. Their options are few: to accept a life of involuntary celibacy, embrace it, or—for those with money and a willingness to work with the dark arts—swallow the red pill and jump down the rabbit hole of pick-up artistry.

At the end of our meal, Tran invited me to attend one of his “Asian Dating Bootcamps,” which normally costs a little over $1500 to attend. He was eager to brag of its effectiveness. “I’ve had guys have their first kisses, I’ve had guys lose their virginities on this bootcamp,” he says. “People’s lives change in one weekend.”

Let’s face it—there are worse things than not getting laid. But the psychological effects of never having a mate, of never having anyone want you, can be devastating to any gender. Every yin needs a yang—that’s the essence of “Dao,” which literally translates to “the right way.” But for now, there was Tran.

The art of pick-up has been practiced for centuries, maybe forever. Seduction is a puzzle shared between species. Birds sing melodies, gorillas beat their chests, hooded seals blow huge red air sacs from their nostrils. Robert Greene writes about Ninon de Lenclos, the most infamous French courtesan of the 17th century, who advised a young Marquis to approach a certain countess with an “air of nonchalance” as to create a “state of emotional confusion that is a ‘prerequisite for successful seduction’”.

The modern pick-up community for men can be traced to Ross Jeffries, who wrote a 1992 book titled How To Get the Women You Desire Into Bed. Jeffries observed that the Sexual Revolution had liberated—for the first time in modern Western history—a massive, unmarried population of heterosexual women. While men watched their local Schwarzenneger effortlessly sleep with whomever he liked, the “AFC” —average frustrated chump—was left clueless as to how to compete in this new dating market, where traditional markers like religion and money mattered less and less.

Jeffries pinpointed traits like confidence, mystery, and the ability to make one feel safe—not just being a “nice guy”—as attractive to women, and taught associated conversational trees and body language to convey that. Empirical evidence shows that pick-up training does, in fact, improve men’s dating skills, though the dominant, aggressive approach practiced by many modern pick-up artists has been proven to work better on women with conservative views.

The internet is a sweltering jungle for subcultures, filled with life and shade, often evolving them into something more gigantic and dangerous. Much of the pick-up artist community today is made up of scummy white men who, among other transgressions, prey specifically on Asian women’s documented preference for white men, referring to them as a “cheat code.” Pick-up artists like Julian Blanc have bragged that a white man can do “whatever he wants” to Asian women, and films himself in Asia convincing girls to cheat on their boyfriends with him.

This makes Tran, as an Asian man teaching other Asian men, a unicorn in his field. He’ll willingly critique his peers while offering himself as their moderate alternative. “Ethics, unfortunately, is not a hallmark of our industry,” he says. “But, I think you can build up your confidence without tearing anyone down.”

I arrived one Friday afternoon to the Manhattan studio in which Tran would be conducting his three-day seminar. Each student was immediately given a thick, 300-page textbook: “The ABCs of Attraction by JT Tran.” In the book were jokes, conversation-starters, body-language diagrams, sine graphs illustrating the optimal flow of conversation when meeting a girl at the club, and so on.

The seven students stood up to introduce themselves. Mostly Asian, they ranged from 30-something entrepreneurs, to 20-something graduate students, to late-teens cooks. One was Will, a Chinese immigrant from Canada who had spiky hair, an eager face, and square-rimmed glasses that often flooded with fluorescent light. “God gave me so much talent in academics, but paralyzed me in social life,” he said in a heavy accent. The room murmured in solidarity.

For the next six hours, Tran went through the ABCs, starting with “A” for attraction, “B” for banter, going all the way to “F.” He taught the importance of posture, good eye contact, asking interesting questions, touch, and so forth. The students practiced introductions with the help of “Katie,” Tran’s 6-foot-tall assistant, and Jeff Khan, Tran’s Taiwanese apprentice.

After one particularly rough session in which Tran barked “Stop!” and proceeded to chew Will out on his total lack of a smile—“Don’t be creepy,” he admonished—he offered a story as encouragement to the group.

“I wasn’t always like this, guys,” Tran recalled. “Once, I was at the club, and I approached these four Asian girls and a blonde white girl. I thought that because she was with Asian girls, she would have liked Asian people, but as soon as I approached, she put her hand up. ‘Stop! We don’t like Asian guys,’ she said. So I walked away, whatever. Then I hit it off with this Latina girl. I brought her over to my friends, and my white friend puts his arm around me, looks at her and says: ‘What are you doing with this Asian guy! You know they have the smallest dicks in the world right!’ And, of course, it was all over from that.”

Tran paused. He wiped his forehead. “And you know what I did that night, guys? I went home and I cried. I cried and felt sorry for myself. But—and this is the important thing—I got up the next morning and I tried again.”

We met outside the club later that night and formed a huddle. Tran gave us last-minute advice: “Remember, we’re not here to get anyone drunk. You want to be sober, and you want them to be sober. And don’t form a sausage zone. Okay, go!” He yelled. As the group shuffled in, he remarked to me “When they clump together like that, I call it the Great Wall of Chinamen.”

At the club—a thumping, multicolored rooftop affair—I took a seat and watched Will approach a few women. The first girl forcefully rebuffed him. “Excuse me, can you give us some space,” she hissed, and turned back around. Will scratched his head and moved on. He walked up to another girl. “Hey, I’m Will. It’s really nice to meet you,” he spat out breathlessly, before she rolled her eyes and walked away.

Meanwhile, Tran was swaggering around in a fiery beige-and-scarlet suit. He walked up to a group of women walking in. “Hey, our table’s having a birthday today, why don’t you come and celebrate it with us?” He said. He lifted one of their hands, kissed it, and led them to our table.

The table became a sight to behold—five awkward Asian males surrounded by a group of chattering, attractive women in a club. Will put his arm around one of them, and she kissed him on the cheek. Another student was sloppily making out.

Tran came up to me. “Fobby power!” He declared, shaking his fist. “We’ve had bootcamps where there’ve been 10 Asian guys and 10 white girls at the table,” he said. “And literally, a circle of white guys will form and stare at us looking pissed off. Asian guys aren’t supposed to do this.”

It can be tempting to think of this as a story of revenge: Asian women have a 36 percent rate of out-marriage, the second-highest rate in the United States, mostly to white men. Asian men dating white women might satisfy a lust for evening the score, but it doesn’t end the karmically damned cycle of internalized racism. “I make it a point to tell my students to be open to women of color,” Tran tells me, and over the course of the night, he also brings Asian, Latina and black women to the table. “We Asian men hate being discriminated against because of our race, and we should not impose that on women ourselves.”

At the end of the night, we reconvened at a late-night Manhattan diner. The students swapped stories of first kisses, slow dances and trading digits—like high school boys after the bowling alley, fist-bumping for just getting a number.

“This is just the beginning,” Tran told me. The next day, the group would cover “Future”, the surprisingly placid “F” in ABCs of Attraction. Tran would talk about becoming a person that’s easy to fall in love with—having a fulfilling career, picking up interesting hobbies, continuing self-education. In short, becoming self-actualized. “You’re here to be in love,” he instructed. “To love a lot, or to love one.”

After the bootcamp, there is the option to go all the way down the rabbit hole—to continue paying Tran and become his apprentice, traveling the world with him, seducing women on an international level. “That takes, frankly and realistically,” he says, “a massive amount of discipline, persistence, and the ability to just push yourself physically and emotionally, day after day, night after night.”

But, Tran admits, “Most of my students grow into what would be considered ‘a decently successful white guy who has a few girlfriends in his life before he gets married.’ They’re no longer Asian guys who feel totally emasculated and like they’re going to die alone. They’re getting to the point, where they can say, ‘Hey, I’m just as cool, attractive and successful as my peers now. I no longer have this unfulfilling love and sex life. I’m finally in the norm of American society.’” 
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Written by Comedian Rachel Wolfson & Joe Andre Alam

PLAYBOY ASIA - Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) released their policy on traveling with cannabis and it’s a little...cloudy. As cannabis remains in this weird limbo between state and federal law, places like the LAX are enforcing state law to cover their own ass, but don’t get it twisted: This does not mean you can pull up to the airport and walk through security like Snoop Dogg (although that would be dope). According to the airport’s official site, “In accordance with Proposition 64, the Los Angeles Airport Police Department will allow passengers to travel through LAX with up to 28.5 grams of marijuana and 8 grams of concentrated marijuana. However, passengers should be aware that marijuana laws vary state by state and they are encouraged to check the laws of the states in which they plan to travel.”

So what the heck does that really mean? Prop 64 allows you to possess a certain amount of the drug as a recreational or medical user. Private property owners can decide whether or not they will allow you to bring cannabis onto their premises, which is similar to a restaurant policy. Are cannabis users at risk if we decide to travel with our medicine? We can’t forget that just this year our very own Attorney General, Jeff Sessions, doesn’t think good people smoke weed, but with all due respect Sesh, you can go fuck yourself. Half the country is getting high and the other half is watching us (while secretly getting high). That said, us cannabis users should be able to travel with our medicine without fear.

We’ve all heard stories of friends of friends traveling with ounces and never getting caught. A buddy recently told me that he traveled through the LAX and Transportation Security Administration (TSA) even went through his bag right in front of him—even joking about the potent smell—and let him go on his merry way. Then again, there are reality shows like Locked Up Abroad that feature people being caught commuting to other countries with illegal substances that capture what a horrifying experience it is. As soon as I posted LAX’s view on this on social media, I had friends warning me about being arrested in certain parts of the country. My response: Let’s be real, if law enforcement is using taxpayers money on cannabis dogs, then they aren’t taking crime seriously.

Since most people don’t just chill at LAX, this means you can basically travel through the airport, but once you hit security you are out of their jurisdiction. Now you are dealing with TSA—which is under the Department of Homeland Security and under federal rule. According to TSA’s website, “TSA security officers do not search for marijuana or other illegal drugs, but in the event a substance that appears to be marijuana or a cannabis infused product is observed during security screening, TSA will refer the matter to a law enforcement officer.” It’s kind of like being pulled over on the road: are you going to get a friendly officer or one that hates life? The policy of the agency doesn’t change, but it’s up to the officers discretion.

People might misinterpret this as LAX allowing users to travel with cannabis so I asked my lawyer friend Alexa Steinberg, Esq. of Manzuri Law, a prominent cannabis attorney, to clarify what’s allowed and what isn’t. For one, cannabis laws still vary drastically from cigarettes, meaning you’re not legally allowed to indulge in a bit of indica in designated smoking areas. “The statement released says nothing about consumption. In fact, Prop 64 does not allow for consumption in public.” Steinberg explains. “[You] can't walk down the street smoking marijuana the same way you can't walk down the street drinking a margarita.”

Basically, Steinberg’s point is that while attitudes about cannabis are constantly changing, despite these new rules, you could be putting yourself legally at risk. As long as federal law rules against cannabis consumption, legal states must abide by regulations at the same time as they bend to acknowledge a state's loosened boundaries. In 2016, cannabis-related arrests outnumbered violent crimes according to the New York Times. Still, more changes are happening on the west coast. For example, in Seattle, Washington judges recently voted to vacate prior cannabis convictions for those charged between the years of 1996-2010 which widely affected people of color. Over half of these cases, 46 percent to be exact, involved Black people. The charges will be cleared in November and is another step in the right direction for the war on drugs—and hopefully the rest of the country will take notice or be left behind in the legalization movement.

And at McCarran International in Las Vegas, they now have leftover cannabis bins installed so people can dispose of their unsmoked cannabis before they go through security. “Although both medical and recreational marijuana is legal in Nevada, it’s still illegal on the federal level, and therefore, illegal to bring along with you on a plane. So to help travelers dispose of their weed before heading out of Sin City, there are large green bins—called amnesty boxes—set up outside”, Newsweek reports.

But before you think about bringing that ounce of weed through the airport, ask yourself if it’s worth the risk. If you are traveling to other legal states, it’s better to just purchase when you arrive. Until federal legalization passes, you are still breaking federal law once you get passed airport security. Odds are, they aren’t trying to ruin your life or make an example out of you, but you just never know. You could end up with the TSA officer who worships Jeff Sessions or one who truly doesn’t give a fuck that you’re trying to get your Grandma, who has colon cancer, high when you get to Boca Raton, Florida.

For now, I’ll stick to getting stoned at home, before I get to the airport.

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Written by Deanna DeBara & Joe Andre Alam
PLAYBOY ASIA - When I walk into the launch party for The Commune, the first thing that strikes me is the design. Between the brick walls, exposed beams and open floor plan, the space has an industrial feel that would appeal to the kind of hip entrepreneur-type you’d expect to find in a high-end coworking space in downtown Portland, Oregon. The second thing that grabs my attention? The cannabis cocktails up for grabs at the makeshift bar in the corner.

The Commune isn’t your average workspace as the very first cannabis-friendly event and co-working space, offering members the allowance to get high while they work. The brainchild of prominent cannabis attorney and founder of the Oregon Cannabis Association, Amy Margolis, The Commune hopes to establish itself as the go-to gathering place for cannabis entrepreneurs, industry professionals and anyone looking for a space where no heads will turn if you take a drag off a vape pen or pop an edible before digging into a spreadsheet or working through your inbox.

“There’s a need for meeting rooms and a space where people [can] come and hang out and network and I think the cannabis industry, when they built out their facilities, didn’t think about working there. So they don’t have board rooms, they don’t have offices...they have, like, a big warehouse that’s filled with reefer,” says Margolis. And as an attorney with nearly two decades of experience in the cannabis space, Margolis is the perfect candidate to navigate the challenges of bringing this vision to life. “The rules are very tricky. So the way we’re treating this is as if it’s a private space. And because it’s a private space, we are allowing people to consume [on-site],” says Margolis. “We’re not selling cannabis here, our brands who work here are not distributing cannabis in an unlicensed facility... we are [just] making that available for people’s personal use.”

“People have drinks in their office with clients,” continues Margolis. “You should be allowed to come in here and share a vape pen and that should be okay.” If the reception at the launch party is any indicator, it seems the community agrees. The 4,000-square foot space is filled to the brim with industry professionals and cannabis enthusiasts, all clearly excited about The Commune—and, more importantly, what it represents.

“Back in the early days of [the cannabis industry], people were very collaborative. They worked really closely with each other. Everybody knew each other, and it was a really great sense of community,” Margolis explains. She furthers that the rise of the recreational market has transformed collaborative relationships into competitive ones: "We’ve lost a little bit of that community feeling. The idea was to create a space where people could come back together, start reforming that community, and really start engaging in the collaboration that made this industry great in the first place.”

When I visit The Commune the day after the launch party, it’s clear that sort of familial feeling is already taking place. Even though The Commune hasn’t officially launched its service, the space is filled with professionals from the cannabis industry. The group is eclectic; there are attorneys and growers, marketing representatives and budtenders, podcast hosts and educators. But the one thing they have in common? A passion for the cannabis industry—and budding excitement (pun intended) to finally have a place where they can connect and work with their peers.

“The thing I’m most excited about is just a meeting place for the community, for people all disparately working in this industry that see each other once or twice a month at an event. It’s a great meeting place where like-minded people in the industry can come and work together and swap ideas and get all the benefits of a coworking space—with a focus on cannabis,” says Mason Walker, CEO of East Fork Cultivars, a farm that specializes in growing CBD-rich cannabis. “The industry [is] fairly tight knit and small, and everyone’s struggling in their own way. And I always find motivation and encouragement through talking with other people in the industry who are going through some of the same challenges."

Courtesy The Commune


But as an industry outsider, I’ll admit—my first thought when I heard about The Commune was speculative: “A coworking space where people can use cannabis? How is anyone going to get any work done?” Once the weed kicked in, wouldn’t people be tempted to sneak a nap on The Commune’s plush leather sofa or abandon their work projects in search of a cupcake? Not necessarily. As I discovered during my visit to The Commune, cannabis can peacefully coexist with productivity (and does, as everyone at the coworking space is clearly hard at work on various projects)—it just depends on how you use it.

“Cannabis has always been synonymous with THC and that’s it. And so we’re just looking at this one compound—THC—which is actually a very small piece of the puzzle and offers a small piece of the potential experiences that you can have with cannabis,” says Chasen. “And yes, for many people, when you consume a lot of THC, you get sleepy, you get very high and sometimes...that doesn’t allow you to focus." Chasen makes clear that cannabis is a diverse plant, a "plant matrix," that affords various experiences. "So for somebody who is looking to stimulate productivity [or] to stimulate focus, they can look to something that’s maybe as a little bit lower THC, a little bit more CBD, and then really select the terpenes based on the experience they’re looking for.”“Something like limonene, which is the citrus terpene that’s found in the rinds of citrus fruits, boosts serotonin and dopamine,” continues Chasen. Whereas Pinene, another terpene found in pine needles, actually combats the psychoactive effects of THC. "Of course, you can always consume a ton of THC and fall asleep on your couch, but it doesn’t always have to be that way." And atmosphere at The Commune proves just that. I see teams from local cannabis companies are spread out across the space’s tables and workstations, discussing product and marketing strategies. CEOs and attorneys duck into The Commune’s private meeting spaces for discussions.

Amy Margolis at The Commune (Photo: Courtesy The Commune)

Everyone is engaged, focused, and clearly passionate—andthat includes Margolis, who is using The Commune as headquarter for The Initiative, a business accelerator aiming for gender equality within the cannabis industry. “The idea really is to take women, give them the skills they need to be successful, [and] provide them mentoring and support and funding,” says Margolis. “The hope is that if we do that enough times and enough places, we will make a real seismic shift in the gender balance in the cannabis space.” The Initiative is already generating serious buzz, with women reach out as far away as Brazil. “We’ve probably gotten 30 or 40 emails [and] we haven’t even reached into our communication network... I think that’s indicative of a real need.”

“If I had the opportunity to have a mentor in starting my business, everything would be so different. Everything, even now, would be very different. It’s pretty wild,” says Andi Bixel, founder of Drip Sweets, an Oregon-based edibles company. “I think it’s going to be really huge for women starting and continuing to grow their businesses [in the cannabis space] to have something like The Initiative where they have multiple eyes [on their businesses] thinking from multiple angles.”

The Commune and The Initiative may only be in their beginning stages, but with big plans (and even bigger support from the community), they’re poised to have a major impact on both the cannabis industry and the way we view the relationship between cannabis and productivity—for the better. (Playboy)
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Written by Susan Shain & Joe Andre Alam

PLAYBOY ASIA - “Lie back and start breathing in and out of your mouth,” commanded a golden-tinged man with silver hair, draped in head-to-toe white linen. “You may feel joy, you may feel pain. You may feel a series of sensations from tingling to whole body orgasm. You may cry, you may laugh, you may feel your body tense. If your fists clench, ask yourself what you’re holding on to.”

I looked around, confused and nervous. I was in Ubud, Bali, attending what I thought was a breath-focused yoga class—and unless Balinese yoga involved some unexpectedly kinky stuff, this wasn’t what I’d signed up for. I asked the woman sitting next to me, “Isn’t this a yoga class?” Her bangles clanked as she pulled a lock of hair from behind her ear. “Um, not exactly,” she laughed.

The man began talking again: “Make sure your breath stays seamless and connected. Let go of the words; there’s so much to notice in between this string of thoughts we have. And remember: It’s safe to breathe and it’s safe to feel.” Since the dozens of other people surrounding me seemed unfazed, I followed their lead and lay on my back. Sun drifted through the windows, sprinkling the room in light. I closed my eyes, and did my best to relax. “It’s just breathing,” I figured. “I do that all the time.”

As it turns out, I'd stumbled onto a session of “conscious breathing,” an ancient practice that has grown in popularity in recent years. “People have been using breathwork—movement and sound to connect to something higher or to heal—since the dawn of man,” explains Lauren Chelec Cafritz, the U.S. national representative for the International Breathwork Foundation (IBF).

Chelec Cafritz goes on to point out modern breathwork pioneers like Leonard Orr and Stanislav and Christina Grof. Mr. Grof, a Czech psychiatrist, was a leading LSD researcher in the ‘50s and ‘60s. When the U.S. government made LSD illegal in 1968, he and his wife began looking for alternate ways to access the outer reaches of the mind. The result? Holotropic Breathwork, which uses rapid breathing, evocative music and bodywork as “a powerful approach to self-exploration and healing that integrates insights from modern consciousness research, anthropology, various depth psychologies, transpersonal psychology, Eastern spiritual practices, and mystical traditions of the world.”

Since its introduction, dozens of offshoots have been developed, with names like transformational, integrative, liberation and clarity. “Breathwork is the next wave after yoga,” predicts Chelec Cafritz. “People are starting to take responsibility for healing their bodies; they’re understanding they have that capacity. Meditation gets you one place, yoga takes you to another—and by the time you do breathwork, it’s like… ‘wow.’”

I found out later that the glistening man leading my class was named Anthony Abbagnano, a serene and charismatic half-Italian, half-Englishman who chooses words with intention and smiles as he speaks. The founder of Alchemy of Breath and a practice he calls holobirthing, breath has fascinated him since a young age. He believes it improves every aspect of life, including mental and physical health, as well as more nebulous concepts like creativity, compassion and self-love. “If you were given the most wondrous gift for Christmas, and you didn’t unwrap it, it would be of no value to you,” he says. “The breath is given to us—but we don’t unwrap it, we don’t explore it.”

Back in Bali, the music intensified: heavy percussion, chanting in languages I couldn’t understand. I took heavy breaths in and out of my diaphragm, gradually increasing their speed and force. Abbagnano’s voice rang out across the room: “Claim the wholeness and richness of the life you want. What can you let go of with that exhale? As the music builds, let your determination build.”

My limbs began to tingle. Thoughts and images swirled through my mind: I thought of a long-term relationship that just ended, I thought of a friend who recently lost her life.

Their faces materialized before me, and guilt billowed through my body. I realized my hands were clenched so hard they were going numb. As the emotions and physical sensations spiked, I experienced a moment of panic; it felt like the onset of a bad trip. But then I reminded myself I hadn’t taken any drugs—that was just breathing, that I was completely in control. “Let go of whatever tension or stress you’re holding.” I heard Abbagnano’s voice drift into my consciousness: “Make space for something new. Anything that comes up, be ready for it.” I slowed my breathing, and felt my body loosen. My angst evaporated, accompanied by the sobs, yelps and ecstatic moans of the people around me.

Scientific explanations for the benefits of breath are abundant. “Of all the automatic functions in the body, there's one we can control quite easily—and that is breathing,” says Dr. Patricia L. Gerbarg, an assistant clinical professor of psychiatry at New York Medical College and co-author of The Healing Power of the Breath. “When we change the pattern of breathing, we change the millions of messages the respiratory system is sending to the brain.”

Since breathing is our body’s top priority, Gerbarg says the brain listens to messages from our respiratory system above all else. “These messages go to the centers that regulate the way we perceive the world, the way we think about things, the way we regulate emotion,” she says. Certain breathing patterns, for example, can quiet the amygdala, which controls our emotions, and the sympathetic nervous system, which makes us feel unsafe and defensive (Both of these are often overactive in people with anxiety, depression and PTSD.).

Breathing can also stimulate oxytocin, a hormone that helps us bond with others, and the parasympathetic nervous system, which calms us down and enhances our ability to have loving relationships. “A lot of of psychotherapy is what we call ‘top-down’; you’re reasoning with the person,” explains Gerbarg. “But with breathing, you activate a bottom-up response from the nervous system that works no matter what you’re thinking. It calms you down because we’re using your body’s own internal communication network.”Rapid breathing acts like a stimulant; it activates your sympathetic nervous system and reduces the carbon dioxide in your blood, which can cause tingling and clenched muscles. The altered blood gases might also be why people experience altered states of consciousness. (Due to these effects, Gerbarg warns rapid breathwork isn’t safe for everyone, including people with severe anxiety, bipolar disorder, seizures, schizophrenia, hypertension or respiratory illnesses.)

Gentler breathing, on the other hand, activates the love-y, calm parasympathetic nervous system—and is what Gerbarg focuses on with her patients. “We’ve taken these ancient practices, which are thousands of years old and found in almost every culture throughout the world,” she says, “and we’re looking at them through a modern scientific lens.”

After 30 minutes of intense breath, the music became slow, soothing—as did Abbagnano’s voice. “Breathe into that feeling, whatever it is,” he said. “Let each breath be a wave of love, a wave of care. Let us be in here in all our truth, our strength, our vulnerability.”

My breath lengthened and deepened. I unfurled in my newfound appreciation, my newfound understanding, of what it really means to breathe. As we entered the final stretch, a mystical voice repeated the mantra: “You are loved.” In my raw state, it was hard not to absorb the song’s message. I soon began crying, my voice joining the tearful harmony around me. “Whatever I want to do in the world starts right here, right now with this breath,” said Abbagnano in a near-whisper. “This blessed breath.”

When the music stopped, I laid there for a few moments before sitting up: bewildered, yet refreshed. Abbagnano asked us to share our experiences, and a frizzy-haired woman in her 60s stood up. “I have a younger friend I feel deeply connected to,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. “And I finally realized why we’re so drawn to each other: She was my daughter in a past life.”

Abbagnano smiled and thanked her, as though this were a quotidian observation, then pointed to a stout younger man. He revealed he’d recently retired from the Royal Air Force, and has had trouble finding himself amidst his post-war demons. “I feel a bit loony saying this,” he stammered, “but I feel reborn.”

Though I hadn’t found a long-lost child or a new version of myself, I did feel a release of guilt I hadn’t known I was holding. The pain hadn’t disappeared, but I felt more at peace with my recent losses—like I was finally able to bid farewell to my relationship, and to my friend. My body was buzzy and buoyant, energized by the natural high. For the rest of the day, I was like a balloon on a breeze.

“There’s a miraculous quality to this work,” says Abbagnano. “And the paradox is it’s right under your nose.” (Playboy)
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Written by John Scott Lewinski & Joe Andre Alam

PLAYBOY ASIA - Harley-Davidson makes a lot of money off of its past, but the future demands it must turn onto a strange, unpaved road. As America’s biggest motorcycle manufacturer turns 115 years old, it doesn’t strain the art of metaphor too heavily to say the company is at a crossroads.

While most of its overall income still flows from older, well-heeled riders who can afford H-D’s  comfort-centric bikes, developing demographics and cultural trends make it clear Harley must evolve or become roadkill. So, the company needs to please its aging, dwindling but well-funded crop of veteran customers with one hand while grooming new products and concepts to attract younger riders with the other.

Early autumn weather greeted the Orange and Black as it offered the assembled motorcycle media a firsthand look at just how it plans to manage its temporal juggling act between the steady money of the past and economic demands of days inbound. Harley-Davidson’s 115th anniversary celebration kicked off earlier this year in Prague for the European faithful, but the party came home to Harley’s hometown of Milwaukee the last week of August.

A party took over a city of more than 600,000 people with a mix of denim, leather and rattling engine noise. From the shores of Lake Michigan to the domain of dairy farms, special events and concerts brought riders from across the United States, and around the world, together to celebrate the metal and memories of their two-wheeled love affairs.

There’s still plenty of horsepower in the Bar and Shield’s cultural following. According to the tourism stats at VISIT Milwaukee, the four day #HD115 weekend brought more than 150,000 riders to the city, with an economic impact of more than $95 million. However, there was more than a touch of gray around most of the venues to go along with a bit of cosplay as many of the enthusiasts are looking a little long in the handlebars to pull of the badass biker vibe. While there were still a handful of dyed in the leather motorcycle gangs throwing back Black Jack here and there, the neutral observer expected to see a lot of the revving revelers in MKE return to their dentist officers, accountancy firms and assisted living apartments when they took off the cowhide vests and chaps.

As though acknowledging that reality, the company showed off two new bike designs that point toward what its factories simply must build more of in the future. First, there’s the 2019 FXDR 114—a stark design departure for H-D and a look ahead to models based more on speed, performance and fun. Christened a “power cruiser,” the FXDR employs the Milwaukee-Eight 114 engine with a sleek body design made of weight-cutting aluminum and new composite components.

The 2019 FXDR 114

Though it fits in the Softail family, FXDR 114 engineering emerged out of its company’s Screamin’ Eagle Drag Racing garage. And, its visual departure from Harley’s older bikes reveals how a focus on performance and modern aesthetics changed how this new machine presents itself. While the classic Harley-Davidson is big, wide and upright, the FXDR 114 is compact, sleek and lower to the ground. While the traditional Harley is made of black leather and chrome, the FXDR 114’s new materials give it a more modern, techie aura.

One look reveals bigger air intakes and exhaust with size contrasts between the front and rear wheels. The rider sits lower with the legs angled more forward while looking at entirely digital gauges and instrumentation. The feel of the bike is lighter, more nimble and responsive—a seismic leap away from the hulking, car-on-two-wheel look of Harley-Davidson’s traditional high-end touring models. While long hauls would prove uncomfortable on a FXDR114, a rip around the city or a track would be infinitely more entertaining. That’s who the new bike is aimed squarely at as it rolls off the line—younger, city-based riders looking for lighter, quicker transportation with some visual flair. That flair starts just a tick north of $21,000—a hefty price tag for any urban motorcycle. The future isn’t getting cheaper out of Milwaukee, but the FXDR 114 will definitely catch the eye for that money.


An even bigger jump into the future was on display at Harley’s event HQ, offering everyone in attendance a look at the Livewire, the company’s first electric motorcycle and the initial model in an oncoming line of similar machines. Word of the Livewire hit in 2014 as Harley-Davidson built a set of 50 public prototypes. You maybe caught sight of one under Scarlett Johansson’s leather clad hinder in Marvel’s The Avengers: Age of Ultron. From there, H-D went about the country showing the Livewire to enthusiasts and inviting them to give the early builds a test run. Engineers and designers gathered up the collected data and varied opinions and ran it all back to Milwaukee to build the mix into the official motorcycle coming to dealerships in 2019.

A true sports bike that looks nothing like the “Sportsters” already tucked into Harley’s current line, the rider straddles, more than sits, on a Livewire. With an electric motor replacing a fossil fuel V-Twin, the clutch disappears. The rider is left with a typical twist-and-go throttle with very atypical speed.

This new age of electrified transportation brings with it immediate torque. Ye olde engines needed the piston system of “suck, squeeze, bang, blow” to build up enough power and get the wheels turning. There’s no such momentum party needed with the Livewire. All those electrons answer the call immediately and the wheels will get up to speed as fast as their attached rubber and the road surface allows. All that speed comes with only a faint whine and the sound of wind caressing your helmet, so addicts to that patented H-D engine cacophony have to adjust the senses.

The riding experience is thrilling and addictive. Even a motorcycle veteran needs to get a handle on throttle control. A Livewire goes when you hit the power and slows to a stop when you take it away. Any gas bike would the same, but not with the same immediacy. The electric machine’s “twist and go” feel makes braking less necessary when coming to a stop as a cut to the electricity lulls the motor. After a few miles, the joys of such a system become clear.

The 2019 Livewire.

If you ride a Livewire long enough, getting back on a gasoline-powered bike might prove a letdown. In the sometimes odd world of H-D lovers, that thrill of raw, immediate and nimble speed might prove unwelcome. The traditional Harley biker likes to lean back, hang his or her arms off the gorilla bars and cruise in padded-butt comfort. That’s not the Livewire vibe. It’s all about leaning forward, hunkering down over what used to be the gas tank and flying.


So, the first electric Harley could be polarizing for the faithful. The old guard’s arthritis won’t let them grind into a Livewire’s body even if they accept it into their hearts. Regardless, come #HD120 in 2023, there will be an entire Livewire family of electric motorcycles sparking through the streets of Beer Town.

Even amidst the introductions of the revolutionary FXDR 114 and Livewire, the minds behind Harley-Davidson remembered they have to keep their traditional customers happy. For a make specializing in big, comfortable, equipped motorcycles, their CVO (Custom Vehicle Operations) group represent the biggest, the most comfortable and premium equipped models available.

For 2019, Harley-Davidson evolved their CVO selections to be more sophisticated, less noisy and much more technically advanced. The star of this show is the new BOOM! Box GTS infotainment system. Utilizing an easily read, full-color touch screen that works with gloves and in any weather, BOOM! Box plays stereo music for all the world to hear while offering an easy-to-use SatNav system for clear directions or for saving favorite ride routes. A wireless headset designed to cooperate with a full face helmet adds communication and voice command technology.

The CVO riding experience is classic touring Harley, offering physical ease on long rides for a price tag that can climb well above $40,000 —depending on model, trim level and accessories. While the FXDR and Livewire put riders more in touch with the road at speed, the CVOs elevate the owner above the fray so he or she can walk away from the bike without aches and pains.

The overall motorcycle market will continue to change over the coming years, heavily influenced by socio-economic factors largely out of Harley-Davidson’s control. How the company continues to predict and adjust to that future with ever-evolving additions and refinements to its line will decide how big a celebration Milwaukee might see when its iron horses turn 125, 150 or 200 years old.
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