In a time of cultural flux it's nice to know there are still a few things that qualify as perennials. Take our cover girl, Cindy Crawford. When Cindy first sashayed onto the pages of Playboy in July 1988, she was already queen of a new breed of supermodel, heralding an age that welcomed back the full-bosomed, hourglass figure. Her romp across a Hawaiian beach became a Playboy classic. Now it's ten years, two marriages, one hit TV show (MTV's House of Style) and a blitz of magazine covers later. Does Cindy still reign? Look through our 14-page valentine to the planet's preeminent pouter--shot once again by Herb Ritts--and judge for yourself.
Playboy (ISSN 0032-1478), October 1998, Volume 45, Number 10, Published monthly by Playboy, 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, Illinois 60611. Subscriptions: U.S., $29.97 for 12 Issues. Canada, $43.97 for 12 Issues. All other foreign, $45 U.S. Currency Only. For new and renewal orders and change of address, send to Playboy subscriptions, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Please allow 6--8 weeks for processing. For change of address. Send new and old addresses and allow 45 days for change. Postmaster: Send form 3579 to Playboy, P.O. Box 2007, Harlan, Iowa 51537-4007. Advertising: New York: 730 fifth avenue, New York 10019 (212-261-5000): Chicago: 680 North Lake Shore Drive, Chicago 60611 (312-751-8000); West Coast: SD Media, 2001 Wilshire Boulevard, Suite 200, Santa Monica, CA 90403 (310-264-7575); Southeast: Coleman & Bentz, Inc., 4651 Roswell Road Ne, Atlanta, GA 30342 (404-256-3800); Boston: Northeast Media Sales, 8 Faneuil Hall Marketplace, Boston 02109 (617-973-5050). For Subscription Inquiries, Call 800-999-4438.
How you feel about Your Friends and Neighbors (Gramercy Pictures) may have something to do with your reaction to writer-director Neil LaBute's much-talked-about debut feature, In the Company of Men. In both films, LaBute rips the lid off society's dirtiest secret--that all men are pigs. The major difference this time is a first-rate cast, including Ben Stiller, Jason Patric (also one of the film's producers), the appealing Amy Brenneman, Aaron Eckhart (the co-star of Men), Catherine Keener and Nastassja Kinski. They offer some sharp, provocative dialogue in vignettes about dysfunctional relationships, noncommunication between sexual partners and superficial male bonding. But when all is said and done, you may be left wondering what it is that you've learned. [rating]2 bunnies[/rating]
With the extraordinary success of James Horner's Titanic soundtrack CD, awareness of movie scores has risen dramatically this year. Although there's an old saw that says an effective score is one you don't notice, aficionados would argue the point as they rally around their favorite composers, including Horner, the ageless Elmer Bernstein, the protean Jerry Goldsmith, John Williams, Ennio Morricone, Danny Elfman, Patrick Doyle and Thomas and David Newman (sons of the great, pioneering multi-Oscar-winning Alfred Newman).
If there were an award for most valuable player in acting, it might well go to David Paymer. He's one of a handful of recognizable character actors whose names may not sell tickets but whose performances enhance every movie in which they appear. Paymer's credits include Billy Crystal's Mr. Saturday Night, which earned him an Oscar nomination, and Robert Redford's Quiz Show, in which he plays a notoriously shifty television producer.
"Friday night is the perfect time to watch videos, especially old horror movies," says Mike Judge, Beavis and Butt-head's off-center progenitor. "I recently rented Dawn of the Dead and something called Basket Case. Great stuff." For quick-fix entertainment, Judge gives the nod to The Nutty Professor (Jerry Lewis' version), Glengarry Glen Ross, Miami Blues, Fargo and any Monty Python flick. "But my number one pick of all time is a driver's ed movie called Mr. Rellik. I don't know anyone else who has seen it, except for the people who watched it with me in class. It's about this guy who tries to get people into car accidents. His name spelled backward is Killer. It's really funny." Heh-heh.
The next time you feel like bitching about the state of the union, you may want to count your blessings instead. History Channel Home Video's four-tape boxed set The Great Depression ($59.95) reveals in painstaking detail the devastating crash of the American economy and its hard-scrabble climb back to world dominance. Through interviews with scholars, journalists and celebrities--as well as newsreel footage and archival photos (notably the striking work of Dorthea Lange)--the program replays all the drama, from Wall Street's Black Thursday to FDR's arrival at the White House to the nation's entry into World War Two. The narrative also features nods to the era's leading lights, including Upton Sinclair, Orson Welles, General Douglas MacArthur and Pretty Boy Floyd. Hosted by Mario Cuomo. To order, call 800-423-1212.
This year marks the 25th anniversary of The Exorcist, William Friedkin's satanic paean to the ultimate pagan. As Warner rolls out its diabolical special edition deluxe set ($50), complete with a making-of documentary, soundtrack CD and souvenir book, let's recall more cinema from hell:
It was bound to happen. What do you get when you combine searing action and great-looking hard-core starlets with a script that lampoons the globe's hottest all-girl rock group? OK, so maybe the spicy stars who headline in Five Sins (Sin City, $36.95) aren't the real thing. But what they lack in musical talent (they really try), they more than make up for in screw-anything-that-moves abandon. Story features the predictable but welcome backstage trysts, as well as a chart-topping five-grrrl orgy. Call 800-944-3933.
No doubt you were relieved to discover that Warren Beatty doesn't actually rap on the Bulworth soundtrack (Interscope). Instead, the great white Hollywood father offers an object lesson in why he was inspired to try: a rap rainbow from the Fugees to the Wu-Tang Clan, from matched old-timers Ice Cube and Public Enemy to up-and-comers Canibus and Witchdoctor.
I thought I was beyond guilty pleasures, but then I got Stevie Nicks' Enchanted (Atlantic). Relishing a triple-disc boxed set from pop radio's loopiest drama queen is almost too embarrassing to admit to, but the live version of Edge of 17 could be the most powerful piece of California rock ever made. Stand Back and Stop Draggin' My Heart Around are the kind of songs for which Top 40 radio was invented. The best unreleased track is a Warren Zevon song on which Stevie duets with Don Henley. So fuck guilt.
In the golden age of New York hip-hop (1985 to 1989), Eric B. and Rakim, Public Enemy, Big Daddy Kane and the Beastie Boys made impressive debuts and began important careers. Of this quartet of crucial acts, the Beasties are going strong a decade later. It would be too simple to chalk up the trio's continuing success to the fact they're white in a field that's predominantly black. Instead, as their latest, Hello Nasty (Grand Royal), makes clear, these guys have managed to remain curious, creative and commercial well after their peers broke up, lost inspiration or became irrelevant. With Hello Nasty the Beasties have moved ahead by going back. After basing their last three albums in Los Angeles, the band has a 22-track collection full of New York energy and verve. Moreover, Nasty is informed by old-school quotations and production techniques that, in the hands of the Beasties and producer Mario Caldato, sound fresh in the old hip-hop sense. Intergalactic has an electroboogie feel reminiscent of Afrika Bambaataa. Remote Control is an all-out rap attack that harks back to the Furious Five. The way the group's new DJ, Mix Master Mike, is used on Three MCs and One DJ, Sneakin' Out the Hospital and three other cuts flashes back to the Eighties when a DJ was an essential part of a rap group's identity. The way the Beasties trade lines on the Grasshopper Unit (Keep Movin') is funny and skillful. Adrock, Mike D and MCA toss funky, Latin-tinged instrumentals (Song for Junior), samba accents (I Don't Know) and sundry guest musicians into their mix to create a remarkably satisfying record.
With blues-like staying power, punk has enabled two decades' worth of alienated adolescents to vent their frustrations with songs that are fast, hard, brutish and short. Usually, nobody else cares because most punk bands sound indistinguishable to outsiders. But, like its pop compadre Green Day, Berkeley's Rancid is an exception, going gold with And Out Come the Wolves. It must be noted that never before has a band of comparable stature so slavishly and effectively emulated its heroes. From Tim Armstrong's sputtering Joe Strummer howl to the rhythm section's punk force beat and Jamaican skank, Rancid is the Clash revisited. That makes Life Won't Wait (Epitaph) its London Calling in 22 songs, with guest shots from dancehall shouter Buju Banton and a panoply of ska heroes. Rancid's sprawl, scope and enthusiasm all promise the freedom that is rock and roll's mission.
Blockbuster rock soundtracks flooded the airwaves all summer. Which was the best? Godzilla (Epic). The movie may have been a box-office disappointment, but the Godzilla soundtrack was the real monster. No gooey ballads or second-class castoffs for the big lizard. Instead, more than a dozen of today's hottest bands offer some of their best new material. The Wallflowers' cover of David Bowie's Heroes is surprisingly ballsy. Puff Daddy's impassioned rap over Jimmy Page's ominous Kashmir riff on Come With Me kicks ass. Jamiroquai does its best Stevie Wonder impression yet. Rage Against the Machine's No Shelter is its most focused riff-and-rant fest. Ben Folds Five's Air establishes the trio as the postpunk heir to Brian Wilson. The remaining cuts, from the Foo Fighters, Fuzzbubble and Fuel, are head and shoulders over the cheesy guitar pop clogging the radio today. Godzilla is the Big Gordita of soundtracks.
Jazz used to be popular music--the kind of stuff found on jukeboxes and nonspecialist radio and in the record racks of nonsnobs. Saxophonist James Carter, the leading heretic in today's jazz world, drags the music straight back there. In Carterian Fashion (Atlantic) has its roots in the soul jazz of Jimmy Smith and Wes Montgomery, Cannonball Adderley and Jimmy McGriff. And you know what? It swings like crazy. Fashion is partly original, partly traditional--and a blast. In fact, it's hard to tell sometimes who's having more fun: Carter on his various horns (mostly tenor sax) or his bandmates--especially Craig Taborn cutting loose on a B3 organ.
The male vocalist of the Nineties, Kurt Elling, has built his reputation on artistic risk taking. So even when he tackles an album of love songs, you can count on something different. Sure, This Time It's Love (Blue Note) is heavy on ballads, but most come with a twist. The pristine My Foolish Heart has an irresistibly sexy rhythm; the staid standard She's Funny That Way becomes a flowing abstraction. Best of all, Freddie's Yen for Jen--inspired by the temperature-raising Freddie Hubbard tune Delphia--proves that true romance can get down. Elling's first two CDs scored Grammy nominations; this one should make it a hat trick.
The first time I listened to Lucinda Williams' Car Wheels on a Gravel Road (Mercury), it didn't occur to me that I was listening to a country album. It wasn't pop, either, or blues or folk. Or rock and roll. It didn't remind me of anyone on the Lilith tour. She wasn't flirting like Sheryl Crow. She wasn't ranting like Courtney Love. She was singing really amazing songs: 13, one after another, that flow together and make a unified album. It reminded me of a time 25 years ago when I bought albums with the expectation of getting a complete work of art, as opposed to one hit and a lot of unlistenable crud. So if you want a label for Lucinda Williams, call her a Whole Album artist. Play any cut and you'll be hooked. After you're humming along, you'll start to wonder about the lyrics and you'll notice vivid narratives with a subtle element of reflection, an eye to form and an aversion to cliché. Even the love songs are anchored in a convincing story with a perspective you weren't expecting. Also check out the sex song Right in Time. OK, it's been a long time, six years, since her last album. But if it takes that long to get it right, she should take the time. Let's hope the Whole Album is a trend.
It's not enough to have a lightning-fast computer with gobs of RAM and a huge hard drive. It has to look good on your desktop too. That's the premise behind the new iMac, a $1300 Macintosh that Apple honcho Steve Jobs calls "the coolest computer on the planet." As with the original line of Power Macs, the iMac bundles all the latest technology--including a 15-inch monitor, stereo speakers and plenty of Net-surfing and game-playing power--into a single piece of hardware. The difference? This updated version has sexy curves, translucent panels and slick retro styling. Apparently, Apple isn't the only company driven by aesthetics. The Panda Project has introduced the Rock City ST-400 (illustrated here with the iMac). This $2600 400MHz Pentium II PC is encased in a 12 1/2-inch black aluminum cube with silver etchings, designed to stand at an angle like a piece of sculpture. Never mind that it takes up half your desktop--it's art!
When Divx, a video disc alternative to DVD, was announced last year, it took a beating from the press--Playboy included. But now that we've actually seen the format work, we're more optimistic about its future. Here's our update: Divx is not a replacement for DVD. It's a way to enjoy the exceptional picture quality of video discs without having to buy a bunch of movies you'll watch only once. Though Divx has yet to receive Hollywood's full support, the studios that have signed on will release Divx movies simultaneously with VHS and many DVD versions. You will pay $4.50 to rent a disc (currently available at Circuit City and Good Guys stores) and have 48 hours to watch it, from the minute you hit PLAY on your Divx remote control. After that you can trash the disc, keep it and rewatch the movie for an additional $3.25 or select the Divx Silver option for $15 to $20 and add the disc to your movie collection. Making these choices requires little effort. Divx technology is intuitive and the machines (which also play DVDs) automatically bill your credit card monthly for extra viewings and purchases. The upside of Divx? You'll never again have to return a movie or pay a late fee. The downside? Divx players from RCA, Panasonic and Zenith cost about $100 more than DVD players. And the first-generation Divx movies don't offer DVD extras such as wide-screen viewing and Dolby Digital Surround.
You may soon be able to forget a few of those personal identification numbers swimming around in your head. Miros, Inc. has introduced a wild alternative to the PIN. TrueFace is a face recognition technology that allows you to access an automated teller machine by simply standing in front of it, punching in your Social Security number and then waiting a few seconds while your picture is recorded. If your face matches the one on record, everything works. If it has changed--say you've put on some pounds or are wearing specs instead of contacts--a risk-assessment program determines the chance of a security breach and a customer service representative talks to you by way of a speaker-phone to confirm your identity. Then a new picture is taken on the spot and added to your portfolio. Mr. Payroll, a subsidiary of Cash America International, currently uses TrueFace technology in 120 check-cashing ATMs across ten states and it's a good bet that more areas of the country will be added to the list. Other futuristic security tech in the works: machines that provide access to bank accounts by scanning your fingerprint or iris, and others that use voice-print recognition.
Panasonic is taking home-phone technology to the next level. Its KX-TGM240 ($300, pictured below) is among the first cordless telephones to take advantage of a new 2.4-gigahertz radio-frequency band recently approved for personal use by the Federal Communications Commission. Cordless phones in this category reportedly get up to eight times the range of 900-MHz models. To give you an idea of how this translates on city streets, Panasonic tested the KX-TGM240 in the heart of Manhattan. With the base at a restaurant on 48th Street, a caller chatted for seven blocks--to 42nd Street--before reception faltered. That means under optimal conditions, you could make and take calls up to four miles away. Other features of the KX-TGM420: a digital duplex speakerphone and an all-digital answering machine. • Make way for Dancing Baby tchotchkes. Autodesk's bambino gained nationwide fame last year following appearances on Ally McBeal. Now Creative Zone is introducing a line of Dancing Baby novelty items, including air fresheners, pen toppers, magnets, stickers and an electronic doll that stands atop a base resembling a computer mouse. Click the mouse and the baby will do its trademarked dance moves to Hooked on a Feeling, the Seventies tune from Blue Swede. Prices range from about $5 for the baby powder-scented air freshener to $25 for the groovin' doll.
When I win the Pulitzer Prize (dream on, Ace) and reporters ask who helped me in my work, I will say: "I owe this award to the folks in Playboy's mail room. Frequently, when I was under fire for something I'd written, I would go see them just to joke around and relax with some real friends. Their kindness carried me through some tough times as the Men columnist, and I thank them for their support."
Here we go again. We've taken the measure of finger-pointers five times now (most recently in August 1997), yet the epidemic of not-my-faultism continues unabated. We would have lost hope were it not for the occasional person who stands up to say, "Hey, my bad." Take Ramzi Ahmed Yousef, who refused to shirk responsibility for the World Trade Center bombing. "I am a terrorist and I'm proud of it," he said. The judge gave him life plus 240 years. In Garland, Texas Hon-Ming Chen predicted that God would appear on television. When he didn't show, the cult leader conceded, "You can now take what we have preached as nonsense." And in Seoul, Korea corporate vice president Suh Sang Rok felt so badly that his company declared bankruptcy, he quit and became a waiter. "I'll never again take a high position at a company," Suh said. "I'm not qualified." Sang Rok, you are the man.
The job of keeping kids ignorant is big business. Consider the popularity of "just say no" programs that claim to prevent students from taking drugs. Numerous studies have shown they don't work. That hasn't stopped the government from wasting billions of dollars to fund them.
"I no longer show my cervix onstage, but if you missed it, don't despair. You can still see my cervix on my Web site: www.heck.com/annie."--Annie Sprinkle, Post-Porn Modernist By Annie Sprinkle. For years, the porn star and performance artist would take to the stage, insert a speculum and invite audience members to view her cervix. By Sprinkle's own estimate, some 25,000 enjoyed the view.
If you have been following Playboy's History of the Sexual Revolution, then you know that Margaret Sanger was a remarkable woman. As the nation's leading advocate of birth control and family planning and the founder of Planned Parenthood, Sanger was hailed "as a saint and castigated as an agent of Satan; admired and emulated, vilified and condemned." The Catholic Church called her "America's greatest enemy"; The New York Times labeled her "one of history's great rebels." Now she is the subject of a 90-minute PBS documentary by filmmaker Bruce Alfred which airs Monday, October 12. Check your local listings.
"Never relax!" Geraldo Rivera calls for the third time as he pulls his 21-foot mahogany powerboat, "Beulah," into the choppy mouth of New York's Hudson River. "At 60 miles per hour," he warns his passengers, "the trip could get treacherous, so grab a handle on each side and hold on tight."
His search for beauty led him to relationships with some of the most remarkable women on earth: French starlet Patti Behrs, Ursula Andress, Linda Evans and, for the past two decades, the perfect ten, Bo. John Derek understood beauty in a special way: He was exceptional-looking and was born into a Hollywood awareness of the power of physical perfection. His movie career relied more on his appearance than it did on his acting ability. It's only fitting, then, that in Nicholas Ray's Knock on Any Door (1949), Derek's character, Nick Romano, has the privilege of uttering the unforgettable line "Live fast, die young and have a good-looking corpse."
You are Oscar De La Hoya and you're unbeaten in 28 fights. Shrieking girls throw panties at you on the street. Fisticuties bring signs professing their love on fight nights--stuff like Oscar, I Won't ask for Child Support. You show up in a $15,000 gold robe and by the third round you have pounded French opponent Patrick Charpentier into pâté. It is the highest-rated TV fight of the year, a figure that will be dwarfed by your September 18 grudge match with Julio Cesar Chavez. Amazingly, 30 percent of the pay-per-view audience are women under the age of 25. A few days after the bout (to allow for recovery time--as if), you walk into our studio wearing linen trousers, a D& G T-shirt and Emporio Armani suede loafers. You tell us you love to dress well. We know how you feel.
While waiting to waylay a train, a band of outlaws, hard men wearing black hats, sits around a campfire on top of the railway tracks they've scouted out, while the orange-haired bandit queen, perched high on the day's pile of loot, sings them sentimental old ballads about lost solitude and soiled doves and tepee burning in the untrodden vales of purple sage, and about dirty dealing and dysentery and wick dipping in the old corral with its rivers of blood flowing beneath the whispering cottonwood trees. They've been out robbing stores and banks and killing people all day and they're all a bit trail-weary, grateful for this restful interlude, and when Belle sings about the hanging judge who hanged a whole town, they all sing along (even the ex-sheriff joins in, though he can't sing a lick) as she lists the victims, each verse adding two or three more--He hung the teacher and the preacher and the Chinese prostitute! He hung the rambler and the gambler and the peg leg in his boot! etc.--then in unison shout out the chorus: But he never hung me! And they laugh and spit at the fire and pass the whiskey bottles, reckless, violent men of good spirit.
Zip up those pants and move over, Dirk Diggler: There's a new stud in town, and he's here to tell you that size matters a lot less than faith, hope and charity. Such is the lesson of Orgazmo, the tender tale of a young Mormon missionary who moves to Los Angeles to spread the word of the Lord and winds up battling evil as a crime-fighting porn star. It's fun, it's dumb, it was made on the cheap--but Orgazmo, due out this month, is also an event, since it was created by a guy whose day job places him at ground zero in the pop culture zeitgeist. The movie's writer, director and star is Trey Parker, one of the two masterminds of Comedy Central's hilariously tasteless animated series, South Park; his partner, Matt Stone, co-produced and appears in the movie as well. We spoke with Parker, 28, at his South Park offices as he worked on the series and put the finishing touches on Orgazmo.
Before Laura Cover became our Miss October, she had never modeled or even considered it. But to everyone around her, it's apparent she has an exceptional presence. Within minutes of sitting down at a Sunset Plaza restaurant, we are interrupted by a smooth-talking Russian woman offering to connect Laura to a modeling agency. Although raised in Bucyrus, Ohio, our Playmate (who now calls Newport Beach, California home) is skeptical and doesn't give out her home number.
Size does count. Aaron Gibson, right tackle for the University of Wisconsin, is 6'7" and weighs 372 pounds. He's also remarkably quick and flexible. Gibson is an awesome spectacle as he crosses the line of scrimmage and picks up momentum, especially with 258-pound running back Ron Dayne rumbling behind him. Prospective tacklers must weigh the relative value of stopping the play against their continued existence on this earth.
Its paradise. Lots of attractive women in various stages of undress glisten with sweat. Ah, but there's a catch. The gym babes--tight abs, taut thighs--are focused on one thing: working out without interruptions. Catch a woman's eye while she's getting busy with a piece of Cybex, fine. But come at her with a line such as "Need a hand with that dumbbell?" and she will either be insulted or kick your ass with the moves she perfected in boxing class. Your libido notwithstanding, health clubs are not singles bars.
Short of hot dogs and apple pie, there's nothing more American than popcorn. It's native American--the Indians brought it to the first Thanksgiving (an ironic dish, considering they believed a demon lived inside each kernel and became angry when his home became heated). We string popcorn on our Christmas trees and it's a staple of the moviegoing experience. It's explosive, light as air and warm to the touch. You can eat it pure, doused with salt and butter or coated with caramel and formed into balls. Americans gorge on it--averaging more than a quart per week per person--and we all have our ways of eating it, whether kernel by kernel, tossed in the air and into the mouth or stuffed by the handful into the cheeks. You can even fling it at the back of some loudmouth moviegoer's head without his knowing it.
It's only my opinion, mind you, but I think some fabulous money will be made when the current bull market comes unglued. I'm speaking of the opportunities awaiting practitioners of the much-maligned art of short-selling.
It was called Skinsuits, the pictorial that ran in Playboy in July 1988. If you were a reader back then, you remember Herb Ritts' photographs of the 22-year-old, Illinois-born supermodel who went on to become a television host, an actress and a savvy businesswoman. Cindy Crawford herself encounters the shots regularly: When she makes personal appearances for Revlon or another client, fans often pull a treasured copy of that issue out of a protective slip-case and ask her to sign it. "Most of the magazine covers I do are out for a month and then they get recycled," she says with a laugh. "But every time I do an autograph signing, those old Playboys show up. That one seems to be a collector's item."
We've Only Just Begun • I'll Be There • The Tears of a Clown • Bridge Over Troubled Water • Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head • I Want You Back • Everything Is Beautiful • Stoned Love • The Long and Winding Road • Let It Be • Fire and Rain • Ain't No Mountain High Enough • War • Mama Told Me (Not to Come) • You're No Good • Whole Lotta Love • Psychedelic Shack • Instant Karma • Woodstock
Margaret Sanger took up the cause of birth control after seeing lines of poor women in Brooklyn slums waiting to see the neighborhood abortionist. Sadie Sacks, one of Sanger's patients, died after a botched abortion. At the turn of the century, abortion was the last resort for women exhausted by repeated pregnancies, and for women who wanted to limit the size of their families in order to survive. Sanger and the organization she created demanded birth control as an alternative to abortion.
In 1972 the Playboy Foundation asked a private research group to conduct the first extensive national sex survey since the Kinsey Report. Social scientists contacted more than 2000 people in 24 cities. Morton Hunt interpreted the results in Sexual Behavior in the Seventies. The book was a snapshot of the sexual revolution, showing in statistics exactly how far we had come since the Forties.
If you want to project professionalism, carry a briefcase. But if you want to lug your load in comfort on days when you're not meeting with the boss or an important client, tote a backpack. No longer merely for campers and collegians, backpacks come in variations to suit all tastes and lifestyles. Corporate climbers can opt for dressy versions in leather, suede or slick-looking nylon fabrics. Some, such as the Kensington saddlebag pictured below, even have compartments for a notebook computer and floppy disks. For those who work in creative environs, there are sporty looks made of materials such as denier poly and nylon that keep the contents dry should you get caught, in a downpour. One of our favorites is a backpack made of hemp. The unsmokable variety, of course.