Lifestyle
PHOTOS: Your car has a lot to say about who you are
Abdul’s vehicle promotes his work as a carpet repair man in Mumbai, India.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
Homo Mobilis is not just a photography book about cool cars.
The phrase is Latin for “mobile human.” This project by Dutch photographer Martin Roemers depicts all kinds of vehicles: cars the likes of which you’ve probably never seen before, including one with a garden sprouting from its roof, along with animal-drawn transport and bicycles.
And Roemers is not just looking for visual details. He uses vehicles as a vehicle for philosophical questions: How do our methods of transportation represent our identities, reflect global inequalities and illustrate the changing nature of mobility as we drive forward in the 21st century.
Roemers spent nearly five years on this project, visiting eight countries in four continents and photographing around 200 cars and other vehicles. 160 of these found their way into the book. He identifies the owners by first name only.
In an interview over a zoom call from his home in the Netherlands, he shares his thoughts on the project with NPR — his ninth book of photography. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Tell us about the car you chose for the cover of the book.
In 2019, on a trip to Mumbai, India, my wife and I passed by a carpet shop as we made our way from our hotel to a café for breakfast. In front of this shop was an old black car. We often forget how cars aren’t just to get us from point A to point B. In many countries like India and China, they’re precious real-estate space. This particular car was riveting, because it was more than a car. It was a statement, like a billboard. It had “Afghan Carpets” emblazoned on it, advertising the store. It made me think about the many ingenious ways in which people used their vehicles.
I strongly believe that the spirit of the car reflects that of its owner or its driver. It says something about the culture they come from, their world view, identity and even about society itself.
Suresh, a climate activist, believes all cars should have rooftop gardens to counteract pollution. He lives in Bengaluru, India.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
Can you give us an example of what you mean?
In Bangalore [now called Bengaluru], I saw a car parked on the street. It had a little garden on its roof. It was filled with sprouting grass and wild plants. When we located the owner, we learnt that he was a lawyer, but he was also a climate activist, who believed that people should reduce their carbon footprint. So he wanted to convey that message through his car. He told me you can grow plants on any kind of vehicle and that he waters his “garden” everyday!
What inspired the idea?
This particular project explores the relationship between vehicles and their owners.
The idea for the book came to me in 2015, when I was working on a project called Metropolis — documenting life in the world’s largest cities. My aim was to capture the energy and life in bustling urban environments.
I saw cars everywhere, including some truly unusual vehicles I’d never seen before. They were an integral part of an urban environment, but I wondered, if I isolated them, plucked them off of the roads so that you could focus solely on the vehicle as an object, what stories would that tell?
That must have required extensive preparation.
There was a lot to organize. I needed permission from the car owners to be able to photograph their vehicles in a studio-like setting. We asked the owners to bring their cars to the spot we picked, and [we] rented [a] van to lug around the 12-meter-long steel poles over which we could hang the white backdrop. And we needed people to help set this all up.
Why was this style of photography important to you?
In its natural setting — on a road with traffic — the background can be chaotic. When you place the car against a white backdrop, there are no distractions. You can focus solely on the vehicle and the people who own it.
Which countries did the project cover?
I included Germany, because it’s the biggest car producer in Europe. The Netherlands, because that’s home for me. I chose Senegal, because like other West African countries, they import a lot of old cars from Europe — cars that wouldn’t pass inspection there anymore but are now on the streets. Senegal has a growing middle-class as well, and that is represented in the sheer diversity of cars you see on the roads.
Mor drives this minibus in Séguel Thioune, Senegal.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
I loved the shot of the newspaper vendor [and the bicycle he uses to sell papers] in Senegal. What’s his story?
He’s really amazing! He’s an artist and you can tell, because he’s really making a fashion statement. He also has to make a living — and so that’s where the newspaper cart hitched to a bicycle comes in. In Senegal, especially in urban areas like Dakar, newspapers are often sold by street vendors who may use small, mobile kiosks, stands, or simply carry them by hand to offer to drivers and pedestrians.
Mbaye, standing by his bicycle, is an artist and newspaper vendor in Ngaparou, Senegal.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
You also photographed in North America.
I spent a lot of time in the U.S., especially in Los Angeles. There are people from the unhoused [homeless] community for whom the car doubles up as a home. These are people from all walks of life. I met an artist who lives in a camper van, an immigrant from Mexico, a retired construction worker who was living in his car for three years.
Juan, an immigrant from Mexico, lives in a camper in Santa Monica, Calif.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
There are a couple of unusual images that you took in China of men on motorized cargo bikes — they look like tricycles that are hitched to carriers and piled high with stuff. Can you tell me about those vehicles and their owners?
Qinfang and grandson in a Fuju electric vehicle, Shanghai, China.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
Those are electrical vehicles by the way. China is much more advanced in terms of EVs and much further along in electrification than any other part of the world. And these were vehicles I’d never seen before. They’re both the same type of vehicle, but I was struck by how they were used for very different purposes. In one, we see a guy selling children’s toys on a street in a park. It looked lovely — so full of color and life. And in a stark contrast, in the second image, another man uses the same kind of vehicle, but this time, it’s piled high with all kinds of recycling junk.
It reminds me of how vehicles can often be ingenuously repurposed — like Sunny, a chicken vendor in the city of Nashik, Maharashtra [a western Indian state], who transformed his auto into a cage-holding mobile market stand. If someone wants a chicken, he will slaughter it afresh right there.
Sunny’s vehicle enables him to earn money as a chicken vendor. He lives in Bajaj Nashik, Maharashtra, India.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
In China, you’ve taken images of electric autos and their drivers.
Yes, I found them interesting. These taxi drivers cannot afford big cars. They use these inexpensive vehicles that were originally designed for people with disabilities and for wheelchair users, but today, anyone can hop on. It’s interesting how vehicles adapt to social and economic needs.
You mention how cars are often associated with new beginnings and spirituality in some parts of the world.
It struck me how cars are tied to sentiment and spirituality, especially in India.
I spent some time at a BMW dealership in Bengaluru. The car salesman told me that some clients hire a priest to do pujas [Hindu prayers that involve chanting] right in the showroom, when the client comes to pick up a new car. It’s not something I’ve seen anywhere else in the world. In China, when you pick up a new car, it can be decked out in flowers. To celebrate a new car is like a rite of passage.
The priest Nagabushna chants prayers to protect a new car from misfortune and accidents in Bengaluru, India.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
You have pictures of big families lining up in front of their cars in India.
Yes, I like to portray the human element in car portraits. I’ve photographed a family of four, and another with six members along with their cars. In one picture, there are 12 people. To me, I definitely felt that cars in this context represented a sense of community, of family bonding. Sometimes, it’s about friendship too. When I was taking a picture of a truck and its driver in Malegoan in the western Indian state of Maharashtra, I spotted some kids laughing and returning home from school on bicycles. They agreed to be photographed alongside the truck — I invited them to join because they add another layer of mobility to the portrait.
You have photographed the hand-pulled carts, many of which are banned in some Indian cities.
Dinu pulls a rickshaw in Kolkata, India
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
I noticed it the last time I was in Kolkata in 2008. There were many more of these hand-pulled rickshaws and now there are less. The city wanted to get rid of it, it was controversial, a relic from colonial times. It also represented India’s caste system — the people who pulled these carts to make a living were from a lower caste, but the people they ferried around were from a higher caste. It made me think about how these systems resist change. And that says something about society. That’s why I focused on these vehicles. To me, it represented a unique part of the city’s heritage and a livelihood for many, though they are gradually being phased out for modern alternatives like auto-rickshaws and e-rickshaws.
And there are plenty of modern cars, too.
I photographed students at a university in the Netherlands who had developed a hydrogen car. We may have invented the wheel, but I wanted my book to show how transport is constantly evolving — it’s rich, layered with culture and meaning — an entire spectrum.
The book concludes with images of scrapped vehicles — why was it important to depict the end of life of a car?
Shredded cars in the Netherlands.
Martin Roemers
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Martin Roemers
A car can be a big deal for some people. It can play a huge role in their lives, it can mean a lot to them personally and culturally, but at the end of the day, in spite of its significance, I wanted to show how it’s just a hunk of metal.
Kamala Thiagarajan is a freelance journalist based in Madurai, Southern India. She reports on global health, science and development and has been published in The New York Times, The British Medical Journal, the BBC, The Guardian and other outlets. You can find her on X @kamal_t
Your turn: Readers! Is there a vehicle in your life, present or past, with a meaningful connection to your place in the world, to your identity? Send a photo and your story to globalhealth@npr.org and we may use it in a follow-up post.
Lifestyle
Why Everyone Was So Mad About the Met Gala
There are, as I’m writing this, just shy of 500 reader comments on our recap of our 15 favorite looks from the Met Gala on Monday. The top comments are almost all negative.
“I’m sorry. I find this display of ‘fashion’ disgusting and I wish the NYT wouldn’t celebrate it,” reads the most recommended comment. “I’m struck by how out of touch and unrelatable this feels for the average American,” is the one just below that. A few down we get the first of many comparisons to the elitist incongruity captured in “The Hunger Games.”
The uneasy state of the American economy watered the soil for this sentiment to grow. Gas prices have soared since the onset of the war in Iran. The cost of groceries remains stubbornly high. The word “inequality” came up five times in the comments section of our story. It seems that the gala, to some, landed as a financially frivolous, Marie Antoinette-like affair.
For a few years, the Met Gala has ignited these “Hunger Games” comparisons, as the event has mutated into a competition of which attendee can wear the most baroque, procession-halting dress. I lost count of the celebrities who proudly shared how many hours it took to make their ensembles.
This, more than anything, seemed like the point where they were misjudging the simmering animus toward them.
If the intention was to laud the work and elevate the craftsmanship involved in making garments like these, it was ringing hollow in this forum, where tickets cost upward of hundreds of thousands of dollars for a table. The opulence of the clothes became another example of billionaire class entitlement for a cause most people don’t benefit from.
It’s not an entirely new conversation, even if the critiques were louder this year. Five years ago, when Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wore a dress splayed with “Tax the Rich,” she sprayed lighter fluid onto a hot conversation about the class politics of this particular charity event. (At this year’s gala, Sarah Paulson arrived with a dollar bill stretched over her eyes, an intended critique on the influence of money that many viewers saw as a hollow gesture.)
The discourse roared with a particular fervor in the lead-up to Monday for the marquee presence of Jeff Bezos and his wife, Lauren Sánchez Bezos, one of the world’s wealthiest couples.
Placing the Bezoses at the apex of the gala ratcheted up the sense that something already well outside the reaches of the average person had been taken to a new tier of exclusivity. There were protests centered around Bezos, and at the event Christian Smalls, a former Amazon union leader, attempted to storm the carpet. He was arrested and charged with two misdemeanors.
“It shouldn’t be that way when you have all of this money and wealth,” Smalls said of Bezos in an interview with The Times on Wednesday. “He should pay his workers a fair share.”
In responding to cries of elitism, the Met Gala’s organizers have long pointed to the money that the event raises. They did so again this year. At a news conference on Monday introducing the Met’s new fashion exhibition, Anna Wintour, the event’s longtime chair (and the global editorial director of Vogue magazine), shared that this was the most successful Met Gala ever, having raised $42 million.
“That money could feed and clothe many hundreds of less fortunate people,” read the top comment on our Met Gala story.
We’ve come to expect anti-celebrity comments when we cover cultural events. “Who cares!” is a common, if slightly disingenuous, refrain given how many readers clamor to see and vote on their favorite looks from awards shows.
But there’s a meaningful difference between the Met Gala and many other red carpet events. At the Oscars or the Emmys, the arrivals lead to a star-studded performance the public can watch, shows with a purpose — celebrating talent (subjective though that is) — that is self-evident. For the viewing public, the Met Gala ends at the doorstep of the museum. If you’re watching at home, the gala can be seen as nothing more than a bunch of grandiose clothes that lead nowhere.
In reading up on the life of Ted Turner, who died Wednesday at 87, I perked up at this five-word sentence in Malcolm Gladwell’s 2010 profile of the media mogul: “He dressed like a cowboy.” It led me to scroll through photos of the Cincinnati-born businessman — especially in the 1970s, when he was sailing in a piqué polo and an incongruous striped conductor’s cap or taking in his Atlanta Braves with his button-up shirt undone to mid-chest.
Turner, a college dropout, who was a prolific drinker (and philanderer), looked rugged — swashbuckling even. He was, it should be said, handsome. In some images, Turner, with his modest mustache, looks like Robert Redford’s body double. But it’s remarkable to visit these images now, when all corporate titans — of media, tech and otherwise — dress so alike. They’re Sun Valley clones in their fleece vests, stretch chinos and dad caps that they theatrically pull low in front of cameras.
But Turner was indeed a telecom cowboy, upending how networks ran in his rugby shirts, knit ties and denim. He looked suave. How few media C.E.O.’s can we say that about now?
Everywhere I go I see young men in ribbed tank tops, sometimes with unbuttoned shirts on top, but often not. The tank tops can be black, white or gray, but they’re worn with everything — not just as undershirts, as I was taught was correct. What is going on? — Richard, Philadelphia
The tank top may seem basic — just a sleeveless cotton top with a scooped neck — but as a garment it contains multitudes. It has roots in the working class and the professional class, the military and the farm, men’s wear and women’s wear, sports and Hollywood, gay culture, rap culture, gym culture and indie sleaze. Read more …
Other things worth knowing about:
Lifestyle
Primm was a cheap, beloved Vegas alternative. Then new California casinos killed it
Once upon a time, Primm, Nev., had three bustling casino resorts, shiny gas stations, a roller coaster and Bonnie and Clyde’s “death car.”
It was a bit surreal, said former visitor John Honell of West Covina: “You had this whole complex in the middle of the desert.”
Southern Californians traveling the arid stretches of the I-15 would see Primm pop up. As he drove to Sin City for bowling tournaments, Honell would stop and “drop a few coins” into the slot machines. It was a gambling oasis — a little less flashy and a little more affordable than Vegas and 45 minutes closer.
“I guess it worked for a while,” said Honell, 85.
But it works no longer. The last of the three casino resorts will close on July 4, owner Affinity Gaming confirmed to The Times this week.
Honell, a regular in the 1970s, saw the growth of a desert gamble: the expansion of the Primm property, in the dusty town once known as State Line, from Whiskey Pete’s gas station, bar and slot machines into three busy resorts.
The Nevada gambling hub south of Las Vegas along the 15 Freeway appears finished, though. Southern Californians who appreciated that it was a shorter drive now can find gambling much closer, at tribal casinos.
Las Vegas insider publication Las Vegas Locally posted a termination letter from Affinity Gaming’s affiliate, Primadonna Co. LLC, to employees who worked at Primm Valley.
With the casino closing down July 4, all employment will end that day too.
Affinity Gaming declined to make an official comment.
The castle-shaped Whiskey Pete’s opened in 1977, followed by Primm Valley in 1990 and Buffalo Bill’s in 1994. Whiskey Pete’s was the first casino to close, in December 2024. Buffalo Bill’s Resort ended 24-7 operations on July 6, only opening when the casino’s concert venue, the Star of the Desert Arena, hosted special events.
David G. Schwartz, a gaming historian and professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, said Primm’s casinos were “built for an entirely different world.”
“Southern California is a huge market for Las Vegas and, in particular, it was once very attractive for those in the Inland Empire,” Schwartz said. “It was a way to trim 45 minutes off the drive — it was a 2-hour drive. It’s different math.”
Lights still glow on the Buffalo Bill’s Resort and Casino sign on Sunday, July 6, 2025 in Primm, NV. (Bridget Bennett / For The Times)
(Bridget Bennett/For The Times)
Primm was once one of Nevada’s more popular gambling resorts, a less expensive, slightly more kitschy alternative to Las Vegas that benefited from being closer than Sin City.
Primm Valley, Whiskey Pete’s and Buffalo Bill’s all hosted at one time the famed Bonnie and Clyde V-8 Ford riddled with more than 100 bullets in 1934.
Whiskey Pete’s offered a quick and affordable 24-hour IHOP, in comparison to Vegas’ pricier buffets, and Californians and Nevadans visited Primm Valley’s 100-store outlet mall, supported by shoppers who were brought by bus to the mall for free.
The three resorts enjoyed expansion and growth throughout the 2010s by utilizing low prices, gimmicks and attractions to lure guests.
Buffalo Bill’s was the biggest of the trio, boasting a buffalo-shaped pool and 592 rooms at its opening (the Bellagio has nearly 4,000 rooms) and eventually expanding to 1,242 rooms.
Buffalo Bill’s and its sister resorts closed in March 2020 when the pandemic hit, reopening between December 2022 and 2023. But they struggled to attract customers.
Although the COVID-19 pandemic hurt all Nevada casinos, that was only part of the reason for Primm’s decline. Schwartz said tribal casinos in Southern California saw their prospects soar as Primm’s hotels teeter-tottered.
California voters passed Proposition 1-A in 2000, which allowed tribal casinos to operate slot machines and erased limits on card games.
“Many of those people Primm was drawing from began to stay in Southern California, where the drives are just much shorter and the amenities much closer,” Schwartz said. “You see the same issue playing out at Laughlin along the Arizona border and Reno and Tahoe in Northern California.”
Shortly after Proposition 1-A’s passage, San Manuel was one of several tribal casinos in San Bernardino and Riverside counties that declared an arms race with Nevada.
Fantasy Springs Resort Casino in Indio, run by the Cabazon Band of Mission Indians, opened in December 2004. The tribe was the fourth between 2002 and 2004 to open or expand its operations, including Agua Caliente in Palm Springs, Morongo in Cabazon and the Pechanga Band of Luiseno Mission Indians in Temecula.
Most of these casinos have continued to build and expand their operations as revenue has continued to flow.
The Southern California tribal resorts are classified by the National Indian Gaming Commission, a gaming regulatory body, to be in the Sacramento region, which includes all resorts in California and Northern Nevada.
In 2014, the combined casinos contributed $7.9 billion in gross gaming revenue.
Ten years later, 87 tribal operations throughout two states combined for $12.1 billion, marking a modest 1.4% increase from 2023.
Yaamava’ Resort & Casino, run by the San Manuel Band of Mission Indians, sits in Highland, about 200 miles from Primm but less than half that distance from downtown L.A.
Yaamava’ completed a $760-million expansion in 2021, which added a 17-floor tower, three bars and about 1,700 new slots.
The 7,400 slot machines at Yaamava’ make the casino the West Coast’s largest, with 4,000 more slots than its Vegas peers. By square footage of gaming space, Yaamava is No. 4 in the nation and still the biggest on the West Coast.
“The decline has been part of a larger trend,” Schwartz said of Primm. “People are choosing options that most appeal to them.”
Lifestyle
Unmistakable Love of Austin, the Texas Longhorns and Each Other
Around July 4, Mena started the countdown to football season.
Stowell joined him at sports bars to watch Longhorns teams, and managed to stick it out at an early-season Texas Longhorns home football game in 105-degree heat until halftime, where he met Mena’s cousins, who had season tickets.
“It showed me willingness,” Mena said, who didn’t miss any football “away games” in November 2021 when they stayed in a Cancun villa with a satellite dish for five days with friends.
In January 2022, Mena hosted a 40th birthday party for Stowell at the Golden Goose bar in Austin, and by the end of the year, they bought a fixer-upper — a one-story bungalow just a 10-minute walk to the university’s football stadium.
“His love of sports knows no bounds,” said Stowell, with memorabilia, posters and jerseys everywhere in his house. “I had to then take the reins,” with a more subtle nod to the Longhorns. “The front door is burnt orange.”
During the renovation, in August 2023, they took a trip to the Azores and Portugal, where Stowell proposed with a gray crushed diamond band as they sat on bar stools at Pavilhão Chinês, a quirky, hidden bar in Lisbon where servers wear tuxedos.
“After the renovation is done, do you want to get married?” Stowell asked Mena pragmatically.
On April 24, Elana M. Schulman, a friend of the couple who became a Universal Life minister for the event, officiated the 25-minute ceremony at Assembly Hall, an events space in Austin. Their 180 guests got to choose Austin murals as backdrops for photo booth snapshots, enjoyed local Tito’s vodka and Lalo tequila margaritas, and Zed’s New Zealand-style ice cream and a taco truck.
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