The peerless acoustic-blues guitar picker Jorma Kaukonen turned 85 on December 23 and is in the midst of a celebratory tour that recently saw him—along with special guests including Larry Campbell, Steve Earle, G. E. Smith, and Teresa Williams—fill Carnegie Hall, and that next brings him to the West Coast. He’s also released a tasty new album of unearthed solo recordings from the 60s, Wabash Avenue. If all this activity sounds like a revival, it isn’t. Kaukonen has been a steady, welcome presence through the years, performing on his own as well as with the splendid bassist Jack Casady as Hot Tuna. The two were bandmates even before that in Jefferson Airplane, San Francisco’s psychedelic-rock pioneers. Casual observation at Carnegie suggested that more than a few members of the audience had pulled off some kind of tie-dyed transtemporal travel from the Fillmore West circa 1967 for the evening, but there was no denying the warmth and enthusiasm in the hall—or the consummate musicianship onstage. (jormakaukonen.com) —George Kalogerakis

Hormones are real, and science is finally catching up. Biologica’s effervescent sachet delivers everything a woman needs (vitamins, minerals, botanicals, probiotics, and electrolytes) for any stage in her life, from perimenopause to postmenopause. Curious where you are in your hormonal journey? Take the quiz on Biologica’s site for a personalized road map. Housed in a beautifully display-worthy tin, it’s evidence-based, considered, and effortlessly easy to use. No need to add a magnesium pill here, or a probiotic there—it’s quiet care in a package, the kind that understands your body and doesn’t try to fix what isn’t broken. (from $54, biologica.com) —Jen Noyes

Elton John’s first photo shoot was in January 1968, a year before his debut album released. But he wasn’t exactly “Elton John” then. He was still known by his given name, Reginald Dwight. The photos, taken by Val Wilmer, spotlight the young, soon-to-be-global sensation being flamboyant as ever, decked out in a fur coat and jet-black sunglasses. The pictures are among the many in Icon, a coffee-table book tracing the now 78-year-old singer’s journey to fame and the photographers that helped make him immortal. ($75, accartbooks.com) —Maggie Turner

A lot of designers claim they have created the perfect T-shirt. Anthony Melillo actually did it—and it became the foundation for the success of his brand ATM, Anthony Thomas Melillo. Thirteen years after its launch, it’s in the midst of a refresh, with new backing from his friend Steve Madden and a slick new store at 107 Spring Street in New York’s SoHo neighborhood. There’s no shortage of tees, but we’re especially tempted by the new range of cashmere, especially the ribbed, wide-leg, pull-on pant and matching ribbed, long-sleeved cardigan. Was the ensemble designed for frequent fliers on the red-eye? Not exclusively, but it sure is an instant upgrade to the dreadful experience, making even a 36E situation feel rather 1A. ($295, atmcollection.com) —Ashley Baker

It’s not as easy to find a decent meal in central London as it might seem. Its finest restaurants skew heavy and classic English in cuisine, but that has changed with the arrival of Aki, a modern Japanese affair on Cavendish Square. Think of it as a little slice of Kyoto, as imagined by one of the top talents from Malta—the interior designer Francis Sultana, who has transformed a Grade II–listed bank into a three-story East Asian emporium. The bar is the place to start, where miso and fermented soy are incorporated into clever cocktails, and the wine and champagne selections are robust and unusual. The farm-to-table selection comprises all sorts of plates, including sashimi, nigiri, tempura, and robata, and while generally these sorts of large menus are cause for alarm, here, each dish is executed with precision—and just the right amount of flair. (akilondon.com) —Ashley Baker

What better way to avoid the terrors of Dry January than by sneaking yourself into the cozy snug of The Pub, a compendium of Britain’s quintessential third space. Created by the satirists at London’s The Fence magazine, The Pub intersperses essays by the likes of John Banville (on inhospitable Irish drinking holes) with dispatches from the busiest, strangest, gayest, and most isolated pubs in the country. Use the book’s Boschian flowchart to engineer a pint at London’s most popular pub—the ever thronged Devonshire. Or linger in some raggedy, lesser-known boozers with The Fence’s chief sot, Jimmy McIntosh. The wit is warm; the wisdom, diverting. Pour yourself a large one and sink in. ($21.63, barnesandnoble.com) —George Pendle