The Smiths will never let you down. (also see: “Rubber Ring”)
"Membership in a coterie, school, or group produces different effects on major and minor writers. For minor writers, a group provides a repertory of styles and themes and gives them confidence to work at the height of their powers. They return the favor by compiling group anthologies and writing manifestos, but when the group disintegrates, they may have nothing more to say. For major writers, a group tends to provide themes and publicity in the first few years of their career, when they are already looking elsewhere, and their mature work has nothing common with the later work of the rest of the group. The members left behind, now famous mostly because they had once been associated with the major writer, mutter resentfully that he betrayed them.
"O'Hara was a major writer who tried to convince himself he was a minor one. His best work either ignored or teased the coterie he partied with, but as he grew older he found it easier to fight off loneliness by immersing himself in an always-welcoming group than by opening himself to the risks of any intimacy that might relieve it…….The more time O'Hara spent barhopping with his coterie, the fewer poems he wrote, and the more convinced he became that he had nothing more to say."
–Edward Mendelson, "What We Love, Not Are," on Selected Poems by Frank O'Hara, published in The New York Review of Books, September 25, 2008
Who makes the most weatherproof umbrella? Last time I got caught in the rain (white t-shirt no less…ah, summer rain), I upgraded from the usual $3 one to a leopard print umbrella by Totes. I used it only once and already one of the spokes has come undone. And it wasn’t even raining that hard, or at all windy!
I had a Marc Jacobs umbrella as well, and it was the worst. Not only did it cut up my fingers every time I closed it (those little metal things, what are they called? I was terrified of them as a kid), it wasn’t even waterproof! If there were ever more than a sprinkle of rain, it would soon be dripping on the inside.
I was very happy when someone borrowed it and never gave it back.
Other umbrellas in my either currently or formerly include a hot pink one by Nanette Lepore (a freebie; I loaned it to my roommate Simon once because I thought it would be hilarious to picture him walking around town with it. He lost it), a mod print wooden handle umbrella by Banana Republic that weighs about 10 pounds, a purple umbrella given to me by a former fling, and of course about a billion of those super cheap black ones that can be found on most street corners during inclement weather.
A friend of mind once wrote a blurb in Bookforum in the voice of Casey Spooner about what he was reading…the only part of it that I remember is that it had to do with carrying a bookstrap around…
“Apollinaire’s prescription for poetry was to always carry an umbrella around, but to never actually open it. When I go out I carry a book around on my Matt Murphy-designed book strap, but never feel the need to actually read it.”
Or something like that.
Renata
On my way to Anna Sui. She was headed backstage.
She’s very petite.
Renata
I would love to start writing fashion reviews this way. At least the ones in New York anyway, where ideas are pretty thin.
The above is for Max Azria, quite possibly the most lackluster, uninspired show I’ve seen this week.
Though on days where my head isn’t shattered in a thousand pieces, you might catch me praising something boring as “elegant in its simplicity” or some other sort of BS like that.
Michael Kors, in a word: “Happy”
After the show he said he has always been a glass-half-full-not-empty kind of optimist, and you could feel it in these clothes. You could roll around in a big feather bed cloud of happiness. I never like Kors but I loved this one. Maybe its nostalgia for the primary colors my mom used to dress me in. Plus, it said something varied but maintained cohesiveness. Maybe I wouldn’t necessarily wear it, but as an artistic statement, as a collection, it made sense.
Renata
Too bad, because a live performance by him last night at William Rast
would have made me forget how hideous the clothes were. Um, denim
cutoff shorts? Good thing people could get sloshed on the cans of
Budweiser that sat iced in each row. (Anna Wintour, there's Bud Light
for you). You needed beer goggles to go home with William.
would have made me forget how hideous the clothes were. Um, denim
cutoff shorts? Good thing people could get sloshed on the cans of
Budweiser that sat iced in each row. (Anna Wintour, there's Bud Light
for you). You needed beer goggles to go home with William.
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