Gold Pants Dance from Julie, who got it from Dyna. Ladies, I thank you.
This contains the funniest bit of info regarding some of the mysterious receipts recorded by the Federal Election Commission for the Palin makeover: a $4,902.45 charge at Atelier New York, which “carries expensive cut-up T-shirts and tricky suits from avant-garde designers, like Raf Simons, Yohji Yamamoto and Ann Demeulemeester, none of whom typically create beltway-appropriate attire.”
However, calls by the NYT to the store owner to verify this purchase produced only confusion. There were no records of purchases totalling that amount; furthermore, the store’s clientele is so small and specialized, the owner of the store pretty much knows who most of his customers are. Could be a mistake, but I’d like to imagine that there’s some sneaky RNC aide buying stuff for a beau.
Monsieur Christian Louboutin introduced his BFF Philippe Starck at a fashion industry mega event last night (they were both receiving awards) and Louboutin, a self-described teenage punk and “major safety pin victim” talked about meeting Starck for the first time in a Paris nightclub. He describes their encounter (I am paraphrasing): “Whatever Phillipe Starck, I heard you design some furniture or something, but you’re not a punk and you look totally boring and I don’t like your shoes or your tie.” Plus, Starck was totally old. He was a ripe 25.
Starck on Louboutin: “He was the worst teenager I ever saw in my life…he was terrible. He was a gremlin! You could never take him out because he broke everything. He’d burn the curtains, break all the glasses.”
Continue reading ‘Christian Louboutin: “I was a major safety pin victim!”’
This doc was made by the Rochlins who also did Vali Myers doc. The young girl Caroline in “Dope” looks to be the same girl who did a fancy dance and got her face tattooed by Vali in the Positano mountains.
This old man doesn’t need drugs. When he was in Egypt in the war, if one had nothing to do, one took a 50 yard run and gave an Egyptian a kick up the arse.
The “After School Special”
gonna smash your face so bad, you\’re gonna look like cooked spaghetti
Valerie and her Week of Wonders……
Incest, lesbian Aunts, carnival Devils, enamored dorks, much white Broderie Anglaise.
It’s October, and that means pumpkins. As a child, I hated, hated, cake for my birthday. So my mom made me pumpkin pie instead. Oh, the thrill of being the first pumpkin pie eater of the season, a full month before Thanksgiving trotted into town.
Let me tell you about a most surprising salad that I ate at my beloved Marlow & Sons, where I go to remind myself that there is nothing in the world more worth fighting for than food. This salad: the daily market salad, composed of vegetable scrapings, swirls of olive oil and good, strong parmagiano. Those vegetables: Here’s where things must take a bow. Thinly shaved raw pumpkin with a carved crunch in the mouth the equivalent of a spoon scraping pumpkin flesh for seeds. This mixed with pungent broccoli greens possessing an honorable, wholly charming overbite.
Imagine, if you will, a plate that resembled the topography of a New Mexican mesa in winter: Dry, earthen desert parsed with summer’s last green shrubbery. A fine layer of powder precipitates the dish with salty sweetness.
