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.
Did not set my alarm for 3am so that I could watch their show in “real” time–it went live on their site at 9am Paris time. Good thing…
I must say, what I saw made me embarrassed for them. Rather than a display of “the future,” the whole Web presentation instead looked stuck in the past, circa 2000. For some reason, fashion houses love Flash and they love bad electro-ambient soundtracks. To spare you the boredom of watching the show, the gist of it is this: It stars ’90s supermodel great Shalow Harlow. She models every look (how clever–get it? It’s the internet so you can use the same model!). We see each design from various camera angles, supposedly offering a more detailed look–but frankly, the cuts are too quick and the resolution too low to actually see what is going on.
Also in a nod to tradition, Shalom walks on a runway. Why not have her walk in space, or in the desert, or on water? Where’s the imagination in this? And the virtual room is filled with empty seats. Guess Anna Wintour’s avatar couldn’t make it on time for the early morning show.
At the end of a presentation that seems to go on forever (in reality, probably 15 minutes, which is nothing for a real fashion show but for a virtual one? A lifetime. And only 21 looks), all the Shaloms come out in their various outfits and flank the runway, clapping, as the disembodied heads and torsos of Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren appear overhead like great and all-powerful wizards. Then everyone dissolves.
The clothes? Fave fashion terms like “architectural,” “futuristic” and “origami” on the one hand, and technology’s influence on the other hand in the form of motherboard prints and pixelated color. How about: “Autobot starship warrior princesses on their way to meet Tron.”
Oh, and wanna know how you make a Web show with no invites and no front row palatably exclusive for the fashion flock? Style.com will tell you how: “…the duo’s new Web show, which Style.com exclusively previewed in advance of its October 2 debut on the label’s Web site….” Advance screening! Some things never change.
Hidden puddle under a slate sidewalk slab soaks my shoes,
Mariachi band plays on a soccer field, in the twillight, and umbrella people witness,
Slimy slug crawls across a bumpy wall to the floor, next to my bed,
Damp air slows drying laundry.
Renata
The Smiths will never let you down. (also see: “Rubber Ring”)
"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
Life: an excuse for an anecdote. Thinking of anecdotes as accessories, carried in a book strap. The title tells you everything you need to know and conveys the essential point. Good title: leaves ...
Coaxed into covering a chocolate show involving fashion made of chocolate, I cast aside my inhibitions. “Unleash the chocoholicism!” is what this event invites. Throngs descend upon the West Side Highway, a sight I’m more accustomed to seeing in the daylight, for the Armory Show. West 50th Street is a desolate strip between 10th Avenue and now, all FedEx and horse stables and double parked cars. I stop over the Amtrak rails, my favorite spot in Midtown, it reminds me of Manhattan’s history as a hub of industry and trade, the grand connector between far off lands and the heartland, the mountains, the desert, the Pacific Coast…now Doritos wrappers and Burger King bags line the rails, probably needles and condoms and shit, too. Well that’s history, too. “What opera is like a railwayline? —The Rose of Castile. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!”
I love how designers are redefining the word "minimalism." Merriam-Webster: Main Entry:min·i·mal·ism Pronunciation: \ˈmi-nə-mə-ˌli-zəm\ Function:noun Date:19291 : a style or technique (as in music, literature, or design) that is characterized by extreme spareness and simplicity 2 : minimal art Today we have Rogan Gregory doing what he terms "soulful minimalism." Imagine a Richard Serra sculpture (Gregory's favorite artist, fyi). Minimalism that's been left outside to rust, weather and age. As the parlance goes: Minimalism with a twist! Rogan points to the concrete floor inside his showroom and store. "When they first poured it, they made it perfect and smooth...and I looked at it and thought, no, that's not right." Rogan likes things to be a little fucked up, he said. Don't we all! How does this translate to the clothes?
Gold Pants Dance from Julie, who got it from Dyna. Ladies, I thank you.