on a totally separate note im in total despair. I seem unable to decide if Cassius Clay, the Yale sophomore who dropped out to be Kanye’s stylist, is crazy or super crazy. or how about super super crazy. read it for yourself here.
it seems when I moved to the USA I got off at the wrong state. nyc is NOT meant to have snow storms reminiscent of the FICTIONAL movie “the day after tomorrow” (which btw I watched while seated next to a couple who deemed it appropriate to basically have sex in the cinema).
if I wanted “romantic” white fluff, I would have moved to Michigan or those other cold typically American places that are the setting of EVERY Christmas film. has anyone ever noticed that a Christmas movie is never filmed in say Florida?
…..double mention of films might give some indication of how I spent my snow day
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self reminder: shoes other than uggs and snow boots do exist
Whoever said that Psychedelic Rock was dead has clearly been abducted and possibly held captive in a remote cave with a ten fold boulder jammed into his/her ears. Tame Imapala has not only revamped the fading genre, but has given it new meaning. The Australian natives' new album, "Innerspeakings" will be released May 2010 and will include the band's singles: Solitude is Bliss and Lucidity.
The riffs are powerful and groovy and the bass rightfully demands full attention on "Half Full Glass of Wine."
WARNING: This song is vein penetrable and may result in colorful disillusionment; if you are not getting high off of this song you clearly have far more serious problems which should not be discussed on said blog.
Enjoy the ride
Behold, the fashion industry's newest accessory, the golden muzzle. While pondering questions along the lines of, "how to stop the models from binging and purging" "how to curb the models coke habits" and "how to divert the models from lewd behavior" all while simultaneously making a highly suggestive statement thereby garnering attentive interest---> the golden muzzle was born.
On 2nd thought, it's quite possible they were just trying to hide a bad case of Herpes.
You man/woman-the jacket has cleverly stumped us from telling the difference- are ridiculous. TMZ has yet to alert us that Michael Jackson has been reincarnated as an NYC Hipster, free to ironically play with all the little children of the lower west side through non-profit charity groups! Wehhhee, cheke um! (cue the moonwalk)
No but seriously, thank you kind sir for giving street style photography the energy kick it needed.
OK, so Sting's daughter Coco kicks some serious ass. Clearly following (or surpassing) her father's footsteps, Coco's first single, Caesar ft. Robyn is daunting and fantastic. Her lyrics are eery and suggestive, her style a dramatic grunge, and her aura brilliant and dark- she oozes cool.
Can someone out in cyberspace explain to me why Michele Lamy dyes her fingers black? I can't seem to think of possible inspirations other than images of frost bitten infected limbs, coal miners or just dirty people in general... and why is she constantly putting them into her mouth? could they possibly taste good? Regardless, if I met her I would probably beg her to kiss those noir fingertips, hello she is Rick Owens-yes the Rick Owens- wife!! oo what I would do to get a no hold spree in her closet!
Suits had a hollywood comeback this week with leighton meester to jessica “don’t call me latino” Alba…I no that “Im not latino” thing is soooo old but if I was latino (which im not) I would hate her…wait I do anyways……
besides I do not want to wear a tie! had to wear them my whole childhood in school so im an expert tie tier! but a tuxedo I love! have yet to work out what about a piece of satin tied in a bow is so appealing to me but I prefer looking like a penguin than avril lavigne circa 2003
Once again the fashion industry as duped me into paying more for less. I have come to the conclusion that this will be an everlasting problem. Bitterness aside, my closet has gone sheer, and I am in need of Bra's that can pass off as bathing suits- ala American Apparel.
Downfall--> Girls (you know who you are) will have to wax you're arms during Winter. Yes, we've noticed... so has everyone else.
The term "sophomore slump" does not apply to the extremely talented Mr. Danny Boyle, who just three years ago brought us Slumdog Millionaire. 127 hours is a film based on the experience of real life climber, Aron Ralston, who, after hiking alone in the canyons of Utah becomes trapped between two rocks- for, you guessed it- 127 hours. Confirmed. James Franco is just as pleasing to the eye when put in extremely compromising positions. Franco portrayal of Ralston is brilliant to say the least. As Franco struggles between dehydration, hallucinations, and a 99 cent plastic knife, Boyle's artistic vision interjects with slices of pop culture referential footage and loud music. While these breaks in the film are powerful, the beauty and intensity lies completely within Franco's chilling performance. Boyle transported us outside of the cave with slices of imagery from Ralston's past, but we would've been content sitting with Franco in that one spot. Franco's most powerful moments were often silent, his bleary eyed daze and crooked grisly smile will stay with you long after you leave the theatre, while Boyle's attempt to make a point about relationships and human interconnectedness seems unfulfilled and underdeveloped. 127 is the kind of movie you must see once, albiet difficult to watch, it will have you back in no time to ride Ralston's gruesome journey all over again, uncovering something different each time.
via rackk and ruin
"Ground control to Major Tom"
If Mr. Bowie and I ever decided to blast off into space together on a makeshift spaceship full of lollipops and Ziggy Stardust apparel, this is precisely what I'd be wearing.
... Commencing countdown in 5 4 3 2 1... BLISS
OH and sometimes I like to paint my face in memory. Did I mention I like David Bowie?
ess: jacket- All Saints, pants: Urban Outfitters, shoes: Steve for Steve Madden
We were just adhering to our Brooklyn reps' when we stumbled/stormed into the weekly flea market held in the beautiful converted bank at 1 Hanson place. The 3 floor market was a sweet slice of heaven for vintage lovers, overflowing with a plethora of broken-in leathers and furs that looked like they were stolen from the grips of Dita Von Teese herself. Just imagine the vintage stores of Greenwich pumped with steroids and diluted of that mysterious- might I add nasty- smell, and Valla... Success.
%5B5%5D.jpg "fashion gone rogue (3)")
%5B4%5D.png "untitled (5)")
