love, loss and rebirth....

In the modern world of fashion, there is little room for artistic expression, this fast pace world has become one of dollars and cents. Brushed aside is individuality, in its place a stamped out plastic world where designers’ vision and voices are muffled by the great machine, which is the garment industry.  One of the few vestiges of story telling and artistic expression are the couture shows, Ricardo Tisci’s latest collection for the house of Givenchy, with it’s pallid color story tempered with surprising infusion of color, tells a tale of love, loss and rebirth.

Long ago in the time of magic in a village in Japan, lived a beautiful young woman.  Her hair long and black, eyes bright, lips in the shape of a heart and skin like porcelain.  Her parents named her Ai, meaning love as she was.  For Ai, joy was not a friend misfortune and tragedy was her constant companion.

On his fifth birthday her only child Ichiro falls sick and never recovers, her parents fall to the same illness and her husband in a clan fight.  “How unlucky I am, to be named love yet there is no one for me” she laments.  “How could the gods be so cruel?”  She spends her days and nights wandering the village like and white specter, only heartache and sorrow clinging to her like her damp mourning robes. One moonlit night she walks by the river, and the rushing torrents seem to chatter.  At first just a whisper, then constant beaconing, she looks into the moonlit currents realize this was the only way she will be with her family again.   In her white mourning gown she takes one step then another into the river. As the water hits her shoulders the waters’ icy embrace pulls her under.  As the water rushes over her head tortured thoughts are silenced and then just blackness.

Ai’s eyes open and she is not at the bottom of the river rather a bright and magical palace.  “Ah there you are” says a warm voice.  “Am I dead?” she asks.  “Yes and No” says the voice, “you are an immortal now.”  Ai’s eyes adjust to the light, and see an old man with long white beard and wooden staff in hand, kind downward turning eyes and rosey cheaks.  “I am Jurojin” says the old man.  “You have known such sorrow and ill fortune you will be my harbinger of good fortune and longevity.” 

Jurojin takes her hand and leads her to another room where she sees other women like her dressed in gowns embroidered with feathers and cranes.  “Your sisters will explain all” he says and leaves the room. 

  “My name is Chu” says a young woman who’s gown was stitched with fine oyster colored thread.  “Our master only asks a two things of us”, she says.  “First thing, you must go to him when summoned and second do as he asks, if you do you will never know sorrow again.” 

 “What does he ask us to do?” Ai inquires.  “Deliver good news”, a voice from another room says.  “I am Hana says this young woman with a origami jacket and feathered skirt.  “You will be summoned and he will tell you who is to receive the good tidings, Master is the god of luck and longevity, he favors beautiful women, and we are all lost souls that he has chosen to deliver his news. 

 At this moment Ai is summoned to Jurojin’s chambers. “Yes master” she answers.  Jurojin hands her a piece of paper and Ai reads it.  She is to deliver, the good news that this young couple are to have a child after many failed attempts. She hastily flies out the window with her robes flapping behind her.  She flutters over mountains, rivers and then finally pastures where she sees the couple hard at work on their farm.  She lands and starts telling them the news, joy overcomes her and she begins to sing and dance. 

The young couple is taken a back at this site.  “Look a dancing crane”, says the young woman to her husband.  He grabs her and holds her close, “we are lucky, we are to receive some very good luck”, he whispers into her ear.  

 Having delivered the good news she flies back to be with her master and sisters. 

See the entire presentation at: http://www.style.com/fashionshows/review/S2011CTR-GIVENCHY

Beautiful Flock

For some, fresh blooms symbolize heralding of spring, while others the longer warmer days, for me it’s the spring couture shows.  Very much like tulips, crocuses and daffodils the couture designers send out their best and brightest in order to attract the attention of all in view.  John Galliano, has mastered the art of grandstanding for the house of Dior, like a proud peacock he fans his tail feathers in a spectacle of, shapes, colors, and flourishments. 

High above our heads six birds soar, their wings flap and flutter riding the air currents.  Year round they wander the earth forbidden to touch the ground for fear of capture.  You see these are no ordinary birds rather six beautiful queens cursed by their wicked king, bound together into a beautiful flock.  Once a year when the kings’ magic is weakest and the night is longest these birds find their way to a remote crystalline lake and touch down. 

 First to touch ground is Lady Ellenora the youngest and strongest the six. As her claw touches the ground it turns into a magnificent satin shoe. 

 Her red feathers transform into a resplendent coat and crest a fanciful hat.  She stretches and walks around, “finally!” she chirps, “I thought he would never tire.” Lady Ellenora was the newest of the kings’ consorts.  She had only been in the court for eight months before being cursed.

 Second to land Lady Agatha, her wings flap furiously in order to slow her descent, upon landing they transform into a beautiful gloved hands her chest feathers into a glorious gray jacket and her crimson beak into a magnificent pout. The daughter of rich land owners, taking her was a tactical move for the king.  He envied the land and power her father possessed.   

On the day they celebrated Lady Agatha joining the court the king orders to the his men to seize the land and murder her parents.  Not a soul suspected the king's treachery and no survivors were left not even a child.  Stone cold Lady A became in upon hearing the grim news, and prayed for a painful death for her King.

 Third to land Lady Beatrice, as was her manner she makes little noise and fuss upon touching down. Only the faint sound of tears hitting her jacket, each tear turns to into a luminous bead, which adorns her slight frame with melancholy, and her sorrow a thin veil. 

 So saddened by the circumstances that led her to the court she keeps to herself and mourns.  You see she was madly in love with a young duke.  As customary for their rank they needed to ask the king for permission to wed, unions of any royal was a matter of the state, and only the king could allow or dissolve any such union.  Upon seeing Lady Beatrice the king denies the marriage and banishes the young duke to the badlands where death and disease were sure to consume him so it was in this manner Lady B, became enslaved by the king and her sorrow.

 Fourth was Lady Ping, an exotic woman she was a symbol of a truce between his majesty and the barbarian king of neighboring empire.  Although beautiful the king did not feel the same, her foreign look disgusted the king and this princess from a distant land was nothing more than a servant.  Rarely looked at or addressed, Lady P found solace by singing songs of her country.  Songs of beautiful green plains, majestic forests and mighty rivers, such a contrast from this gray gloomy land she had been sent to.   

 As she touches down Lady ping sings a song of rejoice.  Her red pout lyrically moves about and her pale blue feathers transmute into a sheer mist that lay over Lady Ping’s body.

 Fifth to land, Lady Anja as the most beautiful of the six she was favored by the king.  A delicate beauty she was the only one of the queens of his choosing.  In stark contrast she loathed the king for his brutality. It was Lady Anja’s scheme to murder him that led all six to be cursed.

 Lady Anja glides in so smooth, her toes turn to a fine shoe and she lifts her skirt as to not dirty the hem, he feathered crest into a crown of blue majestic petals.  “Are you well my sisters?” she asks.  

 “Georgina”, Lady Ping sings.  All of a sudden they hear the frenetic flutter of wings and see Lady Georgina.  Lady G, was the queen of a neighboring kingdom and upon conquering it the wicked king, he takes her as a queen executes her husband.  The new monarch drains the land of its natural resources and the inhabitants left to starve.  Saddened of the plight of her people Lady G mourns. 

Her blue feathers transform into adornments on her gown, her crest into a mask and beak into a beautifully turned up nose and vermillion lips and she finally lands.  “One, two, three, four, five, six!” she exclaims.

The six take seat and plot a way to destroy the wicked king.  They chatter and chirp into the night not able to come to and agreement and before they know it, the sun begins to shine and they feel the king’s power grow and all their finery erupt into feathers and they are off to fly around the globe again to try once more in a year’s time.

See the spectacle at: http://www.style.com/fashionshows/review/S2011CTR-CDIOR

Quietly Poetic

On January 21, Junya Watanabe presented his Fall 2011 men’s wear collection.  It was an artful collage the familiar and new.  Models ambulated in shrunken trousers, classic blazers fashioned of Fair Isle knits and buffalo plaid parkas.   The complete look was honest and quietly poetic.

It was my third day in Paris, I had had become fed up with the minutia of my life back home.  So I bought a plane ticket and found a fairly inexpensive hotel in the 7^th arrondissement.  I had no major plans I just wanted to get lost in a place that was unfamiliar.  By the third day I had found my routine, get up late, go to the café around the corner to people watch, and pick as spot on the map to explore.  On this morning I had gotten up late and I rushed to my café to watch the Parisians converge onto this café like savanna animals to a water hole.  The women, who with their gamine frames, especially fascinated me. Balanced on high heels they navigated the ancient cobbles with such ease, almost like egrets they floated and danced over the streets, barely touching the ground.  In great contrast I lumbered along like an over served water buffalo. 

I make it out the hotel doors and I see that my tardiness has left no tables open.  I became panicked at the site and I dash across the street to see if there is any hope.  I see one open table, a small one in the corner and I scurry over and sit down. Unfortunately there is body across from me, in my haste I fail to notice that someone had the same thought and we sit at the same time. 

He looks at me and says, “excusez-moi”, I look at him and say “I’m sorry, je parle Francais, un petite peu. Parlez vous Anglaise?”  “Are you American?” he says.  I say, “yes”.  “Would you like to share this table?”, he shakes his head yes. 

I order a café au lait avec chocolate croissant and he the same, and I pull out my map to plot my move for the day and I hear the deep rumble of his voice, “Are you on Holiday?”  The base of his voice was like that of a Harley, the vibrations tickling my ears.  I can’t help but giggle. I look over the top of the map and confirm his question. I finally get a chance to look at him closely and I see before me a dark and handsome man, who’s cavernous eyes seem to hide some sort of secret.  “And you?” I ask.  “I am here for work,” he tells me, “I am from Poland, my name is Lucian.” I shake is large hands and I tell him mine.  “What do you do?” I ask, “that takes you so far from home.” “I am artist”, he replies. 

 

Our orders arrive at this moment and he takes off his coat to enjoy.  I take a break for the conversation to look and my prey, how I envy their seemingly simple way of life, meeting friends for lunch and taking 2 hour lunches how was all this possible?

“Your eyes, they dance like butterflies,” he says to me.  ‘Come again?” I ask.  “Your eyes they dance like butterflies, from one place to another like little butterflies.”  With so much to see I guess my eyes betray me.  “I’m sorry”, “Why? Your eyes are eating up our surroundings, you are enjoying no?”  I nod yes.  I have a hard time looking him in his eyes, it feels like the intensity of his gaze might burn a hole right through me, so I choose his jacket with its intricate pattern and classic color scheme. 

“Are you by yourself” he asks me, I reply “yes.”  “So brave, for a young pretty woman to travel alone.”  “I’m not so young and not so brave”, I tell him.  My eyes make their way from his jacket to his socks, which are navy blue with tiny little cornflower specks.  How odd that his pants were so short and that he was wearing a pair of brown suede shoes with the combination. 

We finish and pay and he asks me if I would like to meet for dinner.  “Sure”, I reply to him.  “Meet me here at café at 2000?” It takes me a second, and I say “Oh! 8 o’clock pm!” and agree, he puts his coat back on and gives me a hug.  His arms were strong and comfortable and I catch a whiff of his cologne the strong masculine odor fill my nostrils and sends my heart a flutter.  As he walks away, I think, “This could be the distraction I need.”

View complete collection at: http://www.style.com/fashionshows/review/F2011MEN-JNWATNBE

Cimmerian Allure

On a cold January day in Paris we see the resurrection of a brand, like a killer from a slasher film, what you thought was dead and lifeless opens it’s eyes and come screaming at you with knife in hand.  This was the case with Mugler’s Fall 11 collection.  Gone is the brand's founder and in his place an eager young team of image-makers, stylist Nicola Formichetti, designer Romain Kreme; and filmmaker Mariano Vivanco.

The clothes, not subtle or submissive, conjure monstrous hit men from a dark thriller. The cimmerian allure of the images leave me wondering if I should be running away or towards these men. 

 

I'm dancing the night away in an underground club in Prague.  The music lulls the crowd into one giant writhing mass.  The condensation from the hot bodies makes the air thick, and oppressive, but I can't stop.  But from the entrance of the club I feel a pair or eyes locked on me, it's a tattooed man with a look of dark determination in his eyes.  Fear washes over me and I make my way to the back door with him in pursuit.  I manage get out the back door and run down the back alley, and I run into a waiting taxi.  I pull out my key card and point at the address on it and the driver takes me to my hotel.

 

I pay the driver, and make my way into the hotel.  I head to the bank of elevators and head up to my room.  As the door opens I step out and walk to the end of the hall where I would find sanctuary.  I walk briskly to my room when I here the elevator doors open again. I turn around to discover a dark specter coming towards me, his face blacked out.  I run for my life, towards my room at the end of the hall.  I reach the door, frantically open the door and try to leave the mystery man outside but as the entrance cracks I feel his weight against me and we both fall in.  

 

He takes off his jacket as to do his work.  I'm crouched between the bed and plead for my life but there is no mercy in his eyes. He walks towards me grabs, wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes. With every breath out, I feel his fingers tighten, the only thing I can think of doing is pushing my thumbs into his eye sockets, which besides his arms were the only human parts showing. I find the last ounce of energy and push my thumbs in, now what was once blue filled with red.  He screams and drops me and my body hits the desk and papers go flying along with a letter opener.  I run to grab the letter opener, he sees me and stumbles my way.  I grab the letter opener turn around, at once the letter opener, my assailant and myself become one, in a bloody mess. 

 

I manage to push his huge frame off of me and check to see if I've been hurt.  Fortunately all the blood on me was his.  There he lay bleeding on the old carpet, all I could do was look down on his broken body.  I sat ready with a vase in case he comes springing up towards me.  But he does no such thing, instead I hear him take his last breath an hour after.  I don't know what to do, what do I do with this large man that I've killed in my room.  Then I hear a phone ring, I listen for the source, it's coming from the inside pocket of his jacket.  I take it out and see it's from "Big Man".  I answer and a deep raspy voice says "is it done?", I ask "who is this?" The voice replies, "oh, you are still alive, I"ll send a cleaner." I did not know what a cleaner is, but I had to get out of there. I grabbed my valuables, coat, hat and ran out of there.  I tried to disguise myself as best I could tucking my dark hair in the coat and under the hat maybe no one would notice me.  As I enter the lobby I walk to the entrance and as I get leaved through the left doors I see a man come in on the right side.  He is dressed in a rubber smock, strange hat and doctor's bag. I don't wait to see what or who he is.  I look for a tiny bed and breakfast on the outskirts of town and get a room to rest and gather my thoughts. 

 I get my room and look into the mirror, how tired and pitiful did I look? I decided to take a shower and try to take a nap and devise my next move.  What was supposed to be a European vacation had turned into a nightmare, I was still bewildered to what I had gotten myself into.  I take a long hot shower and watch the bloodied water run down the drain, I could still feel my attacker's fingers around my neck.  I sit there till the water turns cold and then I come out and dry off.  As I am drying my hair I feel something is wrong, it had gotten darker.  I look towards the window and I see someone behind the curtains.  He charges me so fast the gauzy sheers come off and get caught on his face.  He throws me on the bed my mouth covered so I could not scream.  He pushes all his weight on me and I fall limp.  He asks me "if I move my hand you promise not to scream?", I shake my head yes, with every intention of screaming.  As he  moves his hands he feels me take a deep breath about to scream and pushes all the air out of my chest and I am left gasping.  "What do you want from me?" I wheezed.  He looked at me and said "you"........................

See the entire presentation at: http://www.style.com/fashionshows/review/F2011MEN-TMUGLER

Meow Mix

It was announced today that Anne Hathaway is casted as the iconic Selina Kyle aka Catwoman in the next Batman movie; “The Dark Knight Rises”.  I love the casting choice because I think she can pull off the mousey Selina Kyle as well as the sexually charged and dangerous Catwoman.  To commemorate this I’ve pulled some images showcasing the influence of Catwoman, on fashion, sex and entertainment.  BTW I’ve left Halle Berry off this on purpose, not because I don’t think she’s hot the reason being I hated the movie and the costume. 

Julie Newmar, will always be the original Catwoman to me.

The fabulous Kate on the cover of Interview.

I don't know the magazine this ran in, but the shoes!!!!

Eartha Kitt, camped up the TV series purrrrrfectly.

Ellen Von Unwerth and Nadja Auermann's version. Spectacular!!!

Michelle Pfeiffer, in Tim Burton's vision of a patchworked latex Catwoman.

Kinky and artful I love this interpretation.  Original publication unknown.

Fine and Dandy

So last week was the beginning of Men’s Fashion Week in Milan, and all the top menswear designers showcased their Fall 2011 Collections.  Every time I see these collections it makes me wonder, “why are men not better put together these days?”  Gone are the days of the “Dapper Dons”, my reality is more of the “Sloppy Sals”.  So while I sit next to my slob during playoffs, here are some fantasies I am having and highlights from the shows. 

A look from Gucci, I love the mix of colors that inky blue mixed with rust and aubergine.  This is Darren, he is a guy I met at the Standard Hotel. He seduces me with his eyes and quiet confidence, I mean who could wear an aubergine tie with a rust shirt and not flinch right?  He invites me to his room so we can chat quietly, as I slip into his room he pulls me close and kisses me with such passion he steals my breathe.  But everything comes to a screeching halt when he caresses my face with his manly grip and I notice a faint tan line on his ring finger.

A look from Umit Benan, I love the color mix as well but I love the drawstring pants with the suit jacket and tie. 
Franco, is a swarthy Italian man that spots me walking down the Spanish steps in Rome. I am instantly drawn to low dark brows and intrusive gaze.  I'm not sure if I should be offended or flattered as he studies me from head to toe. He charms me to sit and have a cappuccino with him in a thick Italian accent.  He spends the hour holding my hands and telling me how beautiful I am.(Like he does with every American tourist)

A look from Pringle of Scotland, I love the over sized sweater, leather patch on the wool trousers and gorgeous coat. Cooper, is a young male model I make acquaintances with at a cafe in the meat packing.  His broodish demeanor hides a broken heart as he had just broken up with his lover.  Now cooper and I sit and comtemplate whether or not to sulk in the arms of a much older financiere. 

A look from Vivienne Westwood, I love the mix of patterns, it totally has a fifties vibe. I meet Adrian trying to catch a cab in Midtown, we discover that we are headed to the same area so we share a cab.The attraction is palpable, like and electric charge. He tells me that he has a girlfriend so there is no hope of anything happening.  As we both walk away we left wondering how different it would have been if we were both available. 

A look from Burberry Prorsum, I love the goose egg blue mixed with the heathered astracán on the sweater, the slight shine on the trousers makes it just dressy enough.  Justin, is a 19 year old art student I meet at the Guggeheim, I study him while he studies a Kandinsky.  He can't help but be drawn to my allure.  We exchange information and maintain a friendship.  His parents discover our relationship via a Facebook thread and threaten to disown him if he does not end our relationship.  He grabs and overnight bag and buys a one way bus ticket to Dallas.

A look from Roberto Cavalli, it looks like a simple gray suit, but I love the layering of rich textures. I meet Ethan, at a happy hour where we are both celebrating some major achievements. Myself I've paid off my credit card bills and him a promotion.  We buy a bottle of champagne and drink till we are giddy, one bottle turns into three and we find the nearest hotel we can find and get a room where we commit acts of unspeakable passion to each other.  He leaves early the next morning to catch a plane back to London, my only reminder of the evening a hangover and the fur he has left behind.

Golden Girls

DISCLAIMER: Before reading this, post just realize this is totally biased, and colored by my feelings towards the below mentioned or their work.

So last night was the Golden Globes, which I love because you have A-listers mix and mingling with total Z-listers.  Of course everyone comes out with a best and worst dressed list, I’m going to forgo the bitchy repartee of the worst list and keep things on the up and up with my 5 best dressed.  And if you don’t like my top five I suggest you start a blog and come up with your own list………

January Jones looks like and icy bitch that would cut you if you looked at here the wrong way.  Love her is this Versace.

Emma Stone, earned and "Easy A" with this Calvin Klein, love the color and simplicity of the cut of the dress.

Come on it's Ann Hathaway!! I am not usually a fan of Armani Prive but it works here, love the color and bold shoulders.

Jayma Mays has obviously left Emma Pilbury's prim cardigans and bows back at the counselor's office at McKinley High.  Albeit looking a little too svelte she pulls off Hollywood Glamor well. 

Loved Mandy Moore's performance in "Tangled" and love the choice of Monique Lhuillier, the color and cut compliment her frame well.

Fashion Alchemy

Gareth Pugh has been called many things, a shaman, cutting edge but I think it was Tim Blanks that said it best when he called Pugh an "Alchemist".  The transformative nature of his clothes are unmistakable, turning a mere women into a otherworldly goddesses.  This is not more evident than his latest collection, and his theatrical collaboration with filmmaker Ruth Hogben.

Under Pressure

It's a tough bad world out there, especially in the luxury goods market. I guess there is only one way to get a buyer's attention. Here is a video to commemorate Loewe's Amazon Bag turning 35. Sleek, stylish, sexy, and EXPLOSIVE!

Turn Your Head and Cough......

For those of you that don’t know me you might think that I am all about stuff and designer schwag.  Well to be honest with you being healthy and happy is the most fabulous and luxurious thing that you could have. 

I found out yesterday that a friend was diagnosed with testicular cancer and that he was going into surgery to have it removed. 

Coincidentally I ran into pictures of Adam Levine of Maroon 5 from the February issue of Cosmo promoting regular checks for testicular and prostate cancer.  

I wish my friend a speedy recovery and urge you my male readers to get checked regularly.  Ladies and Gays FEAST your eyes!!!!!