Dispatches from a second story bedroom

ages 7 up

How are you not dying over these Paige Gamble clutches? The chocolate lizard with the patinaed copper is my favorite. The prices are out to lunch but f-f-f-fantasy pieces usually come with fantastical prices. Where is my Barry Diller?

a week late and a dollar short

I remember not seeing Tron as a child, even when it came out on VHS and we had to rent a VCR with our videos because we lived in the dark ages. Even then I understood that most realities were not going to live up to my imagination of them. I'm too afraid to watch it now because there is no way it is not going to look hokey to my overstimulated post-Avatar-Ativan eye. I am filmically superstitious. The ideas of the thing in my head is more precious than whatever the reality is and why ruin a good thing?  

Now that they're making a new Tron, I remain superstitious as ever with a 90% surety I will not be seeing this one as well. I am enjoying the supremely overreaching Disney cross-promotion though. I never understand how these loss leaders actually work. A $600 Threeasfour bag is not going to change my general disdain for The Wizards of Waverly Place. But this Tron Legacy/Opening Ceremony collaboration is what would happen if Zara decided to do Jil Sander and Pierre Hardy instead of Chloé and Céline. I kind of love it.

   

See? Good right? There are not enough neoprene dresses in the world, I say.

no flies on me

Just so you feel like you're in the loop on my time in Seattle:

I know that we had a very firm agreement about waterfall cardigans being some sort of death knell of fashion but whoops I went and bought one. It's a wool blend and washable, what can I say, I was cold. It was raining sideways and that is bullshit. I removed that dickish belt and threw it in the garbage can outside the store. I feel a crucifixion coming on. Bring it. I paid sales tax at H&M, you heard right.

I tried this on and it felt half-right but I couldn't get over the feeling of having horses all over my body. Big horses all over my tits and ass. Also, tunics, really? They make me want to say GTFO every time I see them. I may regret this decision. Time will tell.  It's still available online, relax. And also sales tax. Thumbs down Washington. 

Seattle, what the fuck are you doing with an All Saints before a Zara? I am confused. I don't know how many mid-range-affording-Rick-Owens-striving fans live in the entire metro area but it can't be enough to keep this store alive. I've seen their shoes so I know. Zara on the other hand...get on it! I need a real reason to visit Seattle and the internet is making your entire city superfluous to me.

My new best scent, I got it at Blackbird. That store keeps growing and growing into this perfect cottage industry. They only employ the most finely groomed urban lumberjacks available. Ballard is now officially too hip for words. Where's the next burgeoning neighborhood Seattleites? Is it White Center?

P.S. I ogled the Céline bags (no inner pockets!) at Barneys and saw how ridiculous those Alaïa boots look in person. So many women with expensive taste, wearing the worst shoes. The shoe department was a ghost town. All the women buy ugly scarves at Barneys. It's pandemic. What's the point in money if you're going to buy garbage? Donate it to charity instead of shopping at Barneys and then taking the escalator up to Chico's. Seriously lady, I saw you do it and gross. Just gross.

Are all rainy cold locales plagued with this, can anyone speak for the UK? They seem to have it figured out. Am I just projecting my false hope?

why do I want all these things?

Oh. Man. You do not need Damon and Naomi for anything ever. Britta does "Listen, The Snow Is Falling" and it is incredible. If you live in any of these cities you need to see Galaxie 500 before they vanish into the ether again.

I cannot get this song out of my head.

sweet and lowdown

 

Vogue UK November 2010 ph: Alasdair McLellan

  

Vogue Paris October 2010 ph: Steven Klein

I am generally against the wearing of white shoes. I've been working on a little immersion therapy to help me deal.

your generation sucks

I had a really great conversation last night about the 90s and Prada and schizophrenic boutique buyers versus medicated megastore buyers and it all interrelated and was great and I came to a few conclusions.

1. There are a lot of girls out there in skinny jeans, bitch shoes, and sloppy tops and they are running boutiques. There's enough out there for that many-headed cliche to bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan, so I shouldn't worry about my various aspirations and why they will not work. America is a horn o' plenty and I need to take a bite. 
2. I totally get Prada S/S 2011 now, thanks Missy. This needs to happen again, its time is due. Why isn't Da Brat's blackberry lip making a comeback as well as Missy's aubergine lipliner. So essential. I like that small sliver of the 90s when lady rappers were transitioning from MC Lyteism into whatever real doll rapper is popular now. Nicki Minajism? They all look like sex toys, so whatever. I know chickenheaded hoes existed back then, but they weren't so yielding to a generic male fantasy. Foxy Brown was sassy and had a slight muffin top. Awesome. And also, the dance moves. I can't stop watching those super louche robot leans. "REMEMBER THE TIME" - MJ                                                                                                      
     
3. My aspirational 90s and the current aspirational 90s look are two completely different things. I stopped reading teen magazines in 1992 and subscribed to Bazaar just as Liz Tilberis came on as E-i-C. What was available to me for purchase back then wasn't dreamy, it was a lot of affordable thrift and pilfered from my parents college wardrobes. I didn't even dream of owning real Miu Miu, but a resonable vintage facsimile of the new facsimile of the original vintage. I developed the sense to recognize that fashion is the biggest Ouroboros through the reading and studying of fashion magazines, and tapped the trend at the source without the internet telling me how to do it in three easy steps.  And while that democratization is great, it sidesteps the old gatekeepers, so you have to deal with a lot of shitty micro-trends like pantlessness and shredded t-shirts. And then the olds get worried about not remaining on top of fashion and Carine and AdR are running around, panties on parade, even though they're 50ish and dancing as fast as they can. It's heartbreaking to witness. I'm sure Gavin would tell me to shut up and stop being old about it, but it's there and transitory and gets a platform before it even knows what to do with itself. Everyone is a cultural ambassador for a brand nowadays and it makes everything less special. Also young rich girls dressing up in expensive clothes is such an epic snooze to me. I am staking my claim in old Vreelandia, thank you. Vive la jolie laide.

details, asshole

Alright, there's no way Blaine could have known about 21 Jump Street on January 11th 1987. It didn't air until April. A cursory wiki check could have saved you from this embarrassing boner. My molecular memory told me that show wasn't a 1986 kinda show. Way to fucking go muscle memory. The brain is a muscle, use it, don't abuse it.

Also, a dude with a "Kid" high top fade fronting a band that has "Jessie's Girl" in their repertoire? At a ski resort? I can draw a line from Kid n' Play to the Black Eyed Peas but how does a 6 year old Rick Springfield song figure? Ignoring all of that, the real insult is BPE being the new hotness you bring from the future. Aren't Black Eyed Peas sort of the Poison of 2008? I'm kind of insulted, I remember the 80s better than the screenwriters who are older (yes I googled all 3 of them) than me. Can that be my job, fact checking scripts set in the 80s?  I'd un-anachronize your shit. Call me. 

Also, also, Lizzy Caplan kissing John Cusack. I don't truck with that crossing of streams. That is some straight up Lorraine and Marty McFly shit. He's 15 years older than you and looks at least 20 Lizzy. O.M.G. So much to hate! But I grudgefucked that movie to completion and don't have to think about it ever again. Hooray. Thanks Hot Tub Time Machine, but I've already lost your number slut.

10 carat fool

Sorry to keep going on about it, but I have seriously been experiencing the brain drains lately. The only thing I can focus on is a new collaboration that will be completed in several weeks if all goes according to plan. It is the only thing I can hunker down and sit for long periods thinking about. I hate being coy about it but I'm keepin' it like a secret until it's all done. 

I tried watching Mesrine tonight but my brain kept saying this. I don't have any patience for subtítulos anymore. What is wrong with me? I'm not down for a French gangster flick? It's like I don't even recognize myself anymore.

M. Mesrine obviously can't compete.

I am however totally engrossed with a Bette Davis biography I picked up at the dollar store. FOR. A. DOLLAR. Did you know she went on a date with Henry Fonda before they both were famous? She kept his calling card because she was a New Yankee Hoarder. People used to have cards with just their name on them to give to people, like they were living in a civilization. Can you believe? Incredible.

This is a 8x10 of Joanie doctored by Bette among her personal papers that were donated to Boston University. Incredible. 

lolzebub

I've got the blues still and they aren't the kind you can cheese me out of, I need stronger stuff. What works are pictures of cats in sweaters that I can invent back stories for. Here are the highlights:

Alex is a welder by day and really wants to dance at the conservatory. I mean really, all that natural light is pure fucking Adrian Lyne. Nice tits miss thang, if you keep it up you'll end up at The Zanzibar.

This is Judah and he's really into the power of his hair. This little guy is regalness personified. 

This is Rudy, he just bought a Lambretta and is currently fixing it up. He needs to run away because his home life is shit. His parents don't respect his lifestyle.