fashion
commodity fetishism gone right \/\/ alexander mcqueen, meatpacking district
February 11, 2010: Beneath the flurries of the worst blizzard to hit the northeastern United States in over a decade, Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week kicks off in New York City. The crowds flock to the tents of Bryant Park to witness some of the most prominent designers in the world unveil their Fall-Winter... »
pink hearts mcqueen
a small tribute, to a talent larger than life. there is a pink spot inside each and every one of us… especially those with rusted hearts. “Hope there’s someone Who’ll take care of me When I die, will I go Hope there’s someone Who’ll set my heart free Nice to hold when I’m tired” -Antony R.I.P. Alexander McQueen »
commodity fetishism gone right \/\/ consumerism in the age of cyber mud-slinging
“I don’t know the percentage of the internet that’s valid, do you? Jesus, it’s scary.” — Hunter S. Thompson It’s difficult to pin down the spirit of the times when there’s simply so much information and stimulation at our fingertips. The cultural movements that once defined generations have managed to fragment into a dizzying array... »
commodity fetishism gone right \/\/ buckaroo’s mercantile, boston
Cohesion, external or not, is a pretty attractive idea when it comes to art, especially because of the fact that art itself lacks any hard or fast definition. The navel-gazing that we know today as art history originated during the Renaissance with Italian painter and artist biographer Giorgio Vasari, who collectively grouped the three... »
an invocation to the \/\/ whose it’s?: whitman’s pants p@rt 2
So last week I gave a little breakdown of the players involved in the Levi’s Whitman commercials, a bit of background on Whitman’s fashion lexicon, and left you with a bit of Whitman’s “Respondez!”– a poem that is decidedly less friendly to the purpose of selling jeans. This week, I’ll float a few ways... »
getting inside \/\/ whitman’s jeans one hundred years later (pt. 1)
Part of the scandal caused by Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass on the publication of its first edition in 1855 had to do with the poet’s clothes. It was extremely unusual that the frontispiece of a book of poems might have an image of the author in such casual clothes. But Whitman’s look– the... »
killer suits \/\/ bury or be buried
“And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud…” Walt Whitman, Song of Myself My vote for two of the all-time great suits in cinema: the grey single-breasted job ad executive Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) wears as he’s being chased around the country in North By Northwest (1959) and... »
rode hard & put up wet
oh, papa…won’t ya’ help me outta my towel…oh, honey won’t ya’ rub mama’s back…sugah’ love…won’t ya’…. brush my hair, oh, you know….make it wet, ride it hard. »
commodity fetishism gone right \/\/ sweet virginia, brooklyn
Like so many others, I have often fallen prey to the trap of appearance obsession. I’ve fought with the angles of my features, the changing shape of my body, and the MasterCard statements showcasing the perils of too-frequent visits to Sephora. Working at a New York City fashion office for the last six months... »
resolution \/\/ open eyes wider
Christmas break. Nog to knock back. Snow to shovel. Books to read. Two such books: Hiding Man: A Biography of Donald Barthelme and The Sartorialist. (By Tracy Daugherty and Scott Schuman, respectively.) A thousand total pages on an artist’s aesthetic. Five-hundred plus pages of prose dedicated to the great postmodern master of the short story,... »
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