Andre 3000 discussing tour jumpsuits at an art exhibition in Miami.
“When it comes to love and friendship and the normal things in life, I think I am patient. Fashion, however, does not know patience. It’s an abnormal life.” A snippet from a very very very in-depth interview with Raf Simons for 032c.
People have always and will always love checking themselves out. Views from a two-way mirror in 1946.
I met a man whom I soon became interested in romantically. Nothing physical had happened between us yet, but things were going in that direction. When he visited my apartment for the first time and was gazing up at a beautiful fashion photo of my mother, taken by Irving Penn, he said, “It must be hard to have a mother who’s that beautiful.” ‘The Looks You’re Born With,’ by Amanda Filipacchi.
Champagne glasses unfortunately have very little to do with Marie Antoinette’s boobs (and a little to do with Kate Moss’).
The mind-poking work of graphic designer and artist Barbara Nessim, and how it relates to Nessim’s former flatmate, Gloria Steinem.
Oh, Stewart Lee. You get it.
Kurt Vonnegut is one of my all-time favourite writers, but even the best people in their fields can come up with absolute howlers. Rape howlers.
On women and cancer, and being a woman writer with a woman’s cancer.
This is late because 1) I was hungover and 2) I was working but 3) not at the same time, thankfully.
Here’s stuff I wrote for the Irish Times last week on supa stylist Celestine Cooney, who allowed me into her house, fed me cakes and let me flip through her magazines.
Beauty, anti-beauty and Instagram filters.
This post is worth looking at if only for Mae West’s 8 1/2 inch platform shoes.
Margaret Moser, veteran music journalist, on her life in music.
A handy primer on modernism and how modern art has gone a bit zzz.
Reading this New Yorker piece on hoarding, and worrying that you’ll die under a pile of old copies of The Gentlewoman and Acne Paper (they’re very heavy).
Chris Rock is doing the promotion rounds for his new film and he has a lot to say about a lot of things.
In praise of inactivity.
Things I wrote for The Irish Times on London food culture, online shopping for the holidays and waterproof Converse.
From the IT archive – a 1976 interview between Maeve Binchy and legendary designer Eileen Gray.
The very sad story of the real Lolita.
‘Best of’ lists can be a pain in the patoot but this 2014 books list is rather good.
Mad monarchs. The only kind of monarch, surely?
The Daily Mash, more onion-y than The Onion.
“Some readers had similar problems accepting a woman. I can’t remember the number of times I’ve picked up the phone in the sports department, answered some trivia question, and, when the answer didn’t win the guy a bar bet, had the caller demand, “Put a man on this phone.” Some simply called me a “stupid bitch” and hung up.”
Patti Smith and David Lynch talk Blue Velvet and Pussy Riot.
Here’s a little something I wrote about people who wear pizza onesies, amongst other things.
Street style is dead – kinda.
Robin Givhan’s precise analysis of fashion is always great. Here’s her take on the new fashion exhibit at the Met, which focuses on mourning dress – “A widow was also a potentially dangerous woman, one with sexual experience who was untethered from marriage. Mourning attire marked her and served as a visual reminder of her formidable, discomforting knowledge.”
Bonus Givhan! A look at the journalist’s attitude to life and work.
A very thorough look at Vivienne Westwood’s new biography in the LRB.
Putin’s isolationist policies are changing everything in Russia – even the fashion industry. BoF’s two parter on the fashion media and retail sectors are essential reading.
Are you listening to Serial? (I’m not, but only because I want to wait ’til every espide is done so I can binge listen.) Here’s two articles on the more troubling aspects of broadcasting an already-troubling story. Spoiler alert, obviously.
“And I’ve never been able to believe that peace is a good present to give a young woman.” We need more advice columnists like Colette.
What it’s like to be an Instagram celebrity.
A look inside the gay wing (actual wing name – K6G) of LA Men’s Central Jail.
Ta-Nehisi Coates on the foolishness of ignoring the Bill Cosby rape allegations.
A history of the New York Time Styles section, in which it is confirmed that every subject I write about is seen by the general public as totally inane and useless. Yay?
Before Kim K and her oily full-frontals by Jean Paul Goude, there was Saartje Baartman.
Taylor Swift must be exhausted after filming her new video. So many paradigms to shift, so little time.
One man and a forty year search to find his bully (spoiler alert; the bully turns out to be an utter shit).
Self-care: What it is, why it’s important and how one woman does it.
A recently unlocked profile on Madeline L’Engle, whose book, ‘A Wrinkle in Time’ bamboozled the hell out of me as a kid.
Are you stealing your partner’s personality? I’ll get worried when I start playing Grand Theft Auto.
Everybody sexts, apparently. NSFW, but it’s Sunday right now, so appreciate the saucy illustrations at your leisure.
Dubbing films in French is very complicated.
Hello. Here is an article that I wrote on fashion and feminism. HOT TOPIC ALERT! Yes, it mentions Karl Lagerfeld. Ugh, what a total hack.
What’s to be done about the t-shirt problem?
Chinese artist Ai Weiwei makes his first foray into fashion photography and pisses off a lot of people by shucking paint over young designers’ creations (pics here). Robin Givhan has her take on it here.
After finishing off a thesis, working and then taking on even more work this week, I can confirm that work burnout does exist. One unfortunate symptom is that your brain starts to resemble badly-scrambled eggs. A less unfortunate symptom is the impulse to binge watch Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries until the synapses knit themselves together again.
Mallory Ortberg’s ‘Texts From Jane Eyre’ may be the best Christmas stocking filler gift for the funny, socially-engaged woman in your life - note to my Dad, who once got me a copy of Derek Blasberg’s ‘Classy’ as a joke-but-also-not-a-joke.
My Little Bronie.
Was Vincent van Gogh murdered? Well, no, almost definitely not. But this is certainly a well-constructed flight of CSI fancy. Note to future biographers; Theo van Gogh would probably make an excellent 19th century Horatio Caine.
I don’t fucking care if you like it. Yes please.
Short and sour this week.
Did I spend most of my Friday, slightly hungover, reading these true-life scary stories and trying not to vomit with fear? Yes. No regrets.
The worst thing my nan ever made me eat was burned porridge, so this is pretty terrifying (but only marginally more than being forced to those horrible blackened oats that got stuck to the bottom of the pan).
What 100 looks like, as shot by David Bailey.
“And with that shift from scary to sexy, all that excitement, that innocent, spooky joy that Halloween had meant for us dissolved faster than the Junior Disprols our mothers had dispensed to us after too many trick-or-treat gummy bears.” One of the better calls to arms over Sexy Hallowe’en.
“I can’t decide which is more depressing: a culture in which a formerly apple-cheeked lovely like Zellweger should become so swollen and polished with “happiness” she becomes unrecognisable – and then vilified. Or one in which we are encouraged to nurture the delusional aspiration that if we “declutter” our lives, we might look like Julia Roberts. Both seem equally rotten.” Jo Ellison in praise of constructive vanity.
Terrifying featured pic via here.
“Still, for the women of Playboy who decided to step back in front of a photographer’s lens for New York, that sense of control, however illusory, was a large part of the appeal of posing — both then and now.” A look at Playboy Playmates from the 50s, 60s and 70s and how they view themselves now.
Joan Didion wrote ‘On Self Respect’ to an exact character count, just as Vogue was going to press. Vogue has republished it here, with the original layout.
A letter to the late Oscar de la Renta.
Eight writers on classic images of fashion, power and women. Chanel, Dietrich and… Merkel?
To live in Alan Moore’s brain.
“I was passionate about school. I wanted to be at Yale forever, holding people, writing down literary revelations, reading from tales of men long dead, smiling from inside out. The idea of returning to a dressing from in a Winnebago, being called Miss Foster, seemed foreign, unnatural.” Jodie Foster’s 1982 Esquire essay on fame, college and John Hinckley Jr.
There are a few good aspects to the ever-worsening weather, and one of them is the opportunity to stay inside and eat more complex carbohydrates. A one-two punch of sweet and starch, the sweet potato, is a godsend. It’s cheap, it’s filling, and it’s the one vegetable you can acceptably eat with melted marshmallows.
What We Wore – real street style. First a blog, now a book.
The biannual, international edition of Swedish mag Bon is a must buy for the in-depth conversations that go on within its pages. For the first time online, this is their comprehensive A/W ’14 panel discussion.
The New York City Ballet was limping, but Valentino kissed it all better.
To accompany the forthcoming book and TV series, here is a comprehensive ranking of all 118 sweaters from Twin Peaks.
How the unibrow became culturally unacceptable.
Joanna Coles is a force to be reckoned with and her attempt to retool Cosmopolitan should be admired. However, there’s still a disconnect between the vibrant reader with equal interest in mascara and the Middle East and that cover image of the girl from the ‘Blurred Lines’ video with her shirt unbuttoned to her navel. And it’s a disconnect that is not convincingly addressed.
Iggy Pop does the John Peel lecture.
“For a small segment of women—and the number is small, by any reasonably scientific account—abortion is indeed a tragedy, a trauma with long-lasting reverberations. But I want to tell a different story, the more common yet strangely hidden one, which is that I don’t feel guilty and tortured about my abortion. Or rather, my abortions. There, I said it.” A real account and analysis of abortion in America today.
Walt Whitman and Oscar Wilde hung out. (They drank elderberry wine.)
Meadham Kirchhoff are notoriously difficult to interview. This is more by rule than by rumour; their distaste for mass media is a sign, I think, that they hate how their message is interpreted.
So, what better way to counter the (usually) well-meaning spin that the media puts on their creativity than to release their own zine? It’s surprising how no-one has drawn on this irony; Meadham Kirchhoff dislikes the output of many journalists, so they craft their own media project.
Their Spring/Summer ’15 cut-and-stick-and-copy ‘zine/show notes are an obvious tribute to riot grrrls, feminism, musician Viv Albertine and pure bloody-mindedness. Full of loves (‘Quentin Crisp’, ‘Jayne County’) and hates (‘cultural appropriation’, ‘Terry Richardson’ – we’re with you there, guys), the Xerox-alike zines have been making the rounds online.
Fashion likes statement, but this zine isn’t a statement. It’s a frustrated, frenzied yowl into a chasm. Meadham Kirchhoff don’t just reject the circumstances of modern living with fashion – they also reject it with words. And tampons.
(Featured image via)