M.I.A. and Laguna Beach Leftovers

On Saturday I went to see M.I.A. in Berkeley's Amoeba, (aka Hostile and Sweaty Employees Musicstore). It was grand! And I swear on my crumbling grave that I saw Alex (one of Kristin's slutty blonde sidekicks) from Laguna Beach there with some hipster crew (boy with fake neon HOH shirt, girl with very blunt peroxide bang etc. etc.) Yeah I watch that show. The rapid degradation of the young teenagers on that show is astounding. Also my brutha has a thing for LC so I am practically forced to watch it.

I swear to God she was on Laguna Beach.

But anyway, M.I.A. bobbed up and down rapping about Sri Lankan violence in her pleasant British accent, WHICH I LOVE.
And then she signed autographs. But her PR people prohibited photos. Probably cause' it ruins her whole cool image to mingle with the scum of Berkeley, who knows. So I took secret photos of her behind Coltrane records like a effing paparazza.

That is all!



I wonder how Doutzen feels looking like a jailbait and being molested by a big furry bear. Seems hard to imagine Doutzen infantilized to death, but I guess Mert and Marcus make it possible for W magazine. I know there should be another way to showcase fur without going borderline beastiality. I like the huge grosgrain ribbons though, because I get a huge fashion orgasm over anything to do with ribbons. Beautiful photography, creeeepy, (but original!) concept.

Yeah I would have that face too if I had to be groped by a sweaty guy in a bearsuit.


A Moment of Objectification

Although I haven't spoke much about male models here, Sean Opry makes me hungry for some really nice hunk of...meat, with a side of soft, delicious...biscuits. Okay enough sexually-charged dinner euphenisms here, he is just plain haaawt. And so pretty. Barely legal at 19 years of age and with VNY model management. God, I just read what I wrote and I sound like a voyuer, oh goodness.


Best Editorial. Ever

Harper's Bazaar rarely invokes any sense of orgasmic editorials, but the August issue literally had me erupting with a fashion orgasm. No, it's not the millionth, boring, nekkid Kate Moss editorial, nor is it a nekkid Gisele riding a cougar (although I wouldn't be surprised at either). As the Simpson's Movie premiere draws near, geniusly, Glenda Bailey had Simpson's illustrator Julius Preite depict the year's fashion moments in classic Simpson's style- yellow flesh and bulgy eyes (or as I like to call them, Masha eyes). With Linda Evangelista (so brilliant) "modeling," Karl, Marc, Alber, Jean, Viktor & Rolf, and Donatella are Simpsonized, and I can say without any sarcastic bitchiness that I love love love it.
Ironic, Homer as Karl, considering Karl's penchant for Taco Bell.
Marge channels Donatella, from the long extensions to the ever-present champagne flute

Alber Elbaz looks like a pillsbury designing god, how CUTE. The purple tie has it.

How aptly cast, Patty and Selma model the sadistic Viktor and Rolf lighting equipment.

Jean Paul Gaultier, Marge in that Coco Riverdance outfit, Maggie in a purse, genius.
And lastly, Marc Jacobs. The cartoons, so precise, right down to Marc's new hotbod and stubble to his classic Stan Smiths.


Four Cheese Grease and Bean Burritoes

According to wikipedia, one of the most accurate encyclopedias in the world (HAH), Karl Lagerfeld is "known to frequent Taco Bell for a late-night "4th meal". Hmm.


Bloody Hell

I always thought W was a somewhat revered American fashion magazine, with it's better than average editorials and the excellent choices of models, considering the usual US fashion mags target WASPs and Wintour wannabes every month. But, when I saw this cover on fashionverbatim, I swear I almost puked. What the hell?! W hit an astounding low. My god I thought I was looking at US weekly or a really bad Star magazine feature on plastic surgery and mystic tan. Everytime I see Posh, I pray to god her "natural" breasts stay in place. I mean does she really have to buy dresses a size smaller than her actual size? And I hate when Posh says she wants to show America how to dress. This Posh/Becks American invasion is really making me feel slightly nauseated. Britain should be glad they're being rid of these two.



Aww, arrivederci Valentino! His last colleccion showed today in Rome and goodness, I get all teary thinking about this maybe being his farewell show. His collections of late have been full of tiers, tiers, tiers and saccharine-sweet frothy poofs, but god, I'll miss him and his unnatural tan ever so much. I shudder to think that Micheal Kors will takeover the spot as orangest working designer in the world. Although rumor has it, Zac Posen has been eyed to takeover the house, and me like.

In other news of departure, Jane Magazine will go kaput in August. What is up with that editor Brandon Holley? First beloved Ellegirl is gone, (I kinda blame ANTM/fatass Tyra's sponsorship for that demise), and then now this? How disappointed Jane Pratt must be.
On a lighter (or somber toned) note, I quite like the Chanel ads avec Freja Beha. Dark, seductive, Violet Incredible, wistful melancholy, me like.


God, I needs me a man

Inspired by Project Runway, (although really,who is inspired by mediocrity?) I resorted to sewing a Barbie frock using bits of old fabric in Project Runway pace. Yeah as any fool can see, my summer is utterly dull and limp, sorta like Kimora Lee's phallus. And as my title implies, I really needs me a man. Or at least a cat. EDIT: And then I made a gingham babydoll boulette/bubble skirt thing in about an hour... maybe Mattel will hire me? SIKE