A couple weeks ago I promised to tell you about Casa Magazines, the spot in the city to find foreign and rare magazines. I went myself this time to get the (uber tame - what was everyone freaking out about?) Lily Cole French Playboy. I was surprised to find the space so cramped any tiny considering all the good things you can find here. It's a bit hard to browse through, but the guy at the counter magically seems to know where everything is and points to it non chalantly after our own failed search.
I'm not sure of their hours, they actually have a pretty low profile and it's hard to find information about them, but we went after work and it was still open at 7pm. It remains a well kept secret among New Yorkers that are seeking out particular publications and like the charm of a clearly independent shop.
Abercrombie and Fitch smells like a Bath and Body Works on overdrive, it sounds like the worst pop station played at My Bloody Valentine decibels, it’s filled with the kind of teenage jerks that are into ripped bods and the brand. There are perks to my own job, like shopping, but sometimes I have to get stuff at Abercrombie, which is a definite drawback. It’s simply the worst place on earth.
“We hire good-looking people in our stores. Because good-looking people attract other good-looking people, and we want to market to cool, good-looking people. We don't market to anyone other than that."
And:
'In every school there are the cool and popular kids, and then there are the not-so-cool kids,' he says. 'Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don't belong [in our clothes], and they can't belong. Are we exclusionary? Absolutely. Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don't alienate anybody, but you don't excite anybody, either.'
What a douche!
For the record though, I am okay with their manalog by Bruce Weber, made for the gay man in your life this Christmas.
You would think with my dad sending me movies often (thanks dad) having a DV-R, premium channels, on demand, and a good video store up the street I'd be all set for movies, if not overloaded with options.
But no, I finally caved to the allure of the free Netflix trial
and I love it. It's perfect for movies I am curious about, want to
re-watch, and don't have to own. They came within a day of my signing
up and we're now all set to watch Let's Scare Jessica to Death (again), Closely Watched Trains, and Cavegirl (which, since writing this, we've already tried to watch and it is a no go!)
For someone that couldn't think of anything greater than seeing amazing fashion in person, I've realized that it's a shame i don't make it over to the museum at FIT very often. It's a fairly modest space compared to The Met or Cooper Hewitt. The Gothic Show, much publicized and the reason for my visit, for example lurked behind very un-grand doors and the kind of stairwell young women think twice about going down alone at night. They certainly do a lot with a little though.
The exhibit begins with an appropriately darkened room that features a great Givenchy wispy, tattered dreams dress and the collections few non contemporary pieces: two black Victorian mourning gowns. A red and black intricately folded gown by Yoshiki Hishinuma (an exciting new name for me) and the red dress from Bram Stocker's Dracula designed by Eiko Ishioka were other favorites. On the opposite wall, an impressive and desirable case of exquisite jewelry includes a chain purse from 1900 with a golden bat and outstanding pieces from Mark Walsh and Leslie Chin for Rodarte.
The room's nice but it doesn't prepare you for the grandeur of the main exhibit, an overwhelming display of incredible works. One wall features a trick mirror, where slowly a collection of the cheaper side of things (think high end Hot Topic) stuff lies another wall holds a huge lovely backdrop, another a projected full moon with black clouds drifting before it. The center area is surrounded by a cemetery gate. It's whimsical and witty.
The show went way beyond my expectations. Among the many, many inspiring pieces there is a sleek, beautiful black velvet Derek Lamb gown with a white ruffle peekaboo bottom, enough McQueen and Mugler to keep me satisfied and excited, some unreal creations by Ricardo Tisci for Givenchy (again) including a billowing tulle dress that (if I could have whatever I wanted in the world) I would have done up in white and get married to Jim all over again in it.
The real treat, though in a room filled with them was seeing John Galliano's work up close. From a pouffy red frock inspired by the French Revolution, to a spectacular black coat dripping with sparkling skulls at the hem, to the wild and fun cinco de mayo dress with sequins over dress and puffy bone shirt, his pieces stunned me. No photos ever do his work justice and these are worth the trip alone.
Fortunately for all of us they are accompanied by dozens of extraordinary pieces. The show is up until February 21, and unlike most museums, they are open until 8 on weeknights for us working folk.
I never understood those billboards asking you to donate your car to kids, always literally wondering why kids needed cars. Well, I am a bit wiser now, after donating our sadly dead Subaru to Kars 4 Kids. While their jingle and red headed child logo are annoying, the process of donating your car, even if it does not run, couldn't be less annoying or more easy. Within 24 hours of calling about our donation, our old vehicle was gone. Ingenious! If an organization wants your money or your car, it's smart of them to make it so effortless.
All you have to do get our personal stuff out of it and send our plates in, the rest was done by the very grateful Kars 4 Kids staff. It's tax deductible, and the money the organization makes from selling your car and its parts (see, they do't actually literally give the cars to starving kids who need wheels) go to a Jewish organization called JOY which "JOY provides food, clothing, shelter, health and wellness, education,
after school programs, special training, mentoring, tutoring, private
counseling, summer programs, and guidance to children from the ages of
six to eighteen."
It beats trying to sell a junker and its for a great cause.
I love old Playboy Magazines and like a hoarding, horny old coot I keep a stash in my house right next to the Italian Vogues. Save for a couple kept for sentimental reasons from Jim's boyhood (one with Pam Anderson, the other Tahnee Welch), none of them are dated past the seventies. In my opinion, publicly accepted porn went down hill in the past many decades. The girls got faker and faker, the photos got glossier and more annoying, fake, and gross than titillating, exciting, or interesting.
But even those old Playboys, with the (more) real looking girls and the actual public hair and the lens flairs would never be mistaken for their shelf neighbors. Italian Vogue and Playboy live on different worlds, at least until now.
Playboy France has emerged lately as the artiest, fashioniest nude rag out there and I absolutely love, love love it! March featured Lou Dillion in a to die for spread. She's all small tits, garter belts, leather jackets and awesome. November of last year had a surprising cover model in the distinguished Juliette Binoche and if you want arty, scroll down here to see her dancy, fancy blurry shoot.
This month Lily Cole dons the cover, and NYMag, which really does help me out with a lot of good tips, ran a small story about it. She's very Lolita and of course people are up in arms. But it's what got me curious about Playboy France, what was this strange entity that looks Meisel but clearly says "Playboy"?
Sadly, Jim's quest to grab the October issue was not a complete success. We have September's instead until the new one reaches our shores. It's nothing to sneeze at though with a foxy strawberry blond named Laura on the cover. Inside she wears furs and lace thigh highs, converse sneakers and black panties, and bow ties and bunny ears.
I'll have more information on the place to get it in the city, Casa Magazines on 8th Ave and 12th St next week, when I make a trip there myself.
If Miss Haversham had ditched the guy who broke her mind and heart and moved on to become a stylist for London’s eccentric and insanely wealthy set, she very well could have been the lady behind John Derian. Walk into his stores and you’re in a land of pretty, decoupage, textiles, and cozy grandness.
While I never really shop very much and could never convince myself to be ok with such high knick knack prices (though his soon to be line at Target might be another story) these shops are wonderful places just to wander and take in. The white Astier de Villatte terracotta, delightful Hugo Guinness
paintings, the whimsical paper mache figurines by Julie Arkell, and the
exquisite quilts from all over the world will make you weep for the
economy and the likely fact that none of us will be able to afford
little luxuries like these again.
I feel like I understand Holly Golightly when she said in Breakfast at Tiffany's “Well, when I get it (sad) the only thing that does any good is to jump in a
cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and
the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I
could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then -
then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!” and I bet she’d upgrade to John Derian if it had been around back then to calm aesthetic loving women.
As Jim and I recently did a major, colossal and mind blowing clean up of my clothing racks, there was a lot to give away and the easiest and quickest way (before I changed my mind and grabbed it all back as mine, mine, mine) was for Jim to cart it off to Beacon’s Closet.
Jim stated (and this is no faint praise from him) that it is the most organized and well run business in Williamsburg. Well, the competition may not be too fierce (ever walked into that weird, huge used place on Driggs and N. 9th place that moved? or tried to order a bagel from The Fix when they’re hung over?) but still kudos.
I earned myself a much deserved $200 for a pile (woo hoo!!) but as this a a popular shopping destination, which means that it’s quite possible that one of you, dear readers, could be walking down the street one day in a fabulous dress I used to own that no longer fits me.
If this occurs I will either make a joke even though it hurts or I will simply not acknowledge it but something will be burning behind my eyes and you’ll be left wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Fair warning.
A continuation of his complex (to say the least) relationship with his mother, Tina, his work is still unnerving, risque, and even funny at times. In the back room runs a video of his mother's home made, unedited spanking movie she made with friends. People generally seemed squeamish in the face of the pornish goings on, but there are some priceless and funny moments too. His photos also seem to have more whimsy than before.
We went, braving a "scene" for the opening night and it was absolutely packed, so yay Leigh! But the space is small, so it made it difficult to looks at most of the work with any inspection. The gallery doesn't have hours posted on their site, but common gallery hours probably apply, so head over during the day when things are likely to be much less intensely crowded.
And since you only have one more day to shop there, I am including the Target Bodega pop up shops with this entry. In fact, you can make a day of it and go to Leigh’s show then head right next door to the Target Bowery location.
Cute Sigerson Morrison shoes, some decent clothes (though nothing swayed me to buy) and a really tempting plethora of beauty products, there’s a lot for the ladies here, but don’t expect a mirror (the one major complaint I kept hearing) and the dressing room lines can be a headache. Don’t totally overlook the home goods either. The ten dollar towels are really plush and soft.
