Archive for January, 2011

Sartorial Coolness and Nonchalant Grace

Monday, January 31st, 2011

I’ve had an epiphany and here it is: I don’t want to know about anyone’s personal style!

After reading about Andrea Linett, a nice woman who looks like Sarah Jessica Parker, at stylelikeu.com, I find the whole Look-at-My-Wardrobe craze to be WAY too much information. It’s all so embarrassing.

People seem to be hopelessly enamored of their own specialness. I hate the word “enamored” but I’m using it to get in the mood. I think the awful prose of the stylikeu wordsmith is rubbing off on me!

Try this: “Among the voluminous amount of people that inspire Andrea is …”

Are you happy with the usage of “voluminous?” Me neither! It just gets worse until you want to stab yourself or puncture your eardrums.

Here’s what Andrea says of her boots:

“Somebody said, ‘I love your go-go boots,’ but they’re not go-go boots. They’re almost like Victorian sneakers or crazy old ice-skates without the blade. I love them.”

She reveals that her style muse has always been Bob Dylan, and she checks her style choices by asking herself, “Would Bob wear this?”   I guess Bob approved the go-go boots, and I wouldn’t want to second guess him. Then there’s some crap about Kurt Cobain’s Iconic Sweater and the gushing appreciation of Ms. Linett ends with…

“The sweater is as much a reflection of her taste for edgy classics, as it is for her sartorial coolness and nonchalant grace. In her layers of patchouli and turquoise, Andrea has a gift for choosing the consumate creative influences, but she is one herself.”

Oh god. It’s not all Andrea’s fault but she has to take some of the blame.

**As an antidote to this terrible journalism, let me introduce someone who can really write:   Leigh Alexander, who was brought to my attention by Lauren, a blogger with some fascinatingly diverse interests.

Let’s Be Egyptian

Saturday, January 29th, 2011

I tried to write about Max tonight but it made me cry so I gave up. Instead, I made this suicide prevention poster.   When my webmaster wakes up tomorrow, maybe he’ll help me to put it on that side panel on the right.

Suicide prevention should be a wider campaign, with more visibility.  I’ve spend a lot of time reading about it here.   I wish I had known more about it, especially risk assessment. More communities should make it a   priority, like San Louis Obispo, which came up with this video to reduce the stigma of mental illness.

Watching events in Egypt, I’ve been aware of how petty most of our concerns are. But it’s so uplifting to see people exercising their power! Why didn’t that happen in the US when Bush was president?!

People DO have the power to make change. The least we bloggers and our readers can do is unite to boycott the website that is poaching on the-coveted.  You can write to them at info@thecoveted.com and tell them what you think.

Freedom of speech is a huge issue for me.   So is keeping people alive.

Let’s practice being Egyptian instead of rolling over or expecting someone else to take action! I’m ready to be of service to anyone I can help.

All Kinds of Fuckery!

Friday, January 28th, 2011

First of all, I see that I foolishly omitted a blogger rocking the black-hat-with-shorts uniform. This one is called Stylorectic and she just had a baby. She seems to really, really love herself and that makes me uncomfortable. I think this may be the   key trigger of my disdain for certain style bloggers. No one should be so in love with their own self. Einstein didn’t love himself that much!

Then there is the-coveted imbroglio.   Here is a blogger who is an institution, whether you follow her or not. And some cunts come along and start a website with the same name.   Then, they send her a threatening letter, demanding that she not disparage them. Ha!   Let us all support freedom of expression.   Join Team Jennine.

Finally, there is the matter of a strange German man who has sent me an extremely nasty and ominous letter about posting one of “his” images, and then warning me that he’s going to give me a lesson in “RESPECT.”

I will not march to the ovens, Mister Respect! Leave me alone! No one can teach me anything, that has been proven over and over again.

I wish the world would stop trying to make me mad. Even temporarily.

Withstanding Irritants

Thursday, January 27th, 2011

If it’s not some troll taunting me fives times a day, it’s some guy threatening to sue me, or a new stack of unpayable bills or a photo like this one, of the Man Repeller’s friends.

I hope David Carlo Photography doesn’t mind me borrowing his picture here. It helps to illustrate why I don’t “get” the Man Repeller and why I feel more and more like a stranger in a strange land.

The best way to counter these feelings of existential malaise is a sedative and a long thoughtful look at Godfrey Gao.

He is set to be the first Asian male supermodel. He is 6’4″ and loves to cook.   Let’s all forget our troubles for a moment and just be present, ahem. I know Godfrey would want that.

The Mystery of it All

Wednesday, January 26th, 2011

What’s the point of being Calvin Klein if all it gets you is this 21 year old porn model??

Sruli Recht: Hunky Mad Genious

Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

Sruli Recht was born in Israel, moved to Australia, and built a design studio in Iceland where he has produced a line of beautiful men’s shoes made from whale foreskins, and so much more!

“For his first complete collection of menswear, dubbed “When Gravity Fails,” Recht’s particular futuristic aesthetic can best be described as boasting an ethereal masculinity.”

Icarus, post-crash,” for example, is a sheath made up of blackbird feathers sourced by local marksmen. By contrast, the white wondrous woolly creation entitled “Born out of this,” is derived from 27 still born lambs, giving purpose to the lost souls that were not meant to be.”*

Did you get that? That’s 27 still born lambs.   Here is an older piece:

The Binding of Isaac is a four-cornered shawl of German flannel, dyed twice with the blood of a ram and left to cure for ten months. The hand-sewn binding is resurrected golden military dead-stock satin, and has twined and knotted tzitzit [tassels] attached to its four corners with 613 tight knots.

This designer has been at it for a long time. His work is the kind of thing I usually scoff at but there’s something about Sruli Recht that projects integrity as well as genuine artistry. His descriptions of his products are witty and often poetic.

Google him if you want to know more. Or see him on video here.

Do you find him pretentious or fascinating? Would you even have sex with him?

Romance Was Born Winter 2011

Monday, January 24th, 2011

This sequin cheongsam is the one item for 2011 that has stopped me in my tracks.   No shearling, no studs, no leather, no grown-up minimalism.   Just a crazy shimmering rainbow of goodness.

More here.

Typically Max

Sunday, January 23rd, 2011

Spending most of his last 6 months in bed, Max starting using Facebook, and sent friend requests to everyone else who had his name. He was so pleased by the visual effect of Max Wolf leaving a comment for Max Wolf. He told me he’d started a Facebook group called People Named Max Wolf.   I loved this; it was so Max of him to think of this.

I didn’t even look at that page until after he died. I love the purpose of the group – “Exploring what it means to be a Max Wolf.”   I love that all those Max Wolf’s were able to appreciate   his gentle wit.   As a tribute to Max, I sent 37 friend requests to Facebook users who share my name. Only one of them accepted.

No one had a mind quite like Max’s. One of his college professors once wrote, “I am always eager to know what Max has to say.” I think all of us felt that way.

Sometime I wonder what he would think about something and I try to hear his voice. The one thing I can hear distinctly is that he forgives me. I don’t know why this is and I know how self-serving it seems but it’s still true.   And when I play the CD mixes he made for me, I feel his love.   I hope more than anything that he can still feel mine.

Invasion of the Blogger Girls

Saturday, January 22nd, 2011

I think I’m seeing a trend here…..

Smell the Leather

Friday, January 21st, 2011

A long time ago, I wrote a story about my dad called “Smell the Leather.”   My parents divorced when I was 3, and my dad fulfilled his fatherly obligations by taking me and my sister out on Saturday afternoons. He bought a new car every year, and on these occasions, he would drive us around, commanding in a loud voice: “Smell the leather!” He was a happy, narcissistic man who fancied himself a Rat Pack kind of guy. It was a poignant story, as I recall.

Now, I have a different story but it’s still kind of the same.

My dad became seriously ill in June, and in my state of traumatized shock, I went to the city where he lives and helped out. In fact, I got the hospital to admit him after they refused all appeals to do so. Anyway, I joined my 6 siblings, from three marriages, in caring for our dad, who was shockingly frail and had to have a permanent feeding tube in his stomach.

Even though he’d been a terrible father, I wanted to help take care of him and make him feel surrounded by love. The doctors seemed to think he was close to dying. I slept on his couch a few times, listening to him cough all night through a baby monitor. He finally met my 17 year old son.

Now, miraculously, he has improved so much that his feeding tube was removed and he can eat again. He still needs care though, so I made plans to stay with him for a few days, thinking it would be nice to escape my life at home.

Then he called me. He started out complaining about this and that and then got to the point. He didn’t want me to stay with him because I “have too many problems.” He explained that it upsets him, as a father, to see one of his children so unhappy. It especially upset him to see me cry.

It was a surreal conversation but there was no way out. I said, “I can try not to cry, then.” He was skeptical. I reminded him that I had experienced the worst thing that can happen to anyone. He said he understood but asked pointedly, “How long are you going to be like this? Twenty years?!” I thought about it and said, “Yes.”

Trying to keep my voice even, I asked, “Well, how about if I just come visit for a few hours?” He replied: “We’ll talk.” and hung up.

Hahahahahaha! People don’t change! My father was always a fucker and he still is! The fantasy of a loving father was nice for a while, but I’m over it.

A rejecting father is forever, like a diamond.