These boots by Philip Lim are my first choice. Not only do they look like a boot giving birth to another boot (or a parasitic twin) but they have an open-toe, convenient for testing the weather.
Plus, they sag nicely in the back. $850.00
These Fendi booties are obviously a no-brainer. Versatile, practical, what’s not to like? $1,700.00
Finally, I know these are the tiniest bit flashy, but these Christian Louboutin booties are so fierce, right? You could easily be mistaken for a real biker or punk, and how cool is that? $1,995.000
On day two of the Pretrial Hearing, David Coombs asked Captain Steven Lim about a 2009 email “PFC Manning wrote to Master Sgt. Paul Adkins with a picture of himself dressed as a woman…and how his gender identity affects him…[h]ow it impacts his ability to think. Adkins did not share that e-mail with Lim until after Manning was arrested. In David Coombs’ closing remarks on the last day of the Pretrial Hearing, he read Manning’s email aloud in court:
“‘This is my problem. I’ve had signs of it for a very long time. I’ve been trying very, very hard to get rid of it. It is not going away. It is haunting me more and more as I get older. Now the consequences are getting harder. I am not sure what to do with it. It’s destroying my ties with family. It is preventing me from developing as a person. It’s the cause of my pain and confusion. It makes the most basic things in my life very difficult.’ He said the only help that seems available is severe punishment. ‘I have a fear of getting caught and have gone to great lengths to conceal my disorder. It is difficult to sleep and impossible to have conversations. It makes my entire life feel like a bad dream that won’t end. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what will happen to me. But at this point I feel like I am not here anymore.’
Signed, Bradley Manning.”
Adkins is a fucking cunt who should be rotting in jail instead of writing poetry.
It has taken several days to emerge from the spell cast by Top of the Lake. I miss the weird atmosphere and the intensity of the relationships.
Now that I’m back in my own world, I’m preoccupied by the creepiness of women who look like old ladies.
I know how wrong this is, believe me. My husband always encourages me to embrace growing old. I know it happens to everyone, you can’t stop time, blah blah blah. And yet it’s so creepy.
Look at Jane Campion and Holly Hunter, 59 and 55 years old, respectively. They are dynamic, vibrant woman and Holly’s hair isn’t really silver in real life. But still. The old ladiness bothers me.
On the other hand, I’d be mad at them if they tried to be sexpots with bursting faces like Madonna. I can’t find a way to be an old lady that doesn’t feel tragic or enraging.
What do you think of Jane and Holly? Is it the androgyny that’s bothering me? They project a ‘Fuck You if You Don’t Like it’ attitude, which I normally admire. Are they saying that they don’t care about being attractive, or are they attractive in a way I don’t get? Would they look better with dyed hair, or is it the length that brings to mind wrinkly old wizards?
I have a week left before I turn sixty. I am disgusted by how shallow I am, but still. I can’t handle it.
Matjames Metson is a self-taught artist whose work needs to be seen in person to be fully appreciated.
Each piece is complicated but deliberate, and full of hidden delights. His art is personal but resonates with wonder and mystery.
I met him at his studio and fell in love with him, as did my companions. Matjames is fucking adorable. He told us about his experience of Hurricane Katrina, and showed us the graphic novel he is working on. Each page is a mini-masterpiece of emotion, beautifully crafted with a black Sharpie. He told us about the Sharpies he acquired in the chaos of Katina, when he walked through a looted store where everything was gone but the school supplies.
I can’t wait for his book to be published. Meanwhile, his art is available for sale right now, and will be on exhibit next year at the Fowler Museum in Los Angeles.
If you collect art or know someone who does, a piece by Matjames Metson will be something to treasure. I really believe that art elevates the soul. My soul was enriched by the radiant sweetness of this talented artist and yours can be too!
(c) Matjames Metson
A few days ago, I went out with my husband to look for shoes. While he looked, I headed for the kids section to look for a schoolgirl skirt. Just like all normal people, I have a fetish for pleated skirts, especially tartan ones. My personal excuse, if confronted about this, is that as a jew, I am fascinated by all things Catholic. Catholic things have the allure of forbidden fruit. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I couldn’t find a skirt in my size but I did find a dress among the school uniforms, priced right at $7.99. I showed it to my husband who patted me on the head, with either affection or pity or both. I interpreted his gesture as “Awww, you’re nearly sixty and you still like to pretend you’re a schoolgirl!” He told me to go try it on.
The dress was a good fit but when I took it off, I saw to my horror that is was made in Bangladesh. There is no way I’m going to buy a dress made under terrible conditions, maybe even made by someone who perished in the Rana Plaza factory collapse.
I don’t regret my decision to pass on the dress, but now people are scolding me for a position that will only hurt people in Bangladesh who want factory jobs. “Those poor people are grateful to work in sweatshops, bla bla bla!”
Fuck! I can’t indulge in my fetish and I’m increasing poverty in Bangladesh.
Opinions, ridicule, advice, anyone?
Look at these stunning over-the-knee boots made of patchwork fur by the always sexy and repellent Tom Ford.
“Purple tone-on-tone dyed astrakhan (Afghan origin) and dyed calf hair (New Zealand origin.)” Here’s a close up:
If you’re wondering what astrakhan is, designer Dennis Basso says you’re not.
“Women who want something beautiful are only interested in the final product,” he said. “She’s buying fashion. She’s not going into Prada and asking, ‘Where did this come from?’ It’s like when somebody goes and buys a diamond. They’re not asking what mine it came from either.”
But I’ll tell you anyway. Most astrakhan lambs, according to the fur industry, are killed within days or weeks of their birth because as they age, the quality of their wool quickly changes from tightly curled rows to a more coarse and wiry pelt. Oh well, too bad for those lambs, they should be honored to serve Tom Ford’s vision.
I wish Neiman Marcus offered styling advice like Net-a-Porter does, but you’ll have to wing it on your own.
Once in a while, I see a film that is so transformative, I wish I could make everyone watch it. The Crash Reel is exactly that. It is a fucking gem in every way and I want you to make every effort to see it.
The Crash Reel is a documentary about a fearless young snowboarder, Kevin Pearce, who has a terrible wipe-out just before the winter Olympics in 2010. The accident leaves Kevin with a traumatic brain injury and limitations that he refuses to accept, but ultimately lead him to advocate for people with brain injuries and other disabilities.
It’s a riveting, emotional and thought-provoking film, beautiful to watch, and filled with heart-wrenching moments that compel you to think about your own family and your own reactions to adversity.
I watched The Crash Reel twice: alone the first time, and then with my husband. The first time, I was overwhelmed by all the emotion but uplifted by all the palpable love on display. The next time, I found too many parallels in my own situation as the mother of both a dare-devil and a child with special needs. I wished that my own story was more positive. I wished that our love could have triumphed over everything.
But still, seeing that there is satisfaction in helping others is inspiring. Seeing a family pull together like this one is beautiful beyond words.
Finally, apart from all its artistry, this documentary is an effective discourse on head injuries. Be careful, and #loveyourbrain!