Filed under: Proenza Schouler
Oh! The detail.
Hello internet users. I’m on Long Island (oh yes, sweet, sophisticated Long Island) and after almost driving my mother’s Mazda (affix -rati) in to an oncoming ambulance, I’ve realized something – music can kill you. I think I might stop listening to it.
I have these ongoing thoughts about music, and it’s impact on trends and social acceptance/behavior. So this might fall a bit flat, as I am insanely hungover – thanks Stoli Wild Cherry Vodka! pay us for the product placement? – but I’m going to try to quantify la musica as I know it. Right here, right f*cking now.
I really listen to only one vein of the music network. It is called, for E + I’s purposes, “mainstream but still hip to be seen listening too.”
This music is all about the vibe surrounding it. It is perhaps not heavily rotated on the radio, but certainly contributes to the acoustic duration of a night at Kenmare in NYC or Kill Your Idol in Miami.
This genre contains, like, you know, Phoenix. Or Passion Pit. Let this be our little secret . Or that re-dack-ulous Barbara Streisand song (oo-woo-oo-woo-oo-ooo-ooo-oo).
I was just actually at both of the aforementioned venues, and I love the prerequisite DJ modus operandum – girls and boys who smoke lots of cigarettes, girls and boys who maybe throw in a base track of say The Postal Service or a glittery oldie like “Wannabe” by The Spice Girls, girls and boys who actually have no idea how to DJ. It’s kind of like you move to New York, tell everyone your Dad is rich and that you have an iPod, and wham bam thank you Stam, you have a residency at Le Bain (I don’t have to name names here). Yet I have nothing against these people, as they have great taste in whatever is current, and in one way or another they dictate what is mainstream cool at any given moment in time. That, and blogs. Also, if “Wannabe” comes on, I freak the f*ck out and break glasses because I get so happy and frenzied.
But the point is this: sometimes I wonder if I like music like this only because it is kind of like another pseudo-accessory. Like a PS1, but intangible, save for the dancing. There are clearly audibly pleasing elements in Phoenix’s tracks – Cadillac = big money licensing – but at the same time it’s kind of crap. That’s what I realized as I rockkkkkkked out to “1901″ and almost killed myself, ironically at the metal grate of a vehicle designed to save lives.
God speed!
-Elliot
Filed under: Design
Lately, I’ve been purchasing physical copies of the Times on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays to complete the actually complete-able crossword puzzles and remind myself I have a vocabulary that extends beyond a bank of swear words and “sample,” or “celeb.” I skim the headlines so I remain in the proverbial political loop and then proceed to the puzzle. This morning, however, I chanced upon some photos in the Home section of this Parisian couple’s apartment. Just look for yourself at the photos and tell me it murder or something wouldn’t be beneath you if this place in the 14th could be yours:
For the full slide show, click here.
-Isabel
Need: Leather jacket, purple-tinted sunglasses (not Purple sunglasses…muahaha), gross facial hair, irritating comments in a French accent about your love for the female form
Don’t need to explain. Just make sure you scowl.
Anna Piaggi. Italian fashion writer. This would require work. And risk pissing off a lot of PETA members.
-Isabel
Filed under: Anna Dello Russo
“Little Miss Maximalist?” W, You could have had so much fun with the shoot. The subject, the insane-o glam fashion-worshiper who merits her own Elliot and Isabel category, has her own apartment for her clothes and is approaching 50-something, yet wears fuchsia feathers and Dolce & Gabbana sheer lace. Together. At 9am. But you didn’t, you enlisted the photo-magnetism equal of Modest Mouse (i.e. Teller) and shot her in a wildly unflattering yoga pose. Any glimpse of that apartment though…
-Isabel
Filed under: Musings
So happy to be typing into this little box again after a regrettable absence from the online-o-sphere. But. While I was busy not staring at clothing (and staring at shoes, actually), someone introduced me to this blog and this girl and I am admittedly impressed, which is unnerving because she posts photographs of herself along with whip smart funny fashion writing, and we don’t, which makes us look weird, like we are trying to hide our identity, which we are, because we both say wildly offensive things about fashion people we interact. But I think we should. Insecurity complex aside, here is one example of The Man Repeller blogger’s juxtapositions of sh*t that will make you laugh:
-Isabel
Filed under: Musings
Nothing like a nineties midriff and slouchy kick-ass boots to start off the weekend.
Maxi-sized and proportioned flannel suit and white sneakers and a flat-top fedora. F*ck yeah.
Champagne goes down better when you are smoking, and wearing denim jackets over high waist jeans and chunky knit cardi-vests and/or big ole’ neck scarves. Get crazy hair for full effect.
This is so perfect. Suede wildly cropped tops need to make a come back. I love boobs.
-Elliot
Filed under: Music
Sleigh Bells is so folksy weird that you cannot help but love them.
One of my favorite lyrics ever, actually:
“…what about them, I’m all about them, six such straight-A’s, cut ‘em in the bathroom…” Interpret as you will and please.
-Elliot
Like any self-respecting lover of all things rare, independently produced, wildly expensive, really soft, complicated to understand* and so on, I tend to lose interest in designers once their brand becomes accessible. One of the first times I ever went out with Elliot in Miami was Halloween 2007 (I think). We went to some now shady venue to see Chromeo spin. I was wearing a pair of black patent Louboutain pumps. Really basic. Really unnoticeable to anyone in Miami besides Elliot. It was a really gay fashion secret, kind of like when Elliot spotted Freja walking on Allen St. taking a drag of a cigarette that was down to its filter. Or when I see someone in one of those Junya Wantanabe Victorian waistcoats. I could go on.
Louboutin is not a secret anymore (open US Weekly) and the designs are approaching a Kim Kardashian on the tacky scale. Is this what happens to designers when they make a ton of moolah? Like, Marc Jacobs started his career brilliantly as this nerdy weirdo in glasses who liked Nirvana and now he’s designing for the likes of, well, everyone. He’s a genius still, and so is Christian L, but he has no defining style anymore and that’s just tres sad.
Ew:
*(if the term hipster chic is ever coined I might do something drastic, like move to Brussels and be one of those people featured in New York magazine who only wear one color and collects rare tea–kidding, but it’s an idea)
On a happier note…
Pierre Hardy
Viktor and Rolf
-Isabel
Filed under: Musings
Another round has come and gone. As quickly as it came is as quickly as it went. It raged and now everyone atop their Valentino studded kitten heels are settling back in to their respective corners of the world, Celine bangles clanging, order being restored.
Unfortunately, a stand-out season it was not. My overall attitude towards S/S 2011 is one of blase indifference, laced with intermittent irritation. Why did the normal all-stars fail (Balenciaga)? Why, as Anna Dello Russo recently told The Cut, are fruits going to be a big trend next year? Prada was quite stunning on the runway, and has a sh*tload of editorial potential, but Stella McCartney was loco en la cabeza. Symmetric grapefruits and flowers on a sleeveless sheen-white pantsuit are NAGL. Why did Rag and Bone break rank and show the worst collection I’ve ever seen?
But enough with the bad… let’s talk about the good. I have selected my three favorite looks from S/S 2011, all of which I am a bit surprised with. I decided to include honorable mentions: Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dries Van Noten, and Jil Sander. Yet atop pyramid this year were unexpected contenders Derek Lam and Haider Ackermann. Rodarte too, but this was an inevitability.
Haider Ackermann (unreviewed on Elliot and Isabel) was the burning star of the past month. I have never seen a collection with such a pulchritudinous realization of insanity. Seriously. Industrial f*cked up leather vests over would-be slutty dresses in super-saturated jewel tones. Also, pelvic slits are always a beautiful thing, especially when you have the hip-bones to pull it off. I am obsessed with this look and it is the background on my MacBook Pro.
Rodarte switched up their M.O. as of late and killed it. We reviewed it, you know what we think, and this look is amazing, and I love that Nick Kirkwood is still collaborating with Kate and Laura. All of this works, and all of this seems like it would be dollar sign attractive to interested conglomerate, LVMH.
Derek Lam presented a hyper-wise collection. His clothes were just beautiful, and on-trend, and wearable, and distinguished. I love denim in coat form, and this epaulette with short lapels and wide-set buttons number looks perfect for a lukewarm March day in the Village.
Also look at this sandal from Derek Lam. It is awesome. I am not sure how long it takes to put on, but it is definitely awesome.
I am excited to see upcoming campaigns. I just heard Julianne Moore is leaving Bulgari’s nudity and lion cub spotlight to appear in… Talbot’s. Go team!
-Elliot
