I’m in a terrible, New York kinda fu*king mood, Elliot probably gave me his cold even though he’s in London, and I just really want some presents.
Filed under: Musings
In Arena Homme + for A/W 11/12, Juergen Teller has a small inset of his photographs, as well as some choice words. Reading these snippets has given me a wildly strong and newfound appreciation for the photographer – I’m a little bit smitten, truthfully. He is funny, fragile, grounded, seems to love his family, and is also somehow perfectly German. Select quotes and images below:
“My mother was like a goalkeeper in my father’s life, she always tried to protect him. He ended up killing himself anyway. My mother and I have always been football fans. My father wasn’t.”
“He looked like James Dean and it wasn’t so easy. I looked at the sky and thought, let’s photograph something decent.”
“At that point, I wanted to leave as soon as possible, felt scared and really awkward. But still had to pick up his kids with him and buy school uniforms. O.J. was determined to go out with me in the evening, thought I had lots of cash. Luckily I was able to escape, sweating until I reached the airport.”
Kind of so brilliant, I’m thinking.
-Elliot
Filed under: Musings
I saw the most interesting thing @Prada yesterday. A Russian man – big, heavy, neck that waddled like a sad fat chicken when he moved, all kind of fabulous – bought maybe 8-10 pairs of shoes without saying one word to the salesman. He also didn’t try on any of the aforementioned shoes. He just sat there, pointed, nodded, shook, and inevitably dropped probably in the range of 3000 British pounds.
It was amazing! I feel like I could write a paper on it. He had on True Religion jeans and a giant cashmere Ralph Lauren coat. I hope when I grow up I am a billionaire grouchy Russian man with lots of women and vodka at my disposal, not to mention the ability to arbitrarily buy footwear like it’s f*cking candy.
FROM THERE, I went to Dover Street Market to see Thom Browne’s new eyewear – they’re beautifully made, and apparently each is one of a kind. A collaboration with Dita, according to the sales guy who might have been stoned – he spoke so slowly and his eyes didn’t really widen past a mild squint. So fun! I inevitably passed on a pair that featured blue resin frames with white cage shields and that oh-so-Browne prep American eccentric aesthetic, because I am fairly sure if I rummage around my grandfather’s old things, I can find something similar.
FROM THERE, I went to Margiela and bought a pretty dramatic suede and shearling coat. Margiela is good this season. Normally I’m not so in to it, but I liked a lot of this collection. My friend bought a red zip-up jumper which is very chic, I am entertaining getting the same.
FROM THERE, I went to this punky little shop called Year Zero, where I bought a tank top with Micky Mouse, except he is dead, and there is a lot of neon, and it’s amazing. This shop paints unicorns on vintage Louis Vuitton bags. Isabel needs one, might be my X-Mas present to her.
FROM THERE, I got dressed up as a soldier and went to a fabulous, fabulous dinner party where a very beautiful German couple dressed up like that guy who walked in Mugler – the all-over tattooed man. Their costumes were the best I’ve ever seen.
And lastly, I’m now here, hungover and exhausted and approaching being broke, blogging. Here’s some humor for your time:
It really isn't. I peed in an alley in Soho last night and it was CREEPY. Men lurk in dark corners in Soho, I'll just tell you that as a warning.
Must have.
I'm fairly certain Hamish needs to COMME DES F*CK DOWN in this picture.
-Elliot Davy, Chelsea’s Bro.
Filed under: Rick Owens
I never had my mind made up before the bomb dropped.
Don’t mind me I am just singing along to some rando that keeps repeating on Hype Machine (Katie Herzig, Free My Mind [RAC Remix] – amazing).
Say hi to may new kicks/babies (I love shopping in Europe! No landing fees and import taxes. I can’t wait to go to Rick in Paris). Except I forgot a VAT return form on these bad boys but whatttt the fizzuck ever. Happy Halloween. I am going to be a lizard. A Bottega lizard.
EDIT: I MISSED RICK AND MICHELE TODAY – THEY WERE IN LONDON. IT’S OKAY TO STARF*CK RICK AND MICHELE. I SHOULD HAVE GONE EARLIER INSTEAD OF THE GYM, BUT I NEED SEXY ABS FOR THANKSGIVING ON THE BEACH WITH ISABEL, OR ELSE I AM NOT ALLOWED.
-Elliot Lamy
Filed under: Musings
I am overwhelmed with Miami nostalgia. Especially in October. Elliot’s good at bringing up BAR songs… it’s a Miami thing, you wouldn’t know.
-Isabel de Hialeah
Filed under: Musings
Good night, dreamers.
-Elliot
Filed under: Musings
London is a dreamland today. Elliot is designed for this city, even though we’ve got a new blogquarters in NYC. But I’m not leaving England, probably forever.
Nicholas Kirkwood x Keith Haring
Nicholas Kirkwood Collection. Amazing how he defined a signature so quickly and uniquely. You don't need a red sole to show you have expensive shoes on, grrrls.
Maison Martin Margiela Persian Rug Perfection
Angles and Polka Dots and Snakes at Balenciaga.
I still die a little inside every. freaking. time. Balenciaga.
-Elliot Gagosian
Like Isabel, who, in her day-to-day genius, found the amazing/kill-something-worthy PS1 for The Webster in the post below, I too am suffering from product lust. I cannot offer an apartment in Miami’s ghetto residential neighborhood of Brickell Roads with an Argentinean… but I can offer you stardom. In Japan. Apparently we’re well read there. So I checked out Vogue Nippon’s fabulous site and have picked these accessories for you, for me, for everyone:
Bounce little kitty. You've got that nasty bounce.
I went sunbathing today in front of Buckingham Palace. With Pippa Middleton. Her ass is not all that. Two out of these three statements are true.
S. T. A. R., that's what you are.
And for your readership, the best song of the day for your time (and oh-so-fitting):
-Elliot Blaquier
YOU CAN JUST PLEASE TAKE ME BACK TO 10 MUSEUM PARK where I’ve got a baby waiting for me and she’s painted “Webster blue.”
The PS1 made exclusively for The Webster by Proenza Schouler has arrived. Whoever gets one for me can be our intern. No interview necessary.
And while we’re experiencing Miami nostalgia (no Art Basel this year kiddos—but I DO have an open apartment in the ghetto still in my possession with an Argentinean who kind of looks like Julian Casablancas squatting there. He’ll charm your pants off. If I get the PS1, you can stay there) HERE YA GO-
-Isabel Wang
Filed under: Musings
… this is usually how our conversations transpire (***all names changed for security’s merciful sake***) and this is all one hundred percent real.
Elliot: I think you should get a siamese cat and walk it on a leash.
Isabel: And chop its tail off.
Elliot: It should have a Lower East Side name, like Siddharta. Or Motherfucker Jones.
Isabel: Like Sebastian?
Elliot: Or Thom.
Isabel: Or, like, Renzo.
Elliot: You should so bedazzle its collar!
Isabel: And never feed it…
Elliot: And you have to make sure to buy a cross eyed one.
Isabel: … so it attacks people.
Elliot: That would be so amazing if it became a cult story type thing, the kind of shit gawker would be all over. TAILLESS AND EXPENSIVE SIAMESE CAT BLINDS HIPSTER PASSERBY. Because it’s fucking HUNGRY.
Isabel: It would basically look like a skinner Marcy.
Elliot: Would you frost your Siamese’s tips?
Isabel: FUCK YES its tips are frosted.
Elliot: What if you just got a horse?
Isabel: A mini one? To wear Hermes blankets?
Elliot: No, a full sized one.
Isabel: The Good Luck Car Service people would eat it.
Elliot: If and when it inevitably misbehaves you can wrap it on the head with an antique silver ladle. Bad horse.
-Elliot and Isabel Jones
