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Archive for January, 2012|Monthly archive page


In upper body on January 11, 2012 at 8:15pm01

1. If given the task of styling yourself, what would you choose as the accoutrements?

An Alexander McQueen paisley skull bandana scarf, Givenchy leather leggings, Proenza Schouler wedge ankle boot and pair of Chloe Sevigny x Opening Ceremony sunglasses.

2. What is your most recent interesting thought?

Did André Cymone go on to compose the “X-Files” theme song under a pseudonym?


3. If you could be worn by anyone whom would it be?

Of “Two Fat Ladies” fame, Jennifer Paterson and Clarissa Dickson Wright.

4. Do you have a favorite error of redundancy?

Mass exodus.

5. There are only 30 of you in existence and a queue 400-deep is lined up outside, waiting for the doors to open in hopes of walking away with one of you. What is the proper song to start up on the Ipod shuffle just as the doors open and the hungry mass goes absolutely insane with elbows to the face and knees to the gut?

Obviously, Frank Stallone’s “Far From Over.” Remember this, both aggressive electric guitar and raucous keyboard solos give you wings. And if you really want people to fall back, stop and enlist a ravenous interpretation of the dance moves found between 0:02 and 0:16. Uh 5, 6, 7, 8!

6. What does one of the women do after she manages to walk away with one of you?

She sits alone in her studio apartment of Lilliputian proportions, staring at me hanging on the back of a chair, her left eyebrow split, patch of hair gone the way of the dodo, veneer cracked, right eye swollen shut with the surrounding area a marble of coagulated blood and a cold compress against a busted lip. It’s true my being here will lead to ramen consumption for the next 4 months straight and there might be a fractured rib and some internal bleeding happening but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here. A smile slowly creeps onto her face, “Victory!” The smile soon disappears due to the searing pain caused when a split lip meets stretching skin. Not to worry, she takes to smiling on the inside.

7. Some scholars are claiming Courtney Stodden is the new super sexy, super sensual Jesse Jackson. Can you give us a sample of something that could come out of either mouth?

The admiration of his abdication further strengthened the acclimation of the accusation that he just might be the adaptation of their allegorical adoration thus nullifying the activation of my altercation.

One minor addendum: if you really want to sell this as a super sensual, sociopolitically minded Courtney Stodden tweet you must place the words “lollipop” and “oozing” in there somewhere while displaying a severe back arch.

8.  If you were on the Twitter, what Kierkagaard quote would you send out into the world to give your timeline the allure of how randomly deep you are?

“I begin with the principle that all men are bores. Surely no one will prove himself so great a bore as to contradict me in this.”

9. Eesh… That quote would actually make me very depressed if I were on your timeline. Would you like to try again?

Nope and that’s because Kierkagaard speaks the truth.


In upper body on January 6, 2012 at 8:15pm01

1. If given the task of styling yourself, what would you choose as the accoutrements?

Balmain leather leggings and lace-up boots, a Madewell bracelet and the Reed Krakoff ‘T-bar’ bracelet.

2. If you could appear in any film what would it be?

 “A Woman Under the Influence” but on no one in particular. I’d just like to be there. Flung over a chair would be fine. This film proves time and time again what a tour de force Gena Rowlands is.

3. Who is the most interesting person you’ve ever been worn by?

A rapper’s hype man, underneath the sweatshirt, “Yo,” found underneath the ubiquitous oversized, sports jersey, “‘Sup” but over the Hanes wife beater, “Nín hǎo!” Looking out over the packed, humid arena, he knows if revealed to his faction of society they wouldn’t understand my being there and the only true player in the game who could ever openly pull me off would be Kanye West, possibly Tyler, the Creator. All of that aside, it was the chance the hype man took in order to feel my cotton voile and raw silk panels against his sweaty, pulsating skin while belting out such classics as bitches, hoes, various weapons references, “Yo, yo, yo,” “What, what, what,” various drug references, “Heezy fo sheezy,” the random “Scarface” and or waning Italian gangster mention, Gucci, Prada, Margiela, barking, “Awwweeeee yaaaaayyy!” and lastly, “Mothahfuckaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhs!” These words and sounds he will continue to feverishly scream into the mic night after night while quietly dreaming of one day being tapped to resurrect the long defunct Maison Laferrière by the head of Google, who will buy Maison Laferrière simply because Google really likes to buy stuff.

4. Who are your top 4 smock wearers of all time?

#1 Sweeney Todd

#2 Cool reenactor guy.

#3 The peasant in Cezanne’s Peasant in a Blue Smock.

#4 The Invisible Woman

5. What is something about you we otherwise wouldn’t know?

 I hail from a theater background and have the ability to perform monologues channeling people I have never met using the Mississippi drawl of a thwarted, sweaty, wicker chair perched, Tennessee Williams heroine.

6. Sounds intense. Do you have a favorite channeled monologue? If so, can you give us a sampling?

It’s not really a monologue, rather it’s a conversation involving a woman who has a big day tomorrow, therefore must pleasure herself into relaxation mode. Unfortunately, she’s having a hard time connecting with her pop-culture driven, fantasy realm suitor. Keep in mind, Luke – the fantasy suitor – says nil because he’s a fantasy. Here goes…

 “If I’m being honest with you, Luke, you look a lot like Darren who I’m married to in the real world but with a lot more hair… Well, I’m just here for one thing and one thing only and since you are all pop culture’s offering at the moment and it is late and I do have to get up early to finish the graph for the presentation, not to mention get Kit and Ollie off to school- Luke, you don’t need to sing a melancholy song for me right now … Nooo, I really don’t care to see your app ideas … Yes, your tweets are very clever. … Now’s definitely not the time for Creepy Bob Dylan. And since we are on the subject, *nose crinkles* I don’t think it’s very funny. Actually, I think it’s really- Luke, don’t cry … How ’bout you just kiss me, okay? Gently. Remember, act like you’ve been there … Ouch! You bit my lip! … Oh, don’t start in with the crying … I do think you’re sweet and you’re kind and funny on occasion plus you love your indie bands, a quality I’ve worked long and hard to craft an allure of sexiness around … Luke, please stop singing … Luke … LUKE! I don’t care about your indie beats or how sensitive late-in-life virginity loss made you or how Creepy Bob Dylan wants to give my pinky toe butterfly kisses! I have this room for another ten minutes before Darren notices I’m gone then hobbles down here asking questions I’m not prepared to answer! … He can’t because he pulled a groin muscle showboating at Ollie’s pee wee footbowl practice! … You know what I meant! Just leave my family out of this and listen! You are here only to help me rub one out so I can relax, fall asleep, get up at the crack of dawn to make lunches, help Kit with math homework then make it to a presentation I need to knock out of the park in order to beat Rachel Fuller out of a promotion that should’ve been mine to begin with! … I’m sorry … Well, sometimes I don’t know my own strength … Do you need to put some ice on that? … Okay … Excuse me for a moment. I have to take this. Hello? … What was that? Sam Elliott has arrived in the fantasy realm brooding, neither funny nor witty, needing to borrow fifty bucks and with a slight stench? Oookay, let me just think about-” Tires burn rubber somewhere off in the fantasy realm distance.

7. Wow. Now can you channel my mother taking part in a photo shoot with Terry “my penis lives to photobomb” Richardson? Keep in mind she’s 59, loves sushi, to talk, Trader Joe’s samples, Bill & Hillary, Roddick, Nadal, Venus, the Lakers, the POTUS, the FLOTUS, speed walking and Loehmann’s but hates to fly and the bachelor who chose no one at the end of season who-the-hell-is-keeping-track-anymore?

Huh. Ookay. Here goes… Huuhhmmmmmm *deep breath* Huuhhhmmmmmmmm…

“Hello there! … It’s very nice to meet you too, Terry … Well you’re such a sweet young man for saying that. Look at you! You’re so thin. We need to get some meat on those ol’ bones. Believe me, you’ll be even more handsome with the extra ten pounds. And what’s this? … A volcano? Huh. Interesting looking contraption. *sniffs* Smells a little like a skunk. Wow! Just looook at all of the pictures of you and your mother, I’m guessing? … I knew it. I can see the resemblance. And she seems so sweet. I love a child who loves their mother. My kids are just about the sweeee– … Oh! We’re starting? Okay … Smile? Well, of course. I love to smile. 59 years old I am. The lady at the bank couldn’t believe it. *whispers* She thought I was in my forties. I love posing. I do this little thing where I pop my shoulder out. Just like that. Just pop it out. Sometimes I do it without even thinkin’ about it … Oh, you like that? It’s my own little signature move. *whispers* The husband loves it … Oh, wear your glasses? Why sure … Wow, I think we might have the same prescription. These aren’t the most flattering design but what’re ya gonna do … Give a thumb’s up? How’s that? I have a little twinge of arthritis in this thumb so it’s a little hard to maneuver … Of course you can get in here too … You wanna wear my sunglasses while I wear your glasses and we’ll pose together? Love it. This is so much fun! Let’s do one with the both of us popping the shoulder… You’re a natural! You should know those sunglasses are Marc Jacobs; found them at Loehmann’s. They were regular $200. *whispers* Got them on sale for 19.99. I really do love that Loehmann’s. The deals you can– Um, Terry? Sweet pea, why is your penis out? … It’s really cool and hip? Now, help me understand, is it just your penis or the entire mood your penis being out creates? … Not sure. Okay, I think it’s time we had a little talk … Yes, it’s probably a good idea you put it away first. Afterall, there’s a chill in the air. Do they get cold? Don’t answer that. Okay, I’m here only to take a few tasteful yet playful photographs to tuck into some cards soon to be en route to friends, nothing more. Now, I’m very flattered that your attraction to me is so strong that exposing yourself proved to be the only suitable way for you to express it, however, I’m a married woman. 35 years I’ve been married to an amazing man with whom I’ve created two lovely children. It’s actually a very sweet story. We met in Chicago on a bitter, bitter cold day. The husband had been to Vietnam and back. Actually killed a man while he was there. To this day he has no idea what the hell we were even fighting for. *sigh* It’s a very strange world in which we live, Tear. Can I call you ‘Tear?’ Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. The day was that kind of day where the cold gets into your bones and I was looking fabulous. Have you ever been to Chicago? ‘Chi-town’ I like to call it. It’s a great city. The lights, the wind, the lake, Michigan Avenue. That was my spot. You should’ve seen me back in the day. People loved my legs. These legs right here. Always got compliments on them. *whispers* Still do. Anyway, the husband and I were both waiting for the El – that’s Chicago’s answer to the subway. The El, short for elevated. Anyway after three years together in Chicago we joined the migration out west, to California; northern to be- Tear? Tear, where are you going? Tear, why are you opening up the window? … Oh. To jump. O-kay. Well then, I assume the shoot is over? I should be off anyway. *whispers* Meeting a friend for lunch.” Aaaaannd scene.

 8. Bra! Va! Wow, that was my mother! It felt like she was right here talking and talking and talking. Now, can you channel my father introducing his first capsule collection?
*deep breath* channeling … channel … ing … and I have channeled …
“Fine. Well, these are pants. I guess. You just put them on to cover up your legs. This is a sweater. Keeps you warm when you need to be. Usually how it works. Here are some white t-shirts. These are my high cholesterol pills. Have no clue how they ended up here. *sigh* Golf shoes. To be worn only when golfing. Never in the house or else the shrill of the wife’s voice when she catches you might make you wanna jump in front of a bus that’s moving at Mach speed. These are — Okay, the game’s on. Gotta run.” “Kkssh” is the sound of the Budweiser can being cracked open en route to the recliner. Aaaand scene.
9. How in the hell do you do it?! I ask mainly because you are of course an amazing smock top but a smock top still.
Years of studying, hours upon hours of consuming anything and everything the great Sir Paul Robeson (I knighted him myself) ever uttered, not to mention meticulously dissecting the enviable Mrs. Davis’ approach to the craft and her uncanny ability to transform water into wine every chance she was given.


In feet on January 3, 2012 at 8:15pm01

1. If you could style yourself what would you choose as the accoutrements?

A Gucci leather skirt, the Rag & Bone ‘Oakley’ pullover, Linda Farrow Projects x Jeremy Scott sunglasses and a First Egyptian Revival gold scarab ring.

2. A lady who lunches gets rammed into on the street by an upspeaking teenager yammering away on the phone. Keep in mind, you’re scuffed beyond repair in the process. The lady who lunches will of course keep it ultra classy on the outside but can you give us a taste of what she’s feeling on the inside?

Brought to you by DMX, the great poet known for the NSFW prose so filled with indignation they’ve been known to stir up mutiny even in the most peaceful of situations.

3. Is there something you wish to never discover?

What Michael Silverblatt looks like because I’d like to spend the rest of my days letting his voice pacify me to the point of unconsciousness while imagining he looks like this.

4. If not you then what?

 We’re happening and you can’t stop us.

5. What is your most recent depressing thought?

We exist in a society where we don’t think ourselves great until someone else whom society has already deemed great declares us so. Which leads me to this: how many great people will leave this earth going unnoticed because they never quite mastered the art of affable kiss ass and how much mediocrity will go on to take part in great things because they mastered the art of toeing the line while knowing the right people?

6. Who is the last person or thing in the world you would ever want to trade places with?

Of course the answer to that would be the inverse of myself, those steel toes that have come before me. I think it’s pretty ironic that the shoe most representative of brawn and strength lives in a state of shame. Cowards, all of them! Cowards, I say!

Et tu, wellies? Et tu?

7. If you don’t mind my saying, your tone was a little displeased when giving the answer. Is there something behind it?

Well, it wasn’t my plan to go there but it seems you’ve forced my hand.

8. Did I? Because you don’t have to go there if you don’t feel like going–

You did! Okay? You did, so consider this the start of me going there. I was here but now I’m about embark on a trip there, all because you couldn’t leave well-enough alone. Here’s the deal. Unlike my steel-toed predecessors I’m not afraid to expose what’s happening on the inside. Unashamed to reveal the inner workings. Strong enough to share who I am. Is it hard exposing yourself to a world that clearly prefers you to keep a durable metal cap hidden away? Of course. But then explain to me how I’m supposed to sleep at night, slumber with this booming voice of self-deprecation and contrition reverberating in my mind? And what kind of message would I be sending to those who will come after me? So you see, I must pave the way or else après moi, le déluge and it won’t be pretty. Luckily, I’m not alone in the good fight and if it requires all of us to take the first, crucial step in creating self-love and self-respect then we’ll do it and we’ll do so with fists in the air — if we had fists — and   heads held high — if we had a heads.

9. Is there a certain pair of feet you didn’t mind encasing?

The pair belonging to the woman in the final stretch of preparing for dinner with an ex-boyfriend she hasn’t seen in two years. As she zips me up, she tells herself that she has no expectations for the evening, “Whatever happens happens. We’re both adults and if we somehow drift back to the good times then so be it. I’m over trying to control the outcome of my life and I’m now in it to simply live.” I should note that this is the female’s basic mantra for having great expectations for the evening but attempting to trick herself into thinking she has none. Not that I judge; quite the contrary. Upon coming face to face, she senses a spark, not to mention major excitement and joy on his part. In turn, she hasn’t felt this attractive and wanted in a very long time. The thought that she might be misdiagnosing his behavior is ephemeral. Unfortunately, I wish the sensation had stuck around a little longer for I’m the only one to hear the death knell. The ex waits for the amuse-bouche to arrive before telling her he’s getting married and his soon to be wife is pregnant. She realizes in this moment that he looks happier than she’s ever seen him look. She knows it’s no put-on and he is truly happy. She feels a prickly pear expanding in her throat. A paralyzed sensation overtakes the corners of her mouth. The rims of her eyes heat up, start to pulse. Thankfully, the gods are on her side and the tears never make it to the surface. For all he knows she’s fine with it. She’s more than fine, she’s actually happy for him. At least those are the words spilling from her mouth. They stand in front of the restaurant and say their goodbyes followed by an anemic hug and a sterile pat on the back, so to make sure there’s no confusion or gesture misunderstood. Their final parting words will forever be a mystery because when she comes to she’s walking, staring down at the sidewalk braced for the moment the entire ground falls away. Part of her is actually hoping it will. She stops. Looks to her feet. Tears drip onto me and stream down the sides. She takes a deep breath and thinks, “How does one ever move beyond this moment?” It feels as though she’ll be trapped here forever. The woman looks up. Swipes away the tears. She glances to her left to find an itamae watching her from inside his establishment. She realizes she barely touched her food at dinner. She glances up at the red neon sign that reads CLOSED. Suddenly, OPEN outlined in blue neon. She looks back to the itamae. He smiles. Unlocks the door. She enters and maneuvers through the labyrinth of tables – chairs stacked atop create menacing shadows on the wall. The itamae pulls out a stool, inviting her to take a seat at the bar and settle in for the traditional omakase. The sharpening of the knife against the whetstone somehow lets her know it will all be okay.


In all over on January 2, 2012 at 8:15pm01

1. Who is the last person on earth the woman currently wearing you would choose to not spend a romantic evening with?

Franksy, Bansky’s jealous, working stiff, dimwit of an older, half-brother who plastered an ecstatic picture of himself next to everything he defaced thus missing the entire point of clandestinely defacing walls, the ground, lamp posts and train cars with a vibrant array of spray paints and sociopolitical cleverness. Or is it facing? I’m still in the dark on what we’re calling it these days. Is it good? Is it bad? Is it art? The curmudgeon liquor store owner would argue its value lies somewhere between $33 worth of paint and the waking of his herniated disc when forced to repaint the wall. Either way, we can all agree that Franksy’s currently on parole for vandalism after a short-lived attempt at raging against the machine. Currently holding a cup of coffee in an office break room located somewhere in Uxbridge, he can be heard saying, “I quite like the machine, really. Don’t mind it one bit, actually. *pause* You gonna finish those crisps?”

2. Who is a person on earth the woman currently wearing you would choose to spend a romantic evening with?

Koen Fillet. But I should let you know she longs for the beard’s return. Nothing says sexy like a contemporary take on protesting, “You idiots wanna be assholes and drag your feet on getting a handle on this government? Well, guess what? A beard’s about to appear and once it does it’s gonna grow and grow and grow… See where I’m going with this? Eh? You’ve been warned.”

3. If given the task of styling yourself what would you choose as the accoutrements?

A Golden Goose sweater, Topshop panel shorts, Belle Sigerson Morrison ankle boots and pair of Pamela Love crystal stud earrings.

4. Who is the strangest person you know of?

The man who films his black-market purchased cougar preening his rescued, pigmy pony in hopes of putting the video up on YouTube and getting 6,000 hits. In other news, this one’s never been known to dream big. His wife, drying her hands on a dish towel, exits from the kitchen, already asking what he wants for dinner. He sends a slicing hand across his neck, signaling for her to “SHUT UP!” He’s in the middle of making a very important YouTube video for Christ’s sake! The wife does just what she’s aggressively and silently told for she knows the importance of YouTube video silence when it comes to animals doing cute things in backyards, on linoleum kitchen floors and or in carpeted living rooms. After all, Hannah isn’t once again taking a break from doing actual work to listen to these two bicker over the visual of Esther licking mites from Toby’s mane. And if the hedgehog ladies taught us anything, it is to SHUT. YOUR MOUTH. FOR THE LOVE. OF GOD. Nature – even if it involves wild kingdom factions that have no business ever coming together, forced to come together in a Gainesville backyard because a human can’t quite get a handle on the realities of this planet — is a beautiful thing.

 4. This might be totally off topic but is it true the hedgehog video spawned a religious cult that was formed in Queens but is now stationed somewhere in the hinterlands of northwestern Costa Rica and the mind-numbing hedgehog video conversation acts as the cult’s morning prayer?

You haven’t lived until you’ve witnessed 100 wayward souls reciting that conversation en masse. Funny thing, the woman who’s currently wearing me? Well, her cousin, Eli, is actually going to be filming a documentary on the cult this spring. Word on the street is he’ll be wearing a combination of Patagonia and LL. Bean. I’ll keep you posted.


6. If you could be worn by anyone who would it be?

And only because I wouldn’t mind adding a bit of refinement to her life, the loud, obnoxious, drunkity drunk young woman in the bar who has the uncanny ability to interrupt a conversation so that she can race into the bathroom, puke, do a bump, return from the bathroom, request a shot of the cheapest thing you got, flash her breasts, consume the shot of the cheapest thing you got, get accidentally slammed into by a prettier, younger woman, proceed by punching prettier, younger woman square in the face, resist arrest, get arrested, spend the night in the clink, get bailed out by her “Thug Life ‘Til I Die” torso-tatted ex-boyfriend, travel to a greasy spoon to consume a spicy breakfast burrito and diet Coke, take part in “thank you” sex with “Thug Life ‘Til I Die” in his murdered-out Escalade as they wait to slang 2 kilos to the head of a local megachurch, slip the head of the local megachurch her number when he picks up his kilos, shoplift a bag of disposable pink Bicks, beef jerky and a Kiwi Strawberry Snapple, read the Real Fact on the Snapple bottle cap, “A crocodile cannot move its tongue,” declare the Real Fact stupid after struggling to pronounce the word “crocodile,” toss the bottle cap out of the window, go to her aunt’s to shower, shave, clip in extensions and place blue rhinestone on the outer corners of both eyes, return to the bar, order a Long Island, give a side-eye to the bruised and bandaged prettier, younger woman whom she punched square in the face the night before and resume the initial conversation from the exact point of departure, “So, what was I saying? Oh yeah. We figured eff it and just killed him.”

7. O-kay. That last part has me a bit concerned and I feel it is my duty to act. Where is the loud, obnoxious, drunkity drunk young woman right now?

Well, naturally one always assumes this type of woman is the result of  freesia essence, vanilla musk and a Wild Turkery burp colliding mid-air on a floating island in galaxy far, far away. Come to find out, she was born in Tampa – the result of two gorgeous, low-budget porn stars’ successful attempt at procreation back in ’89. Which, if you really think about it, is the earth’s equivalent of freesia essence, vanilla musk and a Wild Turkery burp colliding mid-air on a floating island in galaxy far, far away.

8. So, she’s currently in Tampa?


9. Thanks. *imposter question* “9-1-1. What is your emergency?”