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Archive for the ‘lower body’ Category

ANTHONY VACCARELLO GILDED CABOCHON SKIRT

In lower body on October 17, 2013 at 8:15pm10
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1. What items would you choose as accoutrements?
A Madewell shirt, a Smythson cardholder, a pair of Altzurra boots and a butterfly net. Go on. Do something totally unexpected of this ensemble.
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The 96-year-old woman able to look back on her life and pinpoint her most cherished moment.

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3. What would be the moment?

After seeing her kids off to school and her husband off to work, she turned, walked back inside the house, poured herself a hot cup of coffee, sat down at the kitchen table and enjoyed her creation in unadulterated silence, without one, single thought passing through her mind.

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4. Do you have a favorite cover?

 Michaela

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5. Can you tell us something interesting about the person wearing you?

She just opened a medicinal marijuana shop and word on the street says there’s a backroom where you can score the secret ish.

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6. I thought the whole point to legalization was taking the secret part out of it?

True and those who knew about the secret room were on the edge of their seat, wondering what awaited them as they were led down the long, dark, musty corridor. Could it be Oxys? Bath salts possibly?! Finally, they made it to the large red, baize door and when it opened, they come face to face with a room littered with glass cases, each occupied by a different variety of… Wait for it… Cupcakes!

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7. Huh?

Two words: inverse marketing! And now my girl gets to put her double major — marketing and sociology — to good use! Her parents never ever saw this one coming. Don’t you see?! The system was gummed up! For her to open up yet another cupcake shop on the tawny, cherry blossom-lined street her mom was suggesting — and insisting on helping pay for — would be silly. She’d be down and bog-standard before she was out of the gate! Every other storefront was being taken over by someone just like her: a twee millennial who thought they had the best take on a pâtisserie, or a sock store or a cheese shop. For this particular enterprise, those fiending for weed was gravy and quite possibly the best idea my girl ever had! They would enter hungry or at least wanting to purchase the one thing on this planet that’s guaranteed to increase hunger! And primo cupcakes being sold in the secret backroom of a medicinal joint, located in a less than desirable neighborhood has all the trappings of a hipster’s Valhalla so she could for sure count that clientele in. Sure, some patrons would be disappointed when they realized their visions of next level, illegal substances wouldn’t be realized, but soon the whimsy of the colorful room filled with buttercream goodness would consume them and soon enough my girl’s ingenious idea would catch on. And can you believe not one person let it be known what was waiting on the other side of the baize door? Vets wanted neophytes to have the full experience. Why, people even started to kick the habit which turned my girl’s motivation completely on its ear. Don’t you see?! She did what Nancy Reagen and Punky Brewster never could! However, in Nancy and Punky’s defense, my girl didn’t have the CIA completely upending her plan by planting black rock on the streets. Nancy and Punky’s “Just say ‘NO!'” vs. the CIA’s “Um… here ya go. But you didn’t get it from us and if you say you did– Actually, no one’ll believe you, so say whatever you want. We’ll keep winning because we’ll keep winning.” In any case, my girl’s patrons picked up the habit of being addicted to cupcakes but hey, a few extra pounds is better than a perpetual high any day!

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8. Um… And this thing really worked?

Yes! So much so that in the end, my girl would eradicate drug use thus bringing this “war” to a screeching halt all on her own. And I put war in quotes because, let’s be honest, there is no war. To have a war you must have opposing factions. All this war has are sellers and consumers and no matter how you slice it, those two things running apace with each other will always equal capitalism. We as a society build crafts that can travel to other planets — the ultimate in escapism — yet we can’t get a handle on how we stop this problem plaguing our society, our neighborhoods, our people?! But that’s okay. My girl will not be stifled, rather, she will push forward even if it’s a solitary fight. The road will be arduous and littered with those doing just enough to make it appear as though headway is being made but she will not tarry because carry on she must!

9. Man, do you think Mr. Vaccarello knows Serpico is donning his creation?

That’s right. Make jokes. I get it. If you don’t take it seriously then how can it possibly be a problem? But that’s okay. I will be there to fight the good fight. When everyone is busy making light, I will be there.

 

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PAUL SMITH SLIM-FIT TROUSERS

In lower body on May 24, 2013 at 8:15pm05

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

A Givenchy mesh-back sweater, A Burberry Prorsum metallic shirt, a pair of Red Wing boots and an A.C. Oehmich Company physician’s bag.


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2. What is your favorite homage to trousers?

President Lyndon B. Johnson ordering pants from Joseph Hagger on August 9, 1964.

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

The young doctor so frustrated and filled with ire, he ripped Paddy Chayefsky’s words straight from the page and served it up cold to an enraptured audience.

4. Good for him. Sometimes you have to let it out. And I do love that monologue, however, I’d have to imagine at least someone on the hospital staff would know it, therefore, knew they weren’t the doctor’s words? Maybe? Maybe not?

Not when your audience is a room full of 8-year-olds. My guy was giving a healthy dose of Paddy to his son Billy’s 2nd-grade class in the spirit of Career Day. The perfect storm of everything bad seemed to hit the doctor all at once; so hard, in fact, that walking into his son’s school and presenting to children a poached monologue about impotence and the ill state of the country’s health care system seemed like a great idea. Budget cuts and overcrowding at the hospital, the ex needing more child-support in addition to her planning of a wedding to a man who actually knew all baseball terms and threw a mean curveball, feeling like he was losing his son to this stranger, wondering why he’d spent all that time becoming a doctor, trying to get back to the point in his life when he loved his profession, trying to forget Madeline and seek the affections of another woman… All of it was accumulating in his head like a storm forming, ready to raze anything in its path and preparing to find satisfaction in the destruction left in its wake. Yes, folks, the warm air was indeed about to meet the cold and together they were about to be introduced to varying winds. It was only a matter of time before my guy erupted and let everyone else in on what had been building. On a side note, the hours spent committing Mr. Chayefsky’s words to memory allowed the doctor’s frenetic mind a moment to cop a squat. Once the monologue was over, every hand — save for Billy’s, of course — shot into the air accompanied by eager, amused eyes and rapidly kicking feet. Oh boy, did these kids have questions. They had a hunch what a “limp dingus” was but they thought it best to get the cold, hard facts straight from the professional’s mouth. The reality of what my guy had done hit him hard. Luckily, the young, sprightly teacher — perpetual smile — this angel of a woman stepped in, placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and said, “Hey, guys! I think instead of questions we should enjoy the yummy cupcakes Billy’s dad brought for us! How does that sound?!” Being eight and pretty much loving cupcakes above anything else, the bait and switch worked, as an en masse, “Yay!” rang out. The kids hustled to their feet and raced to the back of the room where the refreshment table awaited and questions about limp dingi seemed to fade away.

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5. My god… I’m to assume the ride home was very quiet?

You don’t know from quiet. The one thing the doctor longed for was to connect with Billy on a true father-son level. The 316i pulled up to his former home, the home he had dreamed of raising a family in with the love of his life. The doctor watched as his son jumped out and  ran up the steps. He waited until the woman who used to greet him opened the door and waved, letting him know Billy was in safe hands. And, in the spirit of things the doctor never, ever needed to see, Julio, the handsome, new man in his family’s life, joined them in the doorway and the three waved him off. The 316i pulled away with the weight of the world on its shoulders. Before stepping inside, Billy turned and watched his dad drive away. Never do you want your child to feel sorry for you, but here it was and there was nothing the doctor could do about it. I hate to say it but he’s the one who set the stage. He didn’t secure the brave face tight enough. Hell, my guy tossed the brave face over his shoulder and went commando, “Here I am, world, the victim with a bull’s-eye on his forehead! Lap it up!” That’s just what he said without actually saying it.

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6. I don’t know if I can bear the rest of this story. Do you mind if we stick a pin it?

 Buck up. This right here is real life and it ain’t always pretty. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. The doctor arrived at the mangy apartment he was now calling home. Upon entering, he immediately fell to the couch (that’s how small the place was) and went to retrieve notes from his bag but realized his bag wasn’t with him. Not being able to take yet another kick to the gut, he released a scream so blood-curdling, Mrs. Tanner next door contemplated calling the police. She didn’t, of course, but she came pretty damn close. But let’s be honest, she always came pretty damn close, for the bird fretted over every single thing. Mrs. Tanner instead opted to peer through the Chantilly lace curtains only to see the doctor exit his apartment, get into his car and drive back to the only place he could’ve left his bag: the school. Back at the school, my guy parked the car in the vast, empty lot and looked to the building. Is it possible for a structure to glare at you with indignation? On this day it was. The doctor got out of the car, slammed the door shut, opened the door again only to slam it once more for good “F*** the world” measure and then he set out toward the school for the second time that day. He entered the classroom to find his bag sitting on the corner of the teacher’s desk as if keeping her company while she graded papers. Thank god. I love that goddamn bag. My guy rapped on the door. The teacher looked at him and smiled. She stood up and came from around the desk. He thanked her for keeping the bag safe then launched right into apologies for the day’s earlier display. The teacher interrupted the apology to let him know that she actually covertly took the bag with the hope that he would return for it. Then, due to budget cuts that directly led to the school being lodged in 1999, the teacher reached out and pressed a button on a big, old boombox. A CD faintly squealed to life and began the only song one should hook up to with their student’s father whilst atop a desk…

7. The little minx… And you’re so right about the song! What happened next?!

Next, she downshifted her gaze, causing the gaze to say, “Oh doctor, come over here and play with me.” The smart doctor did exactly what the gaze told him to do. Next thing I knew, star stickers, an apple, a stack of half-graded tests, a picture of the teacher with her best friend on the Great Wall smiling and holding up peace signs…  everything went flying off the desk and crashing to the floor, no match for the storm of hungry, thrashing, thrusting bodies! It was the kind of carnal mauling where the body becomes numb, every second happening a second too late, no move arriving soon enough! My guy was up up up! That I knew! The tent was pitched! A limp dingus?! What limp dingus?! Then… she abruptly stopped.

8. What?! Why?! What?!

Ouch! Can you let go of me?

9. *I released my grip.* Forgive me. Can you go on, please?

That’s better. Thank you. Eeesh… Now, as I was saying, she abruptly stopped kissing him and looked deep into his eyes. My guy was confused and down, down, down. Next, the teacher asked a question that anyone should have asked considering the Career Day presentation, “Are you impotent?” I felt like exulting, “Oh, hell no!” But the good doctor handled it, “No. Not at all, in fact.” Then she sort of cocked her head to the side, her stare deeper and more curious, “That wasn’t your speech was it?” He responded, “No. The proprietor is a man by the name of Paddy Chayefsky. I haven’t been in the best of moods lately and I guess… And well, I guess I lost my mind a little, which seems to be the only explanation for what happened this morning.” “Oh. Okay.” They took some time to study each other. Then, almost simultaneously, they started to laugh, both realizing the moment of ravaging one another atop a desk had moved on to someone else — probably some pot-bellied insurance agent and his gorgeous, zaftig assistant in an office located somewhere in Laughlin adjacent. However, for my guy and the teacher, the moment had been replaced by an even better moment, one of sweet understanding and the realization that they each really liked the other. They continued to laugh as they picked everything from the floor and placed it all back in the rightful places. My guy suggested they start over at a nearby diner – the getting acquainted, not the carnal mauling. The teacher agreed and they proceeded to get to know each other over hot cocoa and a shared slice of blueberry pie. That night, while lying in bed, the doctor realized that it was the first time in four years that he felt genuine happiness and hope for his future. Hope beyond his ex-wife moving on. Hope beyond Billy finding his soon-to-be stepfather more adept at baseball. Hope beyond budget cuts at the state level. Just hope. A silver lining. A reason to smile.

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CESAR ARELLANES HAREM PANTS

In lower body on January 20, 2013 at 8:15am01

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

A Rick Owens sweater, a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti, gilded leaves sandals, a Sunghee Bang cable knit beanie and a Meredith Wendell clutch.

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2. If you could be worn by any person whom would it be?

Since I like doing charity work every now and again, the obnoxious dinner party guest who toggles, uninvited, between various conversations armed with the response, “Ha! Tell us how you really feel!”

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3. Who is the last person anyone should want to be around for as long as they live?

The person incapable of doling out a compliment without throwing themselves into the mix.

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4. If you could appear in any music video what would it be?

And this is mainly because the acclimation process, I feel, would be a very simple one. Now, when you watch the video keep an eye out for the subtle, pop culture references in the beginning. Remember, they’re super subtle so do pay close attention.

5. Does Juicy still got ’em crazy?

Silly question. And the answer is yes.

6. What do you think you’ll feel if you’re ever marked down?

Hm… Wow… That’s an interesting question, a little bleak, but interesting still. I don’t know. I guess I’d look back and wonder where it all went wrong and what could I have done to change the outcome. *shivers*

7. If you could return as any person or thing what would you choose?

A camel toe and a moose knuckle.

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8. Ha! This should be fun. And why, Cesar Arellanes harem pants, why would you like to return as both a camel toe and a moose knuckle?

It’s a very touching story actually. When the woman wearing me was a little girl she dreamed of one day leaving her home in the big city for the life of a bucolic, put to work on the open fields of an animal sanctuary, tending to those unable to tend to themselves. Her parents, always eager to feed their child’s dreams and curiosities, were the first in line for tickets upon hearing news of the circus coming to town. Well, a town an hour outside of the city at least. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, the day had finally arrived for my girl to go to the circus. There she eagerly stood, under the big top, waiting for the show to begin. However, once the spectacle got underway something very surprising happened. Her feelings of elation suddenly melted into pangs of sadness and anger. How could they treat such beautiful creatures like this? The circus had suddenly transformed into her foe. My girl sat patiently, putting on enthusiastic expressions for the sake of her fathers, who were both so happy to share in this moment with their little one. The performance ended. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The oppressively stale air, the wretched sounds, all of it working in conjunction to create a queasy, throb in the pit of her stomach. Outside of the big top, my girl anxiously clung to both fathers’ legs as they talked to the patriarch of the trapeze family. She wanted to go. She needed to go. Simply standing there, consumed by this sense of foreboding was a waking nightmare. Not being able to help in some way was too much to bear. What had all of the circus attending veterans at school been going on about? According to them, little kids were supposed to love the circus, not have violent aversions to it. My novice was starting to spin. If she was going to break away from the pack with her violent aversion to blatant injustice shouldn’t that lead to some act of valor? But what could she do? She was just a little girl. A “bows in the hair on special occasions,” a “crush on Gregor Johnson,” “there might be a ghost hiding in the closet” little girl. She watched with big eyes, heart feeling as if it might pound right through her chest, as a stout man with a tight, protruding belly and cheeks like ripe tomatoes, yanked on the reigns of a camel and moose as he lead them into the back of a massive, semi-truck trailer. The pride alive in the once majestic animals had been stripped away. She cringed with every wrench the truck driver used to secure the reigns to hooks hanging overhead. Happy with his work, the portly man jumped down from the trailer, pushing the ramp back inside. Off he went without noticing that he didn’t provide enough slack for the camel and moose to reach the portable trough positioned in front of them. There they stood, thirsty, resigned, staring down at the fresh, cool water just inches away as it taunted and teased them. My girl looked up at her parents, appearing so distant now, to see they were fully engaged in a conversation that now involved the matriarch of the trapeze family. She broke off from her fathers’ legs, going unnoticed, and headed for the semi. Using all of her might and stretching her limbs farther than she had ever thought possible, she made it inside the trailer. She moved straight to the trough and, again enlisting all of her strength, pushed it toward the animals so they could drink. She oscillated bright, curious eyes between the two magnificent creatures, gently caressing the tufts of hair in the center of their heads. She had never been this close and honestly believed it would be years before she was. The magical moment dissolved with the roar of the door being pulled down. She whipped around to see the last inches of light swallowed up. She raced the seemingly interminable distance to the door, screaming for someone to let her out “No! I’m still in her! Somebody! Help me!” Her commotion became futile when she heard Skynard’s “Sweet Home Alabama” start up, soon followed by the thunderous engine coming to life. The semi jutted out of the dusty parking lot, sending my girl to the ground, the impact knocking the tears right out of her. She crawled to a seat against a bale of hay and cried for what felt like hours. How would anyone find her? How long before her parents knew she was even missing? Where were they going? Good intentions had been drowned in horror. The driver’s playlist provided a far away soundtrack for the nightmare. By way of Cash, Springsteen’s “Highway Patrol Man,” faintly coming through, was the first song to actually pacify her. Something about the story of Sergeant Joe and Franky, albeit a sad tale, strangely made her feel as if everything would be okay. She looked to the moose and camel; both sets of eyes were locked on her. She cracked a smile, crawled over to a bale of hay and grabbed a handful. The animals feasted, each dip into her hand bringing the three closer together. This precious moment was also short-lived when the driver swerved sharply, attempting to evade a tortoise sitting in the middle of the road. The effects weren’t immediate but seconds later, inaudible to the driver, the little girl heard a simple, “thwank.” Suddenly, the front of the cab slammed to the  ground, the impact breaking the reigns free from the hooks above. My girl and the animals tried with everything they had to steady themselves but it was no use. A full hour passed before the driver would realize the trailer had broken free from the semi. The trailer flew off the road and into the forest, clipping branches, forcing critters to run for cover. “Would they ever stop?” was the only thought circulating. A Norway Spruce would eventually bring this part of the journey to an abrupt end. There she lay unconscious on the hard, forest floor. It wasn’t until she felt something slimy and wet, a sea slug writhing up and down against her cheek, that she cracked her eyes open. There they were, the moose and camel bloody, battered, taking turns licking her face in hopes of summoning her back to consciousness. She stayed with them long enough to reach out and touch their snouts, “Thank you,” before she was out once again. Together, the animals worked to hoist her over the moose’s back and they set out. Throughout the arduous, two-day long journey, my girl would briefly make her way back, the fleeting moments offering just enough time for her eyes to acclimate and see the bloody knuckle of the moose and broken toe of the camel lumbering against excruciating pain and an unapologetic ground. Weeks later, she would not recall the many respites taken to help her drink or the nest formed once the nighttime chill met the air. She would not recall the moment the moose and camel decided to set out on the desolate highway, her limp body now draped across the camel’s back. She would not recall the moment they came to the road block and the expressions on the faces of the hundred or so volunteers as they, one by one, noticed the tired, hungry, battered miracle moving toward them. She would never see the color drain from her parents’ faces as they realized that what they were seeing on that road was the moose and camel returning to them the only thing in this world that mattered. She would never recall her parents racing to her, crying, joyous, still not fully believing and even worse, not knowing if she was alive. However, she would recall waking up in the hospital and seeing her parents’ smiling faces, one father’s warm hand against her cheek, the other’s gentle kiss on her forehead. But most importantly, she would recall the first, raspy words from her mouth, “Where’s Moose and Camel?” It was in that moment her parents looked to each other. Clarity. There was only one thing to do. They would sell the Beekman Place townhouse, handed down to one of the fathers by his grandmother, and purchase 800, pristine acres in Montana. This would be enough room to start their own sanctuary. The first to arrive would be a moose and a camel.

9. My god… So, you were actually referring to an actual moose’s knuckle and an actual camel’s toe?

Uh, yeah. What did you think I was talking about?

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ETRO WIDE LEG PANTS

In lower body on May 23, 2012 at 8:15pm05

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

One pair of hands.

Uh huh…

2. What is every garment’s nightmare?

Items of the latex variety notwithstanding…

Thank you James Jean.

3. Upon your arrival to the retail floor, what words do you have for all other garments throwing you, “Bitches think they’re so fly” shade?

4. Is there a certain point in time you would’ve liked to exist?

I have a kind of seventies flare and so I would have to choose 1974.

5. Why 1974 specifically?

It would’ve been pret-ty interesting to witness Bachman Turner Overdrive and their attempt to make stuttering happen.

6. Who is the woman wearing you looking to date?

A carpenter from “Cupcake Wars.”

7. What is a sad moment you’ve recently witnessed?

A high school senior asking her best friend if she knows “where” Sandra Day O’Connor is as opposed to “who.” Same goes for MLK, Frank Lloyd Wright and the other many greats whose legacies have been relegated to only being referenced when a queen bee is trying to locate the new Forever 21.

8. In your opinion what is the best moment in cinematic history?

Feast…

9. In your opinion, who is the best movie villain – and by “best” I mean most abhorrent – to ever grace the silver screen?

The audience that doesn’t understand the genius that is Sexual Chocolate.

DEREK LAM BLOCK-COLOR WOOL TROUSERS

In lower body on December 4, 2011 at 8:15am12

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

A Carven sweater, a Rodarte x Opening Ceremony silk shirt,  Guiseppe Zanotti t-strap pumps and Topshop floral tights.


2. What is a band name that only the band would find super cool but in actuality the name exists in that crowded space between stupidity and utter embarrassment?

Gage Creed.

3.  What is the best piece of advice you’ve ever heard given?

“Find something that you like doing and learn to do it better than anyone else.” Put that one down under Chet Baker‘s words of wisdom.

4. What is the woman wearing you currently looking for in a man?

Boisterous laughter accompanied by bobbing shoulders, those who circumvent the long, arduous path toward greatness and the ability to consume a bandeja paisa without fretting over calories.

5. What is something a fashion blogger should never leave home without?

A pout. But not just  any ol’ pout. This pout must scream “I loathe every human being that has ever walked this great earth, however, I love baby owls. ” It’s not easy so don’t try it if you’re not up for a severe challenge.

6. What is a dream that will never be realized?

Outfitting the Portsmouth Sinfonia for a performance of “Also Sprach Zarathustra.” There’s something to be said when the sheer desire to play music trumps musical prowess.

7. Whose hips are you happiest slung around?

Sixteen-year-old twin girls race downstairs on, in their minds, the best day of the year. No, it’s not their birthday. It’s Christmas Eve, however, they’re not ecstatic over the obvious reasons of good tidings and mounds of impending gifts; their excitement is for the person on the other side of the door currently laying very heavy on the doorbell. Great-aunt Josephine, the 89-year-old, functioning alcoholic, hair a light purple hue, blatant lie teller, non-sequitur loving, inappropriate at every turn, her voice a combination of Grace Kelly and Jimmy Durante, has arrived safely and snuggly ensconced in me. Upon flinging open the door, the twins are gifted with, “Did ya know they used to put coke *long pause accompanied by vacillating stare* in Shirley Temple’s Coke?” I don’t know if Christ’s birth itself can begin to top that.

8. Let’s say I’ve traded places with the legendary canned ham giver, Mr. David Letterman, and I asked that you give me great-aunt Josephine’s top nine list. Could you do it?

I’ll do you one better. Follow me and great-aunt Josephine as she travels from her backyard perch, through the house and into the kitchen to retrieve a diet “pop”, along the way leaving proverbial bodies on the floor. Ready? Didn’t think so.

#9 Happening upon her prepubescent grandnieces as they comb through an Us Weekly while fawning over pictures of a cute male celebrity, “If I were to meet Pacino I’d tell him the same thing my mother told me when I was eight, ‘You’d be wise to lose the bangs.'”

#8 Coming to her fifty-plus nephew demonstrating for his ample-bosomed date his favorite yoga pose, “Mahatma Gandhi and I once loved each other in the biblical sense which is interesting because he’s Hindu and I’m nothing.” Josephine’s older brother walks up and silently mouths to his son and the date, “That’s not true.” Like a Jedi mind warrior, without turning around, Josephine crackles, “Beat it, Sy.” For some unknown reason Sy heeds the command.

#7 Aunt Josephine studies her nephew who’s still locked in the crossed leg eagle pose then looks to his date and drops this science, “Men who cross their legs are trying to tell you something up front. Maybe you already know what it is but something’s telling me that if you did you wouldn’t be here now.”

#6 Josephine has arrived at the massive Christmas tree where she finds various family members distributing tinsel. She looks up surveying the tree’s glory, “When Hank and I were married, every Christmas Eve I’d make him strip down to his undergarments and sleep in a manger I had custom-made. The next morning at 5:43am – that’s the exact time Christ was born – I’d glide downstairs in my Buffum’s negligee and leap into the manger. Fill in the blanks. Or not.”

#5 Josephine arrives at her niece, her niece’s wife and their two children. She watches as her niece wipes tears from her wife’s cheek. Josephine announces her presence with one swift clearing of the throat. Upon laying eyes on the octogenarian, each woman grabs a child and covers their ears. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and use my feminine instincts to pinpoint what’s behind the water works. Was it his penis that was the hardest part to get over? If so, don’t fret. Bigger and better’s always right around the corner.”

#4 “Aunt Josephine, I’m married to Carla. Carla my wife of over 7 years. You know this.” Josephine responds the only way she knows how, “Was it the penis in the box that was the hardest part to –” The niece leaps to her feet, “She was having an allergy attack!” Josephine shrugs, “Which is why you shoulda told me that up front. They always said you were slow. I just never wanted to believe it.”

#3 Josephine comes to her 3 younger sisters and 2 sister-in-laws who sit in a knitting circle chatting about the decrease in social safety net programs, “Ladies.”  Two women begin to fan themselves with spools of yarn, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. “Funny I should be catching you on this topic because two nights ago I had a dirty dream involving Speaker of the House John “Evil Baby Eyes” Boehner where he was a bronzed power-bottom and I was Silvio Berlusconi masquerading as Swifty Lazar — big glasses, the whole nine — and sexually speaking I haven’t been able to get Mr. Boehner off my mind ever since.” Josephine’s sister Clementine feels the need to set her sibling straight, “It’s pronounced ‘bayner’, Josie.” Josephine produces a sly smile, blinks three times and adds, “Clems, I’m afraid that’s just what the caddish bounder sonofabitch wants you to think. “

#2 Finally, she has entered the kitchen to find her nephew struggling to separate a rack of ribs with a large santoku. She moves to the fridge, retrieves her diet pop, cracks it open and over to her nephew she travels to watch his continued combat with meat. As she looks on one simple memory pops into her head, “I once killed a man just because. *pause* Actually, that’s a lie. I was up at Harvard for a spell and got involved in a Tim Leary LSD experiment gone way wrong. What I thought was a horde of albino vampires trying to impale me with machete hooves turned out to be an orderly tucked away in corner, minding his own business, reading “Silent Spring.”  Ya know that Rachel Carson book that supposedly gave credence to us humans raping the lands and sky? Which leads me to this, are we to believe these climate change shenanigans are real?” She takes a wide-eyed swig of her pop waiting for an answer. Her nephew takes a deep breath and lays down the santoku, “I think it’s time you left, Aunt Josephine.”

#1 A rickety gypsy-cab idles in the driveway. Standing in the middle of the lawn, Josephine gives one sweeping glance to make sure all of her relatives are present with mouths properly turned down — save for the twins of course for their expressions are fueled by remorse and sadness. “Was it the climate change question that resulted in my premature ousting? Don’t get me wrong, I believe it’s real I just don’t too much care if folks three generations from now have to walk around in gas masks and sleep in iron lungs.” Silence. “Welp, as always, it coulda been worse but then again, it coulda been better.  Adios, mon freres. *sings* Until we meet againnnn… Shoo beebee bobbee booooo…” The twins raise their hands, sorrowfully bidding great-aunt Josephine adieu. 

9. How does it make you feel to be associated with what appears to be —  and I’m afraid rightly so — a lightning rod for ill will and hatred?

Well, first the fact that I’m being suctioned into the ultimate “Jonah and the whale” type wedgie will clasp my attention for a spell but then, seeing as I’m really up in here and going nowhere, I relax and realize that yeah, she’s far from perfect and in some cases one might actually be justified in deeming her downright horrible, however, the fact still remains that out of every garment before her on that vast retail floor she took one look and chose me. That makes me happy.


TOPSHOP FRINGED LAYERED SHORTS

In lower body on March 7, 2011 at 8:15pm03

1. Overrated is?

A bris.  I’m all for pageantry, drama and tradition, however, once you embrace an extra layer or two you might find that it’s not so bad.

2. What would you like to see more of?

Based on my last response, I think you can figure that out.

3. If not you then what?

The Kiki de Montparnasse ‘Amour Le Reve’ tap short.

4. Are you a lover or a fighter?

A fighter.   You have to be in this world.

5. Do you have a favorite Janus word?

Trim.

6. If you could style yourself, what would be the accoutrements?

A Chinti & Parker organic cotton T-shirt, Zara heels, Spitefire ‘Weekend’ shades and a Zara messenger bag.

7. If I wasn’t in the picture, what other person’s questions would you choose to answer?

James Lipton’s.

8. What is your most recent, interesting thought?

The dark and quiet spaces between my layers are where hopes and dreams go for a respite.

9. Are you currently under the influence of anything you shouldn’t be?

Not that I know of.

ROBERTO CAVALLI FRINGED SUEDE AND SEQUIN LEATHER PANTS

In lower body on February 2, 2011 at 8:15pm02

1. What is the most interesting thing about you?

You can untie me on both sides. I think. There’s a fifty-fifty chance.

2. Overrated?

Controlled environments. Why, when you can be unleashed?! Unhinged!

3. Do you have a favorite quote?

“Stay brutal.” It was a bumper sticker I peeped on the back of this sick Jeep Wrangler with monster wheels.

4. Whose editorial would you commit a crime to appear in?

The question is, “Whose editorial would I not commit a crime to appear in?” I commit crimes in my sleep. Dude, we all should!

5. If you could style yourself, what would be the accoutrements?

Who’s that?

6. If not you, then what?

I’m likin’ this one! It would, no doubt, most def, have to be my baby, the Cavalli croc, ostrich and leather patchwork jacket .

7. Headbutt or Clothesline?

Shaahh?! Are you serious?! Flying headbutt, man! Here, let me show you.

8. Am I bleeding?

Nah. Well, just a little right there but you’ll be fine.

9. So… which is what in your what malapropismsismprops, would you wear you in, style how’s overrated then the day trip yeah with 7 beatles?

Uh oh. Hey! Hey, how many fingers does she have up?! No, don’t close your eyes! Shit, stay with me! Shit! Does anyone here know CPR?! Smelling salts?! Anything?!

RICK OWENS JERSEY SKIRT

In lower body on January 27, 2011 at 8:15pm01

1. Are there any song lyrics in particular you can relate to?

“Darling, stop confusing me with your wishful thinking.” — “Play Dead” by Bjork

2. What is your idea of the perfect day trip?

The Noguchi Museum located in Long Island City, NY.

3. Overrated is?

A pop of color.

4. Who would make the perfect dining companion?

Mary Quant,  miniskirt pioneer.  I love a good debate over a meal.

5. If you could be reimagined by another artist who would it be?

Roxy Paine

6. What is your least favorite response?

Say what?!

7. What insect do you remind yourself of?

A black caterpillar, amid metamorphosis.

8. If not you then what?

A Daphne Guinness skunk streak.

9. Black or white?

Does it matter?

COMME DES GARÇONS PADDED SKIRT

In lower body on October 4, 2010 at 8:15pm10

1.  What is a dream that will never be realized?

A svelte physique.

2. If I wasn’t in the picture, what other person’s questions would you choose to answer?

George Wayne’s.  And he has my permission to cross the fetishistic boundaries.

3. If you could be reimagined by another artist who would it be?

Eva Hesse.

4. If not you then what?

A Moncler fringed, puffer jacket.

5. Headbutt or clothesline?

Please… pumphandle reverse piledriver.

6. If you could style yourself what would be the accoutrements?

Church’s penny loafers,  a Sandro shirt, Forzieri cufflinks and a Lanvin necklace.


7. What is the most interesting fact you know?

It’s more expensive for a woman to be obese than a man.

8. Do you have a favorite band?

Danzig, the original line-up.

9. What is something you wish for everyday?

No judgement.

JAEGER WOOL WIDE-LEG TROUSERS

In lower body on September 17, 2010 at 8:15pm09

1. What word do you despise most?

Tapered.

2. What is the strangest thing you often like to experience?

Greenhouses by night.

3. Do you have a favorite time of day?

Early summer mornings, watching the sun rise.

4. If you could style yourself, what would be the accoutrements?

A Proenza Schouler cropped pullover, the New Kid two-tone Oxford, a vintage YSL clutch and an All Saints necklace.

5. What is your favorite book?

“The Secret History” by Donna Tartt

Unknown

6.  What is your favorite song?

White Winter Hymnal” by Fleet Foxes.

7.  What would you like to see less of?

Women who duck-lip pout while either taking pictures or checking themselves in the mirror.

8.  If not you then what?

A Lemlem dress.

9. Who gets the real you?

Anyone who wants me.