Posts Tagged ‘Marc Jacobs’
My least favorite couple since Enrique Iglesias and his giant mole have broken it off!
Of course I’m talking about Marc Jacobs aka the Evil AntiZob and Lorenzo Martone. Rumors of the split have been swirling around for a couple of months, but Martone made it official on his Twitter account. Now I don’t know much about Martone, but I do know that just a couple of months ago when this all was happening, Jacobs was practically on his deathbed. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating. He was recovering from getting hair plugs or something like that. And his arm was in a sling because he had a torn rotator cuff repaired.
Who would leave their fiancé in such a time of need? I want to call Jacobs the bad guy in this (and any other) situation, but I can’t. Martone is clearly more evil than Jacobs. I just hope that Rachel Zoe was around to comfort the designer in his time of need. There’s nothing quite like smoking cigarettes and talking about suntanning to mend a broken heart.
I liked most of what I saw from Balenciaga designer Nicola Ghesquière’s Resort 2011 presentation. Somewhere between the F/W 2010 cacaphony of Anna Sui and the return to minimalism of Phoebe Philo for Celine, the best designers are trying to keep the printed garments from being overdesigned and the tailored garments from being too fussy. When those two trends merge in single outfits, like they did at Balenciaga (and at Marc Jacobs earlier this week), they feel fresh. Ghesquière called his look “techno bohème” — an apt description if I ever heard one. I’ve been calling it “organized chaos,” but only because the words “techno” and “bohème” seem overused. They’re like the “douche” of 2010.
Anyway, I liked this collection. However, the designer who frustrates me almost as much as Marc Jacobs once again put a couple of outfit in the show that made me wonder if he actually knows where boobs are on a woman’s body. Does he know what they look like? I don’t think he does. The final look in the show (pictured above) would make any relatively small-breasted girl look as if she was bound tighter than Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz.”
I really don’t enjoy coming to conclusions about the mental state of people I’ve never met, but I don’t believe that Ghesquière or Jacobs have a healthy relationship with womankind. They do this to women’s bodies way too often for me to believe otherwise.
Unlike those other fashion critics, I didn’t spend the last couple of years kissing Marc Jacobs’ ass. I also didn’t embarrass myself by heaping praise on his most recent show for Louis Vuitton only to pan every dress from the collection that was worn on the red carpet. Really — is your memory that short?
Anyway, enough about all of you. I have to admit that I liked Marc Jacobs’ recent Resort 2011 collection. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with destination dressing, but it was cute. Normally I can count the figure-flattering looks in any one of Jacobs’ collections on one hand. This time I had a difficult time finding anything that didn’t look good on the models.
Hot on the heels of his completely undeserved win as Womenswear Designer of the Year at the CFDA Awards, Jacobs has produced a solid, cohesive collection as on-trend as anything I’ve seen this season. It’s unfortunate that he probably won’t receive the accolades he deserves for this collection because everyone was busy sucking up to fashion’s golden boy when he didn’t deserve it.
So whose ass are you going to kiss now?
Here’s a photo of my nemesis, Marc Jacobs aka the Evil AntiZob, posing with his new fragrance between his legs. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a perfume bottle photographed in front of a crotch for an ad campaign, and it’s not the first time I’ve seen Marc Jacobs glistening like a glazed ham. I want to poke him with cloves and decorate him with pineapple rings!
Anyway, this ad has inspired me to adopt a similar approach for the print ad that will accompany the launch of my signature fragrance, Auntie Fashion: Smell My Magic. Of course, I can’t show my face in the photos because I’m still in hiding, so I’ll just get the photographer to snap a couple of close-ups south of the border with a strategically placed scratch-and-sniff Smell My Magic bottle obscuring my you-know-what.
Not only should I thank Marc Jacobs for inspiring me, but also for reminding me to keep it classy!
Okay, I’m finally going to blog about the Met Gala. There were lots of nice dresses, but three in particular caught my eye because they all looked so horrible on the women who wore them. Of course, they were all designed by Marc Jacobs.
Nicole Richie’s dress wasn’t horrible in theory, but it was horrible in practice. She reminded me of an Olsen twin because the dress was wearing her. A couple of posts back, I blogged about Christina Ricci and how great she looked in a green dress that would make most women appear as if they were on their way to a St. Patrick’s Day parade. The styling was perfect! Nevertheless, when you look like a leprechaun, you shouldn’t dress like a leprechaun. When you look like an elf, you shouldn’t dress like an elf. When you look like a gollum, you shouldn’t dress like a gollum.
On that note, I hated Rachel Zoe’s Marc Jacobs dress, too, although I was surprised that her skinny gollum legs could support all that yellow velvet. She’s remarkably wiry!
But I hated Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Louis Vuitton dress the most. It may have reminded “FASHION” magazine’s Jennifer Campbell of “Blazing Saddles,” but it reminded me of another film altogether: Divine’s “Lust in the Dust.” Click here and you’ll know exactly what I mean. Why in Zob’s name would anyone want to dress like an old west madam?
Maybe I should ask Vera Farmiga . . .
On May 1, actress and fitness legend Jane Fonda will host the first-ever World Fitness Day. I was pleased to learn about the new holiday, which I hope will grow to rival Wear a Gown to Work Day in both prestige and popularity. Like fashion, fitness is near and dear to my heart. In fact, if it wasn’t for a chance meeting with Fonda on a ski hill in 1981 where she telepathically brainwashed me, forcing me to join her legion of perpetually-perky, spandex-clad aerobics instructors, I’d probably be a big, fat lardbucket who spends the day surfing the web and leaving inane comments on obscure blogs. I owe her everything!
You can read more about World Fitness Day here, which also happens to be a site devoted to another cause near and dear to my heart: Knocked-up teenage sluts. What a coincidence! Anyway, note that “World Fitness Day is a celebration of good health and an important call to action — a call to motivate the masses to commit to good health practices.” You know I’m always bitching and complaining that the fashion world doesn’t emphasize health as an ideal. When I worked for “Teen Vogue” I once was told to stop encouraging girls to get some exercise because “teenage girls don’t go to the gym.” Yeah, and neither do emaciated, twenty-something, chain-smoking junior editors at fashion magazines who act twelve and look forty. The whole fashion industry is sick; it’s not just the skinny models.
But there seems to be a seismic shift shaking up the foundation of fashion at the moment. Almost everyone seems to be clamoring for a more realistic ideal of beauty, including Marc Jacobs, Miuccia Prada, “Vogue” and the CFDA. Knowing Jacobs’ history, it’s probably just a passing fad, but maybe this trend toward a more robust figure will morph into a trend that idealizes a healthy lifestyle. I’ll cross my fingers.
Jane Fonda may have taken a few shortcuts to become a fitness icon in her heyday, but that’s beside the point. Today she’s making a difference by reintroducing good health practices to a generation that doesn’t realize that they can be beautiful without fashion. Remember kids: You only get one body to hang clothes on.
Well, I admit that I really didn’t hate the Marc Jacobs F/W 2010 show. I didn’t love it, either. As usual, I had problems with the fit of the clothes and the unflattering proportions of several of the garments. Take this coat, for instance. You’ve got a be a tall girl who carries herself like she’s Miss J. Alexander to get away with something like that. Otherwise it’s going to make you look like an Olsen twin, or a baboon with a tiny head perched atop a bushy mane.
Speaking of baboons, Jacobs really made a monkey of himself in an interview with Nicole Phelps of style.com after the show. “It’s refreshing to see something that isn’t trying so hard to be new,” Jacobs said about his collection. “There’s so much striving for newness now that newness feels less new.”
After spending his entire career putting scrawny models in clothes that make them look like little girls who have been rummaging through grandma’s closet, what I would like from Marc Jacobs is some “newness.” Once again, I didn’t see it on his runway. But at least this time it didn’t scare the Zob out of me. I guess I should be thankful.
Since I started this blog almost two years ago, I’ve spent a lot of time ranting about the Evil AntiZob and his cult of personality. Yet I never thought that I’d see the day when the so-called fashion designer would admit that he’s leading a cult. I guess I was wrong.
In an interview with the Times of London, Jacobs told the newspaper “There’s this huge cult following of almost crazy people at Vuitton who just want whatever they buy to be exclusive.”
“Almost crazy”? I was on an escalator the other day when I noticed the woman in front of me was carrying a Louis Vuitton bag that nearly hypnotized me with its hideousness. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, like a black bra under a white blouse or an episode of “The Real Housewives.” But as a devotee of the Evil AntiZob, this poor woman needed to display her allegiance to the leader. As the saying goes, she already drank the Kool-Aid.
Anyway, now that Jacobs has admitted that he’s running a cult, it should be easier for me to go about my own business without fearing that my every move is being closely monitored by the brainwashed minions of the Evil AntiZob.
This must be how Nicole Kidman felt on the day she divorced Tom Cruise. Ahhh!
“Japanese by way of early Galliano.”
Those are the words of the erudite Sarah Mower of style.com, used to describe the latest Louis Vuitton crapfest. Perhaps I’m reading between the lines, but I suppose she’s calling the show derivative, a word I use to describe nearly everything Marc Jacobs does. She also uses the word “confusion” to describe the show, although she alludes to confusion in the audience, only going as far as saying that it was “hard to find a definitive label” for the collection. I guess she’s just too dignified to use “crapfest.”
I will say that I’ve seen a few of the trends that Jacobs was referencing on other runways. Of course, the Japanese-style street pant that remind me of Marithé and Francois Girbaud jeans from the mid-80s seemed sort of fresh, but I saw a more well-executed version at Y3. At other times, I felt as if I was watching a bad Miu Miu show, where the combination of discordant elements was masquerading as stylishness.
There’s something so immature about choosing the two elements from your closet that have the least in common, then combining and calling them “fashion.” There’s no irony nor wit involved when a designer sends a bikini-clad model down the catwalk in mukluks, and it’s just as lame when the runway stylists of a label like Louis Vuitton can’t pull together a show. But isn’t that what a creative director is for? Even at his most derivative and confused, Marc Jacobs isn’t this bad (that’s probably the nicest thing I’ve ever said about him). More and more, I get the feeling that the interns are running the show at Louis Vuitton.
According to Wired, American bloggers must either fess up or shut up when they review products that they’ve received for free.
“Gadget bloggers and Amazon.com reviewers now must disclose freebies and financial interests or face fines up to $11,000, according to rules announced by federal regulators Monday in an attempt to make word-of-mouth endorsements on the net easier to believe.“
I guess I’m behind this ruling introduced by the Federal Trade Commission. People should know when an opinion has been purchased, whatever currency it’s been paid in. It won’t affect me, anyway, not only because I’m Canada, but also because I never let anyone send me anything. I’m afraid that if I give out my address, my nemesis, the Evil AntiZob, will discover my whereabouts and hunt me down like prey.
That reminds me of something. In a temporary moment of weakness, I gave Adrienne Butikofer my address. She said that she wanted to send me a Caninja winter hat, and I accepted her offer graciously. Now I’m worried that she might be a secret operative sent by Marc Jacobs to silence me before I can give the Louis Vuitton ready-to-wear collection another bad runway review.
I’m just not sure if I can trust this girl. On one hand she’s an Aries, like most of my sworn enemies. On the other hand she’s from Winnipeg, and we all know that being born within a 1000 km radius of Moose Jaw imparts an individual with both innate goodness and impeccable taste. That’s just science!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Louis Vuitton show to watch.