Posts Tagged ‘The Evil AntiZob’
Note to Marc Jacobs: Don’t Make Me Like You
Click the link above to read the hilarious tale of how Marc Jacobs bitch-slapped a so-called “graffiti artist” by turning an act of vandalism into a clever commentary on commercialism and the value of “street art.”
It almost makes me forgive the Evil AntiZob for his Met Gala ensemble. I have nothing against a man in a see-through lace dress, but those same old shoes he keeps wearing are really getting tired. Take it from me: the Disco Pilgrim look is never going to happen.
Anyway, I’ve blogged before that I seem to be getting soft on Jacobs, but maybe that’s because I seem to be more and more offended by his evil minion, Rachel Zoe. Is BeelZoeBub™ the real face of evil? Have I been fighting the wrong supervillain all along?
No — they’re both heinous. Just imagine if they had a baby together. We’d all be doomed! DOOMED!
Has Karl Lagerfeld been to my house?
The fashion world is abuzz with talk of today’s Chanel runway show. Of course, many are comparing the set to the “Fortress of Solitude” in the “Superman“ movies. However, those in the know realize that it’s an exact copy of the “Fortress of Pulchritude,” the secret hiding place in the Canadian Rockies to which I retreated in 1992 in order to escape from the influence of the Evil AntiZob aka Marc Jacobs after he scared the Zob right out of me.
Anyway, I don’t recall Karl visiting so I have no idea how he created such an uncanny replica. I am drunk a lot, though, and that explains almost everything. Almost . . .
2012 Trend Forecast — Part Five
Incomprehensible Gorgeousness
2011 wasn’t the greatest year for your dear, old Auntie Fashion, but it was better than the few years that preceded it. I feel as if I’m gaining momentum. Along with that momentum, I also feel as if I’m moving toward a new era in my life when I’ll be able to reclaim what was once mine: some genuine respect in the fashion industry.
Maybe I’m delusional, or perhaps I’m already drunk. Nevertheless, I’m going to forecast that this is my breakthrough year. You can either believe me and start worshipping at my altar of incomprehensible gorgeousness now, or you can be left behind once the Zobpocalypse arrives. It’s me or the Evil AntiZob. It’s me or BeelZoeBub™. There’s no Heaven and there’s no Hell, but there is a place in-between. It’s sort of like Purgatory, only it’s called Vulgarity — and we’re already there.
So if there’s any trend you’re going to follow like sheep this year, let it be me. I’m the second coming of style, and you’re either with me or you’re against me.
Now where’s my drink?
Well, there goes the Caribbean . . .
Look, it’s two of my three least-favorite people in the fashion business on vacation together!
It’s likely that BeelZoeBub™ and the Evil AntiZob are spending their holiday in St. Barts because they just don’t get enough sunshine this time of year. Look at them! They’re white as ghosts! They need some sun!
Speaking of the sun, I’m not sure of the current whereabouts of that other big ball of gas on my least-favorite list, Kanye West. Nevertheless, there is rumor floating around that he’s moving to London to set up an atelier for his new fashion label. So that means that I not only have to stay out of New York, Los Angeles and St. Bart’s, but now I also have to add London onto my list of places I can never visit.
Over the past few months your old Auntie has tried to take the high road by attempting to not disparage the most heinous people in fashion. Just the other day I asked myself “How is that working for you?” Frankly, it ain’t. My astrologer has convinced me that 2011 was a year to draw back and keep my mouth shut, so I have no regrets about my behavior. However, he’s also convinced me that 2012 is my year to behave badly.
So the gloves are off. I’m still going to be taking the high road, but I’m going to be driving a tank instead of taking public transportation, supposedly in the name of the greater good. This year I’m the greater good, and my New Year’s resolution is to be as obnoxious as Marc Jacobs, Rachel Zoe and Kanye West. Whatever they’re doing, it’s working!
Marc Jacobs is So Out, He’s in Again
I don’t like Marc Jacobs for a lot of reasons, but mostly because I don’t believe that the clothes he designs merit the price tags that hang from them. To me, he’s always been at the center of a cult of personality rather than a legitimate luxury brand. That might be fine for some people, but I like my luxury to be luxurious.
So when I started this blog three years ago I made him my mortal enemy. As far as I was concerned he represented everything that was wrong with fashion at the time. Lately I haven’t been writing that much about him because he hasn’t been bugging me that much. Just a moment ago, however, I discovered that he’s bugging a lot of other people.
In an article in “The New York Times” (click the link above), several examples of the designer’s waning influence are cited. It seems as if Marc isn’t as cool as he used to be.
Now I guess it says a lot more about me than Marc himself when I say that his diminishing popularity is making me become a little soft in my old age. I almost like him just because no one else does. Almost . . .
Is your old Auntie going to need a new nemesis? Stay tuned for more developments.
Heartbreak!
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.
Love Reigns Supreme
Lately, I’ve been reluctant to use my blog to discuss my spiritual beliefs. It makes me uncomfortable when people bring up religion in the middle of a perfectly ordinary conversation, like when they’re accepting a Grammy Award or lingering at death’s door in a hospital bed.
Nevertheless, I still am a practicing Zobist, and Marc Jacobs is still my arch-nemesis. I recently heard a rumor that he had broken up with his partner, Lorenzo Martone, but according to style.com the happy couple are still together (click the link above). Love reigns supreme!
Now I have nothing against the couple personally, but I do find this news distressing — we all want our enemies to be unhappy, don’t we? Anyway, according to the article, Marc and Lorenzo are considering getting couples’ tattoos to prove their love to the world.
Now I’ve learned a lot about what it means to prove your love by watching various VH1 dating shows. For that reason, I suggest that they each get the other one’s name tattooed on the backs of their necks. As the fashion world’s most-enduring muse and an all-around arbiter of style, I can say with confidence that you can’t go wrong with a neck tattoo, right?
Don’t even answer that — I know when I’m right!
Guilty as Charged
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!
Bloggers Beware!
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.
“I’m a shameless human being.”
Those words aren’t mine. I read them on The Cut where they’re reporting (via the Daily News) that enemy-to-all-that-is-beautiful Marc Jacobs has signed on to star in a reality show. Supposedly, the program is going to be a gay version of “The Real Housewives of New York City” called “Kept“.
Now I adore reality television, although I prefer the competitive reality shows over the candid genre. Nevertheless, I know that filming a reality show takes time — time that someone who is designing a handful of collections shouldn’t have. If Marc Jacobs was a real fashion designer, he would barely be able to breathe in between sketches. But he’s not a fashion designer. He’s a supervillain who leads an army of brainwashed minions that worship at his altar. They do the work; he takes the credit.
I suppose I wouldn’t be so harsh on him if he did something to make me believe that there’s more to the man than the cult of personality. He could go on “The Amazing Race,” for instance, or join the cast of “Dancing with the Stars.” Instead we’re going to be treated to an insider’s glimpse of how truly fabulous his life is. Lucky us! I can’t wait to see him smoking and tanning and smoking some more.
I need a drink.
