Posts Tagged ‘yikes!’
Well, I finally got around to surfing through some red carpet photos from last night’s Emmy Awards. Of course, every two-bit fashion critic has already posted their best- and worst-dressed lists, so posting my own would only be redundant. I’m sick of that schtick, anyway.
I will mention that Mariska Hargitay looked lovely in yellow. Her dress made me wonder why yellow is almost always relegated to spring collections. It’s a dominant color in the landscape in autumn, and it reminds me of New York taxi cabs in winter. I’d like to see more of it on the runways when the F/W 2009 collections are presented. Designers: Are you listening?
Now back to the red carpet. I don’t even recognize the actress is in the photo I posted. The caption tells me that her name is Elizabeth Mitchell from the TV show Lost. I don’t like the dress much; it’s a little overwrought for my tastes. However, it doesn’t even begin to compete with the hideousness of Steven Cojocaru (seen lurking in the background).
I understand that he isn’t well, and I sympathize with his plight. Still, I don’t believe that there’s anything keeping him from getting a flattering hairstyle or a bowtie that doesn’t look like something Martha Stewart would tie to the boughs of a Christmas tree.
It’s a strange coincidence that I revisited my movie pitch for Gross, Actually earlier today, because I just read about an even worse idea for a movie.
Sean Avery of the Dallas Stars (and formerly of the New York Rangers) spent the summer as an intern for Condé Nast and the Vogue empire. Now Hollywood is going to make a film about that experience. What’s more disturbing is that it’s going to be a romantic comedy.
The only thing that would make this story more laughable is to call the movie “Two Minutes for Looking So Good.” Kudos to anyone else who remembers that line!
New York Fashion Week is about to begin day four, and I still haven’t seen anything that’s knocked me out. Before the heavyweights take the stage, there are usually plenty of minor shows that get my blood pumping. That hasn’t happened yet.
However, I have seen one show that’s got me fighting-mad. I absolutely hated Rachel Roy’s collection. In the name of all that’s Zobly, what is that model wearing in the photo I posted? Marc Jacobs himself couldn’t make a pretty girl look uglier, and that’s saying something!
The rest of the show was disjointed and weird, with no cohesion and styling choices that will have buyers scratching their heads. It’s too bad. I can actually look at Roy’s work and see that she possesses some genuine talent. She’s just incapable of putting together a collection. What she needs is a business partner who is willing to dole out some tough love. Otherwise, she’s going to be down for the count before she even lands her first punch.
A couple of posts back I praised Harper’s Bazaar for having a sense of humor. They may possibly be getting back to what they’ve always done best: Being the trusted voice of smart, sophisticated people who know style better than anyone else. Bravo!
Meanwhile, W, the magazine that pushed Bazaar to the sidelines by doing Bazaar better than Bazaar has come out with this ridiculous cover knock-off of Patrick Demarchelier’s 1994 iconic image of the hauntingly beautiful Nadja Auermann, starring Kate Hudson no less.
Fashionologie summed up the incident perfectly: “Of all the months to choose, wouldn’t the big September issue be one you’d want to get creative with?”
No kidding. I may have given W a pass if this was a thirty-year-old image that no one remembers, but I can still remember the gasp I let out the first time I saw that gorgeous photo. I might have let them off the hook if they recreated something iconic such as Steven Meisel’s famous Vogue UK cover from 1990 with a relevant twist (like replacing Linda, Christy, Naomi, Tatjana and Cindy with plus-size models). But they didn’t do anything clever. They just stuck Kate Hudson in front of the camera and knocked off the shot. Big deal.
Meanwhile, Bazaar had the last laugh by allowing cover girl Tyra Banks to live out her fantasies while being photographed as the First Lady. Not only that, they put a black girl on the cover of the year’s biggest issue — what a few editors who shall remain nameless would call a risk. Good for them! I hope their sales go through the roof.
As for W, I guess I’ll look inside before I pass judgement. Zob would never judge a book by its cover, and I shouldn’t either.
It’s summertime at the gym, so I’ve been seeing a lot more skin than usual. Guys who normally cover up have been showing up in sleeveless T-shirts, tank tops and those godawful deep V-necks from American Apparel.
One thing that puzzles me, though, is the current trend to grow as much hair on your face as possible while shaving hair from other parts of your body. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve seen a lot of shaved armpits (and a shaved chest or two) on these geeky guys with full beards.
I’m all for the natural look — if that’s what floats your boat. I just don’t understand why this trend is being applied in such an arbitrary manner. At the moment, hair on the face appears to be a counterculture statement. Guys with shaggy beards seem to be saying “Take that, all of you manicured pretty boys who don’t live in your parents’ basements playing WoW all day and night!” I just don’t get what the shaved armpits and chests are all about, and what they have to do with the anti-establishment.
It makes me wonder what sort of selective shaving is going on south of the border. Oh well! If this trend continues, all men are going to be clipped like fancy poodles in the future. Now there’s a trend I can get behind!
Here’s a doozy from Marc Jacobs’ 2009 Resort collection for Louis Vuitton. Anticipating the demands of his brainwashed clientele, Jacobs probably said to himself “This outfit was inspired by one of those failed Project Runway challenges where Nina Garcia looks as if she’s eaten a bad clam from the moment the model walks onto the stage, because nothing says resort season to me like the taste of a bad clam.”
The rest of the collection doesn’t get any better. There are giant pockets on hips, plenty of geometric detailing drawing attention to the crotch, a sweater with twin kangaroo-style pouches in the pooch area, and lots of sleeves that make the shoulder area look lumpy and malformed.
If there’s a working designer who hates women more than Marc Jacobs, I don’t know who it is.
At this weekend’s Much Music Video Awards, Rihanna performed in a look that is currently leading the pack on the eTalk viewer poll. I guess that means that Leather Daddy Chic is back in style.
The last time this gay porn staple became ingrained in pop culture was during the early 80s when über cool Depeche Mode released their video for Master and Servant. Sure, the look had been seen elsewhere (in the dark alleys of San Francisco, for instance), but it didn’t really resonate with the public until a couple of years later. The mid-80s were harder and tougher than the earliest part of the decade. Fashion was returning to the streets of the 50s. Madonna was rolling on the ground in thrift shop crinolines and other second-hand underwear while the tough boys were channeling Marlon Brando in The Wild One.
At this point, the look was inspired by nostalgia. It was a slick, modern update of an iconic image. But things have changed since 1984. Gay pride parades have become a mainstream tourist attraction in major cities. People of various sexual persuasions line the streets to gawk at other people dressed up in the most ridiculous costumes. Amongst those marching in today’s parades are gangs of hairy, leather-clad men, wearing assless chaps and bondage collars. And the crowning glory of their look is always the leather daddy hat.
So I’m sort of surprised to see the hats returning. I don’t mind when fashion treads too far into camp — I prefer it, in fact. I’m just not sure if the people who are currently admiring the look (and voting for the look on the eTalk online poll) realize that the look comes prepackaged with some rather hilarious history. Unless they’re going to wear it with their tongues firmly planted in their cheeks, the joke is on them.