Posts Tagged ‘zob’
Yesterday was the twentieth anniversary of the infamous Marc Jacobs for Perry Ellis Grunge show. It’s a sore spot for your old Auntie because it not only marks the day when the spirit of Zob was wrested from my body, but also because after that day it became stylish to wear expensive things with Marc Jacobs’ name on them when you could purchase the same things anywhere else for a fraction of the price. The fashionista were buying designer clothes to emulate the style of drug addicts who were fishing their clothes out of dumpsters.
Commercialism won on the day that fashion lost. Perry Ellis jumped the gun and fired Marc Jacobs, setting the young designer free to embark on his reign of terror which continues to this day. What’s worse is that his practice of overcharging for garments that have his name sewn onto the label has become the standard business model for the fashion business. Sure, others had done the same before him, but not with the support of millions of brainwashed minions who would follow their leader off a cliff. No one else had ever created a fashion cult where the label would always supersede the design. No one else had ever tried to become the Sun Myung Moon or Jim Jones of fashion. No one else had dared to assume the form of the Evil AntiZob.
But I suppose that I shouldn’t complain about the blind faith of those who follow because I have my own followers. To be perfectly frank, I’d rather be an outlier, and being the leader of the outliers is a pretty swell gig. I might have lost my immortality on that fateful day twenty years ago, but I didn’t lose my soul. And I can always take solace in the fact that I still have a soul . . .
My friend, fashion designer Adrienne Butikofer (who should be preparing for Maple Fashion Week), took time out of her busy schedule to send me a photo of this fabulous Zob sweatshirt she found on Etsy. And check out the way the model is working that hood!
While some religions forbid their followers to indulge in overt displays of their faith, as the high priestess of Zobism your old Auntie Fashion applauds such obvious devotion. In fact, the only thing that would please me more is a conspicuous Zob tattoo on an upper arm or even a forehead.
On a more solemn note, we’re about two weeks away from the twenty-year anniversary of the day that the spirit of the goddess herself was wrested from my body while I watched Marc Jacobs‘ infamous “Grunge” show for Perry Ellis on November 3, 1992. The last thing I remember was seeing Tyra Banks sashaying down the runway, trying her best to do “Seattle” instead of “Inglewood.” Then everything went dark . . .
On the bright side, the Zobpocalypse is nigh, and the signs are everywhere! The luxury market is starting to show signs of weakness. Tom Ford now has a child, as the prophecy has foretold. And, most importantly, “America’s Next Top Model” was just renewed for a twentieth cycle so that it will be able to compete with “The Face.” Somehow an epic battle between Tyra and Naomi Campbell has to figure into this scenario. They’re the Optimus Prime and Megatron of our generation, although I’m still not quite sure which one is which. Only time will tell!
Oh, and there’s one other sign. I want to buy something I saw on Etsy. You know we’ve fallen down the rabbit hole when . . .
Every year at this time I complain that I don’t have enough time to do the things I love, like blogging, home-spaying cats, attending my banjo lessons, etc. I run a big garden competition that takes up much of my spare time. But it wrapped up for another year yesterday, so I’m happy to announce that your old Auntie is back in action.
With the current controversy surrounding Scientology, I’ve decided to write a hard-hitting exposé on that other celebrity cult: Zobism. Of course, as the former vessel of the Goddess Zob herself, I’m sort of biased. Still, I can smell a Pulitzer Prize coming my way.
Speaking of things that smell, here’s a lovely photo from one of the gardens I got to visit this week. I’ve written about how fashion and gardening sometimes share the same goofy tendency to slavishly succumb to trends, but I’m going to forecast a trend anyway. Both groundcovers and living walls have come into style over the past few years, but this garden impressed me because of the size and scope of the slopes that defined it. It made me want to excavate my own yard in order to create these ideally-drained locations that display themselves so beautifully in the garden.
I usually have a good eye for these things, like when I see a sassy pair of overalls on some obscure runway at Kiev Fashion Week and declare them “the next big thing.” If there’s one thing you all should have learned since I began this blog, it’s that you should always listen to your Auntie. Hopefully, she’ll find the time to go on some of her characteristic rants over the next few weeks so that you’ll have something to listen to!
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 . . .
Happy Zob Day! It’s a day so rare and special that it only comes around once every four years, like a deserving winner on “America’s Next Top Model” or a good-hair day for my friend Rusty.
As a former mortal vessel for the glory that is Zob, it’s my duty to spend the day spreading the gospel of Zob in the best way that I know how: by being as incomprehensibly gorgeous as I can be. I’ll probably go to the gym, too, because nothing says “all glory to Zob” like my ass in a spandex unitard.
So I’ve got the western half of the continent covered. Rusty is responsible for everything from Wisconsin eastward (where he’ll be extolling the virtues of cheese as an essential dietary component of the über-gorgeous). Europe, of course, is being staffed by Sarah Mower who is likely handing out “I ♥ Zob” balloons outside the Dries Van Noten F/W 2012 show in Paris as I type this. As for Asia, Oceania, South America, Australia, Africa, the Middle East and Antarctica, I still haven’t had filled those positions. Interested parties may inquire within.
Anyway, I hope you have a gorgeous day. We all deserve a break from ugliness. There’s far too much of it in this world.
Last night I watched the E! “Fashion Police” red-carpet special. I wasn’t bothered by anyone’s bitchiness on the show — I’d only have myself to blame if I was bothered because that’s what the show is about. Yet I was annoyed by George Kotsiopoulos. What’s worse is that I saw him on a Canadian show only a couple of days before the Oscars throwing around the one word in fashion that makes me apoplectic: “effortless.”
Of all the words to describe an actress wearing a couture dress that took hundreds of hours to create, “effortless” is probably the most insulting to the art of fashion. And this idea of a young, rich woman who gets ready for an event by throwing on a gown that retails for more than six-figures before she jumps into her limousine is the most hackneyed cliché I can imagine. Who does that, really? We’re not all Olsen twins, George. In fact, most of us are thankful that we’re not.
Anyway, it made me realize that I should thank the Goddess for not making me into a walking, talking, cliché-spouting boor.
With Zob Day only a few days away, I ought to be counting my Zobbings every day. Reviewing the runways has been taking up too much of my time!
Anyway, I want to mention that I feel blessed for having worked for so many great magazines. Last night I came across an article I had written for a major publication, and it gave me goosebumps to see it almost a decade later. There were my words, immortalized in print for all of eternity.
I’d like to say that I worked hard to get work when the work was plentiful, but I did get lucky a few times, too. Thank you, Zob, for putting me in the right place at the right time. Now can you please do it again?