Gabe, this is the only street photo I took, and also the point at which I decided that I was going to stop trying, because I'm no photographer, and just soak it alllll in, man.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Iceland street fashion
Did you know all Icelandic girls look like fairies? They're all scathingly hot with perfect noses, and dress solely to amuse themselves. There's not enough room in the suitcase to keep up with them if you're just visiting, so it's probably just best to wear your little black outfit every night until it's too beer-stiff to climb into anymore, and leave the fantasy costuming to the professional elves.
Gabe, this is the only street photo I took, and also the point at which I decided that I was going to stop trying, because I'm no photographer, and just soak it alllll in, man.
Gabe, this is the only street photo I took, and also the point at which I decided that I was going to stop trying, because I'm no photographer, and just soak it alllll in, man.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Maybe I've turned into a little bit of a hater lately, but I really can't be blamed. Every time I turn around there's something new in my path that's very, very stupid. Today's topic: weird things involving eyeballs.
3: Eye jewelry. As in, a contact lens with tiny jewels or crystals dangling from it, attached by micro-thread. Thank artist Eric Klarenbeek for this one. Sure, he's an artist, but I'm not known for issuing artistic licenses, so I judge him as I judge you. Without mercy. As I see it, the basic function of jewelry is seduction...would you hit that??
2. Eyeball implants. Inexplicably cute little titanium objects (hearts, stars, clovers...more Lucky Charms than the usual body modification icons of, like, Satan) inserted into the surface of your eye. Yeah. Supposedly you could get this done in the Netherlands (surprising noone with that, I assume) in 02...this website would suggest it continues, in case this has awakened a burning desire in you.
1. Eyeball tattooing....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Know what, dude? And I'm sorry you had to get your effing eyeball tattooed before somebody told you this, but that thing you've done to yourself right there? That's permanent makeup. Might as well be trailer park eyebrows.
Just be glad I didn't post the pic of them actually DOING the procedure, kay.
3: Eye jewelry. As in, a contact lens with tiny jewels or crystals dangling from it, attached by micro-thread. Thank artist Eric Klarenbeek for this one. Sure, he's an artist, but I'm not known for issuing artistic licenses, so I judge him as I judge you. Without mercy. As I see it, the basic function of jewelry is seduction...would you hit that??
2. Eyeball implants. Inexplicably cute little titanium objects (hearts, stars, clovers...more Lucky Charms than the usual body modification icons of, like, Satan) inserted into the surface of your eye. Yeah. Supposedly you could get this done in the Netherlands (surprising noone with that, I assume) in 02...this website would suggest it continues, in case this has awakened a burning desire in you.
1. Eyeball tattooing....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Know what, dude? And I'm sorry you had to get your effing eyeball tattooed before somebody told you this, but that thing you've done to yourself right there? That's permanent makeup. Might as well be trailer park eyebrows.
Just be glad I didn't post the pic of them actually DOING the procedure, kay.
La Mode Est Agaçante
I'm not going to apologize for being away for so long. I'm just not.
I am going to give you a special treat, however.
A peek into the world of fashion which you did not ask for and I very much doubt will appreciate: the incredible phenomena of the fashion aristocracy trying to out-do and out-irritate each other. Observing it in the wild, as the below video shows, is especially striking - watch how the children loiter in innocence and curiosity, so unknowingly close to the heart of darkness-of-indeterminate-age.
Fear not, you really only need to watch the first 15 seconds:
IN THE LEFT CORNER, we have Diane Pernet, who made her name as a fashion designer in the 80s, as a fashion journalist with Vogue and Elle, and with her fairy popular fashion blog, A Shaded View.
IN THE RIGHT CORNER, weighing in at what must be 400 lbs with that seasonably inappropriate fur, we have Catherine Baba, a widely recognized, though biographically stunted, stylist. Pretty sure she lives in France at the moment, but I would bet dollars to donuts she's American, somewhere deep, deep down. The accent sounds somewhat like a Long Island grandmother extolling the virtues of her French Provincial divan cover.
Who won, here? I think we should have a vote on this...
I am going to give you a special treat, however.
A peek into the world of fashion which you did not ask for and I very much doubt will appreciate: the incredible phenomena of the fashion aristocracy trying to out-do and out-irritate each other. Observing it in the wild, as the below video shows, is especially striking - watch how the children loiter in innocence and curiosity, so unknowingly close to the heart of darkness-of-indeterminate-age.
Fear not, you really only need to watch the first 15 seconds:
IN THE LEFT CORNER, we have Diane Pernet, who made her name as a fashion designer in the 80s, as a fashion journalist with Vogue and Elle, and with her fairy popular fashion blog, A Shaded View.
IN THE RIGHT CORNER, weighing in at what must be 400 lbs with that seasonably inappropriate fur, we have Catherine Baba, a widely recognized, though biographically stunted, stylist. Pretty sure she lives in France at the moment, but I would bet dollars to donuts she's American, somewhere deep, deep down. The accent sounds somewhat like a Long Island grandmother extolling the virtues of her French Provincial divan cover.
Who won, here? I think we should have a vote on this...
Friday, November 7, 2008
A big day for sticks everywhere
This isn't JUST an important time in American politics. This week the stick was inducted into the Toy Hall of Fame, joining other childhood favorites such as the bicycle and the...um...cardboard box.
Don't worry matches, your number will be up soon enough.
Don't worry matches, your number will be up soon enough.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
So THIS is what hope feels like
Pretty unbelievable, huh?
So I did a little poking around and found out what I KNOW you all were wondering last night, as the adorable First Family-to-be filed, glowing and giggling, onto the stage. WHAT is Michelle Obama wearing? So bold, so unusual, so...well, kind of hard to look at on a tv screen...
(btw, I ganked the above from nymag.com)
It's Narciso Rodriguez, Spring 09, and whether I have particular le boeuf with this choice of outfit, I absolutely LOVE that we're going to have a strong, signature style in the White House. The family's so clean and cool and, though I don't necessarily support the term, all-American!
Reminds me of the following Verbal Cartoon from Dan Liebert:
Family.
I'm a sucker for familial coordination myself, though one has to wonder how long the girls are going to stand for it.
I give the older one two more years before she shaves her head.
Side note, I LOVE THIS PHOTO:
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesoexcited!!!!!!!
So I did a little poking around and found out what I KNOW you all were wondering last night, as the adorable First Family-to-be filed, glowing and giggling, onto the stage. WHAT is Michelle Obama wearing? So bold, so unusual, so...well, kind of hard to look at on a tv screen...
(btw, I ganked the above from nymag.com)It's Narciso Rodriguez, Spring 09, and whether I have particular le boeuf with this choice of outfit, I absolutely LOVE that we're going to have a strong, signature style in the White House. The family's so clean and cool and, though I don't necessarily support the term, all-American!
Reminds me of the following Verbal Cartoon from Dan Liebert:Family.
A family is like the fingers of a hand: each finger is weak but together they can make a fist to beat up other families who don't know the "fist trick."
I'm a sucker for familial coordination myself, though one has to wonder how long the girls are going to stand for it.
I give the older one two more years before she shaves her head.
Side note, I LOVE THIS PHOTO:
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesoexcited!!!!!!!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
GOBAMA!
Unfortunately, in real life I received nothing, not a sticker or a pin, in exchange for fulfilling my civil responsibility. This may or may not affect my ability to collect on my free extra scoop at Ben & Jerry's today, but my elation at today FINALLY coming around is sweet enough. Also, my dresses have been a little tight lately.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
My Extremely Fierce Friend Deirdre and I Do Iceland Airwaves Blue Lagoon Party
D and I went to the Iceland Airwaves music festival. I could tell you that she's my 24-Hour-Party Partner-In-Crime, but you really just have to look at this face to know you've got a fierce competitor here:
Most of the music-viewing kind of looked and felt like this:
Considering portraits of modestly successful Indie musicians are dull even when they're NOT taken from the back of the venue, I'll spare you those, and give you instead these photos of a rave on the moon.
Every year the Blue Lagoon hosts a dance/hangover party on Saturday - they bus you out from Reykjavik about 45 minutes to this spa facility. It's pretty much just for the tourists, but whatever.
The air was probably in the mid-30s, and the water was bath-warm but not hot. Deirdre says it's the only place you can get pregnant without having intercourse. It doesn't help that the mud at the bottom is this white, slimy silt.
Here she is, pondering immaculate conception:
...in a weird kind of Burning Man way, if Burning Man was high on arctic circle air and Viking beer instead of idiotic legwear.
DJ Margeir was spinning housey stuff. It was ok - coulda done with maybe a little rock or hip hop, but the only move you could do in the water, really, was to jump up and down. Jay-Z probably would've just lead to confusion.
You had to get out of the water to get beer, which seemed somewhat sadistic of the planners.
By the end you were treading on plastic cups, but I don't want to sound like a hater (as per usual). It was nice and surreal.
Most of the music-viewing kind of looked and felt like this:
Considering portraits of modestly successful Indie musicians are dull even when they're NOT taken from the back of the venue, I'll spare you those, and give you instead these photos of a rave on the moon.
Every year the Blue Lagoon hosts a dance/hangover party on Saturday - they bus you out from Reykjavik about 45 minutes to this spa facility. It's pretty much just for the tourists, but whatever.
The air was probably in the mid-30s, and the water was bath-warm but not hot. Deirdre says it's the only place you can get pregnant without having intercourse. It doesn't help that the mud at the bottom is this white, slimy silt.
Here she is, pondering immaculate conception:
Everyone was friendly...
...in a weird kind of Burning Man way, if Burning Man was high on arctic circle air and Viking beer instead of idiotic legwear.
DJ Margeir was spinning housey stuff. It was ok - coulda done with maybe a little rock or hip hop, but the only move you could do in the water, really, was to jump up and down. Jay-Z probably would've just lead to confusion.
You had to get out of the water to get beer, which seemed somewhat sadistic of the planners.
By the end you were treading on plastic cups, but I don't want to sound like a hater (as per usual). It was nice and surreal.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Whoa where'd everybody go?
Ohhhh, that's right. Everybody went to Iceland! I've been back for a week, and while I'm still kind of reeling from the relative idiocy of taking three days off from school during midterms, boy oh boy am I happy to be here. Roughly this happy:
I have fun Icelandic things to bring back to you as well, but you'll have to wait on those til I pull my head out of my class. Here's a shadow puppet of things to come:
I have fun Icelandic things to bring back to you as well, but you'll have to wait on those til I pull my head out of my class. Here's a shadow puppet of things to come:
Friday, October 17, 2008
Notices of Ettiquette: Iceland
The attitude toward punctuality is more casual in Iceland than in other parts of Europe. You will be forgiven for lateness. Even if you never needed it.
When you are offered Hakarl, DO NOT EAT IT. Funny-Fun-Ha-Ha foreign food is best left for the dolts on Globe Trekker; this stuff is shark meat that has been buried and left to putrefy for up to six minths. 1) Bury. 2) One of these. 3) Eat.
Try instead Skyr. I'm sure there's fish that hasnt been rotting for 180 days in that white, gurty goodness somewhere.
Do not critize the weather. And don't neglect your takk fyrir's when applicable.
The attitude toward punctuality is more casual in Iceland than in other parts of Europe. You will be forgiven for lateness. Even if you never needed it.
When you are offered Hakarl, DO NOT EAT IT. Funny-Fun-Ha-Ha foreign food is best left for the dolts on Globe Trekker; this stuff is shark meat that has been buried and left to putrefy for up to six minths. 1) Bury. 2) One of these. 3) Eat.
"No Takk Fyrir" is your apt response.
Try instead Skyr. I'm sure there's fish that hasnt been rotting for 180 days in that white, gurty goodness somewhere.
Do not critize the weather. And don't neglect your takk fyrir's when applicable.
Notices of Freddie Mercury: Zanzibar
This Beautiful Isle:
Begat this Beautiful, Beautiful Man:
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit
Was just perusing the Paris RTW fashion shows and came across Louis Vuitton, and...um...
I AM NOT READY FOR THIS YET:
Marc?! Are you responsible for this?
By no means would I say I have "classic" tastes...I've got a dumb, angular haircut...self-inflicted. It looks exactly like this:
Now imagine me in the late 80s, trying to convince my pin-straight hair to wrap itself around crunchy mall bangs. There was disillusionment...despair..split ends...
It's these two decades of resentment that made me start at this permy abortion of a hairdo, squeak, and swear to track down the stylists responsible and embalm them with Ogilvie.
More terror on the runway:
Possibly the CyberGeishaPanMerryLostBoy defended her head with that big ol bag.
I AM NOT READY FOR THIS YET:
Marc?! Are you responsible for this?
By no means would I say I have "classic" tastes...I've got a dumb, angular haircut...self-inflicted. It looks exactly like this:
Now imagine me in the late 80s, trying to convince my pin-straight hair to wrap itself around crunchy mall bangs. There was disillusionment...despair..split ends...
It's these two decades of resentment that made me start at this permy abortion of a hairdo, squeak, and swear to track down the stylists responsible and embalm them with Ogilvie.
More terror on the runway:
Possibly the CyberGeishaPanMerryLostBoy defended her head with that big ol bag.
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