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The inner sanctuary of chic has landed…Kenmare. Namaste. Now it’s time for a meeting of the minds. Let’s open the doors, shall we?
CHARACTERS:
Paul (purple scarf NOT included; DJ services included.)
Olivier (crooked aviators, tight jeans to pack the heat, facial stubble always included).
A meeting? A meeting, YES! The Time? NOW. Now? YES! Yes, it’s that time of the year…sigh long sigh, FASHION WEEK and the hits …they keep on coming. This time in the form of duo Paul Sev and another favorite aviator man, Ollie D. TRUE A-TEAM game. Playas, stay the F up. A marriage of the two perfect nobodies who self promote with self promotion. Righteous brothers…God bless them. DJs, camera, rock n’ roll, booze and a little sister whispering …Hush. Such a brilliant PR move (why didn’t I think of it? I only thank the blonde girl with the evil eye tattoo on the nape of her neck).
The pictures from the uber-blah-blah exclusive fiesta can be viewed on Purple Diary’s Kemare page. The PD rocked out its own private dancer dinner at Kemare (the new hip-joint I formerly touched on here.) Ah, jealously pangs as I consider all those personal peccadilloes floating around the space, in the bathroom, on the tables. Paul’s music over the speakers; Black Magic Woman. I can only imagine…drooling greedily from afar.
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Related Kitty Bawler articles: The New Max’s Kansas City…I Think NOT, Fallen Rockstars Wear Lacoste, Drum Roll, The Hipster of the Decade!, Vice Throws Itself a Lifeline to ‘05, More Vice Parties.) MORE SELF PROMOTION! Kitty Bawler’s other anti-PD related pieces! SSUR vs Purple Diary. Brooklyn Hipsters vs. Purple Diary, Double L’s vs PD, and INTRO 101 The Purple Diary.
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3rd image via The Purple Diary.
More general house confusion sets in as I type this after reading EV Grieve’s site which highlights more mass apparel. This time (again) we find J. Crew in the mix. They certainly turned the wheels on the old Liquor Store (which you can refresh your mind of Pam Zimmerman’s homage here.) We have a movie type poster with a sleek Euro type guy walking on cobbled streets. Looks a bit like Italy? Yo J Crew …did anyone in the research department recevie the memo? Do the research? Walk the walk? The LES and Bowery are both on the edgier side of things. For $69.50 those pants are yours. Couple it with a Bowery Pima tee from John Varvatos. As previously mentioned, The Bowery is For Sale…everywhere!, you know these sacred New York neighborhoods now belong to big money and big ad money. I predict Urban Outfitters to follow suit (after seeing Supreme Sweatshirts on $19.99 clearance) I can only see a pencil thin rock star type working that J. Crew Ludlow Suit at Pianos.
(image: EV Grieve)
Listen you New Yorkers; if you are in town, roll by Crosby Street for this end of the year sale (they promise me Totes will be back this year…) Otherwise jump on their website here, for 60% off and free shipping to boot. N-iiiice.
if you are rocking the city today hit up Unis. I still wear my long wool coat and hope Kirstin Dunst does too.
New York has always had its share of aspiring artists which certainly includes musicians. While I respect the Peter Pan-like struggles of artists and their refusal to let go of the dream–it should be mentioned–a fair amount of those who MUST let go.
My survey of fallen rockstars has recently fallen into some of these criteria:
1) those who have worn gold-rimmed aviators as they move through the scene and wear them at all times even in times of tragedy or grief, 2) own at least one or two velvet coats 3) have no musical talent whatsoever yet insist they do, this includes the Pixie like screamers on the tracks. 4) carry zero semblance of groundbreaking music i.e., still stuck in the CBGB genre (probably read: Please Kill Me a hundred times) 5) typical haters of fellow soundalikes who made it…”the Yeah Yeah who’s?” 6) press buttons on synthesizers and carry no vocal pitch, 7) open their own bars to worship themselves.
One of my favorite reviews of a band (via Pitchfork) is quoted below and yes, I wish I had written the piece.
“It can’t hurt that Sevigny’s sister’s been pushing the Christiane F. look in the UK trades– complete with open sores– but it’s not Chloe’s fault that it took her 30 year-old brother this long to figure out that it’s easier to make it in music than movies. Kicking around New York for fucking ever, Paul’s finally put together a scam that’s paying off: holding down three keys on an old Casio. His sister slipped then-boyfriend Jarvis Cocker a copy of their tape last year.”— Chris Ott, 2003 (continue the review here).
While the boys of old might still be kicking around, and trust me, they are…they’re still hanging on and it ain’t pretty especially since they now wear Lacoste coupled with pricey Nike Boxing Shoes and free PBR longnecks. Or Miller Lite; yes the “Champagne of beers!”
Danggggg…I hope (at least) the Lacoste is real.
not the Purple Heart people. The PURPLE DIARY.
The first Public Image album at Terry Richardson’s studio, New York. Photo Olivier Zahm.
This is one of those high falutin’ sites which drives me mad. Allergies which require super Benadryl. Some of the photos in the glossy chic Purple Diary, especially those crisp black and whites are worthy. Other snaps, especially those subjects in the Pianos/DJ world are out-dated. Rich trustafaris, posuers and modellas living the high fueled drug, nudes and sex life are tagged and followed and photographed. Come’on Paul Sevs at Indochine’s 25th anniversary; how old was he when it opened? It’s a Paris/New York Diary of such (mix in a healthy blend of Taiwan, Milan and UK) and viola. Super fab glam life of once was is being sold as still is. Even the ugly people are pretty. Sexy ugly. Or ugly sexy. You judge.
I’d rather listen to Black Box Recorder any day… all day. England Made Me. That is the kind of pretentious I like. Thanks, Nicky Fresh.
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GUEST WRITER: Kitty Bawler is ten years a New Yorker, although travels extensively. She has been studying the trends and inner-workings of all the pretentious, black labeled culture of the downtown crowd. She’s cynical and a bit jaded. She’s patient and doesn’t mind writing about, you know, cool people.
Polaroids by Jauretsi.
Polaroids by Jauretsi.
and Jauretsi’s Polaroids…two very good things. I chose (the above) for their content post 9.11. I recall having dinner on september 10, 2001 before the sky fell and the world changed forever–at Cafe Habana— with Jauretsi before heading over to meet another friend, Scott at The Time is Always Now Gallery (the irony is thick). J’s always inspired me, she’s vintage New York, a downtown Bowery girl, fiercely independent, a DJ with mad collection of tracks. Most notably, she made the impossible POSSIBLE, a documentary (with fellow filmmaker Emilia Menocal) entitled East of Havana (2006).
My posting barely scratches the surface of J’s work. There is more to see here (although a note “a few peeks at the monster collection”). Although Dash Snow worked a more shock and awe method with twisted Polaroid documentation a la Vice style, personally, Jauresti’s work always made more sense to me.
I also dig her travel Polaroids, from her sojourns around the world. There’s water, fashion, beach, music and deep appreciation for underground culture, J has a lot to show for and more to come. Many acts, many layers.
Polaroids by Jauretsi.
Polaroids by Jauretsi.
Good news from good people. Here is one L O N G success story out of Elizabeth Street. I still have my Unis black winter wool coat, wear it proudly. Dang, wish I were there for the party (and discount). Dope. Here’s to 9 more.
From UNIS:
It is our 9th Year Anniversary.
Happy Birthday to us!!!
And to celebrate we’re offering 30% discount all day Nov 20th, Friday in our Nolita location. Oh, drinks from 6-8pm that day too. And a modest party at the same location.
There are a few authors who write as I wish to write. One such writer is William Gibson whose earlier works rang true cyber Sci-Fi. Lucky (for me), he turned into the now-ish/recent past/near future in works such as Pattern Recognition (one of my all time favorites) but for now, I will talk about Spook Country, which is somewhat in the vein of PR. I’m not as razor sharp today, I read SC five or six months ago…still it resonates.
This fast paced piece features: bi-coastalness (LA + NY), surveillance, Union Square, former cult band singer turned investigative journalist, addictive pills, such reminders, “Secrets are the very root of cool”, Cuban Chinese criminals, ex-CIA figures. And yes, it makes me believe “the truth is out there.”
If you missed this, read it. Nothing will evolve until you do.
And, if you haven’t read Pattern Recognition, well, read that first. This little cheat sheet done by a cool site Not Good for Me lays out the principal character Cayce’s look. I like the look sans for the chick in the short black hair. I picture Cayce with long brown hair wrapped in a loose ponytail.
image via notgoodforme.
Today, I received a Holiday email launch from Cheree Berry; and I wanted to give ample props to this old New Yorker/Kate Spader alum (associate art director) who since 2006 has spun her own creations (she designed my wedding invites). She now resides in Saint Louis and is now doing INSANE work. Her walkup office is out of something in Brooklyn. Did I mention she was in Martha Stewart’s Weddings? Um…yes. Check out her official MS nuptial snaps here.
image via designspongeonline.
Over summer, the New York Magazine spoke to Cheree ; check it here.
Simple math equation. This New York loss is a Saint Louis gain.
Fran Lebowitz photograph by Kelly Klein
I always loved Cafe Lebowitz; fondly recalling it as warm, chill bistro food (on the corner of Spring and Elizabeth). Have some respect, please. Brian McNally helped co-found the Odeon. It was one of the New York last establishments, keeping attune with a writer’s credo, where you could still smoke a butt.
The New Yorker (2003) writes up a witty review, “The food at Café Lebowitz may arrive bystro, but the high-spirited, talky clientele eats medlenno (slowly), basking in the conviviality of their surroundings and in the satisfactions of their dinner. Until this month, these included tobacco. McNally named his restaurant after his friend Fran Lebowitz, the writer and ardent smoker, but now their “Café Lebowitz”-stamped Zippos must be retired. “I think it’s madness,” McNally says. “All the staff here smoke.” And so do most of the habitués. “Clearly, if this were the will of the people, the smoking would go on.”
Keith McNally sold it to some Bungalow 8 types and it’s never been the same. Never.
Sadly, there is not ONE photo via the web of this institution, however, I will find one. I know I have one of their matchbooks.
the migration...west. image via lonelyplanet.com
The entertainment industry always shifts its loyalty; the old addage sink or swim baby. This applies to NYC and LA. This fall television, especially that of this season’s fashion programming a la Bravo and Lifetime Network takes the stance…it’s ALL about Los Angeles.
- tim gunn in gulp…flip flops. what wrong with this picture?
CASE NO 1: The movement of Heidi Klum’s Project Runway from the New York City mean streets (the elements, baby) to that of the warm sandy beaches signals the old saying… ”Go WEST young one.” I almost slapped my face (twice) to see Tim Gunn in his leisure suit complete with peek-a-boo flip flops and the ever-LA’ish Lindsay Lohan and Rebecca Romijn. It seems Michael Kors is keeping some distance, hey; SOME people do have a job back in New York.
CASE NO 2: The Rachel Zoe Project. Her tepid, white-hair flamed assistant Taylor hates New York and even felt empowered to drop the bomb…she may NEVER come back again. (Gasp…collective ohhhss and ahhhhss). Sure makes you miss the days of dialogue coaches. Never say never as she was seen in the last episode with “RZ” in the offices of QVC (this is a separate discussion altogether). It’s New York Magazine to the comedic rescue on the RZ Season 2in Amy Odell’s hi-larious. The Cut.
