Showing posts with label Fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fashion. Show all posts

Monday, June 25, 2012

A Threat To Judaism


We Jews worry about Iran and terrorists and anti-Semites and haters, but in my mind, a dire and dangerous threat to the survival of Judaism as a legitimate religion, and also to the survival of Israel as a democratic Jewish state, is the explosive growth of the ultra-orthodox community and the demographic decrease of secular Jews.
This is extremely scary. Judaism is not about the minutiae of whether you are allowed to take an elevator or steep a tea bag on the Sabbath, or to look, God forbid, at a woman. That is superstition, debasement and the distortion of a great religion. Obsessive compulsive religious disorder is what it is. But there is among some Jews an absurd and unspoken view that maintains that the ultra-orthodox are the only ones who know all the rules and therefore are the true keepers of the flame, which is utterly false. Secular Jews are allowing the fundamentalist fringe to distort and take ownership of Judaism through their abandonment of their own culture and history. They will have no one but themselves to blame when most Jews become a herd of retrogrades, like the Taliban.
Rabbis and Jewish Cassandras have always blamed this secular Jewish decline on intermarriage. This may be so, but only to a certain extent. As a Jew, you could marry Mother Theresa or the Dalai Lama and still know and celebrate Jewish traditions and teach them to your children, if that was your wish. You don't even have to believe in God to be a good Jew. But you have to know where you come from and what made you this way, and if you have children, you have to let them know as well. The lack of interest on the part of many secular Jews in knowing and furthering these traditions and the Jewish languages is tragic, regardless of whether they are religious or not.
In Israel, secular Jews are to blame for allowing the ultra-orthodox to abuse the citizenry and the state using religious piety as extortion. The abuse is so egregious and has gone on for so long that only recently have Israelis started to demand that their fanatical fellow citizens join the army and obey civil laws like everyone else. I don't understand what took them so long. Actually, I do. Thirty years ago, the ultra-orthodox were still a minority and, since they marginalized themselves from modern society, no one took them seriously. Now that they have exploded demographically, and in the process have become even more intolerant, retrograde and insane, and worse, politically powerful, all of a sudden Israelis can see too well the monster they have created. A monster that demands the humiliation of women on the public sphere, and sucks the teat of the government dry while doing absolutely nothing to ensure the survival of the state, except for breeding like rabbits (a cynical and ultimately self-defeating ploy for those who think this is going to help Israel at all. I'm talking to you, Bibi). A theocratic Israel, drained of intellectual, scientific and artistic talent is as good as dead. 
All Jewish communities in the diaspora have enriched their countries in many ways, but the American Jewish community is unique, given how culturally influential it is and given the singular circumstances of immigration to the US, the fabled melting pot that only happens here. And while the presence of the cultural American Jew is felt more strongly than ever in the public sphere, the actual Judaism of many secular American Jews threatens to become a vestige, since they are quite uninformed about their religious tradition. Soon all that may remain of an intellectually vigorous, vibrant and essential Jewish culture may be the neuroses and the shtick, like an episode of Seinfeld.
I am an atheist, but I went to a secular Jewish school in Mexico, I speak Hebrew and Yiddish and I come from a community that, while thoroughly secular, respects religious tradition mostly in an orthodox way. No one in Mexico, not even the Jews that attend conservative synagogues, would think of shortening a shiva (the Jewish mourning tradition) to Tues and Thurs from 4-7 pm because of convenience, like some American Jews do. This is shocking to me. I have heard American Jews say "my parents are Jewish, but I am not". This is appalling to me. Unless you are consciously willing to renounce your cultural and historical heritage, what the hell does that mean? Nobody speaks Hebrew, let alone Yiddish or Ladino. It's a great loss.
To be honest, (and this is maddeningly paradoxical), as much as I admire the American penchant for inclusion and tolerance, I feel far more at home at an orthodox High Holiday service than at the newfangled smorgasbord of inclusiveness that is offered by some progressive branches of American Judaism. I prefer a male rabbi and a male cantor and all that patriarchal jazz, to a yoga and meditation kabbalistic Shabbat service; so sue me (in the interest of full disclosure, I don't attend either. I've paid my dues as a Jew). Still, the lite, p.c. version looks to me like a new agey jamboree of phony rituals. Maybe that's because I grew up with the orthodox way, and that's what's close to the bone.
This enthusiastic re-purposing of Judaism, by the way, is an American singularity that does not tend to happen in any of the other Jewish communities in the diaspora, except maybe Canada. Jewish American parents, products of a great democracy and brave new children in a land of immigrants striving to become as American as possible, shunned the old world shtetl mentality of their grandparents, then tortured their kids with half-baked Hebrew school and now nobody knows anything.
It's a hard problem to fix, and some American Jews are trying, with magazines like Tablet, a great resurgence of proud Jewish humor (see Larry David and Judd Apatow), hip communal seders in happening nightclubs, prayer shawls with rainbows and other manifestations of modern Judaism. But I suspect that what is needed to ensure the survival of the modern Jew is a revitalization of a more solid Jewish traditional and cultural education.
I'm not saying we should not evolve. Certainly, there are some ideas in our ancient, tribal religion that are incompatible with our modern day ideology (among them the oppression of women, the ostracizing of gays, and practical injunctions that have been rendered moot since the advent of electricity), but I wonder whether we are diluting the great Jewish transition into modernity with such minute tailoring to our lifestyle, that Judaism becomes unrecognizable, inauthentic and therefore, disposable. The greatest irony is that it has been so hard and has taken so long for us to get here: to be able, for the most part, to live freely and safely as Jews in the world, without fear of annihilation, and yet we are losing the battle for Jewish culture, from inside. We cannot allow the ultra-orthodox to dictate the rules of Judaism in the 21st century, unless we want to live in the dark ages again. We must know our stuff and those of us who have children, must pass it on to them.

I have been always deeply anti-religious, complaining as a child that if Passover is supposed to be a celebration of freedom, why then are we forced to eat nothing but Matzoh for eight days. The beautiful Passover seder my grandfather led with gorgeous praying melodies, songs and jokes, I hated during most of my childhood. Now, when I go back to Mexico to Passover seder at my uncle's home, I am deeply moved at the bizarre accident of history that allows us to eat gefilte fish Veracruzana style and a matzoh and mole gratin, while we listen to a beautiful, unique style of prayer that is centuries old. I am deeply concerned that when my uncle is gone, this incredible seder, this authentic connection to centuries of dogged determination to survive, is going to disappear forever. His sons know the melodies, but the investment with us busy, modern Jews is one of diminishing returns. I am already mourning, not the loss of religion, but the loss of a rich and stubborn culture.
I am convinced that living in a self-imposed religious ghetto is not the only way, nor the right way to sustain Judaism. The only Judaism that can thrive in the future is a strong, genuine tradition that accepts its millennial roots while living in harmony with the modern world. But for that, we gotta know our own story.


Thursday, May 17, 2012

Mexican Ongepachket

This is what the nouvelle Mexican cuisine of some New York restaurants should be called. Some people just don't know how to leave well enough (or genius, in the case of Mexican food) alone. This is the case of Empellón Cocina, a super hyped, expensive new Mexican restaurant that has some critics raving. Not yours truly.
It's not that the food at Empellón Cocina is bad. Some of it is very tasty. But it suffers from ongepatchket-ness. This is a priceless Yiddish word meant to describe the overdone and over the top when it comes to food, furniture and fashion. For instance, Christian Lacroix: ongepatchket; Early Prada: not ongepatchket. Rococo: ongepatchket; Mid Century Modern, not ongepatchket.  You get the idea.
My mom used to couple the word when referring to overloaded fashions, foods, or decor with an expression of profound disdain.
I went to dinner with my good friend Seth. We started out with an appetizer of chicharrones with a wonderful warm green salsa of capers and tomatillo. No one ever heard of capers in tomatillo salsa, but this was truly delicious. The chicharrones were perfect and fluffy and almost ethereal, no hairs, stringiness,  hardness or burns of any kind, as you are wont to find in the big pieces of fresh chicharrón that are sold by the giant bag in Mexico. Here they were so perfect and airy they lacked a bit of oomph.
I ordered the margarita with mezcal, up with salt and it was a wonderful, wonderful drink, served in a classic margarita glass (not a fish tank), with what they called smoked salt.
We also started with the gordita with smoked plantain, chorizo and egg yolk (au cheval, as they say in French) and the sopecitos de lengua with salsa de árbol (tongue sopes). Here is where things started derailing a bit. There is no doubt that the quality of the ingredients is top notch and so is the preparation. The corn masa is very good. But chef Alex Stupak apparently never met an ingredient he didn't like. He uses five more ingredients in everything when five less will suffice. Hence, ongepatchket.
The gordita, for instance, comes garnished with two spears of romaine lettuce. This is out of Ionesco. Romaine doesn't add anything. If it's meant as a joke, it doesn't land the punchline. An actual gordita you may have at a market is a round, thick, fluffy fried disk of corn masa filled with beans or, if you are lucky, pressed chicharrón. This one had refried "smoked" plantains on the side, which were very yummy and looked like refried beans. But I don't remember the chorizo nor the yolk, because it was all rather dainty. The sopecitos were tiny chunky disks of fried masa with beans. The beans were good. They did not have the overload of cumin that is the mark of typical bad Mexican food in America. The tongue I could barely taste, because there wasn't much of it and the salsa de árbol tasted like a better version of the Valentina hot sauce that comes from a bottle. It's not that it tastes bad, but that it's the kind of tangy hot sauce you drizzle on raw fruits and carrots or jicama or cucumbers, not on cooked food. This is how much of a Mexican fineshmecker I am.
For entrees I had the Maine diver scallops with Surryano (?) ham and chilaquiles verdes. The scallops (all two of them) were cooked to perfection, plump and delicious. The ham with a weird name was chewy and bacony. But the chilaquiles were tiny squares of fried masa with a puny drizzle of green sauce. They tasted like good chilaquiles allright, and it is smart to do a mini version of them to avoid overpowering the seafood, but that may be why Mexicans wouldn't dream of putting scallops next to chilaquiles in the first place. A sense of proportion. In this case, the totally unnecessary ingredient -- you are never going to guess -- was peas. Peas as in English peas, mealy, bland and utterly out of place with everything else. The dish would be much better without them. This was served in a little cast iron dish and set us back $21. Which I find rather outrageous. This is the other thing that gets my goat about the precious new Mexican restaurants in NY. The prices look reasonable on the menu but turn out to be a bit of a ripoff when you see the size of the portions. A gordita, i.e. street food, for $8 is some sort of bad cosmic joke. Empellón charges $3 per salsa, whereas the humblest taco stand in Mexico gives you three or more generously sized bowls of different salsas for free.
Seth trusted my instincts, which at that point were to stay away from dishes with 29 ingredients, so he ordered the Estofado de costillas, a Oaxacan style baby back rib stew with plantains and pineapple, that was very bland and totally unsuccessful. Sorry, Seth. You are welcome to exact revenge any time. Boiled tofu should do the trick.
I couldn't believe that the dessert menu included a strawberry gaznate (gahz-nah-teh). Gaznates are the cheap Mexican version of cannoli. They are sold only on the street and they are always predictably awful. Maybe the original ones were made with real strawberry or vanilla cream filling, but the current version is made with industrial grade, petroleum-based whipped cream and pink food coloring. I was curious to see what would become of the lowly gaznate in a fancy restaurant. Well, it was certainly the best gaznate I ever had. The dough was crispy and tasted slightly better than the street version; the filling was superior to the authentic one, but basically strawberry fluff; sweet in a way that got boring quickly. I feel bad being such a bitch about it since I told the waiter the story of gaznates, he went and told the pastry chef and they comped us the dessert. If you told any Mexican that you paid $8 for a gaznate, however glorified, they would die laughing.
I had a wonderful time with Seth and some of the bites were very good, the service was crisp and professional, but in the end the overall effect was not as sublime as I'm sure the hardworking chef intends. He is quite gifted, but some ingredient editing may do him wonders.
Now get me two pastores con todo, asap.

Here's part of the menu. You tell me if it doesn't sound like the Rococo of Mexican food:


Friday, April 29, 2011

A Royal Pain

I completely managed to ignore the royal wedding mishegoss, until today.
I confess I could not resist gawking online. Here are some impressions:
• As some may have undoubtedly observed, the royal gene pool will be majorly improved with the acquisition of plebeian genes. Certainly, the commoners are so much better looking than the royals. The entire Middleton family is quite handsome, in the way of beautiful racehorses.  A good case in point is Princess Letizia from the Spanish royal family:
(Photo credits: Getty Images).

Bad genes v. good genes
Bad genes v. good genes
• Cathy said pithily, "Didn't love the dress". Me neither, but I didn't hate it. In fact, I think it's very cool that it is a fitted dress that makes her look sexy, as opposed to the Diana wedding cake dress that made her look like an accident at a bakery. Kate is an attractive woman and she looked great. Having said this, I have never understood the appeal of trains. Like corsets or hoop skirts, they are retarded.



• Does Victoria Beckham ever smile? Is that verbissener punim* in her contract?

What are you laughing at?
 *bitter face in Yiddish, aka as cara de pedo, fart face, in Spanish. 
• What's with the hats?

Look ma, there's a UFO on my head!

• For all their aristocracy, the dresses most women wore were horrible.


• Prince Edward is lookin' good!


However, his daughters...

The Royal version of Jersey Shore?
• Looking at the royals of other countries is incredibly entertaining. They look just like normal human beings, but wrapped in taffeta.

The Grand Duke and Duchess of Luxembourg
The one in the middle has cara de pedo

Wednesday, March 02, 2011

This is Why I Hate Fashion People:


Suzy Menkes in today's New York Times:
"Friends of Mr. Galliano, who would speak only on condition of anonymity, say that they have finally persuaded the troubled designer to go immediately into rehab — and that the pace of fashion today, and particularly the rigorous structure of a corporate fashion house, broke the fragile, artistic creator.

While the vile statements seen coming from Mr. Galliano’s drunken lips on the Internet video deserved the nearly-universal condemnation they were receiving, there is pathos in the vision of one of the world’s most famous — and best paid — designers alone, clutching a glass in a bar". 
Well, BOO HOO.
Fashion people are so enamored of their own obscene irrelevancy, living in their own vulgar bubble of banality, that they can actually utter revolting statements like the one above and they don't even know or understand why this is ghastly. 
If stress were a pre-condition and a justification for bigotry, firefighters, air tower controllers, public school teachers, correctional officers, EMT personnel, nurses, among other professionals, would all be screaming racist rants every day. 
Hell, everybody who works in an office in America would belong to the KKK.
Oh, but those who work in fashion are so special and so extraordinary, so "fragile" and "artistic" and this Galliano downfall is such a tragedy... 


Suzy Menkes, give me a fucking break!
I once heard André Leon Talley say "Fashion is hope". Yeah. Tell that to someone who makes a dollar a year in some cholera infested hellhole in the world. 
Recently, Vogue (a magazine I find deeply offensive) ran a spread about the glamorous wife of the Assad tyrant in Syria
I wouldn't be surprised if some designer creates his new collection inspired on Muammar Gaddafi's muumuus. Fashion people are absurd, their world view is absurd and they need to wake up and smell their own bullshit. 

Saturday, February 26, 2011

The Spark of Antisemitism

Apparently, it takes three drunk French people at a bar to get it started.
Fourth Musketeer wannabe John Galliano got suspended from Dior for allegedly hurling racial insults at a Jewish woman and an Asian man. It's all very confusing.
It turns out that the woman isn't even Jewish and furthermore, she works at the Institut du Monde Arabe. She filed the claim against Galliano because "she feels solidarity with Jews and Arabs".
To which I have to say: Gee thanks, pal. As usual, too much politically correct fervor paves the road to hell. Thanks to you, Yahoo News is now chock full of the vilest hate speech against Jews since the middle ages. Just scroll down to the comments section of the Galliano news story and let your stomach start churning. Anonymity allows pathetic losers to spew evil and inflammatory stuff in the internet.   Blood libels, conspiracy theories, anti-Zionist rants, "Hitler was right", "Henry Ford was right", poor, stupid "Helen Thomas was right" (she is now quite unfortunately in the company of the other two bozos), you name it. It's as if you put the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, Mein Kampf, The International Jew, the anti-Israel hate brigade and the blood libels of yore in a shaker and stir.
Galliano is countersuing the attacked couple for defamation. And he should, if indeed they made the accusations up. This is as inexcusable as racially insulting people, maybe even worse. It is what in Jewish tradition is known as lashon hara, an evil tongue, a terrible sin which is not to be exercised by anybody.
The way the Galliano incident was reported in the media makes it seem that the hoopla is more about the antisemitism than about the other racial insults. I find this unfortunate, since both are equally racist and this gives the anti-Semites an opportunity to complain that the Jews are always kvetching about antisemitism. However, the fact that this happened in the Marais, a Jewish neighborhood, in a city that is still reckoning its collaboration with the Nazis, may have to do with the extra sensitivity. You can't walk two blocks in the Marais without running into a plaque commemorating the hundreds of Jewish people or schoolchildren who were deported to their deaths from those very homes. People in the USA have never seen their neighbors forcibly taken from their homes or attacked for ethnic reasons (except for Blacks in the South or if you were Japanese in the 1940s), so they think it's all an exaggeration.
So the new trope is that Jews are oversensitive, and that we overreact. I think it is true in some cases. But who is to decide what is an overreaction?  Because we have so much to complain about, we should not complain at all? Blacks have the same problem. Some people think they overreact. Who is to judge? How can anybody who doesn't share a history of persecution and humiliation, deem it an overreaction?
It's a delicate subject. Are we paranoid and oversensitive, or are we finely attuned to prejudice and hatefulness (not that we are not capable of it ourselves)?
I can tell you this: I know it when I see it. I feel it in my bones. And I can read between the lines. Sometimes it is carefully euphemistic and baroquely disguised (like Charlie Sheen's violent hatred of "Chaim Levine") and sometimes is outright nuts and transparent (see Yahoo comments). Many times it is an overly feverish disgust with Israel, as if Israel was the only country with behavioral issues in the world, but most of the time it's the banal, ignorant, prejudiced remarks about noses and greed and world domination.
I'm fucking tired of all of it, whatever its latest guise.

NEWS UPDATE: Here is evidence that Galliano did say horrible things. His defamation suit is bullshit. 

Friday, October 30, 2009

Dedicated Follower of Fashion

Yesterday, yours truly was invited to the launch party of a new perfume from Yves Saint Laurent.
A mask was required and dutifully bought (Made in China, with feathers, $4.50 at the corner stationery), some extra sequins were applied to add that fashionable je ne sais quoi. We arrived at the venue at 9:30 (invite said 9:00) to find a growing line of extraordinarily patient masked people wearing what they considered "stylish attire" as requested by the invitation. This being the fashion world, I could see two trends (neither of which I am to adopt any time soon). One were shoes seemingly designed by the Marquis de Sade, with heels so high that women totter in them, instead of walking. The other were very short tube skirts that made the wearers look like cheap Mexican hookers (I'd say circa 1980, but this is the uniform of the Mexican skin trade to this day). I can understand the fetishistic allure of the cruelly high heel. Wanting to look like a Third World prostitute encased in derma is more of a mystery to me. There were several bouncers at the door and a woman with a nasty punim looking into the crowd, don't know for signs of what. The venue is pretty big so it didn't seem conceivable that it had already filled to capacity. We waited for about half an hour, only because the crowd was so well behaved and like us, thought, despite every evidence to the contrary, that there might be some reasonable reason for the wait. During this time, the line did not move forward one inch. I didn't see anyone checking names on "the list" (which I now believe is a fantastical construct made for innocents from the human world, like me). People were patient until they stopped being patient. People feverishly dialed numbers. Nothing moved. They went to the front, and then came back. Nothing moved. People then decided to mob the entrance, at which Miserable Punim started screaming at everyone to make one single line, suddenly oblivious to the one single line which had been in front of her all evening. After this, we decided to go get us some steaks and some wine at Azul. At 11:30 pm, as we passed by the party on our way home the street was deserted, the bouncers were still there and the gates were closed. The entire thing was extremely unwelcoming, but I guess that's fashion. They get a frisson over such things. I much prefer good manners.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Back to The Eighties: Help!

photos via New York Magazine

Why?

Are fashion designers clueless, insane, cruelly perverse or all of the above? Are they aware that we are in the middle of an awful economic crisis? If so, do they think that shoulder pads and frizzy female mullets are going to do the trick? Do they think that this will bring our shopping confidence back? Yikes.

Have I told you how much I loathe Marc Jacobs?

I was mildly alarmed at the beginning of our century, when they decided to send us all back to the 70s. But compared to the 80s, the 70s are the height of good taste (but don't tell that to the Russians in Brighton Beach. They seem to be permanently stuck on the 80s).
The 80s were the most obnoxious era of conspicuous consumption (well, before the 90s and the 00s). Now we can't afford to consume anything!
Are we supposed to part with our zealously protected money in order to secure neon clothes with shoulder pads? Hell, no.
We should be harking back to the 30s, to the golden days of the Great Depression, where nobody had anything to eat but the clothes were great. Even the clothes worn by the Joads were great.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Alert the Media: Models getting thinner...

...while nation gets fatter.
As I was huffing and puffing on the treadmill today, on the "weight-loss" program, mind you, I saw a segment of the Today show where an 18 year-old model almost six feet tall and weighing 13o pounds (at the most) was not allowed on the Paris runways because her legs were "too fat".
I love this topic because me and my fat ass can safely vituperate against models who increasingly look like Auschwitz inmates from the comfort of our ever expanding girth. But really, what professional deformation makes the designers and fashion criminals think that these girls look good? They are sacks of bones. And we are not even talking about the psychological abuse.
The very lovely girl in question said that she ate so little (got to be 102 pounds) that she missed her period for a year and her hair was falling out in clumps. This is not pretty.
I think whoever is responsible for making a young girl a bulimic, anorexic, coke whore, chain smoking fucked up sack of bones should be sued and/or prosecuted and sent to jail. Parents, modeling agencies, designers, photographers, editors. Whoever.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Scary Spice

Take a good look now, because this is the only smile you are ever going to see on Victoria Beckham.
Why is this woman always wearing a rictus? What's not to like about her life? She always looks like she was caught with a suppository up her ass.
In any case, the New York Times style section includes an article on the very annoying Marc Jacobs ads by Juergen Teller. To their credit, they look like no one else's and they make you remember the brand. That is good advertising. But still, they're annoying because they want to be so "anti" and because they are deliberately ugly.
If I didn't think that Marc Jacobs' clothes are designed for smart women who want to look both ugly and stupid, I'd probably like the ads more. But every time I go to Bloomie's in Soho and peruse the huge Marc Jacobs store, it seems to me that his muse must be Nurse Ratched. These are the clothes she'd be wearing on her days off. And as much as I admire Nurse Ratched's steely resolve and her no nonsense approach to discipline, I do not want to look like her (but I do find her more attractive than Scary Spice, for sure).

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Tax the Pretty


Such is a proposal by an Argentine man so ugly (see above), he is tired of the beautiful people getting all the breaks. So he wants Argentina to tax the beautiful people. So far so good. I propose to tax women with long perfect legs and no evidence of cellulite. A punishing, backbreaking tax, if possible. It's only fair.
People who get surgical tit and ass enhancements should be taxed too, for lying.
Apparently, in Argentina, as in other nations of South America, there is a national obsession with plastic surgery and T+A and you can see many women well on their way to looking like inflatable sex dolls. As always, men can handle ugliness better than women. A man with gray hair is a distinguished gentleman, whereas a woman with gray hair is old.
I don't think plastic surgery necessarily makes people look better. Nicole Kidman is a good case in point. She used to be stunning, and now she is scary. On the other hand, someone like Charlotte Rampling, who is maturing au naturel, is still an interesting, beautiful woman.
But what about the majority of people who are neither stunning nor hideous? What about a person's attractiveness? What about charisma? There are some very attractive ugly people out there. Let's say they are not conventionally beautiful. And some beautiful people are so conceited or boring that if you meet them for more than five minutes (if you are ever that lucky to cross their brightly shining paths), they cease looking beautiful. Personality is what counts. Diego Rivera, the famous Mexican painter, looked like a giant toad, but apparently he was a hugely successful ladies man. Had this Argentinian guy not been so insecure about his looks, perhaps he'd been a ladykiller. In fact, all he needs is a little non-surgical makeover: first and foremost, get rid of those ugly glasses. Trim the eyebrows. Drown yourself in Clearasil. Get some braces and presto! Not so shabby, after all.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Fashion Outrage II

My mom used to say that she wasn't going to wear anybody's name embossed on her ass, ever. At the time, she was referring to being seen with a Goyish-Jewish name such as Calvin Klein across her derriere. To her it probably sounded like "Matthew Goldfarb", it just didn't make any sense. To her credit, names in French or Italian or British didn't sway her either.
It was the beginning of the label fad in the seventies and there was no way I could convince her to spring for any garment with a name visibly on the outside, no matter how socially important it was for me as a teenager. She had a fearsome aversion to logos and brand names, yet she was a woman of style. At the time, I loathed that attitude but now I see how right she was. Logos, no matter how expensive, are vulgar. The more logos you count on a person, the tackier they are.
Luxury brands which used to stand for elegance are now connected to vulgarity.
Allow me to be a snob for a moment, but where is the exclusivity if virtually any plebeian can stroll around with a fake Louis Vuitton or insert name of brand here bag.
And as you can find their reasonable facsimiles in the alleys in Chinatown, it seems to me that the whole idea of exclusive luxury is subverted. One may think it is a noble democratizing thing to afford a fake so that we can all can parade it with our crocs (the con of the century, 30 bucks for plastic clogs that probably cost 25 cents to manufacture), but in reality, people who buy counterfeit luxury schmattes are like people who buy cocaine. They are buying evil products from very evil people. I don't care whether the big fashion houses lose a single penny. I don't feel sorry for them. But as this piece in the Times points out, the counterfeit industry is sinister and exploitative, and totally unnecessary. Nobody is going to die of nakedness if they don't have the latest stupid fake bag.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Fashion Outrage


You know what? People wearing their pants below their ass should be punished, not on the grounds of indecency but on the grounds of buttugliness. I don't give a fuck if it so happens that most of the men who wear their pants below their ass, showing their stupid underwear and looking like retards, are black. Anybody wearing that shit should be fined for buttugliness. It is an affront to the eye to see people dressed like that, no matter what the skin tone. And while we're at it, I would also fine fat-assed women who show their rolls in public, and anybody wearing a thong outside her pants. Women who wear flipflops with anything but Summery beach clothes should spend a night in fashion jail (of which I am the Sheriff). And so do adults older than 8 and younger than 80 who wear Crocs. UGG boots get life without the possibility of parole.
I was watching snippets of the US Open today. Whatever happened to tennis whites? Roger Federer looked like a parking attendant, while Serena Williams looked like a hostess in a brothel in Nevada. Who shows up to play wearing long diamond earrings and jewelry?
It's TACKY.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

The Red Menace


A front page headline in the NYT today: "New Poll Finds That Young Americans Are Leaning Left".
Everybody stand up and sing the Internationale. You'd think our young are all sporting Che Guevara's beret and Fidel's fatigues, to judge from the ominous use of the word "left". What do you know, turns out the kids are a bunch of reds. See evidence above.
But, geez, aren't young people supposed to be liberal? Remember the peeps from the 60's and 70's in this country? Imagine a similar headline then: "Beware! Maoists in our Midst."
I think the right word would have been they are more liberal. Left is for Commies.
Did the poll expect to find 17 to 29 year olds voting for a party that uses them as cannon fodder, tries to take away their every human right when nobody's looking and messes with their private lives?
Of course the young should be more open minded. We are already in enough trouble as it is with their unbelievable indifference to the war in Iraq and their video-game induced torpor. I'd be totally freaking out if they announced en masse they are voting for Giuliani and taking up golf.

They, naively, in my view, think that a draft is more likely to happen with the Republicans.
Honeys, if Dick Cheney hasn't drafted you yet, it ain't going to happen.
However, if I and Charlie Rangel had our druthers, a draft would be in place tout suite. And all your tender asses would be required to show up at Fort Urfucked for compulsory military duty. Best way to end public support for a stupid war.

The results of the poll are not surprising. The young would vote for someone who had smoked marihuana. Duh. They would allow gay marriage or gay unions (very magnanimous on their part). They think global warming is very bad. They would vote for a black candidate or a woman (phew, progress in leaps and bounds). So far so good.
But 70% of them (and like all polls it's really like 650 people) said they would not vote for a gay or a lesbian. Why the fuck not?
What possible rationale makes them think a homosexual person is unfit for office?

Bring in the draft.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Fashion Victims

Crocs are the new Uggs, okay?
Meaning: they are the new unspeakably ugly shoe that for some unfathomable reason people think they can wear with abandon.
They are good for the boat and good for the swimming pool and good for the beach. Good for kiddies.
Good for a clown at the circus. Not good for the street.

I rest my case. Plus: Crocs with socks? Oh, boy.

Photo courtesy of I Hate Crocs Dot Com.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Girls: Beware of "Thin Gandhi Types"

You got to love this lawyer: Defending his client Anand Jon, a purported fashion designer who used his fashion credentials to rape scores of young models, Ronald Richards describes him as a "thin Gandhi type". I find this amazing: you insert the word Gandhi into a sentence involving an Indian guy and basically hope someone will confuse this unspeakable pig with the Mahatma. What a sleazebag.
I wonder what Mr. Richards really thinks of his client. According to the NYT article, the evidence against Jon is pretty damning. But as always happens with sexual assault, just because some of the young women didn't go crying rape to the police immediately, Richards is portraying them as calculating hussies. I just hope the jury doesn't buy it.
However, I am always amazed at the willful suspension of healthy mistrust that some people exercise in the name of fame or attention. Who in this day and age doesn't know that the modeling industry has its own circle in hell? Where are the parents of these young women? Check this out:

The father of a 19-year-old college student in Texas said that Mr. Jon contacted his daughter through her MySpace page in 2005, when she was in high school, and told her she had the fresh look he was seeking in a model. Mr. Jon soon flew to Dallas, where the father picked him up at the airport, and with the girl’s mother, a child psychologist, grilled the designer about his intentions. “We said, ‘We’re worried about this industry,’ ” said the father... Mr. Jon told the girl’s parents, the father said, “I treasure the feminine being. I got all this spirituality from my grandmother and my mom.” But a few hours later, he forced the teenager to have oral sex at the hotel where he was staying, the father said. “I drove him to the hotel, where he raped my daughter,” he said ruefully.

Ouch. So even when people are trying to keep their wits about them, predatory criminal assholes will try to have their way. It is amazing that he was able to do it for so long. I hope they nail the bastard.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

The Skinny

Because I do not follow fashion, because I love beautiful clothes but I loathe fashion, I have not been paying too much attention to models (also because I hate them, like all women who are not models do).
But I have noticed that they don't look like they used to in their glory days, when Linda Evangelista and Naomi Campbell ruled the Earth like Tyranosaurus Rexi of the runway. I've noticed that lately they look like emaciated children from a Roumanian orphanage, with a few exceptions like Giselle Bundchen or Kate Moss, who actually look like women. I don't know who decided that models should look like the spawn of the aliens in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, with huge eyes and translucent faces, but I don't really care. All I know is they look much too young to be modeling and much too skeletal, and if you dressed them in concentration camp garb, Auschwitz circa 1945, you'd be calling an ambulance to Bryant Park. And perhaps the Human Rights Commission as well.
Clothes do look better on hangers, (as anybody who has ever been inside a dressing room trying them on knows firsthand) and models have basically become walking hangers. They have eating disorders, they don't eat, they take drugs, they are as abused as racehorses but without the mercy. And they don't even look good!
So I propose to designers to use actual hangers for their shows. With the technology of stagecraft available today, they could create interesting, long legged, long necked, size zero mannequins that could move or not, that could hover across the runway moved by rails like those at the dry cleaners, and that could make the clothes look as pretty as they want. This way, young girls would not be starving to death and being traumatized by body image complexes and other psychological abuse.
The article in New York Magazine that deals with this issue says that many of these teenagers come from Eastern European countries, whose bigger export seems to be women, be it for the sex trade or the rag trade. I don't see that much difference between a young woman who is enticed to prostitute herself and one that is abused the way runway models are. They are both made to feel worthless except for their looks. But people like that scary Diane Von Furstenberg who rose from the dead not long ago and that other zombie from hell, Karl Lagerfeld, two people who look like human remains in an advanced state of decomposition, are in a total outrage over Madrid and Milan demanding a minimum body mass index from models. Never mind that:
...a perilously thin teenage model, Eliana Ramos, would die in Uruguay, apparently of a heart attack, making it three model deaths in the past seven months. In August, Ramos’s older sister Luisel died after restricting herself to a diet of lettuce leaves and Diet Coke. In November, Brazilian model Ana Carolina Reston died weighing just 88 pounds.
If Mayor Bloomberg is so concerned about health, why doesn't he take a look at the runways? They should be closed by the Department of Health.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

A freeform fashion rant

I'm sitting in a hipster cafe in Williamsburg which is not as bad as I'd like it to be. It is quite cozy, the music selection is eclectic (although the minute I thought the blues they were playing were great, they immediately switched to Run DMC's Greatest Hits just to show me how obnoxious they can be when they put their mind to it). Their wi-fi works beautifully. They have a fantastic almond croissant and decent chamomile tea. Still, what is it that bugs me about this place? I guess it's what bugs me about Williamsburg in general, which is the peeps. Now, to be fair, I'm an equal opportunity misanthrope, and I feel no warmer for Park Slopers, Upper or West Siders, anybody from Queens, or anybody else from anywhere, really, except Downtown, which is where I hail from. But Billyburg hipsters annoy me particularly, even though they must be all nice and concerned about the environment.
Williamsburg gamines: I fail to see the point of wearing skirts on top of pants, and pants badly stuffed inside cowboy boots. I fail to see the point of cowboy boots. I fail to see the point of those horrid raven-colored Betty Page haircuts. Can we stop the vintage look? It's as if the armoire of your dead spinster aunt from Duluth fell on top of you.
I also hate things that you'd never see a Billyburger wear, such as Ugg boots, lowrider jeans with the thong sticking out, extremely pointy shoes, extremely round toed shoes, Marc Jacobs bags, and Marc Jacobs clothes in general, which look to me like what somebody would wear fresh out of a lobotomy in the fifties.
I absolutely loathe anything with a logo. People who dress themselves like the contents of a fake bag store on Mott Street should be arrested. I do not appreciate the fact that thanks to the trashy likes of Britney Spears and Tara Reid and Paris Hilton (aren't they all one and the same?), it is now customary for women to look like hookers from the Florida Panhandle. There is no allure, no romance, no mystery, no elegance anymore.
Methinks, dear readers, the world has become a hideously vulgar place.