What about this photo does not say visiting artist, up to and including his name tag? This is Naoto Nakada whose work is being exhibited at Northern Clay Center on Franklin. Boy, the Japanese have a lockdown on adorable, don't they? But then they like to throw in a really dark side to make you think or recoil in horror a little bit -- like a cute cartoon puppy that eviscerates cute cartoon children and then wags its tail and licks its bloody button nose. Well anyway, Naoto sure is cute. I think i startled him by rushing up and saying i loved loved his tabi socks and pink shorts and his blue workman's jacket that is exactly like the one that NY Times style photographer/legend Bill Cunningham wears, and about 2500 words into it, his handler indicated there might be a bit of a language barrier so she said real loud and slow, SHE WANTS TO TAKE YOUR PICTURE. He was down wit it.

He may or may not think this photo will appear in Italian Vogue. 

I thought that was his lunch box there on the front bumper for keeping some decent snacks handy because he'd heard about american food, but turns out it's a man bag. he outed with his card and we did an exchange. now he's thinking, shit americans got a lockdown on wrong, don't they? here's his website: naotonakada.jimdo.com. i don't know who jimdo is but i like it -- kinda chill and sassy. hey jimdo you natural gangsta, 'sup? like that.

Helena B. Carter is sick of looking stupid

 

Barf, i've had it up to here with Marc Jacobs and his quest for disturbed genius bs. smacks of effort man. also, who could make a career of making people look like they've just had a quart of malt likker and some blow at 8 a.m. and subsequently shot low-budget porn that involves illegal immigrants and invertebrates? thanks juergen, but here's how it's done...

ok she asked me to cut off her head, and i was like, i think i can do that.  because it's all about the Marc Jacobs lace-up shoes, hot off the runway, that she waited and waited for (easily 15 minutes). you see why this pisses me off-- his ads are a clumsy ploy to appear avant garde and above bending over for the walmart masses when in fact he is churning out vanilla ice cream. who could not like it? massive moa-sized egos aside, i like the way she gave marc a lesson in creative genius with some flirty black stuff and a hit of urban Alpha Industries jacket. we were at Northern Clay, tossing back cheap wine appreciating art.

majoring in sweater

 

Another incidence of yarn bombing, but this time, it's personal. There's something about that first blast of forty degrees, like the beginning of the ice age, that makes neck-to-toe acrylic seem like a good idea. Also i'm starting a quasi-scientific rumor (ala bachmann) that lots of pattern worn together with absolute abandon actually generates heat. here's how:  the little color molecules are busy running into each other and clashing and getting up in each others' business, and they get hot and sweaty, whereas you can be wearing six tent's worth of a solid color and the color molecules are bored and dispirited and like, i'm khaki, you're khaki, the whole world's khaki and they just lay on their khaki couches and let the breezes blow through like anything. they could give a crap.  this is particularly true of khaki, my least favorite, and the laziest,  segment of the color wheel.  she is not smiling and wondering how the hell she's going to get away from me cuz i didn't even share my color molecule hypothesis. she's smiling at her yoga mat.

Jason

 

I didn't know him, met him once, at which time he was wearing a tie printed with the periodic table similar to the one above.  As you would if you were a freshman chemistry major.  He got it at a flea market while on a family vacation. In addition to being pretty brainy, he was an accomplished pianist, and a runner. Here one day, gone the next.  His family is walking through the valley.

boots come out of the closet

 

what i meant was, now that it's cold out, people are outing with big kicks -- swaggering, stomping, made-for-walkin', whoop ass, make-me, dominatrix, rootin tootin footwear. but then, it also happens to be the first day of the newly outed gay-friendly military, so...

 

sir yes sir, these boots are thom browne, and thanks for asking. and ooo, isn't telling fun? like those ones above -- those are cowboy boots and they're karen's.

four out of five people in my immediate vicinity at st. kate's were wearing tall boots. i was the one thing that was not like the others as i had on sandals. and frostbite. everything about her story here is pretty terrific  -- the quiet colors, the classy shirt, the well-worn boots (kenneth cole) and the single stripe tote. also her hair which i think she got at j crew. but we're focusing on boots in this post -- she is really wearing these boots, swaggering like crazy. lookout cuz i am going to econ 201. 

this is why i can't wear tall boots. i never went to econ 201.

grace, is that you?

i don't want to say i pounced on this group because that sounds a little, you know, crazy, but the line to get into the Envision show was moving and the green take-the-effin-picture-or-give-up-blogging signal was blinking faster and yes, ok i was verklempt. i may or may not have shortened my introductory schpiel to, i love you, for the sake of time. and in a sartorial sense, that is absolutely true.

i saw Oksana wearing a little animal (fake, vintage) around her shoulders with a fancy filigreed clasp and an exquisitely tailored dress and long gloves and a cocktail ring in the manner of ava gardner and grace kelly and other legends of the silver screen, and the rudimentary circuit board underneath my hair started smoking. when she said she made the dress (scissors, sewing machine, from a flat piece of cloth to this puzzle of fitted wonder), the system blew and i may have wept a little bit. more on oksana below.

i read rapunzel's red lips and matching pumps and bag. she spoke slowly and used one-syllable words, which was considerate. their blond friend in black and ruched and rhinestone was the only person, man or woman, in this zip code making a style statement by not wearing makeup.

i'm used to side seams, a waist, maybe darts --georgian architecture, all symmetry and ordinary. look at this! angled seams hipwardly, crosswardly, off-center back pleat without a matching one on the other side, asymmetry that me and nature love. here's what i know about oksana -- she can and does copy existing designs, she can create reality from a drawing, a photo, even a verbal description. Her technical skills are unmatched in my experience and she doesn't have a website. say for example, you'd like her to make you a vintage lanvin marvel, oksana could do that without need of a second mortgage. if that is the case, leave your contact info in my comment section and i'll pass it on to her.

i'm trying to show you the incredible construction and piecing of the dress. also the very wonderful gloves and ring which may be a walkie talkie. dress gloves for purposes other than shoveling snow are an idea whose time has come, again. you heard it here.

she did it her way

the blink is 100% my fault and i apologize but i couldn't crop it out because this chic woman is playing a crucial role in my campaign to show that snooki is not the go-to for fashion events. job interviews, yes, but not the Envision smackdown. and her whole story starts above the blink with the witty fedora. where snooki calls for 27 pounds of fucking firm hold product in the hair, this woman cleverly plays jaunty men's garb against her beautiful face (good reflexes -- protecting her eyeballs against searing flash). where snooki is wearing a felony offense, this woman is draped in the mantel of class, pure and simple. stripper shoes? uhno no no. these sharp kicks look an awful lot like the dries van notens i brayed about a few months back. right on, woman.

white girl

ok don't scroll down, DON'T. and pretend you can't see the photo. now pretend i know what i'm talking about and do not have a pimple on my chin. i'm going to describe an outfit and you tell me if it sounds cool: white shorts and a white sleeveless t-shirt with a white filmy asymmetric ao dai (vietnamese tunic) belted over those two unassuming characters, finished off with dark taupe tights (that match the belt) and metallic sandals.

hmmmmm. you're thinking the pimple on my chin is not cool, but it's hard to imagine the ensemble...

tada!

like sex, it doesn't sound that good when you break it down but taken all together, it's surprisingly enjoyable. the outfit, i mean. it looks fresh, modern, designed -- bravo white girl! she and her posse were waiting to Envision Artopia but she's got a pretty good head start.

my doppelganger

oh my gosh, so many people were like, you two are clones! i know! i mean, i'm more of a summer but otherwise, yeah, straight up doppelganger.

weird huh?
PS. just to make me look extra psychotic, the ad will have changed but right now, right below these very words is an ad for Padded Underwear Women. !!!???? i find this very very disturbing. just thinking about padded underwear women is making me uncomfortable. DO NOT click on an ad for padded underwear women. and if you do, tell me what you find. i bet my doppelganger is worried about padded underwear women too. did google think my audience would be interested in padded underwear women? why would they think such a thing? wait, are you interested in padded underwear women? i'm going to say padded underwear women one more time and then me and my padded underwear are going to bed.

selling out, i hope

busted! i am not an artist. i'm a whining weasel who is just in this blogging business for the money. so far, no one has spontaneously sent me $$$$, thus the bullshit that floats just below the first post. i'm not talking about the second post, horrible people, i'm talking about advertising. companies are clamoring to advertise on my blog because they figure anyone who's here will be up for parole soon. welcome to the seedy underbelly of soul-sucking online advertising.

day glow

if this ensemble could talk it would say, Benvenuto a Milano. Let' la s ha 47 caffè espressi e va per un giro sul mio Vespa! or in american, What's a seat belt?  the shirt is why they invented screen savers -- ruched at the sleeves, ruffled at the neck and shoulders and beyond Samuel L. Jackson in intensity. could it go further than that? oh yes. by pushing the flashing meltdown button and adding the marvelously mustard skirt, over-the-top ornamental tights and goldenrod mocs that shoot out golden rods that poke your happy receptors, she has the top down, the wind in her hair (also a fabric flower) and a full tank of gas. it will come as a surprise to you, she loves fashion.

goddess of stone fruit

Here we see the goddess in traditional pose, holding two ripe fruits in a sack (see also, goddess of descended testicles), garbed in flowing white pants (that she scored on eBay for $6!), headband signaling her divinity, imported scarf signifying intent to go to Bali if not already accomplished and day-glo messenger bag symbolizing schlepping. Her bemused expression says one of us needs some medical marijuana, stat.

clucking fabulous

We've veered into poultry my friends which is not that far off the style path, as Woodstock, above, demonstrates. She's a Silkie! and a registered therapy chicken! let me explain. i went on the annual Twin City Parade of Chicken Coops, a didactic affair organized by EggPlant Farm Supply store in St. Paul designed to educate people about the joys of urban poultry raising. I'm absolutely devoted! the variety and pattern! tufts on the head! shaggy feet! fluffy feathers, stiff feathers, really long loopy feathers, in the most outrageous colors and patterns! and breed names to match-- speckled sussex, silver laced wyandotte, buff orpington (heart), frizzled cochin, black australorp, barnvelder!!
back to woodstock, her handler/person is a therapist who uses dogs, horses and woodstock to calm her people patients and spill about their problems (that's the technical lingo). woodstock is, as she appears, very soft and pretty placid as chickens go, so she'll perch in your lap and let you pet her and cluck softly and probably not peck you.  she's incarcerated there (chicken wire!) for her own safety against hawks and raccoons and such. this hen is beyond fabulous and she knows it.

hello kitty goes deep cover

This couple scooted right past the guardrail and the great big old no trespassing signs for a moment of quiet togetherness underneath the thundering Minnehaha Falls. i liked their posture of ease and attentiveness to each other. note that they're not on the phone or texting or eating or taking pictures (like some crass and baseless people), and i realized how rare the simplicity of the moment was. plus, i liked her dress + boots. seeing as how their privacy was already compromised by the 4300 gawkers around the overlook training their eyeballs on their every move, i felt only the tiniest trickle of smarm in outing with the hello kitty camera ....and besides, i was recording a tableau of social and sartorial significance, right?

actually i was creating a work of pointillism (it's art, gosh) by straining hello kitty's pixels till they practically burst a blood vessel. i felt like a p.i., which is to say, quite dirty.

proof positive, alien at Minnehaha

sharp as i am and ever vigilant for other life forms, particularly if they're well dressed, i spotted something unusual about this sprite (on the right, ooo that rhymes) lugging an alien-sized bag, full of suspicious lumps (i'm pretty sure i saw it kick and a little squeaky alien voice said, Take me to the front of this insane Sea Salt line) and i quickly deduced, aha! she rode her bike in this sweet blouse, pink-as-a-tutu skirt and attractive sandals! she's just acting like she knows the woman on the left who is also cute as the dickens with equally cute flats so as to blend in, look normal. but she's actually one of those people who bikes in pretty clothes! instead of nasty lycra pants with built-in incontinence protection and shoes that make you walk like frankenstein but louder! busted! 

if you see something, say something, right? without even bothering to wipe a big chunk of po' boy off my lip, i marched up there and gave them my street style schpiel,  smooth as anything, and documented the whole thing! mission accomplished brownie, helluva job.  yeah, i don't know what that strange glowing light is emanating from the alien-sized bag. although i can now curl my tongue.

the twin towers

it's probably in poor taste to use this title so close to 9/11, so i went ahead with it because lookit! my favorite model (also the only model i know) on the left! if you will be so kind as to look back in the archives to september 2009 you'll find an earlier and grainier shot of this made-for-runway woman.  i spotted her as i was coming down the elevator and by the time i made landfall, i was looking at her knees. and she brought two tall friends with her! i wish i had put something in this photo for scale -- an oak tree or ...something more familiar... one of those mammoth flaggons of wine. the guy who, it must be said, is not wearing platforms is over 6', if that gives you any idea. boy, i wish he was wearing platforms. that would be fun, wouldn't it?

power shoppers

Holy smokin Visa, Niemans was happy to see these two. Chanel jumpsuit (jump into wide legs my on-trend friends) on the left,  ALC ruched dress (had to jazz the photo so you can see the ruching but things that look grey are really black, ok?) and balenciaga two-tone towers on the right, both of them anchored with 3,974 karats. i forgot to ask but i'm going to go ahead and assume that quilted bag coordinates with the jumpsuit for a double dose of C-backwards-C.  see the blond woman's hair? crazy for it. so crazy in fact that i brought a photo similar to this to my local petsmart (we do bitches!) and said i wanted a shag just like this. well, you can imagine.

Stephanie goes to the store

I caught Stephanie Lake, PhD in History of Decorative Arts, Design and Material Culture at Cub -- dang, this is how the quality live.  oh that's right, it just seemed like Cub because of the really loud good DJ and the champagne in swarovski plastic flutes. it was actually Fashion's Night Out at Niemans. usually fashion has to stay home sweeping the hearth, so i got down there to document the whole thing and right out of the gate ran into stephanie. i like to brag and tell people i know stephanie -- you know, class by association. i'm not even trying to be a slavering sycophant when i say she's this rare combination of pretty, smart and nice, e.g. she didn't even call security when i lurched up to her smelling like three day old fish (sorry steph, that damn sears acrylic). 

did i mention, stephanie's effin talented? all that wealth shining like the sun, the zena bracelet, the bulletproof breastplate, the insanely posh bag karl lagerfeld wishes he could have designed but he's stuck on white powdered wigs and sticking fabric flowers on freja beha erichsen right now? she made all that!!!! dreamed up the design, mined the metal with her trusty burro brighty and forged it over her very own hot plate. i'm an idiot -- of course she used her Aga. a bag like that, with handles and texture and everything, it boggles the mind that someone could actually construct something so artful + functional. it's on par with producing quilted toilet paper at home -- who could do it? an artist, that's who. before you go off and embarrass yourself by thinking she's the hottest lunch lady that ever scooped macaroni and cheese, that is a bejeweled vintage hair net ornament. sheesh.

P.S. 'member a while back at glamorama when the underpants-of-the-raj chick got insulted and really told me? despite the chihuahua in texarkana reference, i really did think she was hotter than georgia asphalt. and i really do think stephanie is a pretty, smart, nice and talented artist. there's probly something wrong when you have to print a disclaimer.

art student, St. Kates

standing there in dappled light, all bucolic and gentle breezy and tom-shod, i am unbelievably tempted to make an impressionism reference, as you would, because she's an art student. don't be sisley, manet an artist will be pissarro when they read this because degas-ga for upholding the dignity of the masters.

cassatt closed. there is no morisot.

she is thinking, where is my firearm when i need it? because i babbled on about how it was nice to see a student flouting the jeans-and-t-shirt uniform, and i realized it was incredibly fox news-ish (which is to say, ignorant and flawed) even as it exited my mouth, and sure enough, as we looked around, there was not a jeans or t-shirt attired student in that time zone. of course, the semester is very young. and i am a foo' very artistic.

freshwoman, University of Minnesota

She's been to freshman orientation so she's savvy to weirdos getting all up in her business -- she just didn't have time to out with the pepper spray that was in her bookstore bag. So much happy pattern here-- the nordic-inspired sweater, starry-legged tights and freak flag flyin mocs -- but the amazing thing is that i did not see sweat trickling down her face or visible signs of heat stress. by contrast, i was in a g-string and pasties and had nonetheless experienced significant personal decay on the bike ride over to the U, it was that hot. by this didactic episode, she has already learned so much -- education is important, so is a job, so are pants, don't get old. you're welcome.

why doesn't this woman run for office instead of the bus?

Here is a woman who was just trying to find the 2 bus stop for crying out loud, with somewhere to be in 30 minutes, which as any bus rider knows, is when the #2 will show up. #2 bus. anyway. all this public transportation shenanigans and i burble up like a cold sore and, sure she's game as long as i can walk and lay out my schpiel at the same time (truth: quite difficult).  nice? she was smiley and didn't swear even once, at me or the bus. she usually rides her bike to get where she's going, which endeared her to me almost as much as the way she said no, her cute top was not vintage (which is BS for odd-- i know this because i get this question a lot, e.g. You look real vintage), it's a nightgown from anthropology. i like a straight shooter who wears delicates on the outside. also, jeans that leave off so you can fully appreciate the badass boots -- that's good. Funny, practical, resourceful, wears nightgowns, not crazy -- why can't this woman represent Minnesota instead of michele god-told-me-to-wear-this-talbots-suit-from-the-90s bachmann?
P.S.  This caption box? No idea. I just press buttons. and stalk people.

     

Pyramid Pyramid Artist

 

Similar to the ever popular Duck Duck Goose (or Duck Duck Grey Duck for those of you who had limited childhood exposure to poultry), in this version, Pyramid Pyramid is the name of her jewelry shop on Etsy. And she's the artist. You take her photo and go run around the lake... wow, really tanked. it seemed a lot funnier in my mind. where it's now imprinted because i repeated pyramid pyramid 417 times so i wouldn't forget it.

nevermind.

Let's Look At Pattern!!!! Up, down and sideways on the dress, argyle on the knee-his (heart), tortoise on the tote she found in the trash, canvas on the boys' houseslipper/mocs (i know this because my brothers rocked these dogs while lounging, along with their sears jeans with iron-on patches on the knees) and...

big beaded ear-blings made by her very own self. i zoomed in like this so you could get the tote, dress and earrings in one strong dose, but all i can see is the guy pushing the woman in the wheelchair. she must be Nefertiti. pyramid pyramid.

the good, the bad and the ugly

the good

the bad

the ugly

trust me, my fragile ego has taken a roundhouse kick to the vitals. i actually just dug the ugly out of the trash in the interest of public safety -- while personally self destructive in the extreme, it speaks so much more than 1000 words about good things gone terribly terribly wrong. and then i could abuse the title from the well-known clint eastwood movie.
let's take it one step at a time: the good.
silk/acetate in a color that was concocted in a petri dish in italy by smashing photons (in my lab, photons are the tiny particles in photos that carry the color) under enormous pressure, similar to the recipe for an atom bomb, and then applying it by laser and sending the whole thing over to abra auto body for a super high gloss finish. then a 47" zipper was installed along with special self-wedging crotchal seams. wala!
the bad.
never say never.  i leave never for other people to say to me. and in this instance, i was at savers' 50% off (50% off sanity, hygiene, self-respect, everything) sale unsupervised and this is what happened. i laid down $1.99 for crocs. brain chemicals + lighting at savers = highly unstable compound.
the ugly.
whew, where to start. well i started by trying to wriggle into them once i got home from savers (they fit philosophically and that's all that mattered).  they are size too-small but in my upstairs hall mirror, the look was snooki minus a couple jello shots.  thus, acceptable. nay, desirable.  and seeing how the pants were not fully activated by the flat photo on top, i slipped them on (with the help of a wet vac) under a sheer vintage dress i'd just worn to trader joe's and involved dennis in this crime.  well you talk about activation -- the hello kitty flash went off and in an instant 50 shiny meters were added to my ass real estate, like a vast pink skating rink from hip to shining rump. when i uploaded the photo for editing, i got a flashing error message, something about toxic mass/she's gonna blow/shit like that. my point in pressing the publish-this-atrocity button was to illustrate the unvarnished (ok, highly varnished) truth about the latent evil in pink shiny pants. unless you are going to queens, ny in which case people will think you are the virgin mary and your photo will be on the front page of the NY Post.

Santa's Little Helper and other naughty stuff

 

Oops, forgot to rotate the photo so you'll have to rotate something else to fully appreciate Santa's Little Helper. Have you ever seen anything so wrong in all your life? Thank you Unique Thrift and thank you Jo White who took credit for the design and execution. This is not a costume my bad little elves -- this is fully lined, Grinch green couture designed for those who have been very very good at something with genuine rabbit fur keeping the knees warm.  What i wonder is, why isn't the head costume designer for Mad Men calling me right this minute?  Is it because she is not one of my three Facebook friends?  Is it because the fur in the photo above looks peed on? Uhuh, see below...

 

This is the pure-as-the-driven-snow real color, and look, you simply snip off the 102 spots it's tacked on for laundering the dress in case you pit it out playing reindeer games. Ho ho ho.

In keeping with our pre-season holiday hijinx and delightfully debauched review, I give you an adult dose of Italian-made booty-hugging sinsters. Neither me nor my hardwood floor do these items justice, my usual model, rascal, is alas, deceased, and dennis, like the other supermodels, won't get out of bed for under $15 $5.35/day.  If you have two or three glasses of wine and lay down some house beat and squint real hard, you can imagine the hand-stitched leather hip band barely covering the naughty bits, the italian made wool clinging to the two pigs fighting in a blanket and, holy commando -- they're fully lined in gold colored satin. the james bond-y secret back pocket is for the pliers you'll need to get these things off. that is absolutely not my witchy bloated finger.

the three charlie's angels

I was going to title this The Three Musketeers but then i assumed (there i go again, making an ass of u and me) they hadn't read the book because the last time it was on a required reading list was 1974. and they looked like whoop-ass kind of Charlie's Angels, a show i experienced vicariously as we (the northbrook hillbillies) did not have a TV yet -- the girl in the middle  above being the tough chick and the other two being the ones who smiled and said, hold it scumbag this curling iron is set to castrate, while their lipgloss be poppin the whole time. thus the title. 

you know, i think it's dumb to list the provenance of their clothes, partly because i asked like a fucking tool and promptly forgot, and partly because, what, you're going to run out and get her profusely grommetted badass hip party and awesome strawberry blond hair? not even. because it came from some pop-up store (the hair of course) that was unloading stolen perfectly legitmate merchandise and other excess stuff. probly. angel on the left? vintage orlon knit dress and robbin' hood boots she got in london, actually the very last pair in the whole city. which she got from kate moss. who has decided not to wear underpants in public any more, so there's no need for the boots. duh.  angel on the right was not satisfied with domestic tights so she went to london too and got these lacey bits which you cannot distinguish from Target goods thanks to my very plastic nice camera. (since i only recently got a clothes dryer and a microwave, things are not looking good for a camera with knobs anytime soon). i briefly noticed her canvas spatted boots but blew them off for...

her gigantic grill! where i normally keep a piece of spinach, she has a fake diamond! so much cooler! i can't help noticing, as i would if i was one of those very close talkers, that her skin is really really perfect. this is maybe not the kind of thing you want to find out from a stranger (i have absolutely no record of untoward dermatologic activity). i'm just saying.

more Cliches

Again with the hair scraps that speak of some kind of lively conflagration -- i like that.  but i also like these woven heels (on the feet of Cliche owner Josh Delayna Sundberg). real familiar they are -- the graphic black and white weave, the chunky covered heels.... and i went on a big information superhighway hunt and found the doppelgangers. prada, spring '11. try as i might, i could not upload the photo for your comparing pleasure, so click on the link below. sort of a lot of extra work but what the hell, you got nuthin going right?

http://www.polyvore.com/oook_prada_womens_accessories_2011/thing?id=24351146

 Grrrrrrrrrforsmokinhotness. Is it Lydia or is it hot in herrrrrrrre? She designs jewelry for Cliche and in fact made the waterfalls she's wearing above. wow.

Cliche was fresh as a dahlia

 

The genuine article, purchased at a rootin' tootin' Western store. The two-tone shore is purrrrdy, but the  cowgirl pleasin' natural fact is that these here two-steppers are stitched up by an outfit name of Reebok, so they're right comfortable sunup til sundown. If someone doesn't stop me from writing like a dadgum idjit I'm going to put a rope around my own neck and pull it real tight.

Goodness, I loathe westerns.

Oooooo, this is festive, isn't it?  Don't even look at her face yet-- we'll get to that. For now, focus on la cage aux frocks, dress behind bars, State Fair blue ribbon winner, bluebird in a cage of happiness....and i'm spent. no more capitol letters. isn't it swell? correct me if i'm right (wrong is what i do), but i think this movement in blue is by local designer Sarah Holm. it's available at Cliche, or was, for about 15 minutes after this crosswalk fashion event. then it sold out. did i mention this is a model? what gave it away? the shoes are her own and tie in (i am on fire) wonderfully. there is something that makes me happy about the neon catfight on the ground -- like two costumed mascots having a go, or the girls bathroom at Central.

Well huh, pink lips. Messing with you -- i'm a fan of blue hair. i think that's because i relate so strongly with marge simpson. the eye design is the anti-egyptian -- lined on the inside rather than the outside-- would that be the arab eye? hooooo boy, i feel walk like an egyptian coming on.

what the? no photo

http://laughingsquid.com/100-years-of-east-london-fashion-dance-and-music-in-100-seconds/


True, no immediate gratification and probably no one you know, but if you click on this link that i'm inordinately proud of successfully adding, you will be rewarded with rapidly moving, outrageously choreographed pictures of dance, history and fashion at once. you could even extrapolate social, geographic and cultural messages from this clip, making it significantly more mind-blowing than any single decapitated photo i may have been able to come by.