Friday, June 24, 2011

prurient at public assembly, 6/17/2011

Okay, so Dominick kept his shirt (his leather jacket) on after two years away. But thankfully, last Friday's show proved that his time in the increasingly annoying Cold Cave hasn't softened him too much. Wes Eisold's presence actually helped (note: I'm still not fond of him in any capacity) -- his relatively straightforward, logical playing and pop sensibilities made him a good foil to Fernow's more primal moments. Also, listen to "A Meal Can Be Made" off the upcoming/sorta already here if you still have a cassette player Bermuda Drain. What happened? It's pretty shiny. Borderline music. Is it a dance jam? IT IS A DANCE JAM. In theory.

Iceage, who were on right before Prurient, were good -- I just didn't get to experience anything because I kept getting pushed to the back of the room, and while New Brigade is a killer record, their live performance is still a bit hardcore by-the-numbers. It wasn't a letdown necessarily, just not the mindblowing performance hype (and photos of the bloodied lead singer) had led me to believe.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

plastic palace people

Is it just me, or did Resort 2012 fucking rule this year? I've never paid attention to it much, since I would never be a luxury season's target demographic. But this year, a lot of designers opened up to it in a way they haven't before; it's got the longest shelf-life of all collections, and pieces can be multi-seasonal. There were lovely urban greys from Helmut Lang and really cool (leopard???) prints and trousers from Preen, but the unstoppable Phoebe Philo really took the cake at Celine:

I have genuinely been thinking about plastic outerwear a lot lately. First there was this amazing PVC motorcycle jacket from Comme Des Garçons, and then I gave Diva a revisit. It's one of my favorite films for many reasons -- the blurring of the lines between high- and lowbrow, the balance of style-over-substance to a totally nebulous, convoluted plot involving an opera obsessive on a motorbike, a philosopher in his "cool period" who sits in a bathtub while his teenage Asian petty-thief girlfriend (?) rollerblades around, and a prostitituion ring, and I love the early '80s overuse of blue light. The aforementioned teenage Asian petty-thief teen has a killer plastic raincoat that scrunches with every move:

There's also plastic -- mixed in with other transparent, reflective materials -- in Bildnis Einer Trinkerin as one of many extraordinary hi-glam anarcho costumes designed by star Tabea Blumenschein (let's talk about her for a moment: did you know she was part of Die Tödliche Doris? And recorded a cracked-out Christmas single with Bettina Köster and Gudrun Gut of Malaria!? SO AWESOME). I'm sure we could find plastic coats in a whole host of late '70s/'80s hyper-stylized films...Liquid Sky, The Hunger perhaps? (Actually, none in The Hunger, not even that glorious opening scene. I think I like to misremember that movie as better than it actually was.)

I thought I'd gone all minimal. Is this my New Romantic tackiness coming out? Is there something we can make of this fleeting obsession (kids, never trust your film fashion inspirations: I have a friend who bought a denim vest after seeing the brooding antihero in some 1950s kitchen-sink drama and just ended up looking like a scrawny gogo dancer), especially when it comes to trenchcoats? Something about the teasing hypersexuality, the exhibitionism of a flasher coat + the exhibition of see-through material? Its artificiality or outdated vision of a dystopian sci-fi future? Wouldn't it just smell really bad?

klaus nomi and friend mean muggin'

Designers lately seem to have tempered its more outlandish tendencies and used plastic as an interesting, textural layering piece. The Celine coat above is divine -- the softness, the gradated grey, everything. If there's anyone who can make me feel right about plastic, it's the (active -- sorry Jil Sander) queen of minimalism.

jil sander mens s/s 2012

comme des garçons PVC motorcycle jacket

Please, weigh in with examples of your own -- perhaps some from the '90s? -- to convince me I'm not crazy or tasteless.

TASTEFUL EDIT! How the hell could I have forgotten Joanna Cassidy's coat in Blade Runner?

Okay. NOW weigh in.

Monday, June 13, 2011

summer pop

Oy. Three months and counting totally counts as a capital-H Hiatus, right? If anyone's lingered, apologies for dropping off the radar entirely. Even I can't quite say what I've been doing that's kept me away from the computer (I've been on the computer).

But in that long span of time between the shearling jacket-under-peacoat weather of early March and today, when it cooled down ever so slightly, summer totally happened. And while I've most certainly brought out the old "goths in hot weather" standbys -- notably paper-thin, slowly unraveling Obesity & Speed tops, sheer black button downs, and shroudy dresses -- the heat advisory index also justifies silly colors like lilac. (Wait until you see me in THAT one, oh Internet.) And if anyone can point me in the direction of a good sheer cobalt blouse, I'd be eternally grateful. Or tell me where in New York Cushnie et Ochs retails. I've been itching for this dusty floral button-down since, like, October.

With the grave danger of smudgy eyeliner, I've even taken a major step back in the black kohl department. The above is a sadly grainy shot of me sporting NARS' Funny Face fuschia; since I've well mined the depths of purple and plum lipstick, pink is kind of a terrifying territory. What the hell's next? Coral?! (hey, why not blue? My '90s post was eerily prescient.)

Summer also lends itself well to pop music: namely, the solo debut of my favorite Girl Aloud, alabaster cosmetics entrepreneur, and ginger goddess Nicola Roberts. While "Beat of My Drum" proves that Diplo continues to beat the dead horse that is a Major Lazer sample (and I LIKED "Pon De Floor." And I also LIKE Beyoncé's "Run The World (Girls)." Loads. I just don't have to hear it fifty times), "Porcelain Heart" and the recently leaked "Dance the Rain" demo show definite, heartbroken dance-pop promise à la Robyn or Sophie Ellis-Bextor.

More of substance to come. I'm really jazzed for Northside Festival -- the widdle L Magazine baby's all grown up and getting Guided by Voices! I'll be covering the whole shebang over at Prefix, but I'm most excited to check out Iceage, who I can sloppily describe as a Danish teenage Fucked Up by way of late-'70s goths.

I always link people to this one. Partly because it's a genius little clanger, and partly because of the giant smile homeboy on the right is sporting. Would YOU deny that face?!