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Monday , July 27, 2009
Let's Cut Off Heidi Montag's Head And Hope Samantha Fox's Head Grows Back In Its Place
Up until a few weeks ago, when a buddy and I were reading Cosmo in bed on a lazy Saturday afternoon, I'd forgotten all about the existence of Samantha Fox (late'-80s popstar/Playboy model/professional "wild dame"). I can't recall what in particular dredged up the memory, but it makes sense that Cosmo would be the catalyst: Both Cosmo and Samantha are total trash, both fancy themselves so subversive and edgy when really they're just playing into the most utterly conventional notion of sexxxiness. But Samantha Fox is better than Cosmo 'cause she's so unintentionally kooky, as evidenced by the video for "Naughty Girls (Need Love To)." The part (at 2:22) when she demands "NO MORE FUN AND GAMES WITH THE MIND!" in that weird British-accented robot voice? Totally wacky! That's so my favorite non sequitur of the moment; I want everyone to use it at least once today, especially if you're in the process of breaking up with some evil and emotionally manipulative dude. I also want everyone to start referring to me as the "Samantha Fox of Fashion Bloggers," which will really encourage me to pursue my newly established goal of being "dirty but in a daffy way" on nogoodforme.com. Cool?
Another thing I want is to cut off Heidi Montag's head and have Samantha Fox's head grow in its place. Wouldn't that be a real treat to watch, albeit a very gross treat, like Sponch cakes? Think on it a little: What if Heidi Montag were this blatantly slutty hellcat instead of her actual plastic wackjob good-girl boring self? What if Heidi Montag had ambitions beyond becoming some creepy Jesus sextoy? What if Heidi Montag strutted around in pink hair and high-waisted stone-washed jeans and a black leather jacket with a yin-yang on the back? What if Heidi Montag ever behaved like someone you could actually imagine enjoying sex? What if Heidi Montag demanded "NO MORE FUN AND GAMES WITH THE MIND!" in a weird British-accented robot voice, then murdered her gross dumb sociopath of a husband with her bare hands?
I want all of this to happen, as swiftly as possible. And maybe it could, as Samantha and Heidi are kindred spirits in at least one way: Upon being asked, in the mid-'90s, how she could reconcile her dirrrty past with her then-newfound Christianity, Samantha replied: "God gave me my body. I know it has made many people happy. There is no conflict there." Similarly, a few months back on Twitter, Heidi accompanied a link to her puzzlingly low-budget "Blackout" video with the eloquently communicated observation that "God does not say to be ashamed of your body that he made." Then she said stuff like "getting a mani peti thank you Jesus!" and "why wont my hair grow?! forgive me God for caring so much!", and that was amazing too.
Of course, none of us here wants Heidi Montag to be ashamed of her body that God made. But, dude, if you're gonna hump a rope in a bikini on some deserted beach, at least look like you're having a good time doing it. When I was a nerdy fifth-grader watching MTV with some sodapop and a paper plate of microwave French fries after school, Samantha Fox seemed almost unnervingly dirty, but I never doubted that she was having heaps and heaps of fun. But Heidi Montag never seems like she's having fun, except when she's Twittering about shooting guns or eating corncakes. Heidi Montag is becoming some creepy Jesus sextoy, and I want to stop it, if only to keep it from happening to other girls too. Help? Cut off Heidi Montag's head for me? Or at least let's get her into some kind of British-dialect-coaching course, STAT.
Tags: Cosmopolitan magazine, cutting off Heidi Montag's head, fun with non sequitors, Greek mythology, Heidi Montag, MTV, Samantha Fox, saving the planet, Spencer Pratt, Sponch cakes, The Hills, the Samantha Fox of Fashion Bloggers, Twitter, videos
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Monday , February 23, 2009
Dear Demitri Martin: I Love You, Sort Of
One very gross and drizzly Friday afternoon a couple weeks ago, I spent an entire bus ride to Hollywood with my hood pulled way far down over my head and my face buried in the issue of New York magazine with Demitri Martin's shaving-cream-covered, possibly cute mug on the cover. I hated the world a little bit that day, and I had a hard time telling whether or not Demitri Martin was worthy of some tiny smidge of non-hate (something to be doled out oh-so-sparingly on gross/drizzly Friday afternoons when the bus is so damn crowded and the dude next to you keeps coughing on your head). Before reading the cover story I only knew D.M. as The Fourth Conchord (and/or the vastly less offensive half of The Crazy Doggz), which of course put him very much in my favor. But then three columns into the New York story, the writer says how Demitri's like a stand-up comedian Wes Anderson would dream up, and some big part of me went bleccccchhh, despite the fact that I generally love Wes Anderson (for better or worser). Plus, I don't trust people who ride unicycles.
But it's stupid to try to figure out whether you love or hate a comedian without actually just sitting and watching said comedian tell his jokes. So over the course of the past two weeks I've viewed the below video about 10 times, and now I can say with complete certainty that I love Demitri Martin, sort of. He gets 1,000 points for wearing blue PJs and playing acoustic guitar throughout his entire stand-up set, but then I have to subtract about 20 points for the Wes Anderson-esque preciousness of such posturing. (Sorry, I'm a jerk!) My favorite gag's the one that starts at 1:01, but the bits about the naming of B vitamins and carrots are pretty classic as well. You should watch his new Comedy Central show, maybe, and then tell me if this weird-haired boy is worth loving all the way.
Tags: Demitri Martin, Flight of the Conchords, jokes about B vitamins, unicyclists are untrustworthy, Wes Anderson
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Thursday , May 8, 2008
Sharon Tate's Threads
This is kind of intense, even for me: I was trolling the web in search of the latest "Gossip Girl" news (I'm totally hooked! Serena OMFG!!!) and discovered through this article that there's going to be an exhibition of slain actress Sharon Tate's clothes in L.A. later this summer. I don't know why this strikes me as really morbid -- most likely it's the gruesome constellation of facts surrounding Tate's murder in 1969. Tate was quite beautiful and fashionable back in the day, and it might be nice to remember her in ways other than the circumstances of her death -- but it still makes you go whoa, doesn't it?
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by Kat in Pop Culture
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Monday , April 28, 2008
Coachella '08! So, yeah, Coachella was this weekend! I didn't go (although I think I'm going to Pitchfork this year), but since being into the whole idea of summer music festivals is part of our stance on life, I thought it would have been fun to peep some of the pictures of famous and semi-famous people at the fest, if only to catch a glimpse at what everyone wore. But, um, there aren't that many pictures! At least not of people we are interested in. But here is Jenny Lewis of Rilo Kiley, who I always love: And here is M.I.A., looking kind of Blade Runner-y. I heard she had a stand-off with the show security after inviting people to join her onstage. I'm sure she was thinking "Bring the noise!" when the organizers were like "Insurance liability!" I got a text from a friend during her set that said "MIA'S STARTING A RIOT!!!!!" and I got really excited for some reason. And this is Sienna Miller. I don't know why I'm posting this since she borderline-annoys me, but it's a cool little dress she's wearing. Who ever thought that Dita Von Teese would be at Coachella? Not I! I kind of love her; if this photo isn't proof of how utterly committed she is to her aesthetic, I don't know what is. Oh, and here is Prince doing a cover of Radiohead's "Creep." It's kind of awesome even though watching this makes me seasick:
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Thursday , April 17, 2008
I Just Don't Know What To Do With Russell Brand So Forgetting Sarah Marshall's coming out tomorrow and I'm making bets with myself as to whether or not I'm gonna end up with a big fat crush on Russell Brand. Usually I'm crush-immune when it comes to English dudes, for some reason, but you never know who's gonna break the mold. I think the prob is that, now that Natalie Portman's made off with Devendra Banhart, I'm feeling some perverse need to find another unruly-haired quasi-bohemian dandy to fill the gross-out-crush void. Plus I'm vaguely charmed that Russell named his cat Morrissey, and even more tickled that he titled his memoir My Booky Wook. Anyway, here's a bit of his stand-up: Yeah? No? Totally not worth debating in the first place? I really can't tell. Natalie Portman, I shake my fist at you.
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by Liz in Pop Culture
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Tuesday , April 8, 2008
Dean Wareham's Black Postcards + Liz Phair As the New Michiko Kakutani I'm always in the middle of a million and one books, but the book I really, really, really want to read lately is the memoir of Luna frontman Dean Wareham, Black Postcards: A Rock & Roll Romance. I love a good rock bio; my favorites run the gamut from Grievous Angel, about Gram Parsons, to Dirt, which is of course the epic story of Motley Crue. But Dean's always been one of those guys I've had a half-crush on for years. First he swept me away with the celestial, seminal indie pop of Galaxie 500 and made "Tugboat" the anthem of my heart for years; then, he stole my heart again with a rougher, more jagged take on his trademark heavenly sound with Luna, whose record Penthouse made me feel cosmopolitan and sophisticated and melancholy when I was going to school in the jankiest town ever. He's got dreamy eyes and a wry, inscrutable way with his lyrics, which is always mystery-producing and therefore fetching. And once I saw his handwriting on a dusty old record at the radio station at Harvard, where he went to college, and I totally squealed, much to my best friend's disgust. Black Postcards was excerpted awhile ago in Men's Vogue, and I was completely riveted and surprised with how Wareham was both detached and incredibly honest, particularly about his infidelity in his marriage and his subsequent rock romance. I made a mental note to check the book out, but the book recently came back on my radar thanks to an incredibly lucid, smart review in The New York Times by none other than Liz Phair -- herself a 90s indie wunderkind. It's funny; I've been listening to Phair's Exile in Guyville again lately, which I haven't rolled out in years, and am both horrified and amused by how relevant its super-brainy, super-horny point-of-view still is and how it persists in our culture -- it's like a slacker "Sex and the City" rendered in sound, before Carrie and company were even a glimmer in HBO's eyes. Since then Phair's made albums that have made a once-promising discography go down the shitter, but she almost redeems herself with her review of Black Postcards. Check it out here and revisit some 90s-era Phair and Luna below: Luna playing one of their most beautiful songs in 1992 (and is that a Screaming Trees t-shirt he's wearing? I cannot think of two more temperamentally opposed bands): I find Liz Phair really obnoxious in most of her videos but this video for "Stratford-on-Guy" kind of rules. You will also note the name-check of Wareham's band Galaxie 500 within the song, which brings things around quite nicely:
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Tuesday , April 1, 2008
Hedi Slimane, Rock Star Hedi Slimane, Parisian menswear genius and former Dior Homme demigod, has been spotted around Los Angeles recently looking simultaneously morose and secretive. Everyone's been wondering what he's up to -- and now the answer's finally come to light. The modern-day renaissance man has done everything from design furniture to create installations to photograph rock stars -- and now he's looking to join their ranks, having just signed to Los Angeles-based record label Dim Mak. Cornered recently in a surf shop while fondling wetsuits ("Their proportions are so marvelous"), Slimane admitted to his long-dormant desire to become a rock star. "I have photographed them all this time. Most of them are passed out. I think to myself, This is an easy occupation. I think to myself, Why not me?" With his customary single-mindedness, Slimane called in a few favors and found himself in possession of a record contract, booking himself some studio time for later this month. Calls and emails to Dim Mak were not returned, although one flack admitted that they hadn't actually heard a note of Slimane's music. But such prosaic matters as songs do not perturb Slimane, who prefers to think of this phase of his career "more like conceptual art." He looks forward to designing record covers more than anything, and says he will only press vinyl for his recordings -- no digital downloads or even CDs allowed. "They are so ghastly," he says. "I prefer the, how do you say, aspect ratio of records. The scale." When asked about his look as a rock star, Slimane looks modestly down at his feet. "I begin with the shoe," he says thoughtfully, looking down at his high-heeled boots. "I do not know if these evoke Bowie in quite the way I wish for this project. Perhaps these are too Prince-like for this." And about the music he wishes to make? "It is an adventure," he says simply. "We all have to begin somewhere." Somewhere must be an interesting place: a few weeks later, Slimane sent out an email with an MP3 attached, consisting of a single drumbeat played on a loop for 22 minutes and 22 seconds. The email stated simply: "I thought 22:22 looked like a good running time." However, the track remains untitled. (PS - Have a happy April Fool's Day! And we love you, Hedi, we really do.)
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Monday , March 31, 2008
Kazu Makino and Bats for Lashes' Natasha Khan, Serious "Fusionistas" Wow, it must have been a "Indie Rock Hotties As Fashionista Musos" moment this past weekend. First those Joanna Newsom photos made the rounds, but did you catch these of Blonde Redhead's Kazu Makino (a recent nogoodforme Style Icon) and Bats for Lashes' Natasha Khan (who got my vote for some of the best stage attire last year)? From a feature entitled The Fusionistas in the New York Times Magazine, they're a bit more "90s Gap ad" in feel. They don't have the effect the Newsom photos have of surprising viewers with a shift in perception of the artist in question, but they all look lovely, nevertheless. And just for fun, here is a picture from the same editorial of a rock star among artists, Shirin Neshat:
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by Kat in Pop Culture
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Sunday , March 30, 2008
Joanna Newsom, Serious Fashionista Did you catch the Joanna Newsom interview in the latest issue of Paper? It's been interesting to follow the media coverage of the musical auteur of 2006's amazing Ys; everything at the beginning was all, "She's an elf! She's all weird!" and slowly it's moved away from that sort of half-mythologizing, half-patronizing characterization of the indie-folk harpist and singer. But it's been way fascinating to see where it's going now; the Paper interview keeps elements of the fairylike Joanna but it also name-checks some serious fashionista credentials, from her stage attire (Gucci and hot-pink Christopher Kane!) to her shoes (Christian Louboutins!) to her hangout activities in Manhattan (mani-pedis and Cafe Cluny!) to her rumored new boyfriend (SNL's Andy Samberg!) It's like "Joanna and the City," no? It's all a bit fabulous and the pictures are fantastic, but it sort of makes me miss the Joanna who wore funny woolly knee socks and moccasins and dated weirdo-perv/genius songwriter Bill Callahan of Smog. Still, everyone needs a healthy mix of high and low in their wardrobe, and she does look amazing wearing Rodarte, Sonia Rykiel, Three As Four and the like. Joanna wearing Rodarte: Joanna wearing Alexander McQueen: Joanna wearing Sonia Rykiel: Joanna wearing Three As Four:
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Friday , March 28, 2008
Sweet Valley High Sucks So, yeah, Random House is re-releasing the Sweet Valley High series: you know, the ones with those California-perfect twins, Elizabeth and Jessica, with their blond hair and perfect size 6 figures and shared red Fiat. I read the whole series when I was young, mostly when I couldn't grab a hold of the next Babysitters Club installment. (Claudia Kishi forever!) Of course, on this go-round the twins have been updated for a new generation: now they drive Jeep Wranglers (lame) and, get this -- their size 6s have now become size 4s. I gotta say, you can debate about "vanity sizing" and what not and how today's size 6 is more like an 8, but whatever -- it's still obnoxious. Thanks a lot, Random House, way to go for traumatizing a new generation of pre-teen girls with body image issues! You're the best, for realz! You know, I think this whole thing might just promote bulimia because I kind of vomited when I read the Random House press release. As the kids like to say on the internerd today: DO NOT WANT.
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