Fashion Is Important: Fashion's Night Out, NYC

Fashion Week is here again, as it always is, everyday, everywhere, into eternity until we all die fat, ugly and wearing the only clothes we can afford (dishrags, from H&M). On Thursday, Fashion Week Eve, there was the Fashion's Night Out boutique walk on shopping streets around Manhattan, and since my friend Alyson had tickets to go to a promotional party-type-thing for ABC's new Pan Am show starring Christina Ricci at the Lisa Perry store on Madison Ave. on the Upper East Side, I invited myself along because I'm a big fan of free alcohol.

This Pan Am party had everything: ninja dwarfs, pepperoni and opium pizza, a live Blue Man Group circle jerk, gorilla trannies, a glittery (but, let's face it, ahistorical) reenactment of the Battle of the Bulge, and a row of Virgin Mary pinball machines with gay samurais dancing on top. I don't have pictures of any of that, sadly, but I do have these:

Hey, it's Christina Ricci's blurry face! She looks adorable in that stripey thing, but surely this dumb Droid phone can get a better picture than that.

Ok, this is as good as it gets. I'm not good with this thing when I'm under pressure. I'll tell you this, though. Christina Ricci was cute, tiny, and all that, but she's had some awful bullshit pumped into her lips. They looked like gummy worms, for real. She's too young for that idiocy. Come on, Ricci, we expected better. (Silver lipstick and a blue wig? Maybe.)

Anyway, here's some photos of some fake Pan Am stewardesseses.

And me with one of them. She was sweet. I wonder how much these fake stewardesses get paid, cause I'm out of a job soon. (You can just go ahead and ignore that sweat streak made by my bag. I'd just biked cross- and uptown, like 50 blocks, gimme a break! Sweat is fashion forward, anyway.

We twirled on down Madison to this shop, which had a cotton candy machine that just sent people into paroxysms of joy, since cotton candy is so easy to throw up.

My girl Alyson points at the popcorn machine because why not?

Okay, here we come to a window display we can all really sink our teeth into. What shop was this again? Oh, who cares, there are women dressed as peacocks writhing in the window. They were locked in a pose-a-thon deathmatch for about five minutes, and I think the girl on the left (also featured in the top photo) won. (Alyson thinks it's because the girl on the right isn't used to dancing around without a pole, and I kind of agree.)

Here's a scene at Jimmy Choo. This cute coterie of costumed young-uns kept having their picture taken by one of the shop assistants, so I felt like I should take one too.

Alyson and Lisa get ready to cut a bitch over some boots.

And now we've arrived at Agent Provocatuer, which sells dirty silky underthings. They had a whole paparazzi theme going on, which meant real-live human mannequins in the windows, upstairs and downstairs.

The view from inside looking out, at the "paparazzi" trying to get all up in that.

Outside again. Was trying to get a good photo of that dude in the black t-shirt and suspenders, because he's the sexiest fake paparazzi photographer I've ever encountered. (And I've encountered my share in the weekends I've spent hiding in the bushes outside Charo's dude ranch.)

Here's a short powerful film I made about two young models finally making it big in New York and getting the respect they deserve.

Alyson thinks this edible bra looks delicious.

Good lord, all HELL broke loose at this shop when folks on the street discovered that Nikki Minaj and one of her wigs were exiting. There she is, posing with a fan. Some old person said "who is Nikki Minaj?" and Alyson said, "She's basically the black Lady Ga Ga." This is quite true.

So as a freaking ginormous cluster of people follow Nikki and her entourage as they walked to her shiny black SUV, cameras were frantically clicking and human lives were hanging in the balance, because Jesus, Nikki Minaj fans, stop trying to push me into traffic, okay bitches? It was insane. I struggled to get a photo with my dumb phone that is SO FREAKING SLOW COME ON, DROID THIS IS 2011! Above, there she is in her car.

This one is dark and poetic. Is she looking at me with a genuine smile or with bravely concealed fear. Undeterminable, because I forgot to turn the flash on, dammit.

And that's my fashion report. Wasn't it stupid?!

Fashion is Important: Men's Summerwear Edition

There's nothing more instructional than a men's summerwear catwalk pose-a-thon. That's why the Men's Fashion Week extravaganza in Milan was the most educational event to take place in the world since Live Aid. It's extremely important for us hot dudes to know what to wear to Brighton Beach, where we go every summer Sunday to do laps in the ice-cold Absolut swimming pool. And I don't know about you guys, but I wouldn't be caught dead NOT wearing the above collection of epileptic and ball-hugging pattern explosions. Why? Because stripes are slimming, especially when they're spastically shooting out in every possible direction: they confuse people into thinking you're thin, hooray!

There's a word for this ensemble, but that word is Russian and I don't know how to type/pronounce it. But it really sums things up quite nicely.

In conclusion, in the future all men will look like they were mauled by a gaggle of bitchy gay zebras.

Fashion is Important: Throttled Models Edition

We've all seen models on the catwalk and simply wanted to wring their necks for looking so irritating, dead-eyed, and entitled. We're only human. But who knew that fashion designers often want the same thing, of their models? (I mean, we assumed, but we didn't know.)

Well, French designer Jean-Charles de Castelbajac made it official yesterday at Paris Fashion Week while unveiling his Fall/Winter 2011-12 collection: he wants his models throttled. Fabulously. He's not necessarily suggesting model murder. No, stop assuming the worst. He's only suggesting that women look better--indeed, they feel better--when they have a pair of sleek, reassuring hands surprising them from behind and gripping their neck parts to make sure their heads are on straight. But who can afford to hire someone to perform that service all day? Starving models, but who else? Not my lady friends. This is why de Castelbajac introduced this new clothing item, which he has probably called "The Literal Choker (No Really)," in honor of International Women's Day.

This new neck wrap will be a big hit in America in a few years when it trickles down to Target, though they'll have to make larger sizes because we've got big necks and sausage fingers. But that's fine; just more surface area for bedazzling.

Vestments Update: They Now Come in Green!

Like all of you, I sometimes find myself walking the freezing New York streets in the middle of winter, clad in the drab clothing I used to wear in the mines, desperate for the warm glow of some reassuring fashion. And there is no clothing more glamorous and reassuring than vestments, am I right? Which is why I was so thrilled to come upon the above window display on 7th Avenue. Have you ever seen a saucier display of liturgical garments? No, you haven't.

I can't tell you the number of times I've opened my closet door in the morning and looked in vain for a cassock-and-stole vestment combo that didn't make me weep with boredom. Not anymore. This store on "Fashion Avenue" has made my winter a little bit warmer. Because I hear they also have lycra Mormon temple garments and yamulkes made of chocolate.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Some Gay-Ass Window Display on 9th Avenue

It's Fashion Week again, I guess, or something, because good Lord there were a bunch of tedious people clustering here, there, and everywhere in the West Village last Friday as I rode my bike home. The point is, I'm never invited to the good parties. Because there was something Olympian going on at this boutique on 9th Avenue that I had no idea was happening and that you needed special goggles to truly appreciate. Why was this kept from me? Sure, I mostly shop at H&M, but I have very fashionable taste in abs, and I'm on a few mailing lists.

Anyway, my camera phone was there and decided these dudes needed photographing because they were trying so hard.

Fashion is Important: Hats

As you all know, it's always Fashion Week somewhere in the world, and this week it's Brazil, home of that new ass dance that everyone everywhere is not doing because it's gross and stupid. In Sao Paolo this past Tuesday, the dynamic and vitamin-fortified model above sported a hat designed by the great (?) Erika Ikesili, whose motto is apparently "So what? Who cares?"

"I sayed sew the dead bird feathers onto the hobo hat I pulled from the subway grating, you beetches," she probably said to her starving underlings in her studio during a brainstorming session last season. "Thees hat needs to be ready for Sao Paolo by June and eet must be heeeedeoous!"

In conclusion, Lady Gaga has already worn this hat to a Mets game.

Fashion is Important: Paris Projection

You guys, this is just plain lazy. Manish Arora, a designer from India whose first name is a useful adjective, couldn't even be bothered to put actual patterns on her his new ready-to-wear collection. Instead he just leans back, snorts the last bit of blow off those awesome blow-dipped pretzels they have backstage at all fashion shows, and relies on the Paris fashion people to project something interesting onto the various pieces he has provided them with. So jejune, and I don't use that word lightly. (I've never used that word.)

You know how you're completely devoid of any artistic talent whatsoever and then you go to an art show and you're all like "shit, I could do better than that motherf**king bullshit"? Well, this is kind of the same thing. Just show up at a Paris show with some hobo rags and your best slide projector, find an electrical outlet, and proceed to show the world your best shots of Brazil, Coney Island, or wherever you went last summer, projecting them onto some grandma panties you found in a trash can on the corner of Broadway and Houston. Then voila! You're a designer with vision.

In conclusion, the above photograph is a visual representation of the creative process behind Sarah Palin's new memoir.

Runway Report: New York Fashion Week

As you all know, New York Fashion Week is a special week in New York that takes place every week in New York. It is dedicated to the visionary presentation of new blouses, trousers, accessories, and tarantula-like hats that everyone will be going apeshit over at the Target 2 or 3 years from now, once these weird new designs filter down to the mass market.



I'm gay, so I'm automatically into fashion, duh, even if I dress like a hobo. And even though I have no idea what A-lines, balaclavas, gussets, bishop sleeves, havelocks, minaudieres, peplams, or empire waists are--and, worse, I've never understood the existence of clutches--my friend Susanne invited me to a fun show at Saint Mark's Church to take in a new line of goth street urchin clothes for men by designer Odyn Vovk and accessories by designer Black Sheep & Prodigal Sons. An adorable gaggle of young goths and their friends gathered to witness the awesome and frightening parade of sinewy, boney, hallow-cheeked, and zombie-eyed young vampires sprinting down the runway in their borrowed clothes. In a church! Is that even allowed, by Sarah Palin?


Susanne and a cute designer named Corey, who I would probably know if I knew anything about fashion and clutches.



Me crouching behind Susanne, terrified that someone will find out my favorite shop is H and M.




There was much revelry and comparing of eyeliner before the show. I told one tall black leggy devastatingly gorgeous young woman that I just loved her hoop earrings and she asked me if I was "taking the piss." Priding myself on my knowledge of English slang, I told her that, no, I wasn't "taking the piss," I was "taking the mick." There's a difference. But seriously, I did love her hoop earrings.




Anyway, these undead hotties walked down the catwalk so fast that my camera phone couldn't keep up, and since I didn't have a real camera with me, these shots are my only proof that this event even happened. But whatever, Susanne will send me some shots, I'm sure (Susanne?), and anyway, there'll be another Fashion Week next week, so someone buy me an iPhone.








UPDATE!: Susanne has delivered unto me some (slightly) better pics of the show, so I've added those below. The most important one, obviously, is the last one, which features identifiable manflesh.

Fashion is Important: Floral Edition

All of NYC's tulips and pansies are atwitter about the 8th Annual Tulips and Pansies fashion show that happened yesterday. It was picketed by a bunch of dumb hippies who don't believe in killing flowers for fashion, but the show was still a screaming success.


All it takes is some flowers to turn an ordinary doormat into an explosion of glamour.


You have to be really careful when wearing this one; I once wore it to a picnic and a bee tried to pollinate my eyeball.