This is actually what most of my wardrobe looked like for a couple of years – tons of thin layered basics. Things got so dire that I actually had to make a “no more buying basics” rule, which I observe even now.
My friends and relatives seem to have suddenly noticed this shift [or they think I look particularly uncomfortable] because this year I’ve received soft, thin layer items from both my dear friend Lumi and my mom. To be honest, it’s really kind of nice.
Ah, Soviet socio-political satire, ah Russian dystopia. Could anything be greater than a combination of both, in movie format? Unlikely, says Kin Dza-Dza! – a minimal and clever sci-fi masterpiece from the ’80s. Written and directed by revered director Georgi Daneliya, this film from my early years was only allowed to see the light of day thanks to its creator’s reputation. The plot revolves around the story of two oddballs who accidentally teleport to the mysterious planet Pluk in the Kin Dza-Dza galaxy. Fiddler and Uncle Vova unwittingly activate a device belonging to a hobo who claims to be an alien, and the fun begins.
Pluk’s inhabitants are a strange bunch; far advanced in technology, though scarcely evolved socially, with command of only a 2-word vocabulary. They look exactly like humans, have the power of telepathy, yet use a tool that divides all being into two groups – superior and inferior. Uncle Vova and Fiddler have many interesting encounters in store, and much to overcome if they’re ever to make it home.
Kin Dza-Dza! is rich with [not entirely subtle] critique of Communism and the poignant bitter humor I expect from Soviet Era films along with crunchy puns, rust, dust, and a Mad Maxy landscape throughout. Steampunk costumes and gadgets make appearances and are actually utilized in a way that makes sense! It’s a shame this Russian cult favorite isn’t better known – I deem it worthy of the pickiest sci-fi fans, provided they can get past the complete lack of any special effects.
Sow was a short-lived but prolific project of spoken word artist Anna Wildsmith, her once boyfriend Raymond Watts of Pig and several members of KMFDM. Among other gritty eclectic compositions on their 1998 album “Sick”, the title track stood out and forged itself into my brain. Wildsmith screeches, cries and whispers through some of the strangest lyrics you’ll ever feel forced to pay attention to. Appearing fully nude on all of “Sick” album art, Anna carries the theme over into the vocal tracks, too. Her voice, though beautiful at its core, is distorted into nerve-endings and vocal chords stripped raw – commanding, compelling and frail.
Sow only released two full-length albums: “Je M’Aime” in ’94 and “Sick” in ’98, but remains one of my favorites to this day. Since, there have been 3 newish tracks released through Euphonic Productions which can be heard here. Little is known about Anna’s current whereabouts. During a 1999 interview with Release magazine she was living in a primitive French village, writing and hoping [though not especially planning] to release more albums. If anyone knows what she’s up to these days, I’d love to hear about it.
Caroll Christian Poell’s website simply shows a floating boot, its distressed leather and stitching dim in the murky water. An obsession with drowning, flesh and its deterioration comes through everything this Austrian-born designer creates. I actually hesitate to call CCP a designer, because so much of what he makes looks like it belongs in an art gallery. Accurately described as “elegant armor” on jcreport.com, some of his clothes are so stiff they stand up on their own, or so awkward and restricting that wearing them is often impractical.
The notoriously secretive Poell does not talk to media and is only sold in a handful of shops throughout the world. None of his lines are mass-produced, which makes them even more desirable to his growing [and wealthy] cult following.
And speaking of infinite blackness, what could be more darque than Shakespeare recited in the rain? Abandoned and wasted, Withnail, antihero of the comedy masterpiece Withnail and I, laments his ultimate failure to the wolves. This monologue shows him truly aware, for the first time, of the vast emptiness that is his life. Happy Monday!
“I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth,
forgone allcustom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame,
the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory,
this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! In form and moving how
express and admirable! In action how like an angel!
In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the
world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither…”
You must have the right boots for a proper lunar adventure, this much I know. These asteroid-stompers don’t hover or have any sort of built-in propulsive devices [yet], but they do actually make me walk even faster. Something about the physics of their height and weight! It’s a start.
“A Louis XIV confection or occasional Nancy Sinatra-esque chanteur/chanteuse in gold glitter boots with world-class vocal talent. No lip-syncing for Mr. Quale, who is a true artist and transforms himself Klaus Nomi style once he graces the stage. Nina Hagen would be proud, as would Diamanda Galas.” – Roy Rogers Oldenkamp for WeHoNews.com
I’m surprised to have wated taken this long to mention the luminous Prince Poppycock. I’ve been amused, enamored and confused by this marvelous creature ever since the pleasure of sharing the stage with him last spring in La Belle Époque.
Part randy dandy, part rock star, part drunken courtesan, Poppycock instantly owns the audience with but a glance and a wiggle of bedazzled pantaloons, and that’s just the beginning. His operatic prowess, glamourous costumes and ostentatious prose leave not a heart unstirred. A masterpiece of self-transformation, the Prince is also recording artist John Quale, but I’m secretly hoping Poppycock will take over completely one day, to reign supreme in a glittery victory of feathers and gold spandex.
Powerful women – what a dull world we’d have without them! Comrade Shien Lee is a striking cocktail of brains, ambition and grace. A musician, student and sometimes model, she moved to New York last summer and has not wasted a speck of time, launching Dances of Vice on August 18 – within just weeks of her arrival. Named after an expressionist Rosa von Praunheim film, DoV is a self-described dance and cabaret club, held at the Pussycat Lounge. Since its recent opening Shien’s project has gained significant momentum and popularity despite her being a newcomer in the notoriously soul-hungry city.
Shien Lee and Lucas Lanthier
Co-hosting the monthly event with Lucas Lanthier [Cinema Strange, Deadfly Ensemble] she’s welcomed a lofty roster of guest performers, among them Jill Tracy, Tempest Storm and Oryx Incruentus, and held a fashion show by Coilhouse favorite Vecona. There are art exhibits, live cello and jazz bands, vintage-style photos of the club’s patrons on a paper moon. She’s created a genuine modern-day salon – an inherently wonderful concept.
DoV festivities
In today’s revivalist boom it’s refreshing to see a place that not only brings light to the very best of vintage aesthetics, but also encourages the attendees to be creative and original. The proof is in the event photos – happy patrons making the kind of effort I thought was long lost; actually having fun with costumes instead of slapping on another vinyl cincher over a fishnet top. It’s no wonder Dances of Vice got such a positive write up in the New York Post, describing patrons who “flounced around the room in an Edwardian powdered wig, others marched in WWI uniforms, and still others posed in 1940s pinup wear”. So nice to see credit given where it’s due – Dances of Vice earned it, and with some inspiring speed.
Rasputina, one of the acts performing at the Dances of Vice Festival
Shien’s showing no signs of slowing down, either. Next on the agenda is the first Dances of Vice festival – a two-day event in February featuring an impressive bouquet of talent. Rasputina, The Deadfly Ensemble, Desert Sin, Nicki Jaine, Victorian fencing, and that’s just half of it. There will be an art exhibit, which I’m thrilled to be part of alongside talented artists like Lisa Mei and my pal Molly Crabapple. And! There will be a costume ball. If you’re in New York this February 8 and 9, you know what to do. See you there!
I’ve been dying for a pair of wide-leg slacks ever since my trip to Tokyo and finally found these last week for a measly $10 on sale at a Melrose Ave. shop. Ten bucks is a small price to pay for this much excellence, even if I do end up having them hemmed. For the moment I’m enjoying the stilt-walking dandy look by wearing them with 5″ platforms.
Dolls have long been fetishised and it’s to be expected, really – perfect skin, stylized features, limitless hair possibilities and endless wardrobe options are all enticing. In alt modeling the idea of the living doll is prevalent, in and out of Japan the Elegant Gothic Lolita style has provided much doll-like fashion, and of course in folklore living dolls exist as well. But now you might be asking yourself – damn it, what about mannequins! Aside from that 80s movie, what’s out there?
Behold, the Living Dollhouse. Not for the weak of constitution, this Pandora’s box of an internet archive has all you ever dreamed of. Mannequin fiction, mannequin photos, mannequin art – it’s all there just for you. Perhaps you, now a bit shaken, are wondering how I came across such a site. Like the Dollhouse owners, I like mannequins. I currently own four, having recently rid myself of four others due to overcrowding, and was innocently hoping to find some costuming inspiration. But, as is the way of the Web, the Living Dollhouse is what I got instead. Now I feel dirty and you will too.
