Last time in latex, Coilhouse showed you how to re-enact that deleted scene from Alien using a thousand-dollar inflatable rubber alien egg. But that was child’s play compared to the great opus of short cinema above, in which MAC Cosmetics obviously takes a cue from our post to re-enact the Sanrio version of Alice in Wonderland (itself a brilliant re-interpretation of the 1971 classic novel), in full rubber gear. Want to really fall down rabbit hole? Complete the circle. Re-enact the re-enactment. Our guide to making it happen, below.
Before you even buy the first bag of cotton candy, memorize the Necronomicon. Otherwise you’re going to be wasting thousands of dollars on mere cosplay folly, and that’s not what this is about. This sacred ritual requires the aforementioned 900 bags of cotton candy (dollar store!), one anorexic virgin (dollar store!), one black cat (use Clairol Silken Black only), Grace Slick (dead or alive; it’ll work better if she’s dead, though), 25 kilograms of LSD (or 5 YouTube hours of Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Good Job, if you’re broke), the most racist golf course you can find, and one giant inflatable vagina. Before the ritual, purify yourself with thrift store douche under the full rose-fingered moon and sprinkle the shimmering dust of a crushed Katy Perry CD in a circle around yourself and your 12 naked, glistening, totem-headed disciples. Shit’s about to go down.
Of course, none of this will work without proper ritual garb. The catsuit in the MAC Masterpiece was created by Atsuko Kudo, and they’re willing to replicate this sacred garment to any Initiate seeking to penetrate the soft parts of the world. But the real trick here is the animal heads, and that’s where MAC failed to bring about the destruction of mankind. They thought they could bring humanity to an end merely with the force of Hello Kitty… and though Hello Kitty is strong, the Great Old Ones will only listen if Pikachu, Astro Boy, Duracell Bunny and the great Callisto all call out ot them in union. That is the secret that we open to you on this great night. Now go. Go with haste. Make us proud.
Dontcha love it when we get it right? I love high-budget, haute-goth fashion editorials and seeing big-name designers go dark on the runway, but there’s something especially satisfying about seeing designers “of the scene” really pull off something spectacular from start to finish, from garment to finished photograph. It’s a pleasure when designers not only produce gorgeous garments, but really get involved in presenting them in a certain way. In this case, Tea Bauer, creator of Slovenian fashion label Degenerotika (previously featured here), borrows a page from Vintage Vogue to give us the wonderfully classic, textured and geometric “when-Leeloo-met-Irving-Penn” fashion image above. I love everything about it! More large-size images from this series, after the jump.
Yellow hair? Yum! Coat’s not too shabby, either. Degenerotika is definitely one to watch.
The quintessence of Lux. (Couldn’t find a photo byline for this. Anyone know?)
Oof. Lux Interior, lead singer of The Cramps, died earlier today of a pre-existing heart condition, aged 62. He is survived by his maximumrocknroll wife of almost 40 years, guitarist Poison Ivy.
The Cramps’ genre-defining “psychobilly” sound was unlike anything else to originate from the late 70s NYC punk scene –sharp, savage, sexy, filthy, campy, goofy, sometimes just plain sick— and Lux retained his gritty, untamed edge until the very end. From their publicist’s official press release:
[The Cramps’] distinct take on rockabilly and surf along with their midnight movie imagery reminded us all just how exciting, dangerous, vital and sexy rock and roll should be and has spawned entire subcultures. Lux was a fearless frontman who transformed every stage he stepped on into a place of passion, abandon, and true freedom.
Oh, Lux, we’re gonna miss you so much. A eyeball martini toast to you and your fiery spirit, with loving thoughts for Ivy during this painful time.
An unforgettable clip of Lux Interior in action from URGH! A Music War.
Click below for more photos, blurbs and video footage of The Cramps from over the years.
If you’ve always wanted to recreate this creepy deleted scene from Alien, here comes your chance! Latex blog 3XL reports that London-based company d.vote has created an inflatable bondage ball shaped like the terrifying eggs from the seminal space horror film. At a price of £950.00, the Alien Egg promises to deliver “the ultimate sensory deprivation experience.” Check out the jazzy animated gif and description from the manufacturer’s site:
The Alien Egg is made from two ‘skins’ of rubber. The outer layer is made of thick 0.8 mm rubber whilst the inner layer is made of medium 0.5 mm rubber. Each skin can be made in different colour to give the Egg the maximum visual effect. It has a British Respiratory Gas Mask inside which has a double length corrugated tube going to the outside for breathing
You enter the Alien Egg and put on the respiratory mask which connects to the exterior through a tube. The four full length zips quickly close the Alien Egg holding your entire body inside its rubber walls. When inflated, the Alien Egg restricts all movements from within and isolate you perfectly inside its shell.
My favorite selling point: “In d.vote’s Alien Egg… No one can hear you scream!” Well, if you’re going to get yourself one of these happy places, why not go all the way and transform yourself into a complete rubber monster? For another €1037.50, you can get the heat-sensitive, color-changing Jelly Fish Corset with “inflatable hip lips” that’s pictured above right, and then the alien experience (and possibly, your whole life) will be complete. Disclosure: for all my poking fun at latex price tags in this post, I should note that a few years ago I had the pleasure of photographing the exact corset pictured above, and I can say that to the discerning collector/fetishist, it’s worth every penny. I see it more as a sculpture than a garment, and hope to see Pressure creator Siba Kladic produce more pieces, though she’s been quiet on the web for years. Like Kariwanz, Siba’s work transcends the raunch of run-of-the-mill rubberwear and enters a far more sublime, uncharted sex/fashion landscape. For more tentacular creations, visit her site, Pressure Corsets.
It’s time for another tribute to the greatest photo-sharing experience the Web has to offer, Flickr. This installment does not showcase one of the many talented photographers and artists decking Flickr’s halls with their creations, but a different breed of flickr-er [flickree? flickroo?] – the curator. Flickr user MyVintageVogue uploads hundreds of incredible scans from vintage fashion magazines. These images, dating between the 1920s and 60s, fill me with daily awe of the elegance of old-school photography.
The immaculate make-up and hair, jaw-dropping composition and strict tailoring not only hold up but are excellent examples of Doing It Right. Some of these actually remind me of Nadya’s work, which brings me to another observation: fetish themes. My opinion is colored by years of admiring fetish photography, but just look at this image from Vogue Magazine, 1957!
And how about this Horst P. Horst shoe revelry from 1941?
And there is so much more! Between the impossible silhouettes, futuristic elements and avant-garde designs you’re guaranteed to slip into a trance while browsing this photo-stream. Tread with caution before you click the jump – a bounty of MyVintageVogue eye candy awaits!
Gather round, loves. One of our favorite longtime readers, Renaissance man and gentleman pervert Jerem Morrow, is finally dipping his toes into our fetid staff jacuzzi with this fond review of one of the most depraved Australasian cult films east of Bad Boy Bubby. Lets give him a warm round of nervous laughter and stifled coughing, shall we? The subject matter calls for nothing less!
‘Decade or more ago, I frequented an antiquated video store. Kinda place that still had VHS tapes. Crappy paintings of giant monsters, gangsters and vixens adorned the walls. It was called Video Adventures. The proprietor, Brian, was a true film aficionado, someone you never got tired of listening to ramble. That wonderful place saved me from whatever blockbuster atrocities the theaters were pumping out at the time.
Still, I wanted more. Something beyond the Evil Deads, Rocky Horrors and Blade Runners. Love them though I did (and do), I needed more boundary-pushing. My friends and I began an experiment: Proprietor Brian compiled a list of his 100 Least Rented Movies, and we endeavored to watch each and every one. Now, in my twilight years, my brainmeats aren’t what they used to be, but something tells me we didn’t make it quite so far. Still, a few gems passed before our cinephile eyes.
Pre-LoTR Peter Jackson at his most outrageous. It’d be theBraindead/Bad Taste creator channeling Weird TV, had WTV happened first. It’s manic. It’s horrid. It’s brilliant trash cinema. Sweet transvestites find a kindred spirit in this fox puppet crooning a song entitled “Sodomy”. (Five words. Giant. Golden. Glitter. Splooging. Penises.)
Before I saw Bakshi‘s film version of Crumb‘s Fritz the Cat, I was traumatized by walrus-on-literal-sex-kitten soft-core. How about a journalist fly on the wall, mouth full of shit and wee insect heart full o’ spite? Check. Bunnies doing what bunnies do best, but with terrible, terrible consequences? Check. Strung out frog/lizard thingies languishing in a P.O.W. camp? Check. Lovesick singing hedgehogs? Check. Cow-on-cockroach fetish video? Hoo boy, check. And that ain’t the half of it.
Yes, Jackson and crew made me spew “WTFOMGODZILLA” before most anyone else. Maybe Richard O’Brien popped my cherry, but Rocky felt like home, whereas Meet The Feebles was outright alien territory. I was utterly unprepared for the brainpan dervish that played out before me, wracking me with I’MNOTREADY joy.
I can say, with absolute certainty, that renting it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Mother, I am in love with a robot.
No, she isn’t going to like that.
Mother, I am in love.
Are you, darling?
Oh yes, mother, yes I am. His hair is auburn, and his eyes are very large. Like amber. And his skin is silver.
Silence.
Mother, I’m in love.
With whom, dear?
His name is Silver.
How metallic.
Yes, It stands for Silver Ionized Locomotive Verisimulated Electronic Robot.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Mother…
Thus opens Tanith Lee’s 1981 future inter-being romance, The Silver Metal Lover, a heart-wrenching exploration of romance, tech and yes, love.
It tells the story of Jane, plain by the standards of her future oligarchic city-state (a combination of Privatopia and Somatopia) and firmly under the thumb of her powerful and rich mother. Seethingly comfortable with her existence, she meets Silver, an entertainment robot, playing guitar and singing in the plaza. She’s embarrassed. Then angry. Then hopelessly in love. Before long she’s thrown her old life to the winds.
Short by the standards of most science fiction, with terrifyingly real characters, it packs a punch that’s not to be underestimated. When the The Silver Metal Lover is called a tearjerker, it’s the blunt truth.
This catalogue photo was buried deep in the Artifice Clothing website, but I found it so arresting that I had to share. There’s something both calming and surreal about it. Between the lack of eyebrows, the plastic-looking skin, the serenely knowing expression and the pointy, B-movie-villain-looking hood, this picture tells a story, despite the complete lack of background and props.
Good fetish clothing/photography has always been 90% about the imagination and maybe 10% about sex, to me. For that reason, I’ve found most fetish fashion to be disappointingly banal in recent years. Barring a few notable exceptions, most designers are too busy cranking out the same tired pin-up trappings to make any effort at reinvention. And even if the outfit’s shapes in this photo aren’t necessarily new, there’s something refreshing about it. It’s the kind of photo that can inspire a filmmaker, a painter, a science fiction writer: is she a diver in Offworld Olympics, getting ready to execute a perfect octuple jump?
Laughter, careful consideration, disbelief and finally reluctant desire are the steps my brain took in reaction to these unique Bed Shoes. Endowed with whips at the tips, they would make a great addition to The Pervert’s Guide to Etsy! Custom handmade by the talented Isabelle Chiariotti a.k.a. Etsy seller Isakaos, these bad puppies are good for one thing only, and that ain’t walking.
Unlike the majority of fetish footwear out there, the heel itself isn’t that high. I assume this is to lower the already-lofty risk of the brave owner’s collapse. I suggest pretending you’ve got a pair on your feet right now, and all the ways you could make use of them. For extra fun, imagine you are trying to actually walk in them and all the elegant ways you’d smash your face as a result.
Seriously, though – if anyone here buys these and learns to walk, dance or [especially] do gymnastics in them, we want video. And a dark part of me still wants a pair.
Finally – a classy gothic fashion blog! Via Gala Darling comes news of Haute Macabre, a vibrant, well-designed blog devoted to all things stylishly darque. “As you can guess from the title,” writes Gala, “it’s about high-end gawthick living. It’s for those of us who never really outgrew our goth sensibilities — the ones who idolised Wednesday Addams as an adolescent heroine, the ones who like things dark but don’t take it too seriously, the ones who can’t resist when fetishy fashion comes sashaying down the catwalk in Paris.” The blog’s primary authors are Samantha (whose site appears to be down) and Nixon Sixx, and other contributors so far include Gala herself, Courtney Riot (in a design capacity) and last but not least, our very own Zo!
Image from Elle Italia shoot, spotted by Haute Macabre. More here.
While we’re on the subject of alternative fashion blogs, it’s also worth mentioning Stylecunt. While that name makes me cringe, I’ll say this: the blog’s anonymous author has a keen eye for fashion and doesn’t shy away from cold-eyed, Gawker-style snark. The tone is apparent from Post Number One, where the author explains the blog’s raison d’être:
Remember when alt fashion was… fashionable? At least we thought it was. Alt fashion exploded in the nineties, fulfilling those of us that were not content with shopping at Old Navy. Time has passed, fashion is evolving, but are we? Years later and here we are, covered in the same black vinyl and cheap fishnet. One day, I had enough.
The writing on Stylecunt is hard to follow at times due to the careless grammar, and seems to be most lucid when we find the author chastising clothing labels for perceived bad choices. “Why are you still doing this to those poor goth kids who don’t know any better?” laments the author at this Lip Service catalogue photo. And it’s great to finally see someone tell Junker Designs, “it’s lovely that Alice Cooper is wearing your overly detailed and distressed leather pants, but it might be nice to actually see what they look like.”
Refreshingly, both blogs pay attention to men’s fashion, an oft-neglected topic in the alt fashion press (sorry, this doesn’t count). At Stylecunt there’s a nice post about Plazmalab, and over at Haute Macabre there’s even a well-populated category titled “For the Gents.”
Here’s hoping that 2009 will bring tons of new fashion to keep both these blogs busy. Enjoy!
