A sort of apparition – a tall, elegant and bejeweled creature, with wavering elegant gestures, reminding one rather of an Aubrey Beardsley illustration come to life – Clough Williams-Ellis about Henry Cyril Paget, 5th Marquis of Anglesey
The subject of the “Coilhouse patron saints” comes up in conversation quite often, and Henry Paget deserves a high rank on that list, perhaps between Genesis P-Orridge and Marchesa Luisa Casati. He was the most outrageous of the English aristocrats, often seen gallivanting around London bedecked in jewels and silk, with a poodle under his arm or driving a custom car spraying perfume from the exhaust pipes.
This was a boy raised entirely by women, first in a theater environment in Paris and later in the seclusion of a Gothic mansion in north Wales with little peer contact and sudden access to a seemingly endless supply of money. To call the grown up Henry Paget an eccentric would be a grave understatement, and his upbringing was blamed for his behavior and suspected homosexuality. The charismatic young man transformed himself into a work of art with each waking breath. Obsessed with being photographed, he spared no expense for his costumes, meticulously preparing his poses and taking on new personas for each shot. He even employed a team of dressers to help with frequent costume changes.
Briefly married to his cousin, he showered her with jewels, as well. He “liked to view his emeralds, his rubies, his diamonds displayed on her naked body. But he didn’t lay a finger on her. There was no sex… The marriage was annulled on the grounds of non-consummation.” says the Daily Mail. The Marquess may have shunned romantic involvement entirely, but surrounded himself with other beauty despite the raised eyebrow of aristocracy. His expenses included a number of modified cars, canes, “jewels, furs, boats, perfumes and potions, toys, medicines, dogs, horses and theatricals on a scale unimagined”.
Her Modesty is a Muslim Fashion blog that will soon be a print magazine.
I’ve been reading Her Modesty, a Muslim women’s fashion blog. The project has a lot in common with Coilhouse: both Coilhouse and Her Modesty are blogs that will soon launch in print magazine format, both extoll the virtues of being covered vs. letting it all hang out (you may have noticed our obsession with covered necks, loosely-flowing clothes and total body coverage), and most importantly, both Her Modesty and Coilhouse are interested in the tenuous relationship between the “mainstream” and the “underground,” and where one stops and the other begins. They’re two different “undergrounds,” but the concerns are largely the same.
Primarily a fashion blog, Her Modesty’s main purpose is to display “how sisters can be covered but yet still feel good about themselves and how they look.” The blog author, Kima, obsessively catalogues her new favorite trends as inspired by street wear and the runway, follows the appearance of the hijab-inspired styles in Western fashion magazines, and offers readers tips on how to create the “modest version” of various popular styles. My favorite is this outfit, which in the author’s opinion walks the line, though her readers seem to love it.
Haute Hijab from the Her Modesty blog.
Kima’s writing tone reminds me of the sweet and upbeat Gala Darling, and similarly to Gala, Kima also challenges the readers by briging topics for discussion into the fashion mix. In one post, Kima posts a loose leopard-print D&G dress that resembles an abaya (the loose overgarment that’s worn by many Muslim women), and asks her readers, “would you rock it with a shiny red bag, black pumps, and a hijab?” In another post, Kima engages the readers in an interesting debate about the female “fashion police” in Iran. Similarly to my obsession with goths in TV commercials, there’s a post about a hijab-wearing girl in a Sunsilk TV ad. The most profound post, one where I almost felt like a voyeur when reading the impassioned comments, is the post where Kima asks readers if they’d still dress modestly if Allah didn’t will it.
But the best part are the hilarious Muslim Fashion Dont’s! Here they are, after the jump.
I’ve been feeling sort of… understated. As understated as one can remain with cobalt blue hair and eyebrows, anyway. Seriously, it’s gettin’ crazy. In another effort to make some sense of my belongings I’ve organized my wardrobe shelves by black, grey and color. The black pile, she grows. The rest is dwindling. What could it all mean?
Peeps, I have entered another era, an era of DARKNESS. Frankly, all i want to wear these days is black. This means two things:
1. I’m looking extra-fetching; everyone knows black is the ultimate in sleek stylish goodness.
2. WZW as you know it is drawing to an end.
Yes, it’s true, my dearest squids and squidlettes. I suspect you don’t want to look at me decked in clouds of carbon every week, so it is time to take an indefinite break. I may return with sporadic make-up and hair tips or random news stories, and if I do find an occasion to WZW once again I shall.
What’s that? Oh no, you promised you wouldn’t cry! Please, I.. I can’t bear it!
Well, okay. Just to ensure you know precisely what you’ll be missing after this week there will be a few more all-black installments What’s Zo Wearing. Just for you, you hear? I’m doing it for you.
Hooo boy. I’ve been sitting on my hands for weeks, not knowing if/when I’d be allowed to say anything, but I just got the go-ahead from Nils. NOW IT CAN BE TOLD.
“Look out, you’re dead like us. Dead like candy.”
photo by Katherine Copenhaver
For really and truly. The four core members of one of the most unclassifiable, unbelievable underground bands of the 80s/90s met up in Oakland late last month to get reacquainted and talk shop. They’re currently in the studio recording the final tracks needed to complete an album left unfinished since 1998, and they have tentative plans to do some live reunion shows as well. A bit of background on the band from the Idiot Flesh wiki entry:
Known to tour the US in a converted city bus with [member] Rathbun as the driver/mechanic, with the windshield destination banner of “HELL.” Besides their “rock against rock” attitude, they were also known to defy classification with marching band routines, performing puppet shows, and playing household items as instruments (in tune).
“Idiot Song” video directed by Annmarie Piette
If you’re already a rabid cult follower, chances are you are doing an exuberant wiggle dance right now. If you’ve never heard of Idiot Flesh, try to place their sound, guerilla theater tactics and spookylicious attire in the context of the 80s and early 90s, before Tim Burton’s aesthetic became quite so zeitgeisty. While they often draw comparisons to Mr Bungle (and there’s merit in that, seeing as both groups formed in 1985, wore obfuscating costumes and displayed frenetic, mathrock/metal/funk shredder chops), Oingo Boingo, Crash Worship and other unhinged California weirdos from that time period, Idiot Flesh and their roving pack of Filthy Rotten Excuse Chickens inhabited a world all their own. Their influences range from the Residents and Zappa, to SWANS, the Art Bears and Henry Cow, to T.S. Eliot and John Kane. The band’s live act –which places emphasis on audience participation and non sequitur antics– is the stuff that Dadaist wet dreams are made of.
In Paige’s kitchen, outmoded cutlery and vintage postcards abound.
Oh, I love trash!
Anything dirty or dingy or dusty!
Anything ragged or rotten or rusty!
Yes, I love TRASH!
–Oscar the Grouch
Artist, dancer, muse o’ Brooklyn, Paige Stevenson has lived in her sprawling Williamsburg loft for almost twenty years. Every last nook and cranny is filled with artfully displayed found objects. Nicknamed the Hip Joint (after Paige yoinked that specific prosthetic human body part from an abandoned asylum hospital) once upon a time [EDIT 05/11: and now called The House of Collection] the place is legendary; sort of an unofficial Town Hall for the last stubborn gasp of New York’s bohemian art collective. Paige has hosted hundreds of performances, benefits, discoteques, tea parties, rehearsals, photo sessions and film shoots there.
Even after seven years of fighting litigation to try and kick her out of the rent-controlled space, Paige’s enthusiasm for collecting and sharing this vast array of discarded treasures remains boundless. “I guess my relationship to trash is one of aesthetic appreciation on a daily basis, because one could define the decoration of my house as Trash Decoration. It’s something that I live with every day, and enjoy, and actually love.” In this recent interview for The Garbage Collection, Paige discusses site specific pieces she’s rescued from the rubbish heap:
“The collection has accrued over the years from scavenging unloved objects. It seemed very sad to me that these things, because they were no longer used, had become garbage, landfill, trash… It’s my way of holding on to a little bit of the past.”
Don’t call them stylists – the term is “hair entertainers.” Today a hair show with a circuit of about 10 major American cities, Hair Wars began in 1991, and originates from nightclub events put on by one DJ Hump the Grinder. Today the event features some of the most multi-layered, hyper-detailed hairstyles I’ve ever seen. From haute-couture hair architecture to silly, surreal takes on everyday objects, images from this event convey artistry, humor and kitsch, all of which constantly flow into one another.
Photographer David Yellen has created a series of portraits of the hair show participants, which he published this past fall. Perhaps equally as fascinating as the hairstyles are the people wearing them. There are no fashion models here, just ordinary people having fun. They are young and old, male and female; many project the air of having been through a lot in their lifetime. There are little mysteries in each picture, such as in the image above, where the model has a visible scar on her neck. How did that happen? She could’ve hidden it with a scarf or a neckpiece (or with hair!) – but she didn’t, and the image is more powerful for it.
A good selection of images form this series can be seen on his site, and a further selection can be seen on Radar Online.
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.
Everything that designer Freyagushi makes is a bit kinderwhore, prescription a bit medical, viagra and all pink. Many alt designers today try to present themselves as something more than what they actually are, embarrassing themselves in the process by doing things like erroneously adding the word “Couture” to the end of their business name. There’s no effort on Freyagushi’s part to look professional at all; she’s just like, “come into my zany world!” The result is honestly fun.
The designer is also the model in some of the pictures above (that’s her with the pink circuitry tattoo!). For her next trick she’s doing the Animal Hospital Fashion Show at the Torture Garden.
