DAHLINGS -
I have little to write about Day Four of Mercedes Benz Fashion Week. It was the tenth anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers on September 11th. Even though the torrent of media jibber-jabber and one-day-only patriotism incensed moi, it seemed disrespectful to go to the tents.
Instead, I went to the Firemen's Memorial Ceremony on 100th Street.
Because of that, I missed Diane von Furstenberg, Custo Barcelona, and Tommy Hilfiger, among others.
No regrets.
Ciao,
Elisa
Showing posts with label September 11. Show all posts
Showing posts with label September 11. Show all posts
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Mercedes Benz Fashion Week And September 11
DAHLINGS -
It's still a tad hot and sticky here in my beloved Manhattan. Which only makes it all the more unreal that Mercedes Benz Fashion Week comes lumbering into town next week. AND during the media orgasm of celebrations/memorials/we will never forget thingies to commemorate the 10th anniversary of September 11th. Good timing, organizers.
Bad enough that we shall have to view the same horrific images countless times. Bad enough we have to view George W. Bush. Even worse, Dick Cheney. I might have had sex with him but I am still doing penance for it.
A ridiculously young moi with Dick Cheney back in the day
The schedule for MBFW is not on my desk. I plan to spend September 11 at home. With the flat screen off.
One good aspect to this is that the fashion world is probably too unimportant to the rest of the world to get blown up.
And your faithful correspondent is delighted to note that "vintage" is in again, as in mid-20th century. No amount of money would get me into a disco jumpsuit again. But as for the 40s and 50s, I'm ready to squeeze into my corset and wow the public as always. Fletcher is too much of a shy flower to accompany moi. One cannot risk him peeing in fright on Fern Mallis. One doubts she would have much of a sense of humor when it comes to canine urine.
So, good luck to all of my cohorts who are busily packing to come to New York. Take my advice and take the train. Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it, and we don't want anyone blown up.
Ciao,
Elisa
It's still a tad hot and sticky here in my beloved Manhattan. Which only makes it all the more unreal that Mercedes Benz Fashion Week comes lumbering into town next week. AND during the media orgasm of celebrations/memorials/we will never forget thingies to commemorate the 10th anniversary of September 11th. Good timing, organizers.
Bad enough that we shall have to view the same horrific images countless times. Bad enough we have to view George W. Bush. Even worse, Dick Cheney. I might have had sex with him but I am still doing penance for it.
A ridiculously young moi with Dick Cheney back in the dayThe schedule for MBFW is not on my desk. I plan to spend September 11 at home. With the flat screen off.
One good aspect to this is that the fashion world is probably too unimportant to the rest of the world to get blown up.
And your faithful correspondent is delighted to note that "vintage" is in again, as in mid-20th century. No amount of money would get me into a disco jumpsuit again. But as for the 40s and 50s, I'm ready to squeeze into my corset and wow the public as always. Fletcher is too much of a shy flower to accompany moi. One cannot risk him peeing in fright on Fern Mallis. One doubts she would have much of a sense of humor when it comes to canine urine.
So, good luck to all of my cohorts who are busily packing to come to New York. Take my advice and take the train. Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it, and we don't want anyone blown up.
Ciao,
Elisa
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Sarah Palin - A Man-Made Woman?
DAHLINGS –
Forgive me for writing about politics, but the events of recent days have been causing me to think Deep Thoughts. Since I am not in the habit of doing so, I keep getting these blinding headaches, which are not helped by my assistant’s insistence on watching the news. I’ve ordered the fool to keep the plasma on the Style Network, but does she listen? Non!
I try not to keep up with popular culture, but it seems I remember a movie some years ago about two teenage boys who concocted a machine that would create their “perfect woman.” It was called Beard Science or some such. Of course I’ve never seen it, but the premise does stick with one.
Particularly when watching Governor Sarah Palin delicately tip-toeing through this God-awful campaign, trying to say as little as possible (at least when there are no teleprompters around). Today she made the news in two significant moments:
The Prime Minister of Pakistan proclaimed she was “gorgeous”.
And she managed to answer a whole four questions from a small group of reporters. Oh, my! Very good, Sarah dear! Most of it was the usual la-di-da about September 11 (I apologize, but when you live here, it does become a wee bit tiresome having one of your greatest local tragedies turned into a device that can be pulled out like a secret decoder ring whenever a politician feels threatened).
This woman may soon have the second-highest position in the United States government, and she is even less prepared for it than Flava-Flav.
One might say that Sarah Palin does represent the hockey moms of America (not that I know any personally), because if you walked up to one at Mall of America and asked them to give a substantive answer to a question about the House Financial Services Committee, they would probably give you a blank stare and respond, “Huh?” Dans la stupidité qu'il y ait unite, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Obviously Palin was chosen because of her ex-beauty queen good looks, her ability to act (she was a weather girl or sportscaster or some sort of broadcast bottom-feeder), and her ability to walk across a wide stage looking resolute. She is the tabloid audience's dream of a female politician, capable of baking cookies with one hand and slaughtering moose with the other. Not like Hillary, who kept insisting on being well-informed.
For gravitas, Palin wears unneeded glasses and keeps her long hair piled up (the unconscious suggestion being to the viewer that she could be on “Female Politicos Gone Wild” if she took it down). If she does not become the Vice President, Palin would make an ideal morning show style reporter.
Only men could have thought up a woman this perfect.
*
As long as she doesn’t say anything. That is, anything former Bush speechwriter Matthew Scully hasn’t written for her.
Oh, dear, I must go take some aspirin and lie down with a copy of Marie-Claire. This has been simply too much for moi.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
* "Vogue" cover courtesy of Salon.com
Forgive me for writing about politics, but the events of recent days have been causing me to think Deep Thoughts. Since I am not in the habit of doing so, I keep getting these blinding headaches, which are not helped by my assistant’s insistence on watching the news. I’ve ordered the fool to keep the plasma on the Style Network, but does she listen? Non!
I try not to keep up with popular culture, but it seems I remember a movie some years ago about two teenage boys who concocted a machine that would create their “perfect woman.” It was called Beard Science or some such. Of course I’ve never seen it, but the premise does stick with one.
Particularly when watching Governor Sarah Palin delicately tip-toeing through this God-awful campaign, trying to say as little as possible (at least when there are no teleprompters around). Today she made the news in two significant moments:
The Prime Minister of Pakistan proclaimed she was “gorgeous”.
And she managed to answer a whole four questions from a small group of reporters. Oh, my! Very good, Sarah dear! Most of it was the usual la-di-da about September 11 (I apologize, but when you live here, it does become a wee bit tiresome having one of your greatest local tragedies turned into a device that can be pulled out like a secret decoder ring whenever a politician feels threatened).
This woman may soon have the second-highest position in the United States government, and she is even less prepared for it than Flava-Flav.
One might say that Sarah Palin does represent the hockey moms of America (not that I know any personally), because if you walked up to one at Mall of America and asked them to give a substantive answer to a question about the House Financial Services Committee, they would probably give you a blank stare and respond, “Huh?” Dans la stupidité qu'il y ait unite, if you don’t mind my saying so.
Obviously Palin was chosen because of her ex-beauty queen good looks, her ability to act (she was a weather girl or sportscaster or some sort of broadcast bottom-feeder), and her ability to walk across a wide stage looking resolute. She is the tabloid audience's dream of a female politician, capable of baking cookies with one hand and slaughtering moose with the other. Not like Hillary, who kept insisting on being well-informed.
For gravitas, Palin wears unneeded glasses and keeps her long hair piled up (the unconscious suggestion being to the viewer that she could be on “Female Politicos Gone Wild” if she took it down). If she does not become the Vice President, Palin would make an ideal morning show style reporter.
Only men could have thought up a woman this perfect.
*As long as she doesn’t say anything. That is, anything former Bush speechwriter Matthew Scully hasn’t written for her.
Oh, dear, I must go take some aspirin and lie down with a copy of Marie-Claire. This has been simply too much for moi.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
* "Vogue" cover courtesy of Salon.com
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