She will hardly be remembered as long as the woman she aspired to be, Marilyn Monroe, but the fact that she lived only three years longer than MM is equally as tragic.
And also, like Marilyn, Anna Nicole is now more than ever fodder for the parasites that feed on lies, rumors, and half-truths that become "fact"after enough time has passed. Whatever her troubles in life, they will be overexposed in a manner that any conscience human being would find humiliating, degrading and unimaginable.
I have nothing else to write. Others will have far wiser, and far more idiotic, opinions than any I could voice.
Rest in peace, Vickie Lynn Hogan.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Behnaz Sarafpour Needs Zoloft - Fashion Week Cont.
DAHLINGS –
Why, oh why did I subject myself yet again to the Behnaz Sarafpour show? Hated it last season, DESPISED IT this time. My dears, if you want to see Depression Strutting, this was your meat. Dowdy, dull, gray, gray, gray.
Ms. Sarafpour must have stopped taking her Zoloft, that’s my opinion. Or she did all of her designing in a very dark room lit by a candle, with the wind howling outside. Actually, that was also the atmosphere at the show, and it had the intended effect. I ate my entire Toblerone.
And the models—once again, hideously skinny teenagers. You think I would be used to it by now, but it also startles me that anyone so gaunt can be mobile.
Of course, several models stumbled, but it was because they were passing by moi, sitting in the front row with my Toblerone. Understandable.
AND THE COLD! Vogue’s Hamish Bowles had the sense to wear a scarf, and some others in the audience wore sweaters and coats, but then of course there were those style-at-any-cost look-at-mes like Piper Perabou who shivered valiantly in a sleeveless summer frock.
Thank God for Bill Blass—or rather, Michael Vollbracht. A beautiful collection. But to be frank, your faithful correspondent has seen far too much of the wildly original these past few days. Many Blass gowns that I plan to order for myself, some LUSCIOUS satin brocade fur-trimmed coats, and a gold dress that is almost the exact duplicate of a gold dress presently being sold by my fellow Ebay seller, underwood_estates. See for yourself:
Underwood-estates is selling it in a terribly chic size 4, otherwise it would be in my shop.
http://cgi.ebay.com/GOLD-BOMBSHELL-Sequin-Open-Back-Wiggle-Cocktail-Dress-4_W0QQitemZ110080334625QQihZ001QQcategoryZ63861QQtcZphotoQQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
My only regret was seeing First Lady Laura Bush dressed in Blass the other day...but one must push those thoughts out of one's mind in order to function, non?
The less said about the Betsey Johnson show, the better. Child molesters would have loved it, and I see the same things on Ebay every day for far less. Nothing original, except for Joan Jett in the audience! I am ordinarily not a rock fan, but I was almost inspired to play air guitar and belt out “I Love Rock And Roll.” Fortunately, I stifled the impulse. My image and all that.
In the midst of all this, I came across a delightful, body-positive way to promote your brand: the company Jack Spade has wants to save the models: by handing out cookies shaped liked hot dogs and hamburgers to the catwalk stalkers as they make their way around the tents. Each comes with note that reads: "These cookies have been baked with extra love and care, please visit jackspade.com to purchase a cookie, a portion of proceeds given to skinny people everywhere."
Must change my outfit again…when will this END??
Ciao,
Elisa (sans Bucky The Wonderdog at present)
Why, oh why did I subject myself yet again to the Behnaz Sarafpour show? Hated it last season, DESPISED IT this time. My dears, if you want to see Depression Strutting, this was your meat. Dowdy, dull, gray, gray, gray.
Ms. Sarafpour must have stopped taking her Zoloft, that’s my opinion. Or she did all of her designing in a very dark room lit by a candle, with the wind howling outside. Actually, that was also the atmosphere at the show, and it had the intended effect. I ate my entire Toblerone.And the models—once again, hideously skinny teenagers. You think I would be used to it by now, but it also startles me that anyone so gaunt can be mobile.
Of course, several models stumbled, but it was because they were passing by moi, sitting in the front row with my Toblerone. Understandable.
AND THE COLD! Vogue’s Hamish Bowles had the sense to wear a scarf, and some others in the audience wore sweaters and coats, but then of course there were those style-at-any-cost look-at-mes like Piper Perabou who shivered valiantly in a sleeveless summer frock.
Thank God for Bill Blass—or rather, Michael Vollbracht. A beautiful collection. But to be frank, your faithful correspondent has seen far too much of the wildly original these past few days. Many Blass gowns that I plan to order for myself, some LUSCIOUS satin brocade fur-trimmed coats, and a gold dress that is almost the exact duplicate of a gold dress presently being sold by my fellow Ebay seller, underwood_estates. See for yourself:
Underwood-estates is selling it in a terribly chic size 4, otherwise it would be in my shop.
http://cgi.ebay.com/GOLD-BOMBSHELL-Sequin-Open-Back-Wiggle-Cocktail-Dress-4_W0QQitemZ110080334625QQihZ001QQcategoryZ63861QQtcZphotoQQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
My only regret was seeing First Lady Laura Bush dressed in Blass the other day...but one must push those thoughts out of one's mind in order to function, non?
The less said about the Betsey Johnson show, the better. Child molesters would have loved it, and I see the same things on Ebay every day for far less. Nothing original, except for Joan Jett in the audience! I am ordinarily not a rock fan, but I was almost inspired to play air guitar and belt out “I Love Rock And Roll.” Fortunately, I stifled the impulse. My image and all that.
In the midst of all this, I came across a delightful, body-positive way to promote your brand: the company Jack Spade has wants to save the models: by handing out cookies shaped liked hot dogs and hamburgers to the catwalk stalkers as they make their way around the tents. Each comes with note that reads: "These cookies have been baked with extra love and care, please visit jackspade.com to purchase a cookie, a portion of proceeds given to skinny people everywhere."
Must change my outfit again…when will this END??
Ciao,
Elisa (sans Bucky The Wonderdog at present)
Those Big Fur Hats Conceal Big Swelled Heads!
Dahlings -
It is with utter disgust that I report to you the reprehensible behavior of many of the magazine staff and internet reporters swarming around Fashion Week! Ninety percent of them swathed in huge Russian fur hats, the better to contain their egos. Yes, it is bloody cold here in New York City, but can't anyone wear something original?
Even Andre Leon Talley, my dear, dear friend, who is going to be speaking at "Haute Cou-Poor" next month, had one of those things on his head. Although if you were shorter then me, you probably wouldn't have been able to see it. More on Andre's upcoming appearance when I have a minute to breathe!
I myself have been wearing a variety of chapeaus and scarves, refusing to wear fur. (I actually love fur, but one must make a statement, no matter how subtle.) You can practically get trampled getting around, and the parties--! Mon dieu!
Bucky the Wonderdog has been an invaluable companion. When someone tries to cut me off or push in front of me, with lightning speed Bucky's little head comes out of my carrier bag and bites the offender! Since it's winter there have been no flesh wounds, but he has ruined countless Pradas, de la Rentas, Anna Suis, and such. So satisfying. However, I am going to leave him at home for a day or two...his nerves, you know. Plus he tried to bite one of those dreadful tiny children at one of the shows, and I do not want to get sued. It looks so bad when the newspapers get hold of it.
Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the True Wonderdog
It is with utter disgust that I report to you the reprehensible behavior of many of the magazine staff and internet reporters swarming around Fashion Week! Ninety percent of them swathed in huge Russian fur hats, the better to contain their egos. Yes, it is bloody cold here in New York City, but can't anyone wear something original?
Even Andre Leon Talley, my dear, dear friend, who is going to be speaking at "Haute Cou-Poor" next month, had one of those things on his head. Although if you were shorter then me, you probably wouldn't have been able to see it. More on Andre's upcoming appearance when I have a minute to breathe!
I myself have been wearing a variety of chapeaus and scarves, refusing to wear fur. (I actually love fur, but one must make a statement, no matter how subtle.) You can practically get trampled getting around, and the parties--! Mon dieu!
Bucky the Wonderdog has been an invaluable companion. When someone tries to cut me off or push in front of me, with lightning speed Bucky's little head comes out of my carrier bag and bites the offender! Since it's winter there have been no flesh wounds, but he has ruined countless Pradas, de la Rentas, Anna Suis, and such. So satisfying. However, I am going to leave him at home for a day or two...his nerves, you know. Plus he tried to bite one of those dreadful tiny children at one of the shows, and I do not want to get sued. It looks so bad when the newspapers get hold of it.
Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the True Wonderdog
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