Beautiful Lady Freaks at the Glam Rock Opera.
Almost all the materials are salvaged, upcycled, recycled, or in some way reborn.
All styling, photography, and editing done by me.
Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
Monday, March 22, 2010
beautiful lady freaks at the glam rock opera
After hiding in my cave and devouring all the videos from FTW 2010 on style.com, I got the overwhelming urge to start hand working textiles again, arthritis be damned. So I have been making dresses for my current photographic project:
Check my art & design blog or my flickr account for more photos from the shoot.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Pretty lady warriors.
After the first 7 looks, I thought Jean Paul Gaultier’s latest collection was ugly. After 9 I thought it was genius.
Only a portion of it was wearable; what qualified ranged from the effortlessly elegant to the eagerly eccentric. I hang out in some pretty artsy circles so I might have an easier time wearing an arm of full metal armor than most folks. And I imagine some of the woven silk strip dresses would be more at ease on a red carpet than amongst my peers.
There were “pantless” outfits for those of us who roll ballsy like Lady Gaga, and then there were some genuinely pretty separates waiting to be pried loose from the collage of madness and slipped comfortably into the wardrobe of a normal woman.
The color scheme was simultaneously earthy and exciting. The elements at play were not ethereal like the gossamer and air we see in some collections these days. No this was a primal wedding of earth and fire. Warrior ladies ran rampant down that cat walk and it was quite glorious, if I might say so myself.
Only a portion of it was wearable; what qualified ranged from the effortlessly elegant to the eagerly eccentric. I hang out in some pretty artsy circles so I might have an easier time wearing an arm of full metal armor than most folks. And I imagine some of the woven silk strip dresses would be more at ease on a red carpet than amongst my peers.
There were “pantless” outfits for those of us who roll ballsy like Lady Gaga, and then there were some genuinely pretty separates waiting to be pried loose from the collage of madness and slipped comfortably into the wardrobe of a normal woman.
The color scheme was simultaneously earthy and exciting. The elements at play were not ethereal like the gossamer and air we see in some collections these days. No this was a primal wedding of earth and fire. Warrior ladies ran rampant down that cat walk and it was quite glorious, if I might say so myself.
Photos from Style.com's complete coverage of the collection.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Leather and lace...
Well, thank the fashion gods that I didn’t have to wait until the Fall 2010 collections came out to get my John Galliano fix.
The gothic fantasy of his Haute Couture was quite elegant and his point of view was fairly focused in this collection. It definitely tickled my fancy since I’ve been immersed in a similar aesthetic for a wedding I am planning (more about that on my other blog).
The combining of Victorian, Edwardian, forties, and fifties elements was admirably well done (but I’d expect nothing less from John Galliano) and I couldn’t be more enamored of his use of leather and lace.
Even though I can’t walk a yard in them, I do have a fetish for tall shoes, and the gothic Victorian riding boots were delicious. The matching full length black leather gloves were pretty scrumptious as well. Though the riding outfit pieces weren’t generally my favorites (I preferred the seemingly endless gowns) I was drooling over one particular gray riding coat with a full bustle in the back.
As for the hair and makeup, I was particularly fond of the Victorian up-do’s; the long braids dripping from the explosive and yet ethereal hats were particularly Art Nouveau (looking into the girls faces made me think of a Mucha print).
In the end I maintain my undying devotion to John Galliano’s seasonal reveries of madness and beauty. And in heaven, I’ll wear nothing but Dior.
The gothic fantasy of his Haute Couture was quite elegant and his point of view was fairly focused in this collection. It definitely tickled my fancy since I’ve been immersed in a similar aesthetic for a wedding I am planning (more about that on my other blog).
The combining of Victorian, Edwardian, forties, and fifties elements was admirably well done (but I’d expect nothing less from John Galliano) and I couldn’t be more enamored of his use of leather and lace.
Even though I can’t walk a yard in them, I do have a fetish for tall shoes, and the gothic Victorian riding boots were delicious. The matching full length black leather gloves were pretty scrumptious as well. Though the riding outfit pieces weren’t generally my favorites (I preferred the seemingly endless gowns) I was drooling over one particular gray riding coat with a full bustle in the back.
As for the hair and makeup, I was particularly fond of the Victorian up-do’s; the long braids dripping from the explosive and yet ethereal hats were particularly Art Nouveau (looking into the girls faces made me think of a Mucha print).
In the end I maintain my undying devotion to John Galliano’s seasonal reveries of madness and beauty. And in heaven, I’ll wear nothing but Dior.
Photo from Style.com.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
One piece to rule them all...
I am sure this happens to every good fashion lover. It was probably inevitable that some piece, some artful rearrangement of raw materials into some object, perhaps a coat... It was probably predestined that some coat would finally drive a nail between my love for fashion and my love for thriftiness. Of course, my thin wallet shall always ensure victory for my thrift store hunting ways, but today designer lust at least makes a stand.
I dream of a coat by Balmain, it lingers in my thoughts as I lay on the brink of nightly unconscious, it peers at me from within complicated collages in glossy spreads, it boldly announces itself from one advertisement in my favorite fashion magazine. It is something I’ll never own, probably never wear even for an instant. But it’s like a Mona Lisa, with a wry smile, charming me, haunting me. One wry, nine thousand dollar smile.
I dream of a coat by Balmain, it lingers in my thoughts as I lay on the brink of nightly unconscious, it peers at me from within complicated collages in glossy spreads, it boldly announces itself from one advertisement in my favorite fashion magazine. It is something I’ll never own, probably never wear even for an instant. But it’s like a Mona Lisa, with a wry smile, charming me, haunting me. One wry, nine thousand dollar smile.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
A stylish presidency.
During our last presidential primaries, I was ostracized on more than one occasion for my lack of Obama fever. I had admired his eloquence since first spotting him on C-Span as a junior senator, when presidential aspirations were a distant twinkle in his eye. But when he announced his candidacy, I didn’t tape photos of him on my wall like glossy idols ripped out of a Teen Beat Magazine. And my facebook status wasn’t a perpetual homage to my conjectures of his potential greatness. And I didn’t vote for him in the primaries. I didn’t vote in the primaries at all.
This is where I received the greatest criticism. How dare I? But I was faced with two awesome possibilities (first woman president versus first black president), neither of which would’ve disappointed me in the least. Even John McCain (before he announced his vice presidential candidate) seemed like a reasonable fellow.
But of course, I celebrated when Obama won. I watched his acceptance speech and cried. And I felt a deep sense of American pride.
And now I read the news with the kind of bias that befits a liberal democratic middle class college educated female in her mid twenties. But this blog isn’t about politics. I’m writing today because the Obama industry provided me with something special last week. Something that I relish, something upon which I gorge often: style. Buckets and buckets of style.
The White House's state dinner honoring India's Prime Minister Singh was absolutely gorgeous. Browsing the photographs was a chance to enjoy beautiful tablescapes and elegant formal wear. And reading some of the major news websites coverage of the event seemed more like an article from Martha Stewart’s magazine. CNN highlighted the fact that the menu included “greens from the White House garden, honey from White House bees.” They also pointed out that State Dinners are the most coveted invitations in Washington. I can imagine.
This is where I received the greatest criticism. How dare I? But I was faced with two awesome possibilities (first woman president versus first black president), neither of which would’ve disappointed me in the least. Even John McCain (before he announced his vice presidential candidate) seemed like a reasonable fellow.
But of course, I celebrated when Obama won. I watched his acceptance speech and cried. And I felt a deep sense of American pride.
And now I read the news with the kind of bias that befits a liberal democratic middle class college educated female in her mid twenties. But this blog isn’t about politics. I’m writing today because the Obama industry provided me with something special last week. Something that I relish, something upon which I gorge often: style. Buckets and buckets of style.
The White House's state dinner honoring India's Prime Minister Singh was absolutely gorgeous. Browsing the photographs was a chance to enjoy beautiful tablescapes and elegant formal wear. And reading some of the major news websites coverage of the event seemed more like an article from Martha Stewart’s magazine. CNN highlighted the fact that the menu included “greens from the White House garden, honey from White House bees.” They also pointed out that State Dinners are the most coveted invitations in Washington. I can imagine.
Photo from msnbc.com. Charles Dharapak / AP
Photo from cbsnews.com.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Hick-Chic in Milan?
If I were living my perfect life I would’ve spent all of September gorging on front row runway footage and blogging from my living room about my excitement and delight. Sadly I work a real job, and get distracted by real problems, so my observations trail behind. But I can’t let this season pass by without rambling on about what Dsquared2 did for hick-chic.
I am going to start with a personal diatribe. I am from Wisconsin, a state best known for its football team and its dairy products. I live in its’ largest city, but I grew up in its second/third largest: Green Bay. Green Bay is a big town trying to be a little city. It is a middle class oasis of suburban sprawl amongst an Eden of verdant fields and healthy soil. Green Bay dutifully provides the rural population of northern Wisconsin with cultural services like shopping malls and stadiums. But despite a university, more than one performing art center, and handfulls of appropriately trendy coffee shops and used book stores, the only people who think Green Bay is a big city are people who live on farms.
I want to get the politically incorrect terms out of the way, because I can’t write this without them: hicks, rednecks, and white trash. In my youth I tried to reclaim the term “white trash” as a term of pride, like some feminists did for bitch, and my gay friends did to fag. And although my clique of clever adolescent friends appreciated the irony, my mother definitely did not. It was hard to find an acceptably incendiary way to claim pride in a heritage that included many hardworking, undereducated, poor farmers of European descent. I have many Wisconsinite friends who understand.
My childhood contains all the prescious gems of midwestern "low" culture. Growing up I spent a lot of time at my great uncle’s bar: Party Marty’s Polish Palace in Pulaski. The adults drank cheap beer and the kids ate cheese curds. More than a few of my uncles sported Mullets long after the hairstyle passed out of style and into comedic infamy. Neon orange was not a gift of eighties revival, but a consistent presence in the wardrobe of rural men who killed animals, ate the meat, and put their carcasses on their living room walls (as long as their wives consented).
The thrift stores of Green Bay are still an overflowing cornucopia of Americana and kitsch. And middle age soccer moms evolve their fashion sense slowly, so that vintage items will arrive at the local St. Vincent de Paul just as they come back in style after decades.
That miniature memoir is, in fact, totally relevant to fashion now. All that personal history is precisely why my reaction to the Spring 2010 collection of Dsquared2 is totally effing different than every successful fashion journalist who reported from that runway in Milan. I could replicate that entire collection by spending a few hundred dollars in the thrift stores of my hometown.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love the creativity and vision of the Dsquared2 collection. There’s something deliciously subversive about rich people paying to look like white trash. And although most of this season’s looks made me want to bathe in chiffon, this collection inspired me in a totally different way. My boyfriend has been hot on the “hick-chic” thing for a while, and local hipsters are no stranger to the trend. Dsquared2 wielded a fad already present on fixed-gear bicycles, in smoky dive bars, and on the often referenced “streets”. And what can I say? It feels good to know that I liked this stuff before it was cool.
I am going to start with a personal diatribe. I am from Wisconsin, a state best known for its football team and its dairy products. I live in its’ largest city, but I grew up in its second/third largest: Green Bay. Green Bay is a big town trying to be a little city. It is a middle class oasis of suburban sprawl amongst an Eden of verdant fields and healthy soil. Green Bay dutifully provides the rural population of northern Wisconsin with cultural services like shopping malls and stadiums. But despite a university, more than one performing art center, and handfulls of appropriately trendy coffee shops and used book stores, the only people who think Green Bay is a big city are people who live on farms.
I want to get the politically incorrect terms out of the way, because I can’t write this without them: hicks, rednecks, and white trash. In my youth I tried to reclaim the term “white trash” as a term of pride, like some feminists did for bitch, and my gay friends did to fag. And although my clique of clever adolescent friends appreciated the irony, my mother definitely did not. It was hard to find an acceptably incendiary way to claim pride in a heritage that included many hardworking, undereducated, poor farmers of European descent. I have many Wisconsinite friends who understand.
My childhood contains all the prescious gems of midwestern "low" culture. Growing up I spent a lot of time at my great uncle’s bar: Party Marty’s Polish Palace in Pulaski. The adults drank cheap beer and the kids ate cheese curds. More than a few of my uncles sported Mullets long after the hairstyle passed out of style and into comedic infamy. Neon orange was not a gift of eighties revival, but a consistent presence in the wardrobe of rural men who killed animals, ate the meat, and put their carcasses on their living room walls (as long as their wives consented).
The thrift stores of Green Bay are still an overflowing cornucopia of Americana and kitsch. And middle age soccer moms evolve their fashion sense slowly, so that vintage items will arrive at the local St. Vincent de Paul just as they come back in style after decades.
That miniature memoir is, in fact, totally relevant to fashion now. All that personal history is precisely why my reaction to the Spring 2010 collection of Dsquared2 is totally effing different than every successful fashion journalist who reported from that runway in Milan. I could replicate that entire collection by spending a few hundred dollars in the thrift stores of my hometown.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love the creativity and vision of the Dsquared2 collection. There’s something deliciously subversive about rich people paying to look like white trash. And although most of this season’s looks made me want to bathe in chiffon, this collection inspired me in a totally different way. My boyfriend has been hot on the “hick-chic” thing for a while, and local hipsters are no stranger to the trend. Dsquared2 wielded a fad already present on fixed-gear bicycles, in smoky dive bars, and on the often referenced “streets”. And what can I say? It feels good to know that I liked this stuff before it was cool.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Under-Appreciated Ironic Accessories
In order to thrift-shop and rummage-sail effectively, it is generally a good idea to have a starting point. For some, this is a color scheme. As they browse through seemingly endless racks of cardigans and t-shirts, it is useful to the brain and eyes to have specific colors to focus onto. A skilled thrifter’s eyes will also begin to search for certain textures, which can indicate fabric type and the amount of wear and tear. But for me, I reached a point where I didn’t need any more pink cotton vintage dresses or silky soft brown t-shirts. My lust for the hunt was still strong, so I turned to collecting other things. The purses were always picked-over and under-inspiring, and socks were rarely worth the effort. When I started giving the accessories a really good look, suspenders were on the verge of coming back in style. The one person I knew who wore them was like a Fashion Goddess to me, and unsurprisingly teen-agers and hipsters quickly followed her example.
Sometime shortly later, I discovered a colorful fifties apron nestled among pillow cases, bath mats, and curtains. I had a few already, given to me by my mother and grandmothers. One was separate from the costumes, being used for its practical purpose in the kitchen.
And recently I added another forgotten wardrobe element to my list of must-haves: clip-on ties. I usually find these among the children’s accessories, since the people in charge of organizing merchandise seem to think nobody wears these except young kids in Sunday School.
Now, I am just as fond as the next person for Bakelite clip-on earrings and aviator sun glasses. And these days it is difficult to name any decade that isn’t being reinterpreted by current fashion trends. Literally anything goes. In many magazines you can see clear evidence of the bottom-up approach: high culture takes what low culture makes and “legitimizes” it with money. So, let’s see some imagination. Let’s push the boundaries of our hyper modern, multi-media culture. Let’s say “take this!” to the man by investing in some ironic, unnecessary accessories. I think Salvador Dali would be proud.
Sometime shortly later, I discovered a colorful fifties apron nestled among pillow cases, bath mats, and curtains. I had a few already, given to me by my mother and grandmothers. One was separate from the costumes, being used for its practical purpose in the kitchen.
And recently I added another forgotten wardrobe element to my list of must-haves: clip-on ties. I usually find these among the children’s accessories, since the people in charge of organizing merchandise seem to think nobody wears these except young kids in Sunday School.
Now, I am just as fond as the next person for Bakelite clip-on earrings and aviator sun glasses. And these days it is difficult to name any decade that isn’t being reinterpreted by current fashion trends. Literally anything goes. In many magazines you can see clear evidence of the bottom-up approach: high culture takes what low culture makes and “legitimizes” it with money. So, let’s see some imagination. Let’s push the boundaries of our hyper modern, multi-media culture. Let’s say “take this!” to the man by investing in some ironic, unnecessary accessories. I think Salvador Dali would be proud.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
St. Vincent de Paul in Green Bay
I’ve wandered far and wide, searched high and low, and dug myself so deep into musky smelling piles of clothing and purses that I’ve come out on the other side. And yet a thrift store from my hometown remains my Mecca, the epitome of thrift store shopping.
Firstly, it is the size of a Wal-mart. The clothing section alone is the same size as the 27th St. Value Village (one of my other favorite thrift stores). It is staffed by friendly old people and the bulk of its customer base is families. Green Bay does have its share of hipster teen-agers and (thanks to UWGB’s great environmental science program) thrift loving hippies; however, there are fewer thrift junkies than in Milwaukee. Green Bay has the second largest population in Wisconsin (if you’re from Madison and want to argue that fact, please take comfort in knowing that even if Green Bay has more people, you have more cool people). So there’s no shortage of donors.
In Green Bay the shortage of culture and arts leaves the citizens to amuse themselves with materialism. They are more concerned with owning new stuff than collecting quirky old stuff. And when that new stuff becomes quirky old stuff, it ends up at one of its many wonderful thrift stores.
And for someone like me, it is a virtual gold mine of old lady stuff. St. Vincent de Paul has an entire bin dedicated to aprons (almost all of them vintage). In other thrift stores you might find a rack of men’s ties. Here there is a refrigerator box full of them. Some places might have a shelf of craft supplies. Here there is an entire section, occupying a large corner of the store. And everything is dirt cheap, like it ought to be. It’s a dreamland of kitsch, a gorgeous messy landscape of precious crap.
Firstly, it is the size of a Wal-mart. The clothing section alone is the same size as the 27th St. Value Village (one of my other favorite thrift stores). It is staffed by friendly old people and the bulk of its customer base is families. Green Bay does have its share of hipster teen-agers and (thanks to UWGB’s great environmental science program) thrift loving hippies; however, there are fewer thrift junkies than in Milwaukee. Green Bay has the second largest population in Wisconsin (if you’re from Madison and want to argue that fact, please take comfort in knowing that even if Green Bay has more people, you have more cool people). So there’s no shortage of donors.
In Green Bay the shortage of culture and arts leaves the citizens to amuse themselves with materialism. They are more concerned with owning new stuff than collecting quirky old stuff. And when that new stuff becomes quirky old stuff, it ends up at one of its many wonderful thrift stores.
And for someone like me, it is a virtual gold mine of old lady stuff. St. Vincent de Paul has an entire bin dedicated to aprons (almost all of them vintage). In other thrift stores you might find a rack of men’s ties. Here there is a refrigerator box full of them. Some places might have a shelf of craft supplies. Here there is an entire section, occupying a large corner of the store. And everything is dirt cheap, like it ought to be. It’s a dreamland of kitsch, a gorgeous messy landscape of precious crap.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Post-Apocolyptic Steam Punk Shaman from the Wilderness!
I have decided to hit the ground running.
Revolution is Sexy had a growth spurt! From student film and photographic exhibit, to gallery, shop, and blog. Not to mention Myspace....
The first step in giving Revolution is Sexy a digital body and online personality is to create images. I have been gorging myself on videos of John Galliano's runway shows, and so I have decided to spend the next several months focusing on fashion photography. But the real eureka moment came after my boyfriend tried to force a wide blue filligree bangle onto his manly wrist, I got the concept for my next series.
I want to replicate old National Geographic portraits of exotic natives, where they sit stoic in a chair in front of the camera, completely bedecked in their most exotic costumes. But mixed with grass skirts, feathers, and face paints I want to add huge bangle bracelets, long dangling rhinestone earrings, and the most gaudy costume jewelry I can find. Think Tina Turner (or Mel Gibson, depending who you are) in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome mixed with a rummage sale. Like post-apocolyptic steam punk shaman from the wilderness.
I think this is a way for me to do something interesting with the merchandise, so I can feel like I am being productive as well as having fun and playing dress up. Of course I will still need to do some straightforward shots to make sure the merch gets sold. But I built a light box so I am not worried!
The merchandise I want to start with is: vintage earrings, vintage dresses, vintage fabric, suspenders, clip-on ties, and perhaps some other accessories. After I get the hang of selling on etsy, I plan to add more hand made items like my famous button bracelets and some two dimensional paper art.
Now that I've gotten started, it will be interested to see how the next few weeks go. If it's stressful, at least it will be "fun stress".
Revolution is Sexy had a growth spurt! From student film and photographic exhibit, to gallery, shop, and blog. Not to mention Myspace....
The first step in giving Revolution is Sexy a digital body and online personality is to create images. I have been gorging myself on videos of John Galliano's runway shows, and so I have decided to spend the next several months focusing on fashion photography. But the real eureka moment came after my boyfriend tried to force a wide blue filligree bangle onto his manly wrist, I got the concept for my next series.
I want to replicate old National Geographic portraits of exotic natives, where they sit stoic in a chair in front of the camera, completely bedecked in their most exotic costumes. But mixed with grass skirts, feathers, and face paints I want to add huge bangle bracelets, long dangling rhinestone earrings, and the most gaudy costume jewelry I can find. Think Tina Turner (or Mel Gibson, depending who you are) in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome mixed with a rummage sale. Like post-apocolyptic steam punk shaman from the wilderness.
I think this is a way for me to do something interesting with the merchandise, so I can feel like I am being productive as well as having fun and playing dress up. Of course I will still need to do some straightforward shots to make sure the merch gets sold. But I built a light box so I am not worried!
The merchandise I want to start with is: vintage earrings, vintage dresses, vintage fabric, suspenders, clip-on ties, and perhaps some other accessories. After I get the hang of selling on etsy, I plan to add more hand made items like my famous button bracelets and some two dimensional paper art.
Now that I've gotten started, it will be interested to see how the next few weeks go. If it's stressful, at least it will be "fun stress".
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