Dear Intergalactic Space Diva from the Planet Disco 2000,
Please emerge from your techno cocoon and bestow us with your dancing pigtail madness! Bring back your platform sneakers, your late-night Tootsie Pop orange. Relive the days of raves and poses, make them brighter than neon junebugs and lady bunny heat. (We need your flippy banter, your cat-eyed giggle beat.) My supperdish, my succotash wish, now is the time to dance and have some fun.
Signed,
Snipa (Former Princess of the Protean Beat)
I do. Cibo Matto, I miss your oddly lyrical Japanese street pop masterpieces. I miss your poster art courtesy of Mike Mills and your videos courtesy of Michel Gondry. I miss you asking me if I Know My Chicken (yes, yes I do). But do you know what I miss most of all, darling Cibo Matto duo? Your music.
Cibo Matto- Sugar Water [PV]
Uploaded by skanel. - Explore more music videos.
It was the middle of November. We boarded a quiet yet crowded JAL flight to Tokyo. Too excited to sleep, we watched movie after movie in cramped coach quarters while making friends with the tailored Japanese flight attendants who worked tirelessly in perpetual smile-mode. Upon arrival, we zipped to our hotel in Ginza, dropped our stuff, and then jumped headfirst into the sea of Shibuya a few train stops away. Despite not sleeping, despite a relentless haggle for a new room that wasn't musty or dark, and despite scarfing dry backpack snacks because the hotel restaurant was closed in the middle of the afternoon, we set out excitedly not wanting to miss a single second of the glittery gray wonderland that is Tokyo.
We were soon lost, sag-eyed and incredulous, in the swarm of Shibuya crossing. Then we were fingering through selections of design books at Tower Records whispering to each other, "Why wasn't our Tower Records ever as cool as this?!" Food was found (Belgian pomme frites and beer - sure!), people watching commenced, and before too long we dreamily nodded and dozed all the way back to Ginza begging our bodies to keep us awake just a few minutes longer. We didn't want to miss a thing.
Photos by Touristique.
What I have to say is this: Melissa Auf der Maur--or MAdM as she is also known--is awesome. Passionately curious and seriously talented, she's an indie rock legend and a creative whirlwind who conjures up her own brand of magic to independently write, produce, record, and film her musical masterpieces. She's not afraid to bring the fantasy world of her mind's eye to life. She's not afraid to ask for help from her friends (in fact, she can expound upon the creativity of someone else just as fervently as her own). She doesn't make excuses and lets the past enlighten the present. She's honest, talkative, and incredibly cool. She's the kind of role model I'd want my nonexistent daughter to have.
Aside from Melissa Auf der Maur being my latest FANTASTIC WOMAN pick, I had the opportunity to interview her recently for NYmag.com. You can read all about it here and check out her new multimedia extravaganza, OOOM, here.
Now, THIS is the kind of show I want to see at New York Fashion Week.
Ah, the good ol' days.
I'm a few days late, but I haven't missed out on the party entirely. It seems a rather lackluster Fashion Week, if I do say so myself. The shows lack punch, and the parties groove forward with predictable--yet waning--vigor. As always, I stand on the sidelines watching, waiting patiently for someone to WOW me. Perhaps it's the recession or the lingering shadow that is the untimely death of one of my fashion heroes, Lee McQueen--a remarkable designer who never failed to entertain his audiences with consistently innovative and over-the-top spectacles. Whatever it is, something seems off about New York Fashion Week this year, and I endeavor to find out why.
At first, I thought it was due to runway shows giving way to presentations, but often the presentations are a much more entertaining (and less expensive) alternative. Scott Sternberg conjured up Wes Anderson-y magic with his Boy by Band of Outsiders presentation. Preppy, cheeky fun in cinematic tableau is the best way to look at his clothes, not to mention taking in the tableau of well-known fashion editors actually smiling at his creations. The same applies to Lorick. I adore Abigail Lorick's cheeky take on the imagined uptown tea-party set. At yesterday's presentation, she unveiled "Angels and Cocoons," a shimmering display of wispy cocktail dresses and tweedy suiting popping with bright green accents, which was inspired by a Eugène Carrière painting at the Met.
I'm finding that I actually prefer presentations to runway shows. For one, you can take in the ensembles for as long as you want and notice details often lost in the whizz of the runway waltz. Also, the designers themselves are in the room with you answering questions or providing ear-shot insight about what went in to the collection. There are some exceptions to the runway rule, of course, such as Vena Cava who always display their enigmatic cool at heightened decibels. Or Karen Walker whose girls always seem to clomp confidently through the room with know-it-all literary character.
That being said, I still want whimsy and exploding grandeur the likes of which are only seen in Paris. Marc Jacobs has already mentioned a celeb-free show, which is fine by me as long as he gives us his the same killer styling theatrics (kudos to Venetia Scott and Camille Bidault-Waddington) or a return to eye-popping set design (like his S/S 2007 show). In the meantime, I look forward to a few more presentations this week and some shows that are off the NYFW grid. I'm hungry for that which is not on the radar, those who are ready to usher in a new revolution. Is it possible? We shall see.
For now, I leave you with David Sedaris expounding on the perfect accessory.
"I wrote stories from the time I was a little girl, but I didn't want to be a writer. I wanted to be an actress. I didn't realize then that it's the same impulse. It's make-believe. It's performance. The only difference being that a writer can do it all alone. I was struck a few years ago when a friend of ours--an actress--was having dinner here with us and a couple of other writers. It suddenly occurred to me that she was the only person in the room who couldn't plan what she was going to do. She had to wait for someone to ask her, which is a strange way to live."
I long for the days
Of misspent Japanese youth
Parallel dreamland
