Blogging on Meds

A few months ago I read a long article about this band No Age. In the article they tried to pretend they were “punk” and “DIY” and reviving LA’s long-lost Black Flag vibe but as a two-piece. It didn’t sound very interesting. Then I got this flyer…

A No Age/New Era hat collabo? Wow…punk lives! Still, if you’re around go to the party and drink the free booze, though Fader is notorious for blowing up their parties then closing the guest list.

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Fashion photography occasionally transcends the service journalism/advertising worlds. And often this occurs in the pages of W Magazine. Here are some highlights from Philip-Lorac diCorcia’s Cairo photo essay from the May issue (thanks for the link Jeff). DiCorica is most famous for his staged, cinematic pictures of actual LA male street hustlers, two of which I’ve included below. His career retrospective made it to the ICA in Boston last year. Showcasing both his editorial and art work, the show illustrated diCorcia’s advertising soaked pathos-filled urban world. But applied to a closed society like Egypt’s, diCorcia’s work adds another layer complexity, pushing his exploration of the public and private spheres to new levels…

Above, Cairo…below male hustlers in LA titled: “Ike Cole; 38 years old; Los Angeles, California; $25,” “Ralph Smith; 21 years old; Ft. Lauderdale, Florida; $25.”

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Med Agency was the first website on earth to relay word that Obama’s PA concession speech had been invaded by a triplet of Abercrombe and Fitch dick faces. Lissa-Moon pointed out that AF’s HQ is in Columbus, OH, a few hundred miles away from Obama’s Evansville, IN, rally. Several fashion industry folk wrote to tell me that this was likely a conspiracy. If so, congrats AF—brilliant move.

Let’s guess how much ad value AF squeezed out from 20 minutes of airtime on CNN, MSNBC, and FOX. It was 10pm est and each network had at least a million viewers. I’ll say 5 million total, which is surely a low estimate. A 30-second commercial costs $600k for American Idol Wednesday, which averages 20 million viewers. So 1 minute at 5 million viewers would be about $300k. Times twenty: $6 million. Add in the post speech coverage and online downloads of the shirts with Obama, and that’s at least $10 million in free advertising. What a coup!

On a night when Obama lost, AF and the date-rape/white supremacist culture it promotes won huge…All heil the Aryans!

Left, Arayans circa 1936, Munich, Der Fatherland. Right, Abercrombie’s Kampf.

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DE LA BARRACUDA (www.barracudashop.com) opens new store located at 7769 Melrose Avenue LA CA 90046 - 323.852.7179. (next Sportie LA & American Apparel, directly accross from Fairfax Highschool)

With almost a decade in the business, DE LA BARRACUDA, continue to be the first store in LA to carry all your favorite streetwear, sportswear, sneakers, sunglasses, watches, books, designer toys & almost everything else you wear, carry or collect.  Always ahead of the curve, they have have done it again!  This time with an entire new shop [which you must experience in person] to showcase their full collections from designers worldwide.

DE LA BARRACUDA’S 5,000 sq ft compound is complete with complimentary private parking, vaulted ceilings, outdoor patio, a salon (opening in May) plus lavish offices; home to Supertouchblog.com, Barracuda & more.  Photos by Hew Burney (www.hewmanbeing.com)

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My hero likes Bad Brains, vodka, and blondes…

Last week I celebrated Christian Alexander, the newly minted creative director at The Box, downtown’s sex-theater-club. Well, on Saturday I was celebrating a friend’s 30th birthday when someone got a text from Mr. Alexander saying to come to The Box. This was at 3:45am. We arrived at The Box at 4am and were told Christian hadn’t shown up yet. Inside: a few hundred people attempting to keep it together in The Box’s neo-regal setting.

At 4:20 am Christian shows up (with Cee Lo from Gnarls Barkley and ten girls in tow). Almost on cue Raven O, The Box’s mc, came onstage in a diaper with a feather. Raven introduces a twin sister act–two blondes. The twins proceed to smoke long cigarettes, strip, and have fuck with didldos. This exists.

Yes Virginia, there is a place where naked girls and Cee Lo hang out with guys who like Bad Brains at 5am.

And that is what makes Christian Alexander an American hero. Who else shows up to work at 4:20am with a guy who just performed on Saturday Night Live?

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The man who saved The Box. Christian Alexander at left ripping shirt. And in bandana with Kanye…

Haters so want to desecrate The oh-so-glorious Box. But even NYC’s finest PHD (Player Hater Degree) holder, Gawker, admits the downfall of The Box means more trance at Mansion.

Supposedly, The Box is broke and can’t afford lawyers. I’ve not heard such things. In fact, I keep hearing about Snoop Dog performances, free mushrooms at the tables, NAS looking at titties, bikini girls in the face, and so on from my neighbor and friends. Even Gawker’s EIC/founder Nick Denton agrees The Box still rox:

The economics of The Box—the venue is intimate and the acts expensive—have forced the owners to allow in more high-spending bankers than consistent with the club’s celebrity cachet. Predictably, Manhattan’s lemming-like press, Gawker included, has been quick to declare the club over.

However, the gleeful criticism misses one point: the shows at The Box, which range from sexy burlesque to gross-out tranny acts, give the venue an energy that’s lacking elsewhere. (Mos Def gave an impromptu performance the other night.) Even on lackluster nights, it’s enjoyable—as one Gawker writer, who admits to being “knee-jerk snarky” when writing about the club, found to her surprise. If The Box’s pricey proposition forces it to scale back, Manhattan nightlife will be the poorer. The club’s critics deserve to be chained to the speakers at Mansion. Then they’ll be sorry.

There’s a few reasons why The Box continues to rule. First, owners Simon Hammerstein (grandson of South Pacific’s Rodgers and Hammer…) and Richard Kimmel (Wooster Group alum) actually know theater, and they’re show is still fun.

Second, after Box owner Cordell Lochin was sent to jail for drug trafficking, they hired in his place the one and only Christian Alexander. A true gentleman of leisure, Christian is also a borderline thug. He brings to The Box something that that the downtown club scene severely lacks—the hood. For every banker, Christian brings in a criminal, rapper, all out party girl, model etc. He’s not a promoter solely in nightlife for cash and women either. No. He not only hosts the party, Christian Alexander is the party. The guy’s had multiple 40-day long parties in 2008 alone!

Finally, The Box is still cool because you can walk to it from Soho, LES, East Village, Tribeca, West Village, Chinatown, and even Williamsburg. There’s no other place in a central downtown location where you can see celebs hanging with your pot dealer while on stage can-can girls dance around someone shoving dildos up butts.

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CASH ONLY SHOW
Sample Sale This Sat & Sun
At Beauty Bar (Hollywood, CA)
10 am - 5pm daily.

Featuring:
OBEY, MISHKA, REASON,  GORIN BROTHERS, FREE GOLD WATCH, AKOMPLICE

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Vulcan Show at Minna on Thursday night

Scott Barry at Receiver Gallery on Saturday Night

Chillin’ at Minna (with Vulcan work still up) on Saturday too.

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nylon.pdf
I wish this party was at 1Oakenfold. Trance meets Butter in the Meatpacking, a super sucktastic dream triple-threat…

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No, this isn’t a band photo.

Being fashionable means being privileged and lucky, right? But as we all know in the fashion biz, there are trend spotters, trend forecasters and the worst term of all, Cool Hunters*. Hunting Cool? Really? That job itself, and job title even more so, gives me heavy brain pain. These assholes go around the globe looking to get a step ahead in the business of youth and teen culture/fashion. Whether it be Brussels, Barcelona, Beirut or Brooklyn, the current trends must start somewhere, right? So from what I understand, it goes like this… Find a somewhat fashionable, youthful, energetic city. Travel there. Look for all types of kids with “unique” style. Photo or Video them. Ask them questions about how they’d describe their style(vintage, rare, thrift, chic - whatever lame adjective), what bands they’re into, what websites they frequent, etc. Then these style-less forecasters go back to their stuffy Manhattan, London, Paris, Tokyo or Santa Monica offices and sort out what trends to pitch to their clients; Urban Outfitters, American Apparel, Coca Cola, Diesel, Quiksilver, Etc., Etc., Etc. Does this marketing scheme work? I’d say yes. Is Fashion important - even on a grand scale? Even on a smaller scale? I’d say yes, well kind of. If it makes people happy, then yes it’s important. Personally I care how I dress and look - to a certain extent. Do you care how you’re dressed? Really though, it’s a matter of taste and opinion, and if riding the L Train from Manhattan to Brooklyn in a pair of sweatpants is important enough to care about, then so be it. Would you wear sweatpants on a date? If so, you’re rad. Who the hell am I to be covering fashion? Lissa, punch me when you see me next.

*I do have two friends who have this type of trend forecasting job and it’s painful to talk to them about it. They honestly believe in their job, and feel as if they are contributing to New York’s fashionable youth.

** The people in the photo are very close friends of mine. I am NOT making fun of them, or their choice of shirts, just using them as an example of what happens in Brooklyn, (Williamsburg specifically) when something gets “cool” or revisited, and how it ultimately implodes on itself. These three friends had no idea of the other one wearing essentially the same piece of clothing - (which I must point out, this certain shirt is not a new shirt as we all know - this type of shirt is classic, flannel, rad) but they all ended up showing up at mega-hip, but “locals only” bar, Daddy’s in Williamsburg.

You gotta stay either one step ahead, or four steps behind and you’ll be fine in the fashion world.

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(Left, funny Woody Allen image stolen by loser, “Let me call you in ten, pal,” asshole on right, Dov Charney.)

Woody Allen has sued Dov Charney and American Apparel for $10 million over an ad that stole an image from “Annie Hall.” I have to admit the ad is pretty good. But c’mon AA is the biggest scam since Coke or at least since Subrime Mortgages. Plain t-shirts for $20? Bullshit. Before AA opened a retail outlet, I used to buy tees wholesale and I could grab a dozen AA’s for $50. The 400% mark-up goes to a sexual harassing LA rich kid and a lame 80s wannabe ad campaign. Calvin Klein did the pre-teens in underwear thing with Brooke Shields in 1980.

AA=Scam of the New Century.

Good one, Woodrow. In a statement, Allen—the man who created modern Hebrew humor—said he, “Does not engage in the commercial endorsement of products or services in the United States.”

Above, more evidence Terry Richardson and Ryan McGinley ruined the planet. Left, the best AA ads appear in France, where boobs are legal. Right, why is this CK ad so much sexier, tasteful, intelligent etc even though it was shot 28 years ago? Oh, because America has gone to Shiite.

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(Both photos by Nan Goldin. Left, John Waters for New York Magazine. Right, “Rene Smoking Crack 1990,” print available for a mere $6000.)

New York Magazine has a weird write up on camp director John Waters this week.

…recently, John Waters accidentally smoked crack. He was having a party at his house in Baltimore and someone passed him a pipe that he assumed was packed with pot, so he took a puff. “I thought, Am I addicted? Am I gonna rob my parents now? I had a horrible hangover, but I’d been drinking anyway. I was glad, actually, in a way. I would never now purposely try a new drug, I don’t think, but I’m secretly glad I know what it feels like. All I remember is it freezes your lungs.”

Accidental crack smoking occurs more than one might think.

A similar thing happened to me in London back in 2002. I was with some friends, popping off the tube way out in Kew Gardens after a night at ye ole pub. Under a bridge I spotted two Rastamen puffing a joint and asked for some. They obliged, but said, “That’s not weed, mon,” right as inhaled. Out came blue smoke. Next thing I knew I was destroying a trash can—kicking, smashing, punching—in the middle of the street. I stayed up all night shivering; my mind so twisted I saw a yellow ghost. Though I wasn’t scheduled to leave for a few days, I wound taking the first train to Heathrow the next morning. Haven’t been back to London or accidentally smoked rocks since.

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Rainy season is just about on us, and there is little time left to get that spring jacket. If an urban Aragorn with a Cold War hangover is the look you are going for, then these Soviet-era parkas will kill it on the streets of your favorite city. If you and a friend each get one, they can be combined to make a tent. Just think, you can have a picnic in Union Square during a downpour while all the ronmin are forced to nap down in the subway.

Also, if you are worried you might get into a situation where you may wind up being shivved, Nihon Uni (no link) just came out with this lightweight and washable knife-proof shirt. Who doesn’t like not getting stabbed? From engadget.

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AP reports that within minutes of being sworn in, Pakistan’s new Prime Minister, Yusuf Raza Gillani, will order the release of all judges detained under emergency rule, ending a six month judiciary crisis.

The Pakistani lawyers movement has one of the slickest styles—black ties and suits—of any political rebellion in recent history. Look at these guys! Smooth…

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This dude, Andrew, has a streetwear store in LA, called TRADITION now. He poses with the dude from Borat and that stupid Kristen nice Lauren-from-the-hills girl (WHATEVER!) on his myspace page.

Strife photo by me, New Jersey in maybe 1992, can you find Sweet Pete?

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I smell art…

Part of this year’s Whitney show is a series of performances at the 67th St Armory. Whether you think The Voluptuos Horror of Karen Black playing trannie punk while ex-graff artist and current art artist Dash Snow DJs another room is art is up to you.

On Saturday, Dash Snow’s legal wife Agathe Snow—a FOB whose art is weird “dinner parties”—was in the middle of DJing a 96-hour set when a riot broke out:

Obinna Izeogu, an art director who attended the party, described the scene as a “mini-riot,” in which blows were traded for more than fifteen minutes as more partygoers joined in the fray that continued to swell even after D.J.’s killed the tunes (and Snow’s vision of infinite dance). “It started off like two and then it just became a rumble,” said Izeogu. Armory security staff, unprompted, dialed 911 for reinforcements, and officers who responded called it “that gigantic fight”.

“It was mostly a young skate-inspired crew,” said Izeogu, “but then everyone got involved.” Attendees, including members of ThreeAsFour and Dash Snow, some of whom had committed earlier to spending hours on the dance floor, tried valiantly to keep going, dancing even as the lights bumped up and organizers decided to cut the music.

In the early 2000s this crew was hanging at Max Fish and the Hole, doing pretty much the same amount of drugs and partying. Thanks to a global art bubble and post-9/11 worship of downtown cool, their lifestyle has become genuine get rich art.

Let’s flashback to The Hole, 2002.

A Wednesday, DJ Gibby Miller is spinning a CD set. I request Biggie like 14 times. The only light is dim and red. About 200 pack the tiny gay bar’s only weekly mixed (gay, straight, bi) party. No one I know is doing bad coke in the doorless bathrooms or while sitting in cum covered booths. Dash Snow is wearing a full Knicks homey suit, matching orange hat and XXXL jersey. AsFour were still a four-piece then and those stupid circle bags were hoisted on a half-dozen arms, both male and female.

All of sudden, Boston Mike (RIP) and Ezec from DMS (Doc Marten Skins or Drugs Money Sex—the famed New York hardcore crew that spawned Agnostic Front) roll in. Gibby sees them and plays The Clash’s “White Riot” followed by “Minor Threat” by Minor Threat. (”I couldn’t find Madball ‘Set it Off’,” Gibby later explains.) Ezec, a former mob enforcer, wears a baggy full camo outfit. Boston Mike—his lion face and gold teeth filled out by a dreadlock mane—wears a bubble jacket. They’re inside for like 5 minutes when Boston Mike attacks a gay kid in black frame nerd glasses and a tight white tee.

“What did I do,” the gay cries. A bottle smashes his face. Blood spills from his noes and lips.

Ghost, son—Ezec and Boston Mike vanish. Blood is being mopped from the floor. Two cops show up, and, ten minutes later, leave.

And The Hole’s back to business as usual. The third guitarist from SF psych-junk rockers The Warlocks spills his coke on the cum cushions and sniffs it straight off the crusty felt, inhaling AIDS. A graff-meister stands on his buddy’s shoulders to spray paint a tag. At 3am a mosh pit busts out: Bad Brains “Banned in DC.” This half-Hawaiian girl who worked at Isa in Williamsburg gets on someone’s shoulders and flashes her small breasts, wearing jean short shortz and Nike dunks.

So, what sounds better? The Whitney fight on the Upper East Side or this DMS gay bash on Houston and 2nd Ave? More importantly, isn’t it great that New York will allow pure idiocy into it’s most hallowed halls as long as it’s in the name of “art”?

Dmize: an early 90s DMS band who sucked, I mean were awesome. They should play a reunion the Whitney Biennial. Just look at that cover art—Picasso be damned!

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Blame it on Chase Corum for referring to Turning Point in his India post. He made this site start XXXMOSHINGXXX. I’m just keeping the flame burning strong…GO!

New York skateboard brand Supreme has gone straight edge. Stopping in their Soho store yesterday, I spotted these “appropriations.”

The YOUTH CREW above refers to a late 80s CT/NY straight edge (no drink or drugs) hardcore-punk movement led by the bands Youth of Today, Bold, and Gorilla Biscuits. Is Supreme saying that drug free homo-eroticism is Napoleonic?

The top left t-shirt is a rip-off of SSD’s 1981 album The Kids Will Have Their Say. The kids are storming the Massachusetts state house—as seen from Matt Damon’s condo in The Depahhhted. Chris Spadling rightly pointed out that SSD used to come to New York from Boston and kick the shit out of NYHC dudes at CBGBs and the Pyramid. What is Supreme trying to tell us? That they got beat up by Boston folk?

Here’s the original SSD cover.

Below is a picture of Bold at City Gardens in Trenton, NJ, from 1988. The singer of Gorrilla Biscuits, Anthony “Civ” Civirelli, is “crowd surfing.” Look at the style—Nikes, cargo shirts, obnoxiously screen-printed t-shirts, sleeveless t-shirts. Add some shaggy hair and put these kids in Max Fish and you have the modern LES style.

Supreme is a $20 million a year company. But they’re one of the only skateboard brands to both maintain their integrity and transcend the genre. Supreme are punks: They will steal your logo or mascot—be it Kermit the frog, Dipset, or Bad Brains—and use it for their brand. And Supreme’s downtown scumbag aesthetic beat Vice Magazine by a decade. They only have one store in the US, on Lafayette and Prince in Manhattan, but four in Japan. The majority of their business comes from the Orientals. Still, every young Hollywood stud (see Hartnett, Josh; Ledger, Heath—RIP man) buys a Supreme hat the second he sets foot on this glorious isle. Hopefully we’ll soon see Wilmer Valderama in a Supreme YOUTH CREW t-shirt.

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But you’d rather look at Kate Moss not looking druggy. At all.

From Liberation, Paris.

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Big pants are back! Break out your lime green New Deal and purple FUCT jawns right now, son.

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At the Knicks game last night Anna wore jeans for first time ever.

ANew York story last month titled the Anti-Anna profiled French Vogue editor Carine Rotfield, who dissed Wintor:

“Like Anna, she becomes so iconic that she becomes like a puppet. I don’t want to be like that, I don’t want to wear this uniform, I don’t want to be just an envelope.”

“The American editors are very, how you say, slick,” Roitfeld says. “Very perfect. Hair is perfect, they have a manicure. They are very clean, they follow fashion. I don’t think they take many risks. They do the total look of Prada. Me, I wear a lot of Japanese piece mixed with a bit of classic Hermès and Prada. Even though jeans suit me, I never wear jeans.”

Puppet no more! Anna breaks out the American classics, dungarees…

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