Coachella Festival goers

Summer’s A’Comin’: Coachella 2013 Fashion

Gentle reader,

A couple of interesting things happened on the fashion front in Southern California this past weekend:  the MTV Movie Awards and the Coachella Music Festival.  And when I say interesting, I use it in the way of when you meet a friend for lunch and she’s wearing some God-awful embroidered thing and you can’t say anything nice about her hair because that’s a mess, too, so you say, “Gosh, that’s an interesting frock you’re wearing.  Is it Peruvian?”

Allessandra Ambrosio

Allessandra Ambrosio

She’ll probably say, “No, it’s from Chico’s.  I got it on sale.” 

Dolce and Gabbana FW 2013

La Dolce Vita Remix: Milan Fashion Week Fall 2013

Gentle reader,

I’m not sure if you noticed, but there was a little thing that went down a few blocks from our place on Sunday.  It’s called the Academy Awards and they seem to do it every year, like clockwork or something.  I tuned in this time because our friend, the dashing Lawrence Zarian, was working the pre-awards red carpet for ABC and then decided to watch the whole show. 

Nosebleeds No More: The End of the Platform Shoe

Gentle reader,

Since Scott was away on New Year’s Eve, I pulled my velvet blazer on over my plaid pajamas and spent the evening at home with my elderly widowed friend, Mrs. Clicquot.  A new year was upon us and I was thinking about what we’d be doing differently in the coming months, especially about a couple of articles that I’d read recently—one in Harper’s and the other in Vogue—that seemed to toll the death knell

Lord Robert Walters Naked

Milan Fashion Week Spring 2013: What the Hell Just Happened?

Gentle reader,

A new show called Secret Princes, about four young princes looking for love, debuted on TLC the other night and I’m sure you’re just dying to hear about it.  The premise is wonderfully simple.  They fly in to Atlanta where they’ll live in a rundown old house, work minimum wage jobs and pretend to be regular guys because, you see, busboys get chicks way easier than European princes.

This might be a good time to point out that, despite the title, two of them aren’t actually princes at all.  One guy is a hunky British underwear model named Lord Robert Walters.  Those familiar with the titled aristocracy will know that the use of “Lord” is murky at best, especially when followed by the first name and more considerably when the guy is an underwear model.  The Honourable Ludovic Watson is also a Brit who isn’t a lord but still outranks Lord Robert on the title scale because his father is a baron, though one never addresses a British baron as Baron X, only as Lord X, which is all rather confusing.  Hailing from a big, bleak-looking country house in Yorkshire, he arrives in the ATL wearing a silly tailcoat, which annoyed me more than it should, probably because I was likely to do the same in my youth when many of my friends were lords and “Hons.,” like those on the show.

Secret Princes

L to R: Salauddin Babi, Robert Walters, Francisco de Borbón, and Ludovic Watson

The other two seem to be actual princes.  Chubby, smiley Prince Salauddin Babi of Balasinor comes from western India where he lives in a big compound he’s named the Garden Palace when, from the looks of it, it should really be called the Drywall and Stucco Palace.  There’s also Prince Francisco de Borbón who seems pretty American save having an enormous crest on his jacket and fully staffed houses all over the world.  Oh, and being descended from the royal houses of Spain, France and Germany.  It seems like this could’ve been the perfect Battle of the Eurotrash Douchebags, but these guys are all very cool and I’m looking forward to seeing what happens now that they’re settled in.

Lady Gaga Fame

Goth Girls and Vampire Brides: Fall 2012’s Dark Glamour

Gentle reader,

Can you believe there was a time when I raced home every Wednesday night to catch America’s Next Top Model?  Okay, try really hard.  Do you believe it now?  You have to admit that Tyra’s butt was too big to fit in a photo shoot but it was fun to see her switch from Classy Tyra to Ghetto Tyra every once in a while.  After a few seasons, though, the backstage antics became predictable when the archetypes of Rebel, Princess, Whiner, and Token Lesbian were repeated season after season.  I also began to realize that these girls are about as likely to have professional modeling careers as my five-foot tall, middle-aged cleaning lady Esperanza, who has an amazing way with bleach but perhaps not so much affinity for the lens.  ANTM and I eventually parted ways.

Imagine my surprise when I got home Friday night after a long day, mixed my signature So-Skinny-You-Should-See-A-Doctor Margarita (tequila, half an Equal, a splash of lemon juice topped off with lime-flavored sparkling water over ice, you’re welcome) and flipped on the TV to see my old Wednesday friend Tyra Banks on the screen.  Not only has she moved to Friday night, but she’s also fired all her old judges and decided to do a College Edition so the judges are new but the bitch who wins will still be too old to get started as a professional model.  And you have to take “College Edition” with a grain of salt because, although one of them is a Harvard student, beauty school and online “college” students certainly outnumber Ivy Leaguers.  It still sounded more upscale, though, until the first challenge turned out to be an impromptu bikini runway show and photo shoot at a daytime frat party.  Ick.

Steve Meisel Vuitton

The Campaign Tale: Fashion Ads for Fall 2012

Gentle reader,

I’m sure that you’re as pleased as I am that, despite continuing economic woes in Greece and Spain and sluggish domestic employment figures, CBS managed to get Big Brother back on the air for season 14.  The show kicked off last week with the lovely, robotic Julie Chen reprising her role as host while trying to bring Halston back with her red halter jumpsuit.  If you’re married to the head of the network, I guess you can wear whatever you want.

And the famous Big Brother house has been again redecorated but this time by a blind person with a glue stick who was told to make it look like their idea of the Starship Enterprise.  That many colors should not be seen together outside a Mondrian exhibit or a Crayon box.  The producers might have intended the ugly surroundings as a “stress and duress” tactic to work like the isolation, overheating, and strategic food deprivation they use to disorient the contestants, but we’re the ones who have to fucking look at it.

Thai One On In Milan

TUTTLE MODE

by James Tuttle

Gentle reader,

I have to admit that, other than the cover of People in the checkout line, I haven’t been keeping up with this season of The Bachelorette on ABC.  Honestly, it’s usually not as much fun as The Bachelor because the contestants are straight guys and straight guys tend to get along, pat each other on the back and say supportive things.  The ladies on The Bachelor, on the other hand, are more likely to argue, stab each other in the back and pull hair.  Or maybe I’m thinking of Mob Wives.

If you watch it the right way, boxing is really gay porn.

As I turned on the television the other night, some hunky shirtless guys in boxing gear were fighting it out in a picturesque boxing ring in an exotic Asian locale.  It may have looked like a straight person’s idea of a gay porn movie but this was actually The Bachelorette and the guys whaling on each other were those straight guys that I’d normally expect to be getting along so well.  Of course, I had to rewind to the beginning and, when I learned that they had taken the whole thing to the beautiful temple-filled city of Chiang Mai in Thailand, I thought, “What better way to honor a beautiful city and its ancient culture than to plop down and bunch of douchebags and tape a reality show?”  You’re welcome, Thailand!