"McCarthyism, I like that."

"I have watched Dazed and Confused approximately sixty-five times, and I have been stoned for approximately sixty-four of those experiences. At this point, it almost seems unfathomable to watch this movie without being high; it fact, it's entirely possible that watching this movie actually released THC into my bloodstream. But I do know this: I was not smoking pot the first time I watched Dazed and Confused. And I know this because I was drunk." Chuck Closterman in his essay "Not So Long Ago But Very Far Away," as featured as part of the very much worth it Criterion Collection Dazed & Confused

A weekend in Utah won't fix what's wrong with us

Post removed, against my better judgments. Still though, I meant it all at the time, and if anyone was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of such vibrant immaturity and/or bitterness as was previously displayed, I congratulate you. Shit was genuine, and it sure ain't easy. Fuck this and mostly you, if only because it's too hard to have it any other way.


But fuck. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. 

Played cards in England, threw dice in Spain

Isn't that Heath Ledger's baby?

Maria Kalman's delightful, animated documentation of her trip to Thomas Jefferson's crib is almost as awesome as American Apparel's new staple crop:



That is all.

Sat on the beach with the rusting machines

It's loud and tasteless and I've heard it before

There seem to be, surprisingly, more Resort collections than ever this season. Thus, I must wade the seas and net out the superior.




1. Proenza Schouler. As usual, a brilliant melting pot of all the right, unexpected elements. And those shoes!



































2. 3.1 Phillip Lim. Simple, chic, voila.






































3. Rag & Bone. Let me just clarify how on board I am with the sweatpants trend. I was on board when the Sartorialist first highlighted the look for men years ago, and then when it started turning up fairly recently on menswear runways, and I'm kind of thrilled that it's catching on for women. King of Trend, A. Wang, sort of pulled it out of the woodwork, and Garance recently posted about the art of the sweatpant, and I think for one to truly pull off the look is such a fashionable feat that really relays where modern fashion has taken its seat. In contrast with Wang, I really enjoy how R&B has paired them with more formal elements. Also, love the Indian-inspired drop-crotch and head scarf.






4. Balenciaga. The same predictably great brave, streamlined, unique silhouettes.



































5. Thackoon. Simple, elegant, edgy. Also, I absolutely love the way this lookbook was shot.





































6. Bottega Veneta. Often I like to think of Bottega Veneta as Gucci's less flashy cousin. They've mastered the art of the minimal, sophisticated statement piece.






























7. Moschino. Usually I find Moschino to be just a smidge too much--too costumey, too campy, lacking the, for my taste, necessary dash of sophistication. But the neutral color palette really creates a lovely, modern contrast juxtaposed with the classic antiquated, feminine Moschino silhouettes.

























8. Burberry Prorsum. As always, I'm in love. The dress recalls the most ethereal of Degas' ballerinas, and the suits the reliable rumpled structure that I adore about Burberry.

Godspeed, all the bakers at dawn

Yellow cake, chocolate cake, carrot cake, spice cake, four batches of each, fourteen to a batch, bread pudding, butter cream frosting, cream cheese frosting, chocolate frosting, 24 quarts. Full-body stickiness. Sink overflows, mop up the floor. Full-bakery stickiness. Frosting makes excellent hair mousse, the ends of my tresses caked in flour and cocoa and powdered sugar. Going through the motions, nine eggs, one cup oil, four cups water, mix mix mix, pour pour pour, again again again, hours and hours and hours. Let it sink, in the hot water. But the worst part of the day, by far, is not the 6 AM start time, but rather, the clean up process. The sopping up of mounds of excess ingredients from the linoleum counters, the clumping, the goo, the liquidation of everything combined, everywhere. Scalding rags coated in sugary filth, piled in the sink, and the steam from the faucet, is so hot.

It's gettin' hot in here

Our last summer as independents

3/17/08
He's asleep with his mouth open. I know if he were awake we'd look at the houses on the water and he would suggest that perhaps we live in one one day, with a row boat. I love him so incredibly much.

Finally unpacking all one's personal items a year after a big move, can be much more emotionally overwhelming than I initially thought. There's just so much that I forgot about, and so much that just reeks of that relationship. Like it was all packed away, and then everything collapsed very suddenly, and then I was kind of glad it was gone. And now I'm sitting here sorting through mix cds and writing samples and love notes and photographs and all kinds of hideous mementos of shitty love that fell apart. Seeing it all, in front of you, kind of fucking sucks.

Workin' for the Yankee Dollar

I was in Time After Time the other day, and this song was playing in the background on what sounded like a very dusty sound system. It's been stuck in my head ever since. Seriously, how sick is this song? It's just begging to be juxtaposed with some really fantastic imagery.



And just because these videos (there are dozens) all turned out to be really fun and kind of silly and I just love this shit,



I wanna go to a Hula-Ba-Luau!