checks and balances

0411_openingceremonyaccording to cathy horyn, opening ceremony is a “low-end” label that “can be good” when it comes to fit and quality, but “you’re usually better off saving your money,” presumably to buy something even more expensive. how the other half lives, indeed—over here in my neck of the woods, opening ceremony is strictly window shopping/online browsing material. occasionally, i’ll go to the store and try a few things on, hoping to override my better judgment and go for something i’ve had my eye on, but i’ve always managed to thwart my own masochistic attempts on my wallet. that said, if i happen to find myself with a hundred and eighty-five dollars to burn this season, me and these schooner shorts are about to get real familiar.

[images: opening ceremony]

 

a little bit of rhythm and a lot of soul

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“it’s like someone leapt into my mind and said, ‘i’m going to make a collection that speaks to your very essence, roxanne—you’re welcome,’” i told a friend upon seeing olympia le-tan’s spring offerings for the first time.

hyperbolic statements aside, it’s pretty impressive how closely these clothes mirror my wardrobe. at any given moment, i’m usually found in high-waisted bottoms of a certain silhouette (that i lovingly refer to as ladypants), an abbreviated top to show them off, and flat shoes—a pre-mod ’60s vibe that i’ve grown attached to over the past year. unfortunately, ladypants are somewhat tough to come by. a number of vintage shop owners have told me that they don’t sell well—ergo, they don’t stock them—and i find that contemporary cuts are often made to hug my curves rather than skim them. my hard-won assortment thus far is the result of far-flung flea market scores and thrift finds plus several trips to my local tailor, so this collection feels like a godsend, albeit a hella expensive one. at least i’ve got a few months to save up.

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[images: garance doré, style.com, the olympia press, nymag, fashionising]

they’re enjoying themselves, moving in every direction

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there are days when i scold myself for spending too much time on the computer. today is not one of those days, because my aimless browsing habit brought me to an excellent early ’90s david byrne interview, conducted by none other than timothy leary, originally published in mondo 2000 magazine. obviously the whole feature is worth a read, but i’ve pulled some of my favorite excerpts here.

leary: i mention you in every lecture i give, because you represent the twenty-first century concept of international global coming together through electronics. how did you get into that?

byrne: you mean working with different cultures? [...] it seems that post-world war II with television and movies and records being disseminated all over the globe, you have instant access to anything anywhere, almost. but you have it out of context, free-floating. and people in other parts of the world—india, south america, russia—they have access to whatever we’re doing. and they can take what they need and leave the rest. they can play around with it, they can misinterpret it or reinterpret it. and we’re free to do the same thing. it seems to be a part of the age we live in, that that’s a unique thing about this period, that there is that kind of communication, even though it’s not always direct communication with people in different places, it can lead to direct communication if you follow through.

leary: you said in your autobiographical note here that you’re gradually emerging from racism. do you want to comment on that?

byrne: after years of telling myself i’m not a racist, i’m a liberal, i’m free-thinking, i started to acknowledge that i have these reactions that i’m not aware of, that i didn’t look at before; things that have been bred into me, not necessarily by my parents—maybe by the society, by the system, by television—and that it’s a real job to get rid of it. you can’t just blissfully say everybody’s equal, everybody’s nice. the conditioning is so powerful that you have to work all the time.

leary: it’s invisible; racism is the water through which we swim.

byrne: and you have to tread water to stay up there; otherwise you’re in it. you have to go against the flow to rise above it. so it’s acknowledging that in some ways i’m trying to deal with it, but it’s not going to happen overnight. it’s not something you can announce to yourself and all of a sudden you’re clean and pure.

leary: basically, the average american household passively watches television forty or fifty hours a week. these talk shows and the primetime programs are more real to more Americans than the day-to-day, real-time flesh and blood.

byrne: maybe it’s myself or my friends, but you sit in front of the tv and if you’re not watching a video you’ve rented or something else, you’re zapping it. and sometimes people keep their finger on the zap button, and it’s like they’re editing together a program that is comprised of everything that is on television at that particular moment. so there’s an impulse to interaction. on a primitive level, people want to talk back in a way.

leary: barbara and i saw an imax version by julien temple of the rolling stones. it’s really insanely powerful.

byrne: it’s not frightening?

leary: it is in a sick way—seeing mick jagger’s face enlarged.

byrne: i think it would be—seeing keith richard’s face twenty stories tall and being able to inspect the damage of the years. i know that’s not the point.

oh so smart or oh so pleasant

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last week, i decided to sort through the hundreds of links i’ve acquired over the past two years in my bookmarks folder. as expected, many of those great etsy finds were sold to another lucky browser long ago, articles announcing upcoming events were hopelessly outdated, and a number of interesting sites turned up broken. still, i managed to salvage a few bookmarks that i’ll be frequenting much more often in coming days.

my favorite (re)discovery so far: harvey faircloth, a clothing line by katie hatch, an attorney turned magazine editor turned designer who creates “spirited, off-kilter classics for modern women” with “a certain plucky, pioneering spirit.” all clean lines and simplicity, it’s easy to see how hatch’s collections both sprang from and blend perfectly with her sources of inspiration—wooded retreats, mid-century beach scenes, brightly painted vintage toys—found on the harvey faircloth tumblr. the fact that the spring/summer offerings feature a breton shirt that appears to meet all my specifications is just a bonus.

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[images: harvey faircloth, harvey faircloth's tumblr]

looking at the mutating skyline

after three days of searing sunlight, the afternoon sky rumbled and briefly faded to black before settling on a dusky charcoal. the ensuing downpour was to be expected, but i sat up and took notice when i recognized the clattering din of hail.

even though my bedroom windows don’t offer much in the way of scenery, i’ve been glued to my windowsill nook for the past hour, watching the weather pummel my back alley vista. for some reason, this song feels like the perfect backing track.

missed connections

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at one point during the tom ford episode of visionaries, i caught myself nodding vigorously in agreement as the designer shared an early childhood memory much like several of my own. “i was staring down at these brand new shoes, and there was just… the bump of the toe was off by—you know, i didn’t know what a millimeter was then—but it was just…just wasn’t quite the right shape,” he said. “when i got home, i took those shoes off and i just wouldn’t put them on again. they were wrong. they were just wrong.”

i definitely know what he means. i’ve always been incredibly picky about what makes its way into my wardrobe (see: selectorus neuroticus), but in the interest of maintaining my sanity, i’ve learned to make certain sartorial compromises. example: i’m partial to all things high-waisted, but i once caved and purchased a pair of levi’s with a low-slung waistline because i couldn’t find another cut in an equally brilliant cornflower blue. solution: it’s since been worn exclusively with oversize button-downs.

unfortunately, i’ve yet to discover any quick fixes to remedy a perceived footwear imperfection—this sole is slightly too thick, that pointed toe reads a bit too witchy—and so shopping for them is an endlessly arduous process. i’m drawn to styles spanning the ’40s through ’60s, but it’s no small feat to build a collection of wearable mid-century footwear with rarity, high prices, and the daunting prospect of upkeep all working against me. that’s why on the rare occasion that i find a contemporary shoe that i like, i acquire them without hesitation, sometimes in multiples.

these ankle-strap flats beckoned to me from a pixie market newsletter as i sifted through my inbox late last night. i clicked the link immediately, and…nothing. thirty minutes and a phone call to time warner cable later, i learned that an all-night service outage was to blame for intercepting fate, and of course, they were completely out of stock by morning. this isn’t over.

update: after hunting these things down like elmer fudd—that is, to no avail—i put my name on a wait list and scored them three weeks later. victory.

[images: pixie market]

what a bad picture: switchblade sisters

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when it comes to movies, i’m a big fan of keeping expectations as low as possible. there’s something especially unsatisfying about heading into one of those movies that’s been graced with rave reviews, endless publicity, and rabid audience approval, only to emerge completely underwhelmed. the tree of life comes to mind.

of course, when your expectations are permanently grounded, b-movies can sometimes look like motion picture masterpieces. i know this because i’ve developed a serious thing for bad movies over the years. i’m talking everything from sleazy, poorly-acted grindhouse fare to schlocky sob stories of the lifetime network variety. you know the stuff that’s left over on netflix instant after all the titles with any name recognition whatsoever have been watched? i consider that my personal goldmine. i don’t know anyone who shares my passion for box office flops, so it’s more of a solo hobby, but i still take it pretty seriously. after all, there are so many bad movies out there—simply bad, without the right amount of levity or camp to render them enjoyable—that i have to choose wisely. (more…)

for bounce and zoom in every step

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september 18, 2009: “…i did buy my third — i repeat, third — pair of crappy white canvas sneakers. i’m not sure why i haven’t just bitten the bullet and gotten some damn keds already. these are going to be falling apart in about two weeks, but whatever.”

it was another four months before i finally got those keds. stranded in san francisco with another pair of worn-through imitations of the urban outfitters variety, i bought a pair of white champion originals at the now-shuttered shotwell boutique and wore them out of the store. it was a purchase borne of necessity, but since then, i’ve become such a devotee that i now keep three or four pairs in rotation at all times. with their timeless design and my preference for buying them brand new and bright white, it never really occurred to me to look for vintage keds, but when i discovered the pointer, a champion sneaker with a “’60s-inspired” pointed toe, i began to realize what i was missing out on.

anticipating a slew of dingy champion cast-offs from the ’90s, i did a bit of google searching and forum browsing to narrow my search and discovered kedettes. launched in 1938 and billed as “the washable casuals,” the ladies’ line offered wedges, loafers, oxfords, slingbacks, mary janes and the like, rendered in raffia and denim as well as their signature canvas and rubber. unfortunately, only a few pairs are available online, and i’ve yet to find any in my size. there are, however, a number of great kedettes ads floating around the internet that have been tiding me over while i keep looking. ranging from stunning to hilarious, i’ve been filing my favorites away for entertainment and research purposes.

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