[images: opening ceremony]

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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]

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.

muff: we got kind of a political discussion group going. you know what i mean.
maggie: yeah.
toby: [pushes a book toward bunny] you know how to read?
bunny: [glances at the cover] oh, you’re into some heavy stuff.
toby: political power grows out of the barrel of a gun, ya dig?
bunny: yeah, we dig.
toby: well, that’s science, but they don’t teach it in the schools.
muff: they will when we run ‘em. [to maggie] this a sample of your sisters?
maggie: [nods] and they can fight. there’ just ain’t enough of us. now some people are leanin’ on us pret-ty bad.
toby: mao says don’t waste time on personal grudges.
muff: yeah. what’s in it for us?
maggie: you need guns?
muff: we can always use more…
maggie: well, this guy’s got an arsenal.
muff: and who might that be?
maggie: the one they call crabs.

muff and toby are down. they’ve got a personal grudge of their own against crabs, a “capitalist gangster” who “gets little kids hooked on the vitamin pills he’s pushin’ so he can lay some smack on ‘em later.” maggie warns muff that the attack won’t be easy, but muff is prepared: “we got a surprise for old crab. a great, big, motherfuckin’ surprise.” this script is truly a national treasure.

one of the best things about this movie is that every character’s wardrobe is sort of like a cartoon character’s. the plot unfolds over several weeks, but everyone wears pretty much the same outfit from start to finish with minor changes. it’s a good way of signaling to the viewer that this story is fairly fantastical and should be interpreted as such. donut’s look consists of a lavender deep v-neck tee, bellbottoms, and a chunky silver chain necklace, but when things get heavy and there’s dirty work to be done, she swaps out the pastel for a striped black scoopneck tee. maggie has the most to work with, switching back and forth between a miniskirt and hot pants to go with her long-sleeve tee, denim jacket, and flat thigh-high boots. depending on what the occasion calls for, she might even throw a printed button-down or brown bellbottoms into the mix, although her trusty chain belt always remains.

on the day of operation: crab attack, though, the girls’ really dress to impress.  donut’s hair gets pulled up into two spiraling pigtails and piles on a bunch of extra necklaces—totally appropriate for a gunfight. muff emerges in full-on military gear, just about everyone gets a beanie, and lace pulls out all the stops with a serious choker and a pair of post-apocalyptic studded princess leia buns.

girl power prevails, and the ladies retreat to jez headquarters post-shootout to celebrate with cake and beer, but there are still some questions to be answered and it’s not long before maggie and lace are at each other’s throats—with switchblades, naturally.

[images: netflix]

los padres national forest, california, july 2012.

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.

this ’50s tv spot features a strangely bratty cartoon cinderella that’s totally unimpressed by prince charming’s glass slipper, kicking them away from her when presented with it (pretty sure he’s just returning the shoe that you left at the ball, cind, no need to be a bitch about it). she’s looking about ready to do the same to the prince until his henchman suggests he get her kedettes instead. still not satisfied, the newly insufferable cinderella muses, “scrumptious! wouldn’t it be wonderful to have them all,” as a cluster of disembodied legs rise up from a fog to model the collection, swaying and caressing themselves just to make things that much creepier.

kedettes “fit as beautifully as gloves,” so obviously, the only way to convey this was to layer images of kedettes directly onto pictures of beautifully fitting gloves. consider the point sufficiently driven home.

hobo chic in a world predating mary-kate olsen. it’s a shame the jewel-encrusted bindle never caught on.

this ad neglects to mention that the shoes on display are called “amigas,” making the giant sombrero and instructions to “say saludos” when buying them all the more puzzling. on another note though, take away that hat and vest and this is an outfit i’d rock in a heartbeat.

“thats califor’ya,” san francisco, california, june 2012.