Go Ask Alice

Ok, so I know most of you have probably seen the first images from Tim Burton's upcoming take on Alice in Wonderland but I am too excited to not post them yet again. Like anything whimsical and acidy looking, Alice has always been soooo my bag...so waiting for this movie is like sitting on the bus with a full bladder. I just wish it was Halloween so I could decide which out of Helena's, Anne's and Johnny's looks I'd want to attempt...

Thrill-Less

Since hearing the news of dear Mikey's passing yesterday, I've been somewhere between holding back tears and thinking 'why do I care'? I'm always super weirded out by the fact that a celebrity death should affect a fan so much, but in the case of Michael Jackson...it's just impossible not to care.

Aside from all thats been said in the past day, that he revolutionized music, that he was the king, that his music will live on forever, it's really just that memories of him and his music are so ingrained in that warm early-childhood corner of my heart. All I keep thinking of is my 10 year old bewilderment of his crotch grab, of my constant imitation of the 'whoooo!', of the electrifying barely-touching-the-stage silky struts! Never again? To say Mikey's going to be sorely missed in an understatement.

News of his death is also particularly unbelievable considering, how for lack of better phrase, hot he was this season. What with his recent Balmain purchases (and obvious inspiration on Decarnin) and the thrilling auction of his belongings that never actually happened. Double tradge! I spent a few hours poring over the catalogues and literally just...astounding. Above are a few of the most amazing pieces that would have been for sale....

To see the rest, visit:
http://www.juliensauctions.com/auctions/2009/michael-jackson/catalog-list.html

Obviously I couldn't stay away from playlist.com on this baby, so without further adieu...here are some of my favourite of the King of Pop's songs...

Teeny House Bunny all grown up!

There's somethin' real special in Teen Vogue's August issue. It's real poufy, real pretty and sittin atop Emma Watson's head! It's a friggin Teeny House Bunny hairpiece!!!!! (Which in case you didn't know is the work of our very own Robin along with her fellow bunnies, Alex and Dyana) Are you freaking out? Because we're freaking out. Not this Katie Girl had even the tiniest of doubts in her co-conspirator, but so soon? And so perfectly placed in such a stunning shoot? I feel just like a mother waving goodbye to her college-bound children! Bravo girls, Bravo!

Art Attack: Cecil Beaton Meets Marc Jacobs

I don't usually love posting photoshoots straight up torn out of a magazine, but Flaunt's latest tribute to Marc Jacobs and Lanvin's spring collections was too spectacular to pass up. The shoot, entitled 'A Simple Expression of Complex Thought' is Willem de Kooning meets Cecil Beaton...and we all know how I feel about that. Also, doesn't the top right image look like one of those 3D pictures you're supposed to stare at until you see an image?

Long Live Coney Island!

As we anxiously await the good times (and good weather!) of summer, us Katie Girls are reminded of last summer, and our fond memories of the now defunct Astroland Park.

Hanging around Coney Island is like crossing over into the Twilight Zone. It's the only place where you can grab a hotdog and watch a freakshow while tanning - can we get an amen for that?

Obviously the thought a Coney-less summer makes our dear little peepers well up, so in the interest of being nostalgic, here are a few pics from one of the greatest days we had there last summer.

Once Wed

I have never been the marrying type. In fact, I have no desire to ever get married. And this isn’t some busy, working girl mantra of mine-I’ve just never been too interested in the whole idea.

When my adorable and loving sister announced that she was getting married, I was overjoyed. I’m now the Maid of Honor as well as the veil designer, and am actually heading to her homestead in North Carolina this weekend to throw her bridal shower. Not too long after my sister’s announcement, Randi’s brother decided to play copycat and announced his engagement.

So what are two sassy singles supposed to do? Obsess over wedding blogs, that’s what. Here’s one of our favorites and by favorites, I mean obsessions. And by obsession, I mean omg-I-want-to-work-there-and-stare-at-the-photos-all-day-and-freak-out-and-pretend-I’m-one-of-the-brides-without-actually-getting-married.

Ladies and gents, meet Once Wed.

all images borrowed from www.oncewed.com

We've Lost Control

During my three-day, near-death experience with a viral infection last week I watched a lot of stuff on my laptop. I saw Glee twice and loved it, caught up on Parks and Recreation (which I also love, more than I once thought) and silenced Feifei's (www.feifeithemorningafter.blogspot.com/) begging by finally moving the Joy Division flick, Control, to the top of my Netflix queue.

If you haven't seen Control, it follows the story of Joy Division's front man Ian Curtis. You follow Curtis from his high school days spent daydreaming class away, and his afternoons lip-syncing David Bowie in his room (so dreamy, right?) into the explosion of Joy Division. Control, and likewise Joy Division, ends with Curtis's all-too-soon suicide at the age of 23. The scene itself is appropriately set to Joy Division's Atmosphere.

Aside from featuring the incredibly cute and delightfully British Sam Riley, Control is filmed beautifully in black and white and turned me into an even greater Joy Division fan than I already was. His almost anti-fashion wardrobe, consisting of trench coats, oversized trousers, and button-ups made me fall even harder, not to mention his signature dance during his performance of "She's Lost Control" and those incredible guitar riffs that made me almost lose control (!).

Without further adieu, The Katie Girls present their personal Joy Division soundtrack.

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Prada's Return to Pretty

Almost every one of my favorite designers has the ability to completely polarize me from my own feelings season to season, which is actually quite strange if you think about it. Like I mentioned in our review of Marc Jacobs' fall ode to the oversized, lopsided and colorful, "he makes me want to literally bleed for him one season and the next is like, 'why do i put all my faith in you!"

The latest example of my skitso appreciation is Prada's transition from fall's austere yuckness to resort's straightforwardly pretty collection. I love everything about this collection, from the classic Miuccia mix n' match to the undie-shorts to the flowery shoes. For some reason the whole thing reminds me of something Maggie Smith's students would wear in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie on a weekend picnic.

ps. we stole these pictures from style.com

The Original Babe

While clicking through LIFE's recently unearthed photo outtakes of a pre-mega-fame Marilyn Monroe, I was reminded of how much I used to idolize and love dear Norma Jean. Long before my discovery of more, let's say, subversive fashion icons, Marilyn was it. I was obsessed with her platinum bob, her curves, her perfect pout.

I used to make my mom photocopy black and whites out of library books and save them in my drawers. I postered my walls with her face, an old friend even painted me a Marilyn chair! Also, she fit pretty perfectly into my burgeoning love for Andy Warhol. I found some Marilyn wrapping paper, which was quickly adhered to my closet doors. A few months ago my little cousin came strolling in and remarked "You're really obsessed with that blond woman, aren't you" and I was kinda like, oh yeah! I was!

I guess what I'm trying to say is that regardless of what tangent I may be on, Marilyn will always hold a special place in my heart...these pictures are just another example of why...

To see the rest of the pictures, visit http://www.life.com/image/first/in-gallery/27412

WWOD: The ShamWow Incident

You might remember that WWOD is the section of The Katie Girls where we think about past decisions we've made and put them beneath a cute, oversized, vintage magnifying glass to see how they would compare with the decisions of our (well, my) Commander in Chief. Here's the latest dilemma that left us thinking, "What Would Obama Do?"

Issue # 2: The ShamWow Incident

Just recently, I was having dinner (and drinks) with some friends. Said friends had brought along a ShamWow and we had spent the evening demonstrating its power by repeatedly mopping up the table with the ShamWow, and ringing it out. Any and everything that was on that table was now in the ShamWow...water, tequila, salsa, and whatever else you typically find on the table of a Mexican restaurant in Brooklyn.

Around this time, a bet was brought up. Should the ShamWow be rung out into a glass, and should the contents of that glass be drunken by someone, that someone would recieve $23. Seeing as this is a recession and seeing that I just really like gross stuff, I decided to drink the ShamWow water. For the most part, it tasted just fine. Maybe a little mineral-y, but not too bad.

It wasn't until the next morning when I realized the physical price I would pay might outshine the $23. I was on the subway, heading to work like a normal person, when I became overheated and fainted on the subway. On the subway! I then came to, got off at the next stop, grabbed a cab home, and spent the rest of the day with a weird, out of the ordinary bellyache. Was the public embarrassment and missed day of work worth the $23 I earned the night before? I'd like to think so.

But what would Obama do? Would he drink the ShamWow and risk his health for $23? In this case, I doubt it. Obams definitely seems like the type to want to have a laugh and some fun every now and again, but risking your health, especially as a public figure? Doubtful.

Chandler Levack's Ode to Dawson's Creek: Part Two

Earlier this month, we introduced you to our first guest contributor, Chandler Levack, and her hilarious deconstruction of Dawson's Creek and it's role in screwing with her sex life...as promised, here goes the follow up! Enjoy, fellow Katie Girls!

Dawson's Creek Ruined my Adolescence: Part Two

In central casting, Will Davis Jr. would play a six foot tall comely North Carolinian with jeans as tight as sausage casing, who would tell anyone who listened in his thick Southern accent that he was a descendent of John Wilkes Booth. He was also as American as it gets. “What do you mean you’ve never been muddin’?” he prodded me, between shots of bourbon at our favorite bar, the Confederate-themed Wall Street watering hole, The Patriot. “I don’t even know what you are talking about.” “They don’t have muddin’ in Canada?” His grandfather had rifles mounted on the wall. His parents were Methodists. He had been turkey hunting. He ate chicken on his waffles.

Now living a block away from my apartment, Will seemed to embody Americana down to his ironized stars and stripes boxer briefs. He told me about Spring Break – where he threw empty beer cans off his Daytona Beach balcony and cheated on his high school girlfriend. He pointed out a Jeep parked on Park; similar to the one he received for his sixteenth birthday. He detailed his junior semester abroad where he romanced “a real posh girl” in London, steeping me in the smoke of his American spirits. But best of all, Will had lived near Wilmington, North Carolina where they had filmed all six seasons of Dawson’s Creek. In high school, he had auditioned as an extra and was rejected. I’m sure it was because he was already a character. “Do you want to maybe do it?” Will asked one night, during a particularly torrid make out session set to The Byrds, Jefferson Airplane, and The Grateful Dead – bands culled into a genre he deemed “Americana Sorcery.” “Uh, okay.” I had joined the land of the living.

Dating Will was like playing a mid-season cameo on a generational melodrama entitled “On The L Train.” I, the plucky Canadian intern at a mid-level music magazine, immersed myself in a gang of similarly bemused Southerners, drinking mini bottles of Peach Snaaps in abandoned swimming pools, screaming out the dialogue during an al fresco airing of “Dazed and Confused.” Riding “Brooklyn style” on the back of Will’s fixed gear bicycle, we would scream the choruses of our favorite Smiths songs as we cycled back to Bushwick, in time for ironically-detached viewings of “Point Break” on TNT. And every Sunday the group would gather at the Greenpoint Coffee House for gossip and eggs benedict as Will’s dishy Keanu Reeves-doppelganger roommate made us Caesars, delicately scowling at the hordes of hipsters just like us.

But my contract was soon to be expired. “Stay,” Will implored me on my last night in New York, clutching at my American Apparel tube dress as we kissed outside the graffitied walls of our favorite Lower East Side dance club, “Trash” – the one I had to flash a bouncer to get into when my fake ID was revealed. “You know I can’t stay.” “I’ll marry you.” “Are you retarded? You’re not going to marry me,” I said. “I’ll marry you,” he pouted, butting out his American spirit.

William, was it really nothing? I treasured that summer for months, thinking nostalgically back on all the Pabst Blue Ribbons consumed on Williamsburg fire escapes, all the Vampire Weekend singles, all the times I was left stranded at house parties while Will’s friends disappeared for hours to “go to the bathroom”, returning jittery and elated. Why wasn’t the zeitgeist enough to make it last? The major problem with a television show is their eventual cancellation. Unless you land a spin-off. And who wants to watch Joanie Loves Chachie when Happy Days is on?

“I doubt that Jean Baudrilliard has ever seen Dawson’s Creek but I’m sure his head would explode,” adds Kyle. “Dawson thinks he’s going to repair his past with a piece of culture. It’s funny that it seems to be a struggle for him, because the show itself basically approves of that. It asserts that, you know what? Television can save you. These characters are better than you, and you should definitely aspire to be them. Maybe at this point, considering the amount of culture that is available to us, we should just give into the fact that we consciously desire to have our lives be like fiction – because you know what, it’s gotta get it right sometimes. But I guess that I’m just searching for something I feel could be an accessible model for my own life.”

I’m not nostalgic for high school, but I am nostalgic for all the television shows I adored, all the albums I owned, and every movie starring Freddie Prinze Jr. Is this an unfair paradox, or simply the way my generation experiences reality? Is the central crux of Generation Y a feeling of nostalgia for something we’ve never experienced, entrenched deep within pop culture? And how does this affect the way I listen to Weezer’s “El Scorcho” a song that singularly applies to every boy I’ve ever wanted to love?

“Basically”, Anderson writes in his review of the Creek’s soundtrack for SPIN.COM, (tracks like Six Pence None The Richer’s “Kiss Me”) “are the soundtrack to not knowing what you want, but definitely knowing you want something…While Beverly Hills 90210, the other major teen zeitgeist show from the ‘90s, was full of drug addictions, gambling debts, and sexual harassment of all forms, Dawson’s Creek was mostly about knowing that something has to happen after high school, and not knowing exactly what that was going to be.”

I asked Kyle if he ever feels haunted by all the experiences he’s never had.

"I think our generation not only feels nostalgic for the very recent past and for things that we think were supposed to happen, but also for things that are impossible. It’s a strange deterioration of timelines, wherein nostalgia is attached to things way outside of our own experience."

"Panic at the Disco’s publicist once told me that the reason why the band sounds like it does on their first album is that they learned rock music all at once. So as far as they are concerned, there’s no reason why Queen and Dr. Dre shouldn’t be associated — after all, they heard them at the same time. I think that’s an apt metaphor for how our own personal memories are constructed. Since multitudes of information and culture are available to us at all times, the strange chemical reaction that occurs when you get attached to something gets all thrown off. So now every time I think about my high school girlfriend — the one I’ll always be hung up on no matter how old I get or how strange she gets — the song that I attach to her is Scott Weiland’s “Barbarella,” even though that song came out years after we broke up."

Maybe Kyle's right. Maybe pop culture predisposes necessary pain – after every breakup with someone I wasn’t really dating I evaluate my personal effects – Pavement reissues, Wilt Stillman DVDs, bonne mots from Angela Chase. (“I’m in love. His name is Jordan Catalano. He was let back, twice. Once I almost touched his shoulder in the middle of a pop quiz. He’s always closing his eyes like it hurts to look at things.”) Like Dawson Leery, I’m tired of having my larger-than-life dreams compensate for my smaller-than-life life. While my stint on “On The L Train” seemed tortured and passionate for someone who had never experienced anything and certainly had never done it in the KGB Bar, the characters were flawed and uninspired, the love an amateurish imitation of how the best television should make you feel. The ending wasn’t tragic, it just ended. It ended when my parents picked me up at the Buffalo airport and I cried in the bathroom at Applebee’s. And it ended when I had to face reality, which ideally should be comparable to artifice.

Dawson: Joey, stay. We can watch bad reruns and throw sarcastic remarks at the television.

Joey: Well for the record I'm getting pretty tired of television. I mean, the metaphor alone is making me nauseous.

Dawson: What are you talking about?

Joey: I mean, every night it's the same. We hang out in your Spielberg-ized bedroom and watch movies and TV reruns. It's so predictable.

Dawson: This is a great show. This is a huge two-parter, the big cliffhanger.

Joey: Cliffhanger? C'mon Dawson, you of all people should know that a cliffhanger is merely a manipulative standard designed to improve ratings.

Dawson: No, a cliffhanger’s purpose is to keep people interested. Keep them guessing what's going to happen in future episodes.

Joey: But just like in our own lives, they are so predictable. I mean, the producers put the characters in some contrived situation hoping that the audience will think something is going to change, but, you know what? It never does. Back to the same way it was before your so-called cliffhanger. It's boring Dawson.

Dawson: Well, what if this time it's different? What if this time in the cliffhanger something changes? You wouldn't want to miss that, would ya?

I want to sail away to Cuba with the boy I love, and never bestow as much as a blowjob. I want to climb into the bedroom of the person I confide in most and know that they will always be awake. I want kisses on moonlit piers, and to be crowned Homecoming Queen, and dramatic confessionals where we always say exactly what we mean, incrediblyfastandurgently. I want a never-ending rotation of pastel cable neck sweaters, and parents who are sympathetic to my every need. I want Jann Arden to score my first kiss, and my soul mate to retake my virginity on our senior ski trip. I want Katie Holmes’ thighs and Michelle Williams’ breasts. I want true, undeniable love, but only at the expense of my own self-flagellation. I want to own a rowboat, so I can row up to your house and tell you not to go to Paris. (I only own a metro pass.) I want you to look at me as if you know who I am because we share the same blood.

‘Cause I don’t want to wait, for my life to be over. I want to know right now, what will it be?

How To Dress Like: Grace Jones

Grace Jones’ intensely angular cheekbones and robotic island voice may have been a club culture force in the 80’s, but her fashion freak flag is what I personally like to think of as her best asset (other than her 5’11 statuesque bod that is…) On and off-stage, Grace found some sort of balance between techno, tribal and disco...and you’ve gotta love her for that.


I'm going to attempt to break down one of Grace's most cracktastic looks...

Step 1. Keith Haring isn’t available for body painting anymore so you’ll need the next best thing – I’d suggest getting a bit tipsy with your best Katie Gal and have her draw some majorly swirly and large lines all over your arms and legs. (kind of like when Tracy Jordan draws a tattoo on his face with washable crayolas in the first season of 30 Rock)

Step 2. Make sure you have some skivvies on and your most Madonna/Gaultier-esque bra!

Step 3. Find out where you can get some wiring. Anything that’s bendy. This would be a positive way of recycling the land line you no longer use...

Step 4. Twirl and twist them as many times as you can...and then glue them to your underwear and bra. And while you might like playing with craft glue, you might need something a bit more severe...

Step 5. Got any old shmatas lying around that you are okay with getting rid of? Cut and rip these puppies to shreds...

Step 6. Feel free to braid, tape, entangle, color the shreds...anything really! Now hang and droop them onto your undies, anywhere and everywhere!

Step 7. Now, enlist your 1st grade cousin to make a headdress for you. It doesn't really matter what it looks like – more is more! (But hey, if they happen to
have recently completed a unit on Natives and/or
totem poles...that might work to your advantage...)

Step 8. Cut a branch off the first pine tree you can find and proceed to picky pick! (I know it might get sticky but it smells great!)

Step 9. Now take some of those candies that look like little bananas and bead them onto the pines (I mean, I'd never get this far..it's just too much work...) - if you can get some sort of jewellery piece out of this you are a genius!

Et voila! Tribal boogie freak chic!

It's Showtime With...OMFG LEONARD COHEN

On Tuesday night, ma daddy and I trekked to Hamilton (about an hour outside Toronto) to see the amazing, beautiful, awe-inspiring ladies' man - and let me just say, it was the best concert I've been to in years, maybe even ever, where big venues are concerned. So good in fact, that I doubt my words do it justice.

Not only are his words some of the most perfect ever written, but he's also a better showman at 74, than most people half his age, literally trotting on and off stage at his fancy. Set like a theatre production, the performance was split in half by intermission (fancy!). The second half was what really slayed me, mainly because of an even-better-than-on-the-album Take This Waltz and 2 of his backup singers (who accompany Sharon Robinson), Hattie and Charley Webb singing (or unfolding, as he put it) If It Be Your Will. And as if two full sets werent' enough, he performed three encores!

Having emerged from a somewhat hermetic and money troubled decade with such ability to completely entrance a crowd (myself included) is what's really amazing. At some points his voice is near whisper and it's not like you haven't heard his words over and over, but still you can't really do anything but try to overcome getting faclempt (my dad of course, with kleenex in hand...)

Here are a few of my fave songs that were played last night, although I really can't remember the order....

Can We Hang Out With You, Pamela Love?

Without a doubt, Pamela Love is one jammin' jewelry designer. Not only does she produce some amazing, hard-edged, Western-ready pieces, but she is also one heck of a girl about town. Aside from being seen at more parties than you can shake a fist at, she also shares a Chelsea studio with Frank Tell and Julia Restoin-Roitfeld (who's apartment we are now obsessed with, by the way, thanks to Todd Selby, http://www.theselby.com/).

We were lucky enough to get a chance to talk to the lovely Ms. Pamela, and we found out more than a few interesting facts (hint: she once assisted Francesco Clemente).

Where are you from originally and how long have you been in the big city?

I was born in Brooklyn but I grew up mostly in South Florida. I moved back to New York in 2001.

We think your jewelry is totally rad. Have you always wanted to be a jewelry designer, and did you study to learn about it or are you a self-taught gal?

I had no idea what I wanted to do. I had a million

interests and all I knew was I wanted to create with my hands. I studied Painting and Film Production in college.

Then, after school, I styled photo shoots for a while and assisted the painter Francesco Clemente. I've always made jewelry in one form or another since I was a kid. I never studied it in school but I have learned so much just jumping into it and working. Every day I learn something I didn't know before.

Please tell us that Love is your real last name. It's so cute!

Yes - it's real!

We hear that you share a studio with Frank Tell and Julia Restoin-Roitfeld. Amazing. What was that office atmosphere like? We’re guessing not too corporate...

Its just a regular office/studio really. We all do our own thing and everyday is different. Working in a space with other people running different business keeps me in check and motivates me to always be working.

Recently you designed jewelry for designers like Zac Posen, Yigal Azrouël and Marchesa - how often do you collaborate with other designers, and how does that come about?

So far we have worked with four different clothing designers and I am collaborating with another jewelry designer this season as well. Usually, I am contacted by the designer and we just go from there.

If you could work with anyone, alive or dead, who would it be?

The artist Lee Bontecou and filmmakers Alejandro Jodorowsky and Jan Svankmajer.

You're quite the girl about town. For a night out, would you rather wear

a) heels with socks

b) scuffed-up boots

Boots

After you've decided what shoes to wear, what are your favorite new places to go out?

I usually like to stick to my neighborhood so I go to Daddys in Williamsburg and also Enids in Greenpoint.

And finally...

Can you describe your style without using phrases like boho chic, old Hollywood glamour or anything with a twist?

I would say I dress pretty casual most of the time. I like contrasts (masculine and feminine, high and low, messy and clean, dressy and grungy, etc.)

A Brooklyn girl by the name of Love who taught herself the tricks of the fashion trade? Sounds like a Katie Girl, fo sho.

For more information on Pamela and her pieces, check her out at http://www.pamelalovenyc.com/

ps. we stole Pamela's collection images from Refinery29

Just Saying...

I found this pleasant little Jehovah's Witnesses brochure on the bus yesterday...and is it just me or does the 'no suffering' guarantee have anything to do with the fact that Jane and John Jehovah over here are the spitting images of Opes and Obams (aka the messiahs of our generation)? Just saying....

Talent Scout: Meghan Roche

While busy Face-stalking the other day, I came across one of the raddest photos I'd seen in a while. I assumed it was a tear from V or Dazed, but lo and behold, it was actually the work of almost-Ryerson-grad, Meghan Roche!

The first thought that crossed my mind was that this was early Christopher Kane...and it's actually no wonder why. Meghan interned with him in London last year. And wait for it...he's offered her a job for next month! (this is kind of making me vom a little...)

Meghan's final collection is entitled 30 Colors, because of the 30 colors that appear within the five-pieced collection. (one short of Baskin Robbins status...) The dresses, which are almost entirely constructed of pleating, each feature six contrasting colors - none which repeat. With the help of some sick styling and photographing in the shoot below, Meghan's collection looks like something out of an acid induced origami lesson. I want innnnn...

Meghan's collection shot is by Justin Borbely