Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Oops-There-Goes-My-Kids-All-Over-Your-Face Akimbo / Bleeding Love

Now THAT is what we call nipple play kids...

What Good Is Sitting All Alone in Your Room?

Come, see Sasha play Liza!

Little girl lost

Dear Bruce Weber, thank you for invading my dreams. xoxo, Ms. Ross

Hello, world! Liza's back!

"Reality, much like a half-naked male model in gold lamé booty shorts, is something you rise above." -- Liza

"I got my talent, in addition to my drug/alcohol dependency from my mother, but my dreams, in addition to my love of gay men, from my father." -- Liza

54 - '09...who's got the silver spoon, mama's starting to feel things again?!

Cup it

A diva in her natural element, near comatose and chain-smoking on a technicolor dreamrug, while slugging some bourbon...they don't make 'em like this anymore

"My family's been in show business since the 1700s. I traced them. I'm bred to this. Like a racehorse. A thoroughbred. Look at my parents, my God. But it was my curiosity that made me do this. Because you could also say, 'Look at Frank Sinatra Jr.' It's not like a natural thing that happens. You gotta work." -- Liza

Work, tranny, work!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

New (York) New York: A Hell of a Town

New (York) New York – 17 September, 2013

Dearests Dolly and Ms. Streisand,

The skies have turned a jaundiced yellow, the air, sickly and stale, is too toxic to breathe. All around me people are dying slowly from the radiation poisoning. Our days are numbered…but at least I look fierce. Thanks to these inhabitable conditions, I’ve finally gotten down to a perfect size 2, and my spine has curved into a permanent hunch. I now have an entire wardrobe to suit this Mad Max world we’ve suddenly entered. Since money is practically obsolete, or so I like to think, I just murdered the salesgays at Rodarte and stole the entire Spring 2010 line. I know it’s a few seasons old, but it’s so apropos for how I’m feeling. And everyone’s envious. At least I think it’s envy, it might just be the H1N1. Either way, I’m looking amazing and I expect to be dead within the week. Thus, I’ve included the wardrobe for the rest of my life, as I went about my daily tasks. Wish you were here (instead of living it up in the newfound paradise that is New New Jersey).

Ms. Ross

Here I am on the way to the munitions hut ...

This is after I tore out and ate the heart of Plum Sykes...not very filling...

I felt cute and flirty after leading a rather bloody stampede on Wall St...

Popping off to work at Trader Joe's...

Just came from the gym where I did 3 hours (!) of zombie takedown cardio

I had a hot date with what was left of Anderson Cooper...three locks of
silver hair and a Ralph Lauren suit...Gloria says 'Hi.'

End of the world party at Marc Jacobs'; Marc's dead, obvi, but I still like to use his townhouse.
I think he'd approve

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Oh hi...


Enjoy your stroll while you can, Wang Chung. You may have escaped the sartorial purgatory that is the ceremonial cinching of bridal bodices, but do not dare forget to whom you are in debt.

The tithe is high, Wang. And is payable on receipt. In accordance with our deal, I expect the head of Mischa Barton on my doorstep in the morning.

I doubt she will be missed.

Dammit, Coddington, get your damn ginger hair out of my face! I’ve had it up to HERE with you upstaging me.

Yes. Everybody Wang Chung tonight.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Marcy Marc and the Funky Hunch


I always count on Marc to lift my spirits amidst the jumble, rumble and tumble of Fashion Week. How many harem pants, draped silhouettes and printed leggings can one look at before just not giving a Furstenberg?

Hey Everybody!

And then here comes Marc, looking 12 years old and gorgeous in his requisite kilt, giving us crazy curly-cue details, feudal Japan references and an instantly must-have fanny pack and I’m inspired again. His Spring 2010 is a grab bag of exquisitely-crafted pieces, some for the average joanne in need of a staple trench or jacket, and plenty for the gals at AnA who’ve never met a ruffle we didn’t like.

Marc wants us to have fun with our clothes, an idea with which I could not agree more. Why not wear GIANT pajama pants with an exposed garter and a bra as a top with a bold scarf wrapped about the neck? I’m going to Key Food and I need something comfortable. These touches of underwear as outerwear, though not new at all by this point, felt fresh with Marc at the helm.

I didn’t, however, die for everything: those sandals though adorable looked painful as a mother and some of the later Aztec (I’m guessing)-inspired dresses left me a little apathetic.

But the finale dress, which looked like the tears of a sea nymph woven together by the thread of Grace Jones enchanted pubes (delightful image, no?) brought the show to a thrilling close.

The genius that is Marc Jacobs remains untainted, and the hotness that is Marc Jacobs, like a fine wine, seems to only improve with age. Lucky is the chubby Brazilian ad exec who gets to pop that cork.

Monday, September 14, 2009

R.I.P. Akimbo

Patrick Swayze

"Oh, sweet pea. Now, you listen to your Auntie Vida. I want you to believe in yourself, imagine good things and moisturize, I cannot stress this enough."

For God and the Gays Akimbo

Well, thanks to some inopportune soapboxing, a touching MJ tribute and...really because of Lady Gaga, the VMAs managed to leap back from numbing irrelevance to put on one hell of a show. An awful show forged in the bowels of hell, yes, but, hey, we were definitely entertained. So let's take a break from Fashion Week and sort through the shitshow with which MTV has yet again burdened the world.

There was a lot of chit chat about this being all about the ladies, with B and Gags monopolizing the majority of the nods (but as far as we're concerned, it's always about the ladies). Sadly, though, there was no Mugler-off, as AnA had hoped/predicted, but neither lady disappointed.

Mrs. Carter earned some MAJOR diva points upon receiving Video of the Year for our nation's new national anthem, when she let accidental star of the night, Taylor Swift, finish her thank you speech -- in a completely unrehearsed and unscripted moment -- that was so rudely, though understandably, interrupted earlier. Beyoncé owns all of us. If you need further proof, just watch her suitably epic rendition of "Single Ladies."

There she goes, Miss Tranny America.

There, but for the grace of B, go head girlfriend.

Lady Gaga is officially AnA's favorite person right now. Not that she didn't give us plenty of reason before, but tranny took it to an entirely different level thanks to an ever-evolving wardrobe during the show's three (hundred) hours. Despite being robbed for best pop video by an absent and vacant Britney Spears, Gaga emerged the clear winner of the night.

Gaga + Gaultier= A dysfunctional gay marriage made in haute couture heaven

Oh. And then there's her genital-quavering performance of "Paparazzi," which will inevitably go down in VMA history, and will be pantomimed daily at the AnA loft for the next three months.

Insert gratuitous feminine hygiene joke here.

Changing the world, one outrageous headpiece at a time.

Thrust that tiny silver lamé man in the air, you've earned it. We also love how you apparently thrust your face into a mound of cocaine, a la the last 10 minutes of Scarface, before entering the press room. It's called being a pro.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Boyfriend of the Day

GORGEOUS, bando top and a Dalí shoulder tattoo -- what's not to love?

Tyler Riggs (Red) during the Spring '10 Davidelfin show (whose namesake, David Delfin, is a hottie in his own right)

who dat