R.I.P. Akimbo

Brittany Murphy
(1977-2009)

Tai: Why should I listen to you, anyway? You're a virgin who can't drive.
Cher: That was way harsh, Tai.

Way harsh indeed.

MOVE!

Throw that bobble head back! Extend that hoof! Rock a chandelier!

Boyfriend in My Head

Thank you Sartorialist for providing yet another boyfriend for us to imagine in a variety of unspeakable positions and compromising situations.

Despite your 'straight'-ness, you continue to get homos off across the world.

Who cares about what he's wearing?? Look at that face... Perfection.

Divine Intervention

I know, I know, it's been forever and a day since we've posted anything on le' blog... It's offensive honestly. More offensive than this even... We apologize. Both for that cover photo and our absence.

Let's break it down girls, life has been rougher than a walk down a Prada S/S '09 runway. And we should know - Dolly almost permanently damaged her coccyx...

So it had to take something truly epic to bring about a resurrection. Luckily, like Abraham, we were visited by three angels:

Thanks for bringing us back girls. Finally, a reason to live...

(This also helped... a lot)

I'm Sorry

Is it the mid-90s and are you Liz Hurley?

Throw an Oscar in This Face

Dame Jules Moore, one of the greatest living actresses in film today, yukking it up in Tom Ford's highly anticipated new film, A Single Man.


A big fat hit at the Venice Film Festival, audiences won't be able to put a ring on this particular film nationwide until January 22nd, however, Tom's sneaking it in under the gun for Oscar consideration with a limited release December 11th.

The furry-chested apple of AnA's eye continues to make us proud, and also, inconsequentially, hot and bothered. Though his days as Gucci's commander in briefs are long over, we're glad to see him still flexing his artistic muscle.


As for Jules, we're pulling for you (as always) but it's going to be a tough year, what with the ladies of Nine and Precious getting already heavy buzz. If Mariah wins over Julianne Moore, however, we will have lost all hope for this world.

Note to Self: Renew W Subscription

Personally, I blame it on the boogie

Linda.
Say it softly and it’s almost like praying. Dame Evangelista takes on Biblical proportions in November’s W. Allegedly, it’s their Art Issue, but as soon as I saw Linda on the cover – an 80s throwback-side-sweep of a bob, looking matronly and wholly appropriate (in front of the AnA ladies alma mater, no less) – the picture of nouveau financial ruin, I knew what I wanted.

All of this, brilliantly done by Maurizio Cattelan:

Arched and aloof, a coquette in the henhouse

I'm seeing a mouse, I'm seeing an envelope and I'm losing interest, save for that sly look on that mouse's puss

Nothing says America like clogged arteries and Salmonella...except maybe religious fanaticism...

Oh. Here we are. The picture of pert, poised, Papal plasticity

I doubt what good a few "Hail Lindas" will do, unless you're in need of a holy tantrum, but I'll throw a few in after my nightly prayer to Naomi...I expect to put my assistant in the hospital by the end of the weekend.

R.I.P. Akimbo

1917-2009

Irving Penn, one of the 20th century's greatest artists.

And peddler of Kate Moss' bum.

Alexander McQueen: When in Doubt, Give Me Batshit Crazy

Fashion’s always been obsessed about the future; I mean, hi, these shows forecast what we’ll all be wearing in the seasons to come, right? What will be hot? Which trends are next? Who’s the next great designer? In fashion, one day you’re in, the next…oh, you know.

P.S. Is anyone as bored by PJ Runway as I am?

But the Internet has opened up the world, accelerated progress, propelling us into the future at light speed, whereas before we were simply crawling. The current state of fashion, with the future sitting at the forefront of the imagination, is both frightening and exhilarating.

Remember the 60s and their vision of the future? Well, the 00s vision is rather more perverse. The Jetsons, however, were not too far off with their penchant for dramatic shoulders and onesies; a possible influence for last season’s Nina Ricci, Balenciaga and McQueen shows? If Jane Jetson had thrown on a tranny heel, we might be zipping around in flying cars and eating meals in pill form by now…though my vicodin/percocet lunch was tres delish.

Everyone’s anticipating the end of the world, or at least a dramatic shift in the way life is now, and it is reflected in the clothes. Alexander McQueen’s Spring 2010 collection has the lady of the future rocking impossible dome shoes, for which all the gals at AnA’s loft are watering at the mouth, and cocktail dresses featuring digital patterns and shapes haloing around the body like armor. There’s a hardness to all that beauty. A sort of primal aggression in the silhouettes. The vibrancy of the prints offset by the starkness of the make-up. And the hair is simply epic.

This is fashion, this is science fiction, this is my cocktail hour come spring. McQueen is dragging us into the future, hobbling on 13-inch heels, telling us there’s nothing to worry about. We'll all be robots with impeccable styling.

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!

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).

xoxo,
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