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.