Hallowed Be Thy Manes / Frizzin' in the Fall

Prada F/W '09

More white girls, but at least the hair is kind of black...

Mouthed and Agape / The Choke Hole

The Adventures of Lil' Andy

Part 1: Through a Lens Drunkly

June 3, 1977 –

Dear Diary,

Happy Birthday to me indeed! What a night! My feet are killing me. I don’t know why mother insisted I wear platforms, we weren’t fooling anyone with my “disguise.” That is if you want to call an off-the-shoulder Halston a disguise so much as a statement. I looked like Bianca Jagger, who, come to think of it, was wearing the exact same thing…of course she was on a horse, so no one even noticed me.


Story of my life, Diary.

So, all day today I thought no one had even remembered my birthday. It wouldn’t be the first time, as you are well aware of, Diary. Though I hate to admit it, I wanted to openly weep during my French lesson, but you know how cruel the French can be.



After school, I went by Calvin’s for a shoot. I honestly just wanted to go home and drown my frustrations in a juice box with an animal cracker chaser. But mother always says to honor your engagements. Having been married four times, I doubt she’d be the best person whose advice I should follow, but what do I know? I can't even drive yet.

I stepped into Calvin’s atelier, downtrodden and frail, and was wonderfully surprised by a four-layer cake of glitter, silk scarves and champagne, brought out by six muscular men painted gold. Calvin then proceeded to shove glass after glass of champagne in my tiny, angular face.


I tried and tried to tell him I couldn’t have any – mother doesn’t like me drinking anything domestic – but he just took me by the hand, twirled me into a mile of exotic fabric, threw heaps of glitter into the air and fed me champagne till I threw up.

Really a grand time.

I got home around 7, sick and gitty as a choirboy. Mother greeted me at the door, singing a nine-minute theatrical version of “Happy Birthday” with Peter Allen accompanying her on the baby grand. She then kissed and hugged me obsessively then began dressing me in drag.

If I had a dime every time I had to write that, Dairy, we’d both be rich. Well…richer.

You know.

I asked her just what the hell she was doing and she hummed something about painting the town a fire engine red, while draping me in a variety of silhouettes. Well I said to her, “I’m ten-year old boy, dammit! Give me a billowy blouse, some YSL slacks and a slip-on loafer. Something sensible.”


But she was having none of it. I sulked all the way in the limo while mother nattered on about what an enormous bitch Truman Capote always insists on being to her, though I’m sure they’ll be drunk by noon and crooning old Gershwin tunes all day tomorrow. I checked my face in the mirror as we drove up. Pale, per usual. I think I’m beginning to grey, though. Wouldn’t be surprised, after all.

I noticed immediately the line outside. I’ve never seen so many outlandishly dressed and androgynous people in one place before. Boys were wearing heels, girls were wearing tuxedos, everyone was wearing glitter. There were people of every color and age snaking around the block. I thought I must be going somewhere incredible, like the U.N. or Barney’s.


I had no idea what I was in for…

Oops-There-Goes-My-Kids-All-Over-Your-Face Akimbo / Campaign Cruisin'

Kerry or Simon??

Kerry's body is pretty ridiculous, but the pose and the motorcycle in Simon's campaign are stunning. Plus, that face and those curls... What do you queens think?

Hallowed Be Thy Mane / Christ in Chains

Covers Akimbo // Hunch Versus Bend

Our Lady Christy Turlington poses all over the cover of American Vogue for the August Age Issue, looking pale and showing a lot of leg like a lady whilst teaching us the elegance of the gentle upward head tilt. She hunches, natch. Her previous Vogue cover was as a freshly spray tanned yogi in 2002. Check out both below:

Which cover does Christy rock harder? The old lady issue looks clean, pretty, and wearable. The 2002 cover features her now-famous pose and her trademark head-on glare. We love them both: commercial versus crazy! But, AnA prefers the Age Issue for putting old ladies in crazy outfits and for profiling Christy, who Dolly sees nearly every morning dropping off her kids at school in jeans, a white button down and sensible boots!

Op-Ed: Fashion Flashin'

"I gravitated toward the field of clothing design, partly because it is a creative format that is modern and optimistic." -- Issey Miyake

DIVAS Akimbo!

Ms. Ross already sent her fabulous self in for this project. And who hasn't wet her pants about the return of the best televised concert event ever. I am still wearing my 10 foot Mariah weave...

Let's get some queens (gays and girls...) on this show - find out more here.

Because whose life hasn't been changed by these ladies:

Hallowed Be Thy Mane / The Big Bang Theory

Mouthed and Agape / Lard Lips

Finally a plus-size girl on the cover of W...

I Need Seven Inches or More Akimbo

Supermodel of the world, Chanel Iman, embodying perfection, per usual

60 years ago, I sat sipping a Shirley Temple with just a splash of bourbon in the Dior salons at 30 Avenue Montaigne, as Mon. Dior himself presented what would come to be known as the “New Look.”

Who knew that this collection of full skirts and tiny waists would become not only iconic, but also immensely influential on contemporary styles? I’ll tell you who: me. Oh, how we laughed, Dior and I, after the show, high on excitement and amphetamines. The world was young then...

Mon. Christian Dior

Mon. Dior’s legacy lives on brilliantly in John Galliano, the Mad Hatter in Alice’s Haute Couture trip in the Wonderland of fashion. Very few designers can inspire awe and wonder, amusement and sheer ecstasy like Mon. Galliano. And he can do that in just one meticulously crafted dress.

The New Look has informed many of his collections, but his interpretation for the Fall 2009 Couture season offers a slightly new, if not necessarily revolutionary, take in his trademark palette of extraordinary colors that could only hope to exist in nature.

Many of the models strolled out dramatically wearing garters, hosiery and exposed slips beneath structured jackets, and beautifully ornate hats, offering a rather deconstructed New Look that was a cross between 40s post-war glamour and 80s Vanity 6 sluttiness.

But the effect was not that of a Nasty Girl. On the contrary, the exposed lingerie lent a youthful, sexy take to a really gorgeous, very wearable collection.

The always epic, always welcome Dior bow

(And God knows AnA loves to juxtapose differing shapes and varying lengths. We learned from the best, Mon. Galliano himself? Or as we like to call him, Uncle John John.)

It's time to hunch...for your life!

The best looks bridged the gap between outer and inner wear seamlessly like this fuchsia skirt paired with a nude bodice, giving the effect of a strapless bra.

This skirt and blouse ensemble perhaps offers the best statement about this collection.

Though Siri’s intimates are clearly visible, the proportions and overall feel of the look is classic Dior. Simple, effortlessly chic and completely wearable.

If the collection was the most wearable we’ve seen from Dior Haute Couture in some time, it wasn't because Galliano abandoned the fantastical, ornate gowns he’s so famous for. The last four dresses were as diaphanous, surreal and achingly beautiful as anything he’s ever done.

There was simply more restraint from past seasons for a more streamlined and marketable line, perhaps a response to seemingly endless recession or to Galliano’s own creative development.

The Dior fall 2009 Couture collection was a quieter affair than we’ve grown accustomed to, both in presentation and in the clothes themselves. Back at the salons at Avenue Montaigne, the collection was a fitting homage to Dior’s seminal line and a logical continuation of the aesthetic he pioneered all those years ago.

Afterwards, Uncle John John and I celebrated, like Dior and I once did: with an underage hustler and an 8-ball of speed. It’s good to know some things never change.

There's Always Hope Akimbo

Ever since our gay boyfriends--the loves of our empty though immaculate lives--have developed unsightly facial hair or have met with tragic ends, we like to cling to any hope that the love that dare not speak its name would whisper a little louder through the deep closets of Filmtown, U.S.A. To the rescue is none other than the dreamy-eyed, hollow-cheeked noted heterosexual and non-pot smoker, Jim Franco. Between his overlooked but captivating performance boinking Sean Penn in last year's Milk, to his future Oscar-nominated turn as sodomite and down-right curmudgeon, Allen Ginsberg in next year's Howl, Franco's been filming naked boys playing basketball. Don't just come out of the closet, dear. Kick the motherfucking doors down.

Oops-There-Goes-My-Kids-All-Over-Your-Face Akimbo / Fill Me Up

with whatever is under that Diesel brief...

I would kill myself right now to come back as that wolf doll even for one minute.

'V' is For V

or 'Why Vogue Sucks'...

Cammy Diaz - totally boring commercial blonde transformed into an edgy, nouveau-Madonna, gaping, hunching FASHION model. These are FASHION magazines we're reading right???

I mean look at these two covers - one is fashion and one is Talbots met Martha Stewart Living. Come back to us Vogue...

xoxo

Ms. Streisand

Mouthed and Agape / The 'Top Me in That Top Hat'