I remember you well

Haven't blogged in a while. Being dead is very boring, you know. And I was never that vocal when I was alive..I'm more the passive agressive type, you know. Like, I may be the one that makes you look like a hooker playing broadway in a man's suit that's Russian influenced; but I probably won't say anything about it. I'll be laughing perversely about it, though. I'm very perverse, like that. For example right now I'm wearing fishnet tights under my slacks. And later in the closet, when Karl comes back from wherever he is-- he's always leaving me alone, with only my lego to keep me company. And all that modern art. Lego's tres chic though; I've got a little Yves Saint Laurent-and-Karl playset, and I play out all sorts of fun adventures!

It's all very elegant, the lego. It's not like fashion now-- fashion's so ugly these days. What, with your lookbooks and your sartorialists (I really don't understand this sartorialist man- he takes pictures of people? On the street? Why is he taking pictures of people, anyway? It seems pretty perverse, non? "Let me take you picture, for I am the Sartorialists"...or is there only one sartorialist? Because I see on his blog, he's all around the place. Is he like Santa Claus, only not fat? I met Santa Claus once, you know. He's a filthy slavedriving industrialist. Those poor, poor elves. There's no labour laws at the North Pole for that sort of thing. I mean, there must be zillions of children in the world; and these elves don't get paid anything! But they have to work there, otherwise they'll have to work in Hollywood in some vulgar Christmas film. Thank Karl Christmas is over. I hate Christmas. I want to throttle Christmas with one of my dresses that nobody seems to wear anymore....you're all too busy wearing the "hip" designers, aren't you? Dressing in vintage making fools of most of yourselves. Looking like you're from Starsky and Hutch. Let me tell you vintage-people something: if you look like you're from or look like you're about to burst into singing with a group of ample-bosomed fatties behind you; you're doing it wrong. Fashion isn't about revivalism. Well, it is; but not toe-to-toe copying. Is fashion so dry these days you need to wear the fashions of the past? I wouldn't be surprised- I took one look at the runway once, from this closest. I couldn't actually see the clothes, because my eyesight isn't that good these days, but I'm sure they were 'orrible. Fashion...is about more than just revivalism. You're no better than that good-for-nothing, dirty old rat Marc Jacobs if you do that. Is Marc still designing? Lovely boy. A little on the pudgy side when I first saw him, but so is Alber. Karl seems to think that he's lost weight...Marc, that is. Karl simply regenerated into a new incantation of The Karl....but I tell Karl that Marc better not have, because I wanted a bit of Marc to myself and muscle is too American and vulgar. Can you name a French boxing champion right off your head? No. And that's the way it'll stay.
But seriously, this sartorialist man sounds a bit perverse. And I like that. So maybe he's alright.)

But apparently there's pile-upon-pile of this "street style" websites. So, there's apparently lots of perverse people going around saying things like:
"Can I take your picture?"
"Your outfit is the epitome of my website, may I take a picture to feed to my lord Xenu?"
"Your style is fully formed, young grasshopper. It is often with the young with which future resides....so do you want your picture taken?"

It's all rather creepy. In my day (I am Grandpa Yves now), we cared about the girl, not what she wears. Most of my friends were "it" girls, but people paid attention to their...personality, more. Well obviously the girl was pretty. But she could be naked, and people would take notice too. So perhaps there was a greater proportion of straight men and lesbians in the fashion world back then.
I suppose there's a message in all this (Karl has told me about some man named "Mr. Rogers" who gave lots of people messages.), and the message is that personal style means nothing, unless you have the balls and the personality to back it up. Personal style is an...extension of self, rather than a self itself. I don't think Karl will like me saying this, of course, because someone out there, maybe, might be learning something.

Probably not. But we had a Mr. Rogers moment, there, kids. Kiddos. Kiddos is too American. I'll call you Le Children from now on. I could be like the schoolmaster:

Yves (that's me): LE CHILDREN! COME INNNSIDE!
Children: Yes Yves! Three Chanel bags full!

Uhm. I was telling you about my fishnet stockings. I am bored of that now. I'm going to go mope around Anna and her new boyfriend.