"Current" Things and So On

It's not often I do a post to do with a "current" issue, because this blog is a sort of escape from doing something directly involved with fashion design and shows and all that. Designing the ballet costumes was like that too. I could easily be a full time costume designer, you know. I have this vision of pancake makeup and the deep thick fog of perfume and the velvet of the curtain; the hustle and bustle of the actors and dancers frenetically moving like trains crashing into lights. I, standing at the center of a yelping crowd of women wanting to be dressed. That's a bit like fashion, you see- yet it has that certain magic. With fashion, you need to create the magic. Everybody assumes that the magic's already there, but the fact is that my high collar does not magically come on every morning. I have to put it on. Maybe I will be a costume designer. Oh ho ho, that'll freak out the fashion people. I can't wait to read the "obituaries" the mindless magazines write, those magazines that like the look of their own ink so much (not so much the content). I suppose Ohio Horyn would write an obituary too. And Menkes. And all the bloggers, but they're not exactly Ohio Horyn, hmm?
It's like that musical, Oklahoma:

Poor Karl is dead
Poor Karl Lagerfeld is dead
All gather round his quilted coffin now and bitch
He had no heart at all
And he wasn't very old
Oh why did such a feller have to switch to costume design?

Oh, I'd love that. Reading the self-congratulatory drivel that these "journalists" write makes Yohji and I chuckle. Yohji drinks his beer. I drink my diet Coke. Here, I'll write a sentence for you:

"Fashion legend Karl Lagerfeld retired yesterday, saying he was going to design costumes. He claimed there was no more glamour in fashion, and costumes were a greater reflection of the zeitgeist than fashion."

Now, if we're Ohio Horyn the paragraph will start with:

"I was making my chicken pot-pie yesterday, after cleaning out the barn, when I heard that Karl Lagerfeld was retiring to design costumes."

I'm not going to do that, though. I have no intention on retiring because I'm a stubborn bastard, and retiring would give too many people satisfaction. Anyway, I can design costumes on the side. I always have. I'll simply have some pancake makeup installed at Chanel. An entire closet full of it. There's a wonderful TV show called "Imagination Movers". It is by Playhouse Disney- a child wearing a tuxedo introduced me to it. They have rooms full of every sort of thing you could imagine. A "cold" room, a "noise" room and so on. Most commendable.

Anyway, I remembered why I was writing this post. It is to congratulate the Rodarte sisters (Kate and Laura) on their CFDA win. I'm very proud of you, girls!

Trip to this American Place

We went on a trip with my daughter today. A father-daughter trip, hm? She wanted to go to the Rodarte show..you know, that label run by the sisters who knit. I went to one of their shows once, and the two sisters just sat on rocking chairs knitting, backstage. And they stared at me when I came on to stare at them and intimidate them with the "KARL STARE". They're like these characters out of a Virginia Woolf novel or something, hm? And the fashion people who were surrounding me like a swarm of vicious little bees said "they're not from these parts". I almost expected these sisters to add "a-" to their words. As in "we've been a-designing the collection, and a-selling it to those city people. And a-riding the horse into town."

Actually when they started speaking (after staring at me, they starred and starred for almost an hour, slowly turning their eyes into slits like a clock slowly turns one hour into the next. It was actually unnerving. I wonder if they come from a planet near mine). And they spoke in LA-accents, and that ruined the whole Virginia Woolf thing which I was quite enjoying.
"So you're not Virginia Woolf characters" I said to them.

I think maybe I scared them a little, but it's all character building, huh?

So I'm in Texas. That's where the Rodarte show is. Tom Ford's here as well, and naturally he's stalking me. "Oh Karl, Oh Karl, Lick my phone. It's an iphone."
He's not a very good stalker. He's basically been yelling at me when he sees me; like some Japanese manga-addicted man-child.
"Tom. This is very boring" I say.
"But I don't have anything better to do."
"Go pluck your eyebrows or something?"
"AREN'T MY EYEBROWS PLUCKED ENOUGH FOR YOU?"
"It's something to do."
"Oh, Karl, Karl, Karl. You know I love you." And he gives me a little "punch". Like...the American drunk people who watch the games with the ball? The males who watch this. Very demode.
So I run away, because what do you do to this sort of thing? It's not very chic.