Men aren’t attracted to a girl in glasses: Dioni Tabbers by the notorious EVU edition

Dioni Tabbers photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth for a Vogue Italia beauty editorial, July 2010.

Flashback Friday: Bookfoolery: If I never sleep again until the end of my days, at least I will die well-read

This post originally appeared on June 24, 2010 at 6:26 p.m.

Maybe “well” is subjective …

If anyone but my Asia Argento plays Lisbeth Salander in an English-speaking adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will put my hand through a blender. I pictured her the entire time I was reading.

Finished Girl With the Dragon Tattoo over a sleepless night that lead to one uneasy stretch of light snooze cut short by sudden bouts of vomiting. I found it very absorbing — the book, not the violent gut spasms from who-knows-what combination of stress and inattentively poor personal care — but it caromed briefly in to a few areas for which I was not wild. Still it all hung together in the end and I recommend it without reservation. Then I ended up reading a particularly pulpy and breezy Ross Macdonald mystery from the 70’s whose title I have already forgotten even though it kept me company for several hours.

See? Lots of people have insomnia and go on to have perfectly normal Summers! The Shining (Kubrick, 1980).

I only remember that I’d picked it up a few months back along with a couple 70’s editions of Zane Grey at my preferred comic store, which, besides selling comics and related games and accessories, also carries a small inventory of used, cheapo books and spotty collections of memorabilia depending on what luckless local nerds have either died or lost enough money to place their treasures in hock. I snatched up the Greys and this Macdonald book a few months ago because I dug the kind of blocky-schlocky look to the lines of the cover art.

The Underground Man — that’s right. Decent enough title, I guess.

The phrase “blew my mind” was used repeatedly in the book to refer to literally taking too much acid and suffering brain damage and prolonged schizophrenic episodes triggered by hallucinations, which usage I thought was a handy demonstration of the evolution of slang — in the book it was suggestive of overdose and possible fatality, but you can see how it developed over time the more benign definition it has now in the sense of changing one’s worldview in a feller-than-the-usual-pace-of-educational swoop, while still somewhat referencing the phrase’s original intent.

2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968). He swar to gar for all his life that whole sequences of this film were not planned to look like an acid trip, to which anyone who has ever done acid says, “Sure.”

The Macdonald book wasn’t the worst thing ever and some of the slangy shenanigans and quaintly dated rough talk in it wet my palate for some Hammett. I never re-read Red Harvest until October (red HARVEST, get it?) but I also brought down with me from Portland The Dain Curse and the Op’s short-story collection and could give one of those a spin. Think that’s what I’ll do tonight.

Actually maybe Hammett is only the appetizer. Know what? I think I will try to squeeze in L.A. Confidential before I have to pick up Tommyknockers. I usually, though not maniacally, like to read that closer to Christmastime because of the whole Bloody Christmas scandal that sparks so much of the action, but I’ve been self-auditing through all these long sick waking nights, and by setting this bookfoolery in to print I have come to see that I’ve got some really fucked-up and compulsive reading habits which are even perhaps the least of my worries and so I feel like rebelling against myself in this small thing to test the waters of making Change happen. I’m going to do this because I can.

Synchronicity — just dug out Red Harvest and the quote on the front cover is from Ross Macdonald, the author whose pulp I read this morning. Wild way that the universe is telling me I’m on the right track? or subconscious self-affirmation from whatever part of my brain has been looking at that (quite kickass) Red Harvest cover for the last four years?

I can’t say for sure. Either way, tell that girl from Canada that it ain’t ironic.

Music Moment and Hot Man Bein’ Hot of the Day: The Song Remains the Same, Jim Carrey — “I Am the Walrus” edition

From the album In My Life, compiled by Sir George Martin, 1998, this is a shockingly good cover of the Beatles’ cryptic classic by a dude who holds a special place in my heart.

Jim Carrey — I Am the Walrus (Lennon/McCartney, 1967).

I do not care one whit about the Ace Ventura movies or Dumb and Dumber: I’ve never even seen them. That’s deliberately due to the fact that I really, really like everything else about Jim Carrey. I just think he’s an excellent, sensitive, even somewhat tragic human being. A real person.

Not long ago, someone started that old, “If you could have dinner with one person, living or dead–” question, and I immediately blurted out, “Jim Carrey!” Then I felt bad for not saying Jesus.

I guess I just want to see if I’m right about him. He seems like such a levelly cool guy.

Listen for Jim on both vox and keyboard in this cover.

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I’m crying.

Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

Girls Like A Boy Who Plays Music.

Mister City Policeman sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like Lucy in the Sky, see how they run.
I’m crying, I’m crying.
I’m crying, I’m crying.

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog’s eye.
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun.
If the sun don’t come, you get a tan
From standing in the English rain.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.

Expert textpert choking smokers,
Don’t you think the joker laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I’m crying.

Semolina pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel Tower.
Elementary penguin singing Hari Krishna.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob.

Goo goo g’joob g’goo goo g’joob g’goo…

And finally —

— because it’s extremely true. (I do not number among the nameless hordes of diehard Titanic haters, I simply disagree with many of the characters’ choices.)

E.E. Cummings Month: A dribbling moan of jazz

god pity me whom(god distinctly has)
the weightless svelte drifting sexual feather
of your shall i say body?follows
truly through a dribbling moan of jazz

whose arched occasional stepped youth swallows
curvingly the keeness of my hips;
or,your first twitch of crisp boy flesh dips
my height in a firm fragile stinging weather,

(breathless with sharp necessary lips)kid

female cracksman of the nifty,ruffian-rogue,
laughing body with wise breasts half-grown,
lisping flesh quick to thread the fattish drone
of I Want a Doll,

                              wispish-agile feet with slid
steps parting the tousle of saxophonic brogue.

(E.E. Cummings, “god pity me whom(god distinctly has),” Tulips and Chimneys, 1923.)

One of his “jazz poems,” “god pity me(whom god distinctly has)” is included in a lot of anthologies. As an example, Cummings’ poem was printed in Sascha Feinstein and Yusef Komunyakaa’s The Second Set: The Jazz Poetry Anthology Volume 2 (Indiana: University Press, 1996).

The concept of jazz as a language not only evokes analogies between musical and linguistic structures but also the idea that instruments can, in fact, speak to us. … In jazz clubs you hear people call out, “Talk to me!” or say, “This music speaks to me.” In addition to the pulse of jazz, they hear cadences and inflections that correspond to words, sentences, whole stories.

(Ibid.)

If jazz strives to attain the syntactic logic of … “a developmental language” of its own, then poetry, without question, strives that much harder to achieve the emotional complexity and rhythmic drive of music. In conjunction with The Jazz Poetry Anthology (1991), this book presents a selection of jazz poems that, we hope, will offer “ongoing implications for thought.” …

We have chosen poems by Hart Crane, e.e. cummings [sic], DuBose Heyward, Vachel Lindsay, and Muriel Rukeyser because of their literary prescence in the poetry circles of the time.

(Ibid.)

Many of the poets in both anthologies have written extensively about jazz, so much that jazz seems to have influenced their work as much as literary sources. Sometimes poems have been written as series, which might be seen as being parallel to jazz musicians who improvise several choruses.

(Ibid.)

I hope to have time to come back to that similarly-themed-pieces-as-jazz-variations, you know, kind of a bebop, exploratory improv concept as it plays out in a jazz form of literature: I found some other Cummings prostitution poems that deal in parallels and complements to the “kitty” one from earlier this month, and I think that fits with the idea of a series of riffs on the same idea. I will try to get to that. Promise.

All photographs by Ellen von Unwerth.

Daily Batman and Flashback Friday: First Showdown! edition, sort of feat. Monica Bellucci and Claudia Schiffer

Portions of this post originally appeared on November 18, 2009 and on November 20, 2009.

First there was Claudia. Then there was Monica.

From November 18, 2009:

Topless Claudia Schiffer in Catwoman mask by Mario Testino for German Vogue (June, 2008).

Winner winner, chicken dinner! I said goddamn, Claudia Schiffer. Haters to the left.

Internet, I am going to let you knock off early and go home for the rest of the day, because you have truly outdone yourself. Great hustle.

Several days later:

Wow, guys. Monica Bellucci and my fave photographer, Ellen Von Unwerth, are seriously giving the topless Claudia Schiffer Catwoman by Mario Testino of several days’ ago a real run for its money for the internet’s Best [Batman] Picture Ever contest.

Monica Bellucci, photographed in Catwoman mask and leather bodysuit by the stellar and magnificent Ellen Von Unwerth for “Bella Bellucci,” a feature in Vogue España, June 2006.

While Monica’s cleavage is always impressive and, of course, her face is basically the most beautiful on Earth, I’m still giving the advantage to the Mario-Claudia collaboration for toplessness. Better luck next time, Team Monica-EVU!

TODAY:
I’ve brought them both back for this very special Flashback Friday because it’s a tiime for a bat couture Showdown!: Model Citizens as Catwoman edition.

Top: Monica Bellucci photographed by Ellen von Unwerth ; Bottom: Claudia Schiffer photographed by Mario Testino.

And ladies, please remember that in my mind, you are both winners. Pick your feline femme fatale poison below!

Bookfoolery: If I never sleep again until the end of my days, at least I will die well-read

Maybe “well” is subjective …

If anyone but my Asia Argento plays Lisbeth Salander in an English-speaking adaptation of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will put my hand through a blender. I pictured her the entire time I was reading.

Finished Girl With the Dragon Tattoo over a sleepless night that lead to one uneasy stretch of light snooze cut short by sudden bouts of vomiting. I found it very absorbing — the book, not the violent gut spasms from who-knows-what combination of stress and inattentively poor personal care — but it caromed briefly in to a few areas for which I was not wild. Still it all hung together in the end and I recommend it without reservation. Then I ended up reading a particularly pulpy and breezy Ross Macdonald mystery from the 70’s whose title I have already forgotten even though it kept me company for several hours.

See? Lots of people have insomnia and go on to have perfectly normal Summers! The Shining (Kubrick, 1980).

I only remember that I’d picked it up a few months back along with a couple 70’s editions of Zane Grey at my preferred comic store, which, besides selling comics and related games and accessories, also carries a small inventory of used, cheapo books and spotty collections of memorabilia depending on what luckless local nerds have either died or lost enough money to place their treasures in hock. I snatched up the Greys and this Macdonald book a few months ago because I dug the kind of blocky-schlocky look to the lines of the cover art.

The Underground Man — that’s right. Decent enough title, I guess.

The phrase “blew my mind” was used repeatedly in the book to refer to literally taking too much acid and suffering brain damage and prolonged schizophrenic episodes triggered by hallucinations, which usage I thought was a handy demonstration of the evolution of slang — in the book it was suggestive of overdose and possible fatality, but you can see how it developed over time the more benign definition it has now in the sense of changing one’s worldview in a feller-than-the-usual-pace-of-educational swoop, while still somewhat referencing the phrase’s original intent.

2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968). He swar to gar for all his life that whole sequences of this film were not planned to look like an acid trip, to which anyone who has ever done acid says, “Sure.”

The Macdonald book wasn’t the worst thing ever and some of the slangy shenanigans and quaintly dated rough talk in it wet my palate for some Hammett. I never re-read Red Harvest until October (red HARVEST, get it?) but I also brought down with me from Portland The Dain Curse and the Op’s short-story collection and could give one of those a spin. Think that’s what I’ll do tonight.

Actually maybe Hammett is only the appetizer. Know what? I think I will try to squeeze in L.A. Confidential before I have to pick up Tommyknockers. I usually, though not maniacally, like to read that closer to Christmastime because of the whole Bloody Christmas scandal that sparks so much of the action, but I’ve been self-auditing through all these long sick waking nights, and by setting this bookfoolery in to print I have come to see that I’ve got some really fucked-up and compulsive reading habits which are even perhaps the least of my worries and so I feel like rebelling against myself in this small thing to test the waters of making Change happen. I’m going to do this because I can.

Synchronicity — just dug out Red Harvest and the quote on the front cover is from Ross Macdonald, the author whose pulp I read this morning. Wild way that the universe is telling me I’m on the right track? or subconscious self-affirmation from whatever part of my brain has been looking at that (quite kickass) Red Harvest cover for the last four years?

I can’t say for sure. Either way, tell that girl from Canada that it ain’t ironic.

William Blake Month: She who burns with youth and knows no fixed lot; is bound / In spells of law to one she loathes

Some thoughts from Mr. Blake on free love, fidelity, procreative pressure, and the institution of marriage as it functioned (and did not) for ladies during his lifetime:

Jane Birikin and the dread Serge G.

… She who burns with youth and knows no fixed lot;
is bound
In spells of law to one she loathes:
and must she drag the chain
Of life, in weary lust!

Must chilling murderous thoughts obscure
The clear heaven of her eternal spring?
to bear the wintry rage
Of a harsh terror driv’n to madness, bound to hold a rod
Over her shrinking shoulders all the day;

Marilyn and Arthur on their wedding day. Marilyn’s dress was ivory but her veil arrived white, so rather than freak out or buy a new one she soaked it in tea overnight. She was an orphan and imminently practical.

& All the night
To turn the wheel of false desire: and longings
that wake her womb
To the abhorred birth of cherubs in the human form
That live a pestilence & die a meteor & are no more.

(William Blake, excerpt from Visions of the Daughters of Albion. 1793. Shockingly self-published.)

The Graduate (Kubrick, 1967).EDIT: It was directed by Mike Nichols, not Stanley Kubrick. Jesus-christ-bananas. How that got past me is a mystery. Mucho mas mucho thanks to Peteski for the heads-up!

Happy bride month, am I right? Goin’ to the chapel…

In all seriousness, William Blake was a sort of pre-feminist and a great admirer of Mary Wollstonecraft but for all his forward-thinking, he could behave curiously backwardly and contemporarily to the times in his personal life, almost as if his own wife, Catherine, did not count in his reckoning of the equalities of the opposite sex.

Audrey and Mel. She looks terribly unhappy and trapped. I do not believe this was their wedding day but rather shortly before their breakup in an ad for Givenchy’s L’Interdit, the first celebrity fragrance. I wear Givenchy Amarige when I am Really Me. But that is very rare. So often it is best to be Other Me-s, so I roll with Michael by Michael Kors.

As an example, when they had trouble conceiving, Blake openly advocated bringing another, younger woman into their marriage and relegating Catherine to second-class status in a different bedroom. My guess is he backed up his proposal by citing the timeless, good ol’ Rachel/Leah biblical argument, which reminds me that I get to hit Handmaid’s Tale next month.

Humbert and Lo’s toes. Lolita (Kubrick, 1962).

Okay, I went in to more insomnia-fueled bookfoolery and this entry is now uncomfortably longer than I’d prefer a Blake one to be. I’m going to split it up. Meet me in the next post. More Kubrick, even (I didn’t intend for that to happen but now that it has I’m on board). (edit: again, The Graduate is directed by Mike Nichols. Not Stanley Kubrick.)

William Blake Month: Binding with briars my joys and desires

via

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

In the ruins of St. Ebba’s Lunatic Asylum. Epsom, Surrey, England.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore,

Photographed by Ellen von Unwerth for her book Revenge.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

(William Blake, “The Garden of Love.”)

Binding with briars my joys and desires.

Who will take your dreams away?

William Blake Month: the Poetic Genius is the true Man

Lindsay Lohan photographed by Ellen von Unwerth for GQ.

PRINCIPLE 1st
That the Poetic Genius is
the true Man. and that
the body or outward form
of Man is derived from the
Poetic Genius.

James Dean.

PRINCIPLE 2nd
As all men are alike in
outward form, So (and
with the same infinite
variety) all are alike in
the Poetic Genius.

(William Blake, excerpt from “All Religions Are One.”)

William Blake Month: the Spider’s anxious little heart

Gina Gershon photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth.

The Spider sits in his laboured Web,
eager watching for the Fly
Presently comes a famished Bird
& takes away the Spider
His Web is left all desolate,
that his little anxious heart
So careful wove;
& spread it out with sighs and weariness.

(William Blake, “Enion’s Lament.”)

I love this poem because it’s an unusual perspective: you begin by feeling repulsion for the spider, waiting in his web for a fly, and you end by pitying him. The idea of a spider having an anxious heart and sighing and being weary is surprising and touching. Sympathy for the devil.

William Blake Month: Sun-flower

Kate Dillon photographed by Ellen von Unwerth.

Ah! Sun-flower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow
Arise from their graves and aspire
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

(William Blake, “Ah! Sun-flower.”)

Per mi amico: Cappy 2nd ed.

Or is it the third? Either way. Breaking news: Some guys are just plain ol’ rock stars and you cannot keep a good pimp down!

All photos are Christian Bale by Ellen Von Unwerth, Interview magazine, February 2001.

I had a wonderful time with the Cappy while he was here yesterday and today. I think it will be impossible for me to be in a bad mood for quite a while. Tomorrow I am lunching with Miss D, finally, and I think I should see the Fountainhead soon; he called today but I was busy with my best boy — of all things we were looking at vintage CandyLand boxes online to try to pick out our versions from childhood, because we played kidlet — and spanked her ass like bosses!– but were chagrined by the changes time has wrought in the character designs. The Cappy in particular was very disappointed in the revamp of Queen Frostina.

It’s funny: I always forget how ridiculously and simply wonderful it is to just hang out and jabber for hours with the Cappy on end. He really is a brother from another mother. The time truly flies.

Also, this morning while we were driving around a few memory lanes, I called bullshit on a red light after already having sat at it for at least a full minute; I just up and went. Halfway across the incredibly busy intersection I had this horrible adrenaline-charged panic that surged through me shrieking, “Shit! What the fuck am I doing?!” but fortunately I hit the accelerator and hightailed it the rest of the way out of there, to the accompaniment of multiple horns honking — but no one even had to brake, the timing was completely surreal. Thank god. All we can surmise is that, focused on our conversation and lulled by the fact I’d been driving around over an hour, I saw it was briefly clear and atavistically bolted. I do have a well documented lack of patience, so it’s possible!

Between catching up with Miss D tomorrow and trying to rid my computer of a frumious bandersnatch that’s been redirecting me from search results to adware (total folklore), I will probably only be spottily updating the journal. Until then! Salute — I’m off to bed!

Music Moment — The Song Remains the Same: “Blue Christmas,” cover by Nicole Atkins, NSFW pictures by Ellen Von Unwerth feat. Ana Beatriz Barros

One of my favorite holiday songs brought to wonderfully creepy, multi-track resonant life by super-hot fave Nicole “lionface” Atkins.

Nicole Atkins – Blue Christmas

All photos from Ellen Von Unwerth featuring Ana Beatriz Barros. “Merry Me,” V Magazine Iss. #32 (2004).

“Blue Christmas,” music and lyrics by Jay W. Johnson and Billy Hays, 1947. The holiday rock ‘n roll classic was originally recorded by Ernest Tubb, 1948, charted by Elvis Presley in 1957 and again by the Beach Boys in 1964.

I’ll have a blue Christmas without you
I’ll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree
Won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me

And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That’s when those blue memories start calling
You’ll be doing all right with your Christmas of white
But I’ll have a blue, blue Christmas

And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That’s when those blue memories start calling

You’ll be doing all right with your Christmas of white
But I’ll have a blue, blue Christmas

I’ll have a blue, blue *Christmas

* the girl can yodel like Wanda Jackson and Patsy, even. God, I love her.

Model Citizen: Milla Jovovich

Spark up the candles (or, you know, whatever you spark on birthdays) and get ready to sing a happy 34th go-round on this earth with lots of good wishes and eskimo kisses to the lovely and talented Milla Jovovich! One of my favorite Model Citizens, mothers, and all-around good-time gals. Keep on rocking in the free world, kiddo.

High Times, October 1994.

It’s your birthday; do what feels right!

lost credit please help

And we should really all say thank you to Milla for the memories. I mean, you do not even know how grateful I am for the huge folder on my computer, chock-full of amazing pictures of the girl. It took me ages to pick the right ones for this post.

by Ellen Von Unwerth for Vogue Italia, July 2009.

Besides screencaps from films like Dazed and Confused, the Fifth Element, Joan of Arc, and the Resident Evil flicks, I had to decide between photographs from devil-horned shoots with Ellen von Unwerth, topless shenanigans by David La Chapelle, that phatty spread in High Times, even … it was truly a challenge.

Paper magazine, 1994.

Man, this girl has given me some smiles over the years. Do your thing, chicken wing. Haters to the left! You keep on keepin’ on.

by the notorious EVU, 1997

Super-breaking news: Kate Beckinsale and Zooey Deschanel in Absolut Vodka ads shot by Ellen Von Unwerth

There is nothing about putting this post together that I don’t like. Ellen Von Unwerth photographed Kate Beckinsale and Zooey Deschanel for the new Absolut Vodka campaign. Pics debuted yesterday. First look at what I can find of the ads so far, three photos of Kate Beckinsale have been released with drink recipes so far and one of Zooey D, will keep you updated if I find more as this story unfolds! Quotes below the ads are overwrought blurbs from the press release.

Kate Beckinsale photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth for Absolut vodka.

• Beckinsale channels the 1980s as she is inspired by the lime garnish that can work in many lightly-mixed drinks in the ABSOLUT Tonic Twist ad. A second look at the ad reveals details that the swirls initially hide and the turn table and records give a musical theme to the ambience.

Kate Beckinsale photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth for Absolut vodka.

• In the ABSOLUT Crush ad, Beckinsale is larger than life, walking through a Miami-like city, home of sunshine and oranges. “Crush” is another way of saying “squeeze,” for fresh-squeezed juice.

By the way, once I saved these for myself from various official channels, I edited and scaled them to be extra-large for you, so click through to save the big versions.

Zooey Deschanel photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth for Absolut vodka.

• In the ABSOLUT Cosmo ad, Deschanel adds a science-fiction flair to the traditional ABSOLUT® CITRON cocktail in a retro-hip yet modern lounge as she plays the role of a “cosmo”-naut.

Kate Beckinsale photographed by Ellen Von Unwerth for Absolut vodka.

• There are many versions of the Bloody Mary legend with all of them involving calling Mary’s ghost while chanting into a mirror. In the ABSOLUT Bloody ad, Beckinsale brings the character to life as a stylish and mischievous temptress – one who won’t be contained.

Man. Two of my favorite actresses, shot by my favorite photographer, advertising a beverage which gets you one of my favorite things (*whisper*: d-r-u-n-k).

This is truly a red letter day!

Ellen Von Unwerth — Please Do Not Feed the Talent edition

Ellen Von Unwerth, “Boardwalk Girls,” Art+Commerce portfolio, 1997.

“Achtung! Bitte ziehen Sie nicht die Modelle.”

(“Attention! Please do not feed the models.”)

“Attention ! Veuillez ne pas alimenter les modèles.”

You must not feed the talent.

Then they will just clamber all over the pier scrabbling for dropped popcorn and never go back to their natural environment to hunt in the wild, as God intended when he created models.

Advice: Somewhat NSFW Liv Tyler edition

Twice now, all this “Miss November,” “Playmate of the Month” nonsense — to which I will never commit again, even though I plan to continue featuring noteworthy playmates and models as time goes by; sorry, but doing all the Misses of the month in that month is nothing less than exhausting — has lead to me tagging posts “Liv Tyler” without having a legit standalone post yet for her even though I think she is completely the bees’ knees. So let’s remedy that stickity-stat!

Photograph by who else? Ellen Von Unwerth

I am scared of becoming a mother.

I love to go shopping at Target. They have so much stuff there!, and you can buy almost anything, it’s really amazing.

I don’t think I’m particularly beautiful at all.

Photographed by Henri Tullio in France, 2005, at Givenchy’s dedication of the Liv Tyler Rose.

The age I’m at now, you go from being a young girl to suddenly you blossom into a woman. You ripen, you know? And then you start to rot.

I’m not perfect at all.

Um, NEVER to both of those; I think she is disarmingly honest and kind and special. Do you love that she is barefoot? Liv “Rundgren” Tyler, you so cool.

Love what I do and I have no regrets, but the people I care about are by far the most important thing. I would kill for them. They make my life worth living.

There is no definition of beauty, but when you can see someone’s spirit coming through, something unexplainable, that’s beautiful to me.

With gorgeous sister, model-author Mia Tyler — I am so sorry about the huge “Corbis” watermark in the center of this picture.

I don’t want to spend so much time obsessing about myself. I love to cook and I love to eat. And yet, if I am not careful, I could be considered chubby in the film business. That’s why it is great for me not to live in Hollywood. I love to go to the country where I can wear my pajamas all day long if I want.

Oh, my God, this amazing cool breeze is coming through my window and the sun is shining. I’m happy.

Photograph by David LaChapelle

Half my directors have no idea about my family situation. [Stealing Beauty director] Bernardo [Bertolucci] had no idea who Aerosmith was. People always want to take away from the work that you did, like they want to think it was easy, somehow. I got those parts because I worked hard to get them.

Screencapture from The Fellowship of the Ring, one of those tricksy Hobbitses movies.

I was staying with some friends in England, and it was New Year’s. My husband, Roy [Langdon of Spacehog], and I were sleeping, and I woke to the sound of our friend’s two little boys. They were going around the bedrooms opening the doors and looking in.

When they got to our door, one little boy went to open it and the other said, “No! Don’t open that door! The princess is sleeping in there.”

It made my heart leap out of my chest. I think that was the first time I really realized the impact these [Lord of the Rings] films had on people.

Solitude has its own very strange beauty to it.

Daily Batman: Violette van Parys edition

After yesterday’s Ellen Von Unwerth photos of Melissa Haro Rose and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley in Chantal Thomass lingerie, I was bumming around on the Chantal Thomass website, not ashamed to say taking screencaps of lingerie (it happens!), and I stumbled over a link to the site of French jewelry designer Violette van Parys. She works mainly in porcelain. Here are some snaps of her “bad Batgirl” collection.

Phrases include, “I’m a bad Batgirl,” “Catch me if you can,” and “Born to be wild.”

You can’t buy her stuff online from her website, and it is only sold stateside at a store called Catbird in NYC. However, she did a run for Topshop’s A/W 09 collection in the UK, and you can probably get that online (or in person if you’re abroad).

edit: Just scoured the topshop website and the Violette van Parys brooches are not available online. In-store only. But I did find two fricking sweet pairs of tights with hearts, one all-over and the other with a row of hearts as a backseam.

Man, I would so buy those. Holy shit, when did they put up a “wishlist” feature? Dude. You’re getting no work out of me the rest of the day.

Ellen V strikes again

I am beginning to feel like a day without Ellen Von Unwerth’s photography is like a day without sunshine.

And by “sunshine,” I mean, “scantily clad pretty people playing with and possibly hurting each other.”

In this case, you got Rosie Huntington-Whitely and Melissa Rose Haro, photographed by EVU in 2005 for the book “Plumes et Dentelles” by beautiful lingerie designer Chantal Thomass. If you wanted to swing by her completely awesome, sexy, incredibly fun, cramazing official site and get me something from there, that’d be a-okay!

It happens

Whistling past the graveyard: it is a Thing.

Happens all the time.

PSA: It’s Friday; do what feels right!