This entry originally appeared on June 12, 2010 at 11:14 a.m.
Why wilt thou Examine every little fibre of my soul
Spreading them out before the Sun like Stalks of flax to dry
The infant joy is beautiful but its anatomy
Horrible Ghast & Deadly. Nought shalt thou find in it
But Death Despair & Everlasting brooding Melancholy
Thou wilt go mad with horror if thou dost Examine thus
Every moment of my secret hours. Yea I know
That I have sinned & that my Emanations are become harlots
I am already distracted at their deeds & if I look
Upon them more Despair will bring self murder on my soul
O Enion thou art thyself a root growing in hell
Tho thus heavenly beautiful
to draw me to destruction
(William Blake, excerpt from “Part I: Enmion and Tharmas,” in Vala, or, The Four Zoas: the torments of Love and Jealousy in the death and judgment of Albion the Ancient Man.)
All photos are screencaps from a collaborative short film put out by Lulamagazine and the ubiquitous UK-and-now-THE-WORLD clothing store Topshop. Here is a linky to the video, which is unusual and beautiful and freaky, but as you are watching this artistic short film remember it is designed to sell faux-Bohemian low-quality overpriced clothes that will be out of style in six months to impressionable and likely self-loathing young women with eating disorders and disposable income. The fashion industry is so cruel with its kindness that I go back and forth on appreciation and hate.
I’m sorry, I went to the mall earlier to pick up some comfortable summer shoes with my grandmother and now I’m in a low mood. Nothing puts me out of sorts like that snake nest. Like, everyone is slithering over the top of each other and accidentally biting their own tails and dropping money on shit they don’t need, finances they have gained from the jobs they keep specifically to make a weekend trip to a goddamned mall and drape shiny fabrics over the viper shitpit of the system so it looks all pretty and coordinated while they sip complacently from some kind of frapped coffee bullshit drink packed with sugar and empty calories that they store in the cupholder of their child’s stroller. Their kids are with them, of course, because children must be taught to want made-up food like chicken nuggets and aspire to own over three pair of shoes. Seriously, I want to watch it burn, burn, burn.
I know that my Emanations are become harlots.
I think I’m going to go take ten and paint with the kidlet or something.
In 1968, Sharon was cast in The Wrecking Crew (Phil Karlson, 1969), the latest entry in a series of “Matt Helm,” spy-spoof films, based on the 1960 Donald Hamilton novel of the same name. There had been three previous Matt Helm movies, all starring singer and comedian Dean Martin. Sharon had the pressure of being a featured new player in an established franchise, and critics then were like critics now: they love to bash comedies. So it was a big deal.
Starring opposite Dean Martin, Elke Sommer, and Tina Louise, Ms. Tate got to make friends with some big names and show audiences her playful, comedically well-timed, blithe side. Though she had played a pivotal role as Malibu in the comedy Don’t Make Waves, the emphasis in that part had still been mainly on her beauty.
“My dear. You must be very dedicated to your work, to wear such an atrocious wig as that.”
“How very common of you to mention it.”
Wearing glasses and a series of wigs, Sharon got to have fun and be silly on the set of The Wrecking Crew, which must have been an especially welcome respite after the tough work she did for Valley of the Dolls (and the kind of trial-by-fire nightmare that set experience was.) With The Wrecking Crew, Sharon finally got the chance to delve in to the type of light comedy for which she hoped to become known in the industry.
The role also required some action and stunt work, another familiar feature to Sharon after working with former Mr. Universe Dave Draper in Don’t Make Waves (trampoline scene coming soon). In The Wrecking Crew, she was called to do fight scenes. None other than superfly jam-master BAMF to beat all BAMFs, a one Mister Bruce Lee trained Sharon for her part as Freya Carlson, Mr. Helm’s comically nearsighted and klutzy assistant. Joe Lewis was also a consultant on set and Chuck Norris had a cameo in the picture.
Playing Freya Carlson really was a departure for Ms. Tate, and one she was proud of. Tina Louise (Gilligan’s Island) and Elke Sommer (A Shot in the Dark) nailed down the voluptuous vixens — though they, too, gave great comedic lines — and Sharon got to shine in a chiefly buttoned-up, jokey ingenue role.
“Sharon Tate reveals a pleasant affinity to scatterbrain comedy and comes as close to walking away with this picture as she did in a radically different role in Valley of the Dolls.”
(The Hollywood Reporter, review of The Wrecking Crew, 1969.)
Judo … chop! Nancy Kwan as Yu-Rang takes an elbow to the head.
“It just so happens that I know where Yu-Rang hangs her kimono!”
” … I bet you do.”
Dean Martin raved about Sharon’s performance in all the on-set promo interviews, making it clear to one and all that he considered her not only a close friend but a major upcoming talent.
Mr. Martin had played Matt Helm in a total of four movies to rocky critical acclaim but decent audience numbers (typical comedy reception), but, after Sharon’s death, he emphatically dropped out of The Ravagers, a planned fifth installment in the series whose title even appeared in the end credits for The Wrecking Crew. The film was shopped around but eventually abandoned and never made. The Wrecking Crew is the last in that series.
Why wilt thou Examine every little fibre of my soul
Spreading them out before the Sun like Stalks of flax to dry
The infant joy is beautiful but its anatomy
Horrible Ghast & Deadly. Nought shalt thou find in it
But Death Despair & Everlasting brooding Melancholy
Thou wilt go mad with horror if thou dost Examine thus
Every moment of my secret hours. Yea I know
That I have sinned & that my Emanations are become harlots
I am already distracted at their deeds & if I look
Upon them more Despair will bring self murder on my soul
O Enion thou art thyself a root growing in hell
Tho thus heavenly beautiful
to draw me to destruction
(William Blake, excerpt from “Part I: Enmion and Tharmas,” in Vala, or, The Four Zoas: the torments of Love and Jealousy in the death and judgment of Albion the Ancient Man.)
All photos are screencaps from a collaborative short film put out by Lulamagazine and the ubiquitous UK-and-now-THE-WORLD clothing store Topshop. Here is a linky to the video, which is unusual and beautiful and freaky, but as you are watching this artistic short film remember it is designed to sell faux-Bohemian low-quality overpriced clothes that will be out of style in six months to impressionable and likely self-loathing young women with eating disorders and disposable income. The fashion industry is so cruel with its kindness that I go back and forth on appreciation and hate.
I’m sorry, I went to the mall earlier to pick up some comfortable summer shoes with my grandmother and now I’m in a low mood. Nothing puts me out of sorts like that snake nest. Like, everyone is slithering over the top of each other and accidentally biting their own tails and dropping money on shit they don’t need, finances they have gained from the jobs they keep specifically to make a weekend trip to a goddamned mall and drape shiny fabrics over the viper shitpit of the system so it looks all pretty and coordinated while they sip complacently from some kind of frapped coffee bullshit drink packed with sugar and empty calories that they store in the cupholder of their child’s stroller. Their kids are with them, of course, because children must be taught to want made-up food like chicken nuggets and aspire to own over three pair of shoes. Seriously, I want to watch it burn, burn, burn.
I know that my Emanations are become harlots.
I think I’m going to go take ten and paint with the kidlet or something.
The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.
On and frequently off the set of 1958’s bomb Green Mansions, helmed by her then-husband director Mel Ferrer and co-starring the unhappily closeted fag of our fathers Anthony Perkins of Psycho fame, Audrey had near her often a deer named Pippin. She called him “Ip,” rather than “Pip.” I don’t know why. I have never read an explanation. You would have to ask her. Anyway, in order for the deer to convincingly follow her character around during principal photography, she spent a great deal of time bonding with the animal and training it to stay with her. Here she is with Ip, shopping at Jax’s grocery.
And this shot shows them in her dressing room. She was very nervous about the film because from its inception it was receiving slander due to her casting (neopotism, capitalizing on her popularity, selling out the book’s character, etc). The movie Green Mansions called for Audrey to star as Rima, a wild girl raised in a Venezuelan jungle. Audiences believed her to be a refined born lady of style (they wrongly judged her to be British as well) and did not buy her classy self in the role, despite the attempts to muss her up. This is actually slightly unfair, as she at one time tried to make a grass pie for her (still living) family to live off of during World War II.
She had roughed it plenty, but I guess people looked at her trim little figure and her eloquent speech and assumed plenty of things which were unwarranted and ultimately detrimental to her confidence and career, until she found the courage to ditch that punk Ferrer (sorry Mel Ferrer fans) and began to strike out on her own two narrow feet. Those were candids: here is a publicity still done before the film’s release.
Brain-asplodin’ cuteness.
All these pictures came from photographer Bob Willoughby’s flickr photostream. He moved recently and was going through old stuff and he realized he was sitting on a pile of rare Audrey candids and stills. Cool beans, huh.
Oh, my gosh — next Saturday. The date is set! Kidlet and I will be going to meet, for the first time in her little memory, with her father and his wife and their baby son. To say I am excited is to understate it: I know it is probably abnormal for a situation like this, but I am never one to be in the “in” crowd. I have literally longed for this day. I know it is more popular to be bitter or hard-hearted, but I thought and prayed on it for so long that I finally came to realize, “to what good end, sadness? only good will come of this, only the best things will come of this.”
And I am so pleased and pumped that he is doing so well in life, and that my daughter gets to newly encounter him at such a happy juncture for him, and it seems to me it must in large part be attributed not only to the opening of his own heart, but to, I can only conjecture and gladly so, that opening’s impetus: his awesome wife. She actually emailed me today, incredibly thoughtfully, inquiring after my daughter to see how she was handling these new upcoming changes. I was bowled over by that level of grace and thoughtfulness: it is what I told people I expected of her, having an incredibly high respect for her as an artist and as a faithful person of a true heart, but it was still so wonderful to experience it in person. I have mentioned before that she is a very successful musician in our area, and, I think, soon to be nationally. I can’t believe our children will be playing together in just seven short days. I truly look forward to this meeting. This is my daughter’s brother. That is amazing!
I am so proud of him, her father, for having the courage to make a change, and for deserving and committing to such a worthy, good woman. And I am so delighted that she and I will share this beautiful connection of our children being siblings. It’s honestly beyond anything I could ever have hoped or predicted just five years ago, when kidlet’s father and I essentially said what we probably naively and immaturely imagined to be our goodbyes. Of course, life went on, and of course, as both of us are honest and loving and decent people, if a little damaged each, that perceived goodbye could not stand and has not stood as any sort of final word, not with our dear kidlet’s sweetness in the balance. How could I keep him from that, from my end, and, from his side, why would he want to be away, and what sort of self-centered monster would begrudge him the desire for this reconciliation? I have known and expected this for a while now, since my own changes began, and it is better as it stands than I could have hoped. This is such an excellent coda, such a promising new beginning, that I can barely contain my gratefulness and happiness.
It’s everything I would have ever hoped and more. Such an auspicious and God-granted beautiful way to begin this New Year and new decade. And I also hope soon to feature kidlet’s brother’s mother, the wonderful woman I keep speaking so highly of, as a Music Moment, a special edition where I will actually get to interview the artist! — and one of her band members, I hope, too, my own little one’s father! — but only with her permission, and I will wait respectfully to broach that topic. This little journal is nothing compared to the success that awaits them. I am so excited for my kidlet, who loves music so well and has such a natural inclination toward it, to have already the luck and joy of being in their lives as they continue to develop their talent and, justly soon, I imagine, musical reknown. They bought her a toy guitar already, one which I examined after she asked for it and decided I sadly could not afford: amazing that she gets to have it through their generosity, I know that to her mind it was the one thing missing from a complete Christmas season. We are already talking about lessons and a real guitar to follow if that instrument is her interest. This is truly so incredible.
All I know is that I cannot wait til next weekend. It is a great new chapter of good fortune for me and for my daughter, and all I can do is give thanks.
A year ago I would have frozen in shock if someone told me that next week I would be meeting with my daughter’s father, his wife, and their newborn, but I have served my time for so long and prayed so well out my worries, and I am a wholly new person now. And all I am is purely thrilled. I look forward to this meeting with all my heart.
(all pictures from Lurve #2, Jennifer Pugh by Stacey Mark. “Halo,” Lurve #2, A/W 2009, via fashiongonerogue.)
These businesses are destroying the planet. Pollution, deforestation, overharvesting — and all for the one thing they already have too much of to begin with. Money.
“Daring Do.” Bowles, Hamish. Photographed for the Costume Institute Gala by Craig McDean, Vogue (U.S. edition), May 2008.
Click here to view Newsweek‘s 2009 ranking of Greenest Companies in America. If a company in your town, from whom you buy a majority of your products, or in whose product you are interested is not on the list, consider writing to them and politely explaining why you would like to see them begin environmentally-friendly practices in order to keep your business. We can’t all just poison the bad guys like the good green doctor, here, but you can still do your part.
It’s more honorable and in keeping with the theme of the issue to keep it clean in your fight, anyway. No ELF-style bombing baloney, which is dangerous and eliminates jobs from the humanitarian standpoint, and only plays in to the hands of the opposition from the strictly political and pragmatic end of the argument. When it comes to corporations and their interactions with politics and the environment, you definitely catch more flies with honey than with vinegar — ask any venus trap.
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.
Miss Daryl Christine Hannah is looking very flyass indeedy. It’s not just any ol’ lady who can sport a monocle and still look g as all heck.
I said goddamn, Daryl Hannah. Haters to the left! Coolest lady ever.
ME: One thing I learned [from the Playboy project of NSFW November] is that I guess it turns out I am kind of obsessed by Daryl Hannah. I didn’t even realize that!
HRH: Oh, I did.
ME: Really?
HRH: You talk about her a lot, more than you hear most people do. And you know way more about her than anyone normally knows about Daryl Hannah.
ME: But she’s so cool! I thought everyone thought that… I thought everyone talked about her and knew about her.
HRH: You are pretty much the only person I have ever heard talk about her.
ME: (wonderingly) I think about her all the time. How do other people not?
HRH: I don’t know. But you are making up for it.
Okay, so an eyepatch is not a monocle (it actually serves as sort of the cross purpose), but it is an accessory intended for use on only one eye; plus, you must admit that she is positively rocking that fabulous Moschino trench coat.
Vintage shot of perfumiere and freakstyle lovin’ Hélène Rochas, photographed by André Ostier at a masquerade ball in Paris, 1946. The event was called “Nuit du Pré Catelan” and was held on the bois de Boulogne. (thanks to Alecia Reddick photography blog for this credit!)
Found this picture via a June review of Rochas Paris’s 2009 perfume release, Eau Sensuelle, at mimifroufrou. Don’t be fooled by their french name and their claims of truthiness to the Rochas house’s roots. They are owned by Procter and Gamble now. Everyone Sells Out.
Claudia Schiffer photographed by Mario Testino for German Vogue (June, 2008).
I used to feel about cats the way I felt about women: sleek and beautiful but still slick, self-obsessed, and demented: too much like me and therefore untrustworthy. I’m working on my biases against both.
This is the same shoot that unbelievable topless Catwoman picture came from. I love it! Mario Testino is a genius and Claudia Schiffer makes the perfect living Vargas girl. Gorgeous.
Lou Doillon by Max Vadukul for Vogue Italia, August 2009
“Crescendo ho ocupato l’unico spazio rimasto libero in famiglia; quello dell’eccentrica, del giullare che strappa un sorriso. c’era talmente tanta perfezione che solo comportandomi in modo diverso sono ruiscita a trovare me stessa.”
If you are not lucky enough to speak Italian (I am mainly not, either, no worries!), then here is a very rough translation pieced together via babelfish (don’t you love that it’s named for a Douglas Adams invention), Conversational Italian in college — which I spent most of my time ditching to fuma (smoke) and hang out with various uomi (men!), in my defense, I was being hella Italian — and a couple online dictionaries:
“Growing up, I occupied the only space which remained free in my family: that of the eccentric, that of the jester who snags a smile. There was so much perfection that being involved in various ways has helped me to find the same [in life].”
“Lou Doillon Intime,” Playboy France, March 2008
A bit of background. Her father is director Jacques Doillon, and her mother is international superstar, ye-ye idol, and reknowned vintage beauty (a personal patron saint) Jane Birkin. Oh, and Jane’s previous husband was probably the most famous and successful male French musician of all time, (a personal devil) Serge Gainsbourg.
Beautiful, marvelous, multi-talented Jane Birkin during her marriage to That Creepy Soul-Reaper (Gainsbourg).
Birkin’s relationship with Lou’s father, film director Jacques Doillon, ended her marriage to Gainsbourg, and because of that the French press have a love-hate relationship with Lou: on the one hand, she is a daughter of cultural aristocracy; on the other, her very existence symbolises the end of one of France’s great love affairs.
Lou’s various step and half-sisters are famously beautiful models, actresses, and musicians such as Charlotte Gainsbourg, Kate Barry, and Lily Doillon.
“Destiny’s Daughter: Lou Doillon et Jane Birkin,” Getty Images
After a deliberately outre ugly duckling phase and some raw turns in cool indie flicks, Lou has been slowly transitioning in to a model citizen herself. So … yes, I can see where she is coming from with that quote. She’s a really cool chick, and as you can see from this small smattering from my collection of pics, she has taken it off, so she gets to be billed as lovely and talented, to boot!
Lou Doillon by Max Vadukul for Vogue Italia, August 2009
I’ll get to more about her another day, I guarantee, because I think she is a smashing girl! but right now I need to go put on my Square Face (read: look freshly-made-up, decently-dressed, and reliable and maternal) for my kidlet’s first parent-teacher conference. I don’t want my appearance or attitude or nuttiness or any grain of reality about myself to seep through to her teacher and influence said teacher’s attitude toward her. I know that’s crazy, but it’s a fear. Wish me luck!
Avert your husband’s eyes (pull them out if necessary) — it’s everybody’s favorite frustratingly irresistible, Ayn Rand-reading man-poacher: Angelina Jolie!
“When other little girls wanted to be ballet dancers I kind of wanted to be a vampire.”
Holy fuckballs! You guys! Oh, my goshly, this is one of the best things I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some truly amazing shit.*
I do not have words for how great that hoodie is. So great. If you want, you can pick up a Karmaloop exclusive Cat Girl Hoodie by Tripp NYC for yourself or, you know, for a charming e kitty who delivers you porn and sparkling social commentary here on karmaloop’s website.
*I once saw two cows fucking, not even lying. It was around ten years ago and I was spontaneously on my way to Monterey, chainsmoking and speeding of course, and I came around a bend and hit a bit of traffic about ten miles outside Gilroy. There were a couple of girl cows on the side of the road (they both had udders is how I know), and, as I glanced over, one just up and mounted the other one, completely out of nowhere. It was an arresting sight.
“It’s the Muppet Show! With our very special guest star, Twiggy!”
“The Muppet Show,” Season 1, Episode 21: Twiggy, aka Lesley Lawson, nee Lesley Hornby, sings “In My Life,” (Lennon/McCartney, 1965) with a very simple, beautifully arranged wind and string orchestra backing her. Original air date December 19, 1976.
The picture montage that accompanies Twiggy’s lovely cover of this wonderful song is surprisingly moving. She was an icon during a time when beautiful people actually cared about life beyond their own pretty noses: yeah, they were high as kites most of the time, but you know what? They really wanted to make this planet a better place, they dreamed big about equality and freedom, and not just record sales and cheap retail clothing lines and scoring points with the press.
The scenes evoked by the images in the montage and the people featured in them are even better when you consider how much more she could include in such a montage now, having continued to enrich the world with her acting, singing, modeling, and dancing (she has won Golden Globes, released hit albums, performed for charity, toured the world, the works).
Twiggy stayed a genuine Model Citizen, not only remaining active on the fashion, stage, screen, and music scenes, but also in continuing to care for others in word and deed. Visit Breakthrough Breast Cancer if you want to be cool like Twiggy, because if you are reading this and care about looking good, you clearly have some free time to be pretty on the inside, too.
Anyway. This video would be truly perfect, if only I could get rid of the bug in the bottom left (the transparent logo of the Mouse Who Sold the World). But on the bright side, dig her groovy still-mod eyelashes and stovepipe arms in that faboosh red tux, am I right?? Everything old is new again: she could step on stage today and rock that shit, and be perfectly in style.
The Thought Experiment 