Armed and Akimbo

Dear Scarlett Johansson

2010-07-26T14:28:00.002-04:00

No.

Karlie Kloss Has a Gun...

2010-07-08T18:11:00.002-04:00

And she's not afraid to use it.

(Hint: It's in the turban)

Kloss continues to channel classic film noir femme fatales, as seen here in the recent Gaultier HC show in Paris. And let's not forget her dead on Betty Bacall for Dior:

Ave Madonna

2010-07-07T14:42:00.001-04:00

Full of Grace Jones, D&G is with thee.

A&F Still Masquerading as a Clothing Company

2010-07-07T13:25:00.005-04:00

Despite its lack of clothes.

Frail, mustachioed men hiding in the corners of darkened movie theaters: rejoice!. The A&F Quarterly is back!

After depriving the world for seven years of their well-muscled male models in homoerotic situations, Abercrombie is once again displaying firm, bare man asses, but with an occasional girl thrown in to spice things up.

And who should be at the helm but that professional ass-grabber, and fairy godmother to the girls at AnA, Bruce Weber?

Uh-oh, a vaguely black girl! This is change I can pretend to believe in.

I know I'll be pre-ordering mine.

Fonda Memories

2010-07-05T14:46:00.003-04:00

My favorite movie about a hooker with a heart of gold (fuck you Julia), Klute, gets the Vogue Nippon treatment with professional lamppost, Freja Beha Erichsen in the lead role. And...this can't be right...it's shot by Terry Richardson...? That voyeur visionary and in all reality, total perv? Well I'll be darned. Who's been teaching tricks to that old dog?

Heterosexual Coupling Never Looked So Good

2010-07-05T12:55:00.007-04:00

Chameleon/nouveau supermodel/Philly bitch, Sessilee Lopez and the latest target of my stalker's night vision binoculars, Wendell Lissimore, burn up this editorial from The Contributing Editor.

First Grace Jones, now Iman. I want this girl channeling every black female (and the occasional male) model of the past 50 years. And after those five minutes are over, I want her jumping in American Vogue.

I love the tongue on the left, so why play hard to get on the right? Starts ta poppin' those balloons, girl!

Throw this on the cover of i-D and call it a day.

Cockblock much?

I'm secretly a big fan of preppy clothing and this has inspired me to come out of that particular closet. Every other one having had its door broken off the hinges ages ago.

I kinda hope they're spitting into each other's mouths. Hot. Just me?

Funk. Yes. I want an entire family of kids who look exactly like this. That would solve every problem that exists in the world today. You're welcome...now give me my damn Nobel Prize.

The matching outfits continue but I'm certainly not sick of it. If real couples dressed like this, I might not want to pelt them with the relentless stones of my bitterness. I also want that khaki jumpsuit. Preferably the one on Sessilee so I can show off these pins.

Summer!

R.I.P. Akimbo

2010-06-03T12:08:00.003-04:00

1934-2010

Thank you for being a friend.

Who Let Lester Out of Her Cage? Akimbo

2010-05-25T00:05:00.002-04:00

Where am I? I don't need this fur - throw it on the floor! Now, look at all this skin darling, look at all of this lavender draped skin. You just can't handle it. I can't even look at it in this headpiece Gaga borrowed from me last week. Oh well, I'll just give them so leg...

Breakfast at Tiffany's, Bombing at Barney's ... Akimbo

2010-05-06T08:42:00.010-04:00

Let's talk about ... reading. It's summer, kids, and with booty shorts and Soon Yi's visa renewal comes the Armed and Akimbo book club! First up is a super VIP event tonight for the thrilling new novel American Subversive, which in the span of three caffeine pills takes on the "new" Manhattan scene (do you know where Weehawken is?), the "new" media, domestic terrorism, fabulous department stores and most importantly trashy Meatpacking whores.
The book also reveals bloggers for who we REALLY are: intelligent, inquisitive, enterprising, courageous, unique, talented ... wait where am I?

McNally Jackson

52 Prince St.
7:00 pm

Why read it, when there are oodles of Vogues, Ws, Outs, Interviews, GQs and Butts that demand taloned page-throughs? Well, first and possibly most important, us AnA girls are a tad attracted to the hot author.

David Goodwillie: I'll run spellcheck on YOUR underground fringe group!

Anywho, see you tonight!

Hunch of the Day // Japanese Jacknife

2010-05-05T11:09:00.001-04:00

Maggie, Am I Floating?

2010-05-03T11:35:00.005-04:00

If so, I'm going to use my Laboutins to pierce whatever balloon is keeping me mid-air so I can fall face down onto this delicious piece!

Johannes, can you hear me?

I like my bird roasted. No wait. Undercooked. Moist. Perhaps a little ... unplucked. With the head attached. Are those ... Swallow? With a nice ... Bearnaise sauce. Thanks, Made in Brazil. Soon Yi is bringing us home early.

Updog Akimbo

2010-04-30T10:47:00.003-04:00

Yoga never looked so good. I hate to think how those rocks feel against his manhood, however.

The Fern Is Always Greener

2010-04-30T10:26:00.005-04:00

Or Absence of Mallis...

Bespectacled visionary and reality show alum, Fern Mallis is catwalking from IMG to start her own company. The fashion world heaves a collective sigh. Then passes out from the extra exertion.

Feeling Conjugal...

2010-04-29T16:02:00.003-04:00

I chased down a baby ostrich, killed it with my bare hands, plucked some ass feathers and threw it on a hat just in time for my wedding to one Ms. Enrique Martin.

He cried tears of joy when he saw me...or that might have been because I videotaped the murder and put it on repeat as a slideshow projected over his head for the entire ceremony.

It was a really beautiful and classy affair.

Some Promises Are Obviously Meant to Be Broken

2010-04-29T14:29:00.003-04:00

According to the gals over at Fashionista, Naomi signed a promise not to throw her phone while in the presence of Mama O's audience.

In other news, the body of Gayle King was found stuffed into a Louis Vuitton travel bag with a Blackberry wedged in her forehead. Naomi's people have "no comment."

Oh hi....

2010-04-28T15:22:00.003-04:00

What do you think of me, streetside, after I deathdropped across the Spring 2010 Chanel couture runway?

Do you like my patent heels? The super blue jeans? The snake of my bag? How about the understated wrapping of my fur? The more dead and tortured souls flung about my impossibly broad-but-bony shoulders, the better, as long as I can use the heads to clasp it all together. What else. How do you find the bang? The bow? The bump? Do you find the gray streak a witty allusion to the typical, sophisticated Chanel customer or a bit overdone? What about my return to the catwalk after being called too-thin by some? To them I say: shut up.

Ann Taylor (sp?) Akimbo

2010-04-28T14:45:00.002-04:00

Have you ever found yourself running down Broadway, late for a design consultancy meeting at J. Crew, when suddenly a glimpse of the Ann Taylor window on 9th street makes you trip over your Alexander Wang Fall 2010 black leather dominatrix heel? It happened to us AnA girls just today because of the dumpy-lady's delicious new advertising campaign: young, sunny and most deliciously thigh-high.

Part-time Pink girl and full-time dress size 6 Behati, leaning, sans bold shouldered blazer in sight.

You better work that wall, girl.

Indian model Lakshmi Menon knocks down all sorts of white, boring, Eastern European barriers by landing this big old advertising job. Who was the last dot to carry this sort of photo? Freida Pinto? Any old who, Lakshmi will be the first time ANY Indian will be seen in malls across America. And for that we say: thank you.

GO. HEAD. QUEEN.

2010-04-27T12:58:00.007-04:00

Christmas came early this year and Ru's the tree. Though she might as well be a stocking as she's certainly hung with more than just care.

I sincerely hope you've been watching this season of RuPaul's Drag Race (start yo EN-GINES) because it's the best thing on TV. Sorry, Glee (though this makes a strong argument).

Tranny's Angels

Last night was the epic season finale and Ru and her goils seriously delivered. The top three -- Tyra Sanchez, Raven and Jujubee -- had a Dynasty moment with Ru, learned fight choreography with the best person ever and filmed scenes for the "Jealous of My Boogie" vidjo. Juju had to sashay away, leaving Raven and Tyra to lip synch. For their. Lives.

There she is, just laughing and kee keeing with all y'all.

When the glitter settled, there was one queer winner. The other Tyra. Or, in all drag realness, the only Tyra. Girl brought it hard and consistently throughout the entire season, which was shockingly even better than the first.

The girls and I laughed, we cried, we threw shade and then we strutted around in our heels during the equally epic reunion show. Honestly, if Drag Race doesn't win an Emmy, I plan on stealing the one the other Tyra allegedly won, driving by RuPaul's house and throwing it in her god damn face.

Long live the tranny!

Cinematically Cinched...at the Waist

2010-04-26T13:01:00.014-04:00

Now, Voyager (1942)

Starring Bette Davis, Claude Rains, Paul Henreid
Directed by Irving Rapper
Costumes by Orry-Kelly

The power of clothes to transform one's sense of self, i.e. the makeover effect, has been explored for ages. Shaw's Pygmalion, every cycle of Top Model, Nicole Richie...and one of the best examples is this little melodramatic gem starring the one and only Bette Davis.

For the love of god, does anyone have a set of tweezers?

Garnering one of her 11 Oscar nominations, Davis plays perennial spinster Charlotte Vale. Charlotte is dowdy, has an unruly brow, drinks clandestinely to cope with life (no judgement there, sister) and has never met an unflattering floral house dress she didn't like. Constantly under the thumb of her overbearing mother (the wonderful Gladys Cooper), Charlotte has no hope or confidence.

No, these aren't shoulder pads. Why? Jealous?

Enter psychiatrist Dr. Jaquith (Raines) who valiantly rescues Charlotte from her despair. Feeling better, and with a new wardrobe in tow, Charlotte embarks on a cruise where she meets handsome Jerry Durrance (Henreid).

This isn't the only thing I'm good at sucking on if you catch my drift...

The two fall in love and Charlotte's transformation is complete. However, there's only one problem: the bastard's married. They decide to ignore their love for one another and live their lives separately.

That's right, take it in. Touch this skin, honey. Touch all of this skin.

Meanwhile, Charlotte returns home and gags everyone with her stunning transformation. No longer cowing to her mother, Charlotte stands up to her and soon begins attracting suitors. However, when her mother dies from a heart attack after one of their arguments, Charlotte runs back to Jaquith where she meets Jerry's daughter, Tina, also under the good doctor's care.

Did I just wander into a middle school production of The Hours and are you little Virginia Woolf?

Seeing herself in the shy, homely girl, Charlotte takes Jerry's daughter under her wing and helps her to come out of her shell. Charlotte and Tina become inseparable and Charlotte takes the girl home with her.

What's in this? Chronic? Hashish? Cuz I am FUCKED up.

Jerry and Charlotte are then reunited, but theirs is a love that can never be. However, Charlotte remains a force in Tina's life on the grounds that she and Jerry end their affair for good. And they part with the classic line: "Don't let's ask for the moon; we have the stars."

Turn. It. Tranny.

Charlotte's transformation is not just about her clothes, but they are an essential part of the equation. The clothes seldom make the woman, but what's better to turn a frown upside down than a new outfit?

Yeah, that's right, I just lit my cigarette on a dead homeless man. And I killed him. Who's gonna judge me?

Originally, Charlotte could care less about fashion, but once draped in Orry-Kelly's chic ensembles, she becomes a lady of style and sophistication. Yes, one's transformation must begin from the inside, but if the outside's still the same, the change is incomplete; it's not as believable or as profound. And if there's one thing clothes are good for, it's making a profound statement.

Homo Erotica-kimbo

2010-04-22T16:34:00.003-04:00

Any excuse to have two models going at it in practically nothing is a damn good excuse if you ask me.

I Had Dinner with Nelson Mandela, Thank You Very Much

2010-04-22T16:19:00.003-04:00

No, thank you, Naomi. For everything you've done to promote awesomeness.

P.S. If anyone deserves a blood diamond, I think we can all agree it would be this tranny.

I Just Sh*t Myself Akimbo

2010-04-21T13:50:00.005-04:00

Handle the May issue of Vogue Paris with care. There are enough chiseled cheekbones on this cover to induce severe bleeding.

Pepe serves as guest editor for this month's mag and corralled several of my favorite actresses...and Gwyneth Paltrow, for what is literally perfection.

They're all wearing Gap (Red) T-shirts benefiting some charity, which explains Bono's presence amidst all this sapphic delight.

And Pepe and Meryl are clearly fucking, which explains this little slice of heaven.

I love when actresses bump Oscars.

Wen in Rome...

2010-04-20T15:35:00.004-04:00

Liu Wen has made history in becoming the first Chinese model to be the face of Estée Lauder.

Four words.

Go.

Head.

Girl.

Friend.

Also --

About.

God.

Damn.

Time.

Book Report Akimbo

2010-04-20T09:20:00.004-04:00

Recently I finished reading André Leon Talley’s memoir, entitled simply A.L.T. and felt I had to share, a la Oprah’s Book Club (A HARPO Production). Expecting a series of pronouncements on the wheres, whens and hows of the glamorous life, to my surprise and initial chagrin, the book is full of – can it be? – actual sincerity.

More a memoir of his sainted grandmother and the saintly Diana Vreeland, the two women who helped to mold him into the Chado Ralph Rucci-cape wearing international diva and style icon he is, than an out and out autobiography, A.L.T. spends a great deal of time dwelling in his southern roots. He clearly takes great pride in his humble origins, and rather than try to escape from where he comes from, openly embraces it.

Bennie sans the jets

Bennie Francis Davis, André’s grandmother, whom he refers to as Mama, was a simple woman with great style and strength, under whose care he enjoyed the freedom to be himself. Who that is still remains a bit of a mystery at book’s end, as La Talley rarely goes into anything too personal. For instance, he never goes into his sexual awakening, which is par for the course for any memoir in my opinion. He nver even mentions the topic of his sexuality.

However, this can probably be traced back to his religious and conservative upbringing where it would no doubt be deemed entirely inappropriate to speak of such things in a public forum. A.L.T. still regularly attends church, as a matter of fact, and visits his childhood home in Durham, NC, as a means of grounding himself from the jetset high fashion world.

Diana Vreeland, WORKING.

From Benie Francis Davis, André learned how to find luxury in his everyday world. As a child, luxury was embodied by the crisp, clean white sheets on his bed, his grandmother’s cooking and his Sunday clothes. From Diana Vreeland, he gained his entrée, and a brilliant entrée it was, into the world of fashion. Growing up, as so many little girls did, wrapped up in the pages of Vogue, A.L.T. long regarded Vreeland as one of his personal heroes and his first job was literally a dream come true: assisting her at the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute.

Diva and apprentice

André Leon Talley’s story is one of idealism, perseverance, hard work, good luck and unmistakable talent. Girl knows what she is doing. The way he writes about beauty and luxury, no matter how simple or decadent, is inspiring:

“Luxury in the greatest sense, in the grand sense, could be something as simple as watching two cardinals cavorting outside my bedroom window, or receiving from my uncle’s big, callused hands a basket of tomatoes, still smelling of the salt and sunshine of the vine.”

He is a true and passionate connoisseur of beauty and this is evident from his earliest youth as he is marveled by the spectacularly attired ladies of his family, particularly Bennie Francis, and his church. So strong is his grandmother’s influence on his life, that A.L.T. lacks the air of scandal, of sex, drugs and haute couture, that one would expect from someone such as the Editor-at-Large for Vogue. André Leon Talley is, in effect, kind of boring.

Which is, by no means, an insult. Rather, it’s a testament to his family, his faith and his friends that he’s managed to cultivate such a glamorous life, and such an esteemed career, while lacking the usual vices and corruptions rampant in the circles he so frequently travels. That’s not to say there aren’t a few choice tidbits to relish.

Well finally there's photographic proof of my parentage. André Leon Taley and Diana Ross -- 9 months later, I came deathdropping into the world .

One of my favorite anecdotes has to do with Halston inviting André over to dinner, which consisted of a mountain of coke for good old Roy and potatoes and caviar for André. And then there’s Grace Jones showing up late to Monaco for a Chanel show and demanding her gloves from André for “attitude.” He was at 54, he was part of Warhol's circle, he's lived a life I have only dreamed and obsessed about.

A.L.T. name drops everyone: Karl Lagerfeld, Anna Wintour, John Galliano, Jackie O, Truman Capote, Diane von Furstenberg, Miuccia Prada, Diana Ross, Liza Minnelli, Bianca Jagger, etc. But his memoirs

are full more of his grandmother and his mentor, Diana Vreeland, than any of these 20th century luminaries. These two women are really what matter to him most in life: family.

Papa, can you hear me?

André Leon Talley is a real person. Who knew? He has values and morals, a normal life that is punctuated by his deep passion for luxury, beauty and fashion. But as he put it, “Fashion is no substitute for family.” Not a sentiment I particularly share, but one I can respect nonetheless. If anything, reading André Leon Talley's memoirs has given me a little more understanding of someone I've considered an idol since he first came into my consciousness, and a newfound respect for him as more than an idol, but as someone strikingly human.

Cinematically Cinched...at the Waist

2010-04-19T11:59:00.010-04:00

Sunset Blvd. (1950)

Starring Gloria Swanson, William Holden
Directed by Billy Wilder
Costumes by Edith Head

Let me tell you about the time I gave Buster Keaton an HJ in Chuck Chaplin's dressing room...

When it comes to tales of the dark side of fame, there is no greater film than Sunset Blvd. Billy Wilder's masterpiece is still painfully relevant 60 years later, what with the numerous downfalls and untimely deaths in our celebrity-obsessed culture.

They had FACES then. Their original faces, too.

And in the pantheon of great screen divas, few stand as tall, or as crazy, as Norma Desmond, brilliantly brought to life by silent screen siren Gloria Swanson in no doubt her greatest role.

Gloria the ingenue

Norma, like Gloria herself, was a major star before the era of the talkies and unable to accept the loss of her fame (and sanity), lives in a world of her past glory, assisted by her well-meaning and utterly devoted butler, Max.

Joe, do I look old? And before you answer, just know this bracelet doubles as a gun.

The walls begin to crumble when struggling writer, Joe Gillis, wanders into Norma's life. She sees in him the chance to engineer her long-awaited comeback to the big screen and he sees in her a meal ticket, but he's also inexplicably drawn to her.

If you had just given me my god damn cocktail, this wouldn't be happening right now!

We as the audience know from the first few minutes that their relationship will prove tragic. The film is narrated posthumously by Joe through an extended flashback as his lifeless body is fished out of Norma's pool. She shoots him in a jealous rage and out of fear of being abandoned, as she has been by everyone except Max.

Mr. DeMille, can you hear me? Make sure you get this shoulder.

But in one of the saddest and most beautifully poetic moments in cinematic history, Norma is allowed her final close up as she is taken away by the police.

Enjoying the imaginary applause, or the way I usually wake up in the morning.

A large part of what makes Norma so tragic a character is her wardrobe, realized by legendary costume designer, Edith Head. Head gives Norma Desmond an air of dilapidated glamour; her clothes are gorgeous, but they're a bit worn, a bit shoddy, a bit off. Much like the lady herself.

Norma is swathed in opulent furs and shrouded in dramatic gowns with sweeping capes. She's an ACTRESS, a STAR and therefore she is always performing, always on. Her clothes add to the already palpable drama, while her makeup is so severe it gives her a Kabuki-esque mask of a face.

A subtle poolside look.

Edith Head, the most honored woman in Oscar history (sorry, Meryl...again) was not nominated for her work, but instead won for work she did on another little movie that year. Fair enough. However, Norma Desmond remains one of the most haunting and interesting fictional characters of the 20th century, and her larger than life style continues to inspire drag queens to this day.

Call Me the G-D Pope...

2010-04-16T15:45:00.005-04:00

Because I can certainly justify molesting this underage youth.

Egor Zakiryaev, literally 4 years old. Could. You. Die?

And then, you know, burn in hell for eternity...

The Horse Whisperer

2010-04-16T15:33:00.004-04:00

That's it Simon, hold that filly til we can get her back in the stables. Who left the doors open? Ugh, and she got into the couture!

Pardon Me While I Shoot Myself in the Face

2010-04-16T12:22:00.002-04:00

"Since his arrival on the scene a decade ago, when he was a freshman at New York University, Mr. Blasberg has gone unrivaled in making connections with boldface names....At N.Y.U., Mr. Blasberg met a model who lived in his dorm and who introduced him to her agent at Elite, where he got a job writing bios of models. During a semester abroad in London, he did the same for Models 1, a top agency in Europe. During his junior year, he was an intern at W, and his senior year was spent at Vogue."

--yet another in depth piece from the NY Times

Meanwhile, my freshman year at NYU was spent losing 30 lbs and learning to binge drink. I'm glad to know my youth was completely wasted.

And yes, I am very bitter. Very, very bitter.

R.I.P. Akimbo

2010-04-16T11:51:00.001-04:00

2006-2010

Thanks for sucking, ABC.

Cover It Up: A Stroll Through W Lane

2010-04-16T09:43:00.017-04:00

Wandering through W Magazine's cover archive brought up so many memories. I can easily trace my fashion development with W's, as we both sprang into womanhood around the same time.

Premiering in September of 2001, at least one reason why its birth is muddled in the haze (this being another), I was but a sophomore in high school, taking baby steps through my first issues of Vogue.

Then this giant, modestly-priced number came along and I slipped into it as easily as Karlie Kloss into a couture bodysuit. Nearly ten years later, here we both are, a little worse for wear, but still actively turning it.

Below, in my not so humble opinion, are the greatest covers in W's short history, year by year.

2002

W's first great cover came a good 9 months into its inception. This was the first cover I actually remember hearing about, though it certainly wouldn't be the last buzzworthy cover for the mag. A post-klepto Winona, tussled hair, punk attitude and all, sporting her own ubiquitous T whose image is weirdly reminiscent of a young Mary Tyler Moore, sans the innocence or Dick van Dyke.

2003

Selma Blair, where are you? Her January 2003 cover is simple and perfect, with those GIANT mod eyelashes (that I would wear everyday if I could) and slightly agape mouth. Meanwhile, Pam Anderson strikes an all together completely different pose, giving windswept 80s sex pot.

2004

Androgyny, always a favorite topic in fashion, is given double exposure via Gisele's (hunching for her life) January 2004 cover and W's "Asexual Revolution" issue later that year.

2005

Karen Elson, MOVE! The Brangelina cover, the issue that really made W's one-letter name, is still one of their best. The 60-page Steven Klein shoot now seems eerily prescient, given the beaten up state of Angie's vagina. He was a bit off on the kids' shading, though.

2006

Probably the best year for W, I had trouble picking only four covers. Usually and openly not a fan of Cammy D, she looks AMAZING in the December 2006 issue. Mostly because it doesn't look anything like her. Meanwhile, Christina Ricci's stunning fur-trimmed hunch caused those uptight PETA assholes to wet themselves. And Meryl's and La Lohan's cover is still HILARIOUS.

2007

Someone I'm also not a fan of, Gwynny Paltrow, has never looked better, or more equine, than in September 2007. A month earlier, alien-robot couple, The Beckhams, had one of the sexiest shoots, perhaps ever and enough cannot be said about Naomi's photojournal. I'm still gagging over it.

2008

Little Orphan Annie Hathaway was about to hop on the Oscar train as a front-runner for her wonderful performance in Rachel Getting Married, and was having a serious moment. Though Hath lost, August cover girl, Pepe Cruz, snatched a trophy with the same delicate hand that's caressing her shoulder.

2009

Madonna and W have always had a great relationship, and thanks to W, the icon got another relationship out of the deal. After spinning her divorce into yet another publicity stunt, she began dating her barely legal co-star from the shoot. Somethings, thank god, never change.

2010

I'm still shocked.

A new era began at W this week, and hopefully more epic covers will follow in the years to come. However, this, will not cut it.

EDIT: Well, apparently W's been around since 1971. Who knew?

Pardon Me While I Kill Myself

2010-04-15T10:13:00.003-04:00

Calvin Klein is a sadist and I hate them. And of course by hate, I mean love, and by love, I mean want to kill, and by this pointless rant I mean, why can't every ad be like this?

Break-My-Hymen-Simon Akimbo / Beauty and the Brood

2010-04-14T19:34:00.003-04:00

Our deep and at times disturbing love for Simon Nessman continues unabated. A certified posing genius, no one can scowl and make it as sexy or as adorable as our large-headed lothario. Add a bowed blouse to the equation and who can ask for anything more?

Hunch of the Day // Wet and Waning

2010-04-13T16:26:00.002-04:00

Feeling Gay...

2010-04-13T16:10:00.005-04:00

I rouged my knees, rolled my stockings down, slicked my hair and threw on my buckle shoes then did the Charleston -- high on reefer, bootleg gin and jazz -- til the coppers broke up the joint.
Zelda Fitzgerald ain't got shit. On. Me.

MOVE // Daria Desnuda

2010-04-12T17:02:00.002-04:00

Scowl! Bare those breasts! You are woman! Now roar, bitch! Roar!

Or You Can Email Us at Akimbo.Arms@Gmail.com

2010-04-12T13:37:00.004-04:00

"I love shooting guys. Some of my favorite pictures over the years have been the things I've done with guys. In a commercial context too, there's no hair or makeup with guys, which is great. I love shooting nudes of guys, but it's harder to get guys to do full nudes, I don't know why, but they don't want to show their junk. I love doing guys. If there are any guys out there that want to get naked you can email: model@terryrichardson.com."

--alleged, well, blatant pervert, Terry Richardson

Of course AnA's photoshoots will most likely just be sex with a camera present.

This Year's Supermodel

2010-04-12T11:43:00.003-04:00

Karlie Kloss continues on her mission for world dominance. Her latest step: a strong cover for May's Teen Vogue.

Take note, Mama Vogue, this is how you do an all-American cover without boring everyone on the checkout aisle at the A&P.

P.S. Does A&P still exist?

R.I.P. Akimbo

2010-04-12T10:51:00.004-04:00

Malcolm McLaren

1946-2010

Feeling V(aguely)Asian...

2010-04-08T15:58:00.005-04:00

I threw on a choppy white-blonde wig, took off my top and commenced to hunching.

One drink too many and suddenly Steven Meisel has me brandishing a riding crop and thigh high tranny boots.

A rare moment of serenity...sometimes I wonder how I got here and upon drawing a complete and utter blank, hurl a cell phone at the nearest overweight underling just to feel whole again.

Oh Russian Vogue, much like my Russian billionaire boyfriend, I've been inside you naked too many times to count...

I'm Glad to See Someone's Working...

2010-04-08T10:13:00.002-04:00

Because I'm certainly not. With this weather, do you blame me?

Luckily, Lara Stone is working enough for both of us. Here, the Dutch powerhouse is giving me everything I need in this Versus spot.

The hair is blowing, the face is running through fits of ecstasy and the body is contorting ad infinitum. Bitch is working overtime. Meanwhile, I'm off for a two hour stroll so I can blatantly ignore my real duties...whatever they may be.

Hunch of the Day // Dapper Drape

2010-04-08T10:02:00.003-04:00

7 Words I Thought Would Never Come from ALT

2010-04-06T13:50:00.005-04:00

"Courtney Love and I bonded last week."

The two girls had lunch -- which in Love's case was some air and half a leaf and in André's case was not eaten in car -- and gabbed about the things girls gab about while at lunch. Being high on Letterman, co-hosting The View and meeting up with Marc Jacobs later in the day.

You know, the usual.

Breaking News: Alleged Actress Still Boring; Vogue Unbothered

2010-04-06T13:45:00.002-04:00

Well, at least it's Vogue UK that's slumming this time. Though across the pond, they're not faring much better.

Not Yo' Mama's United Colors

2010-04-06T13:27:00.005-04:00

Children at play. Seriously, what are they, five? Does it make me a pedophile that I'm turned on by this? Well, call me Roman Polanski.

Does anyone else get Talking Heads video from this or have I been sniffing too much glue? Also, an all fuchsia look is surprisingly great. And Elmer's is surprisingly potent...

Never a fan of ponchos, these colorful numbers could be thrown on over anything, rain or shine.

Be still my pedophilic heart...well, I'll be living in exile in France if you need me. And obviously avoiding those bastard Swiss.

Cola Rocha

2010-04-06T13:11:00.002-04:00

Coco hasn't had that much coke near her face since...Saturday?

So Uncle Karl's coming out with his own line of diet soda, to which I ask, why the F not?
Does it make sense?
Of course not.
Do people who regularly drink soda even know who Karl Lagerfeld is?
Doubtful.
But you gotta give it to Koke and Carl; they'll do anything for a quick buck.
And that bottle is hilarious enough to warrant a taste, mixed with a healthy dose of vodka, natch.

Ballin' Akimbo

2010-04-06T11:08:00.005-04:00

Nothing gets our blood pumping here in the Akimbo loft as much as ball play, and lord Lagerfeld knows we LOVE Korean Vogue (each issue gets some mileage!), so we squealed with Ricky Martin delight when Ms. Ross found the latest issue in Soon Yi's sensible Fall 2010 Chanel messenger. The latest cute take on croquet and tennis-esque attire: add a long, lacy skirt or run risque with shorts and tall white knee socks.

Evacuate the forest floor!

Come hither, I need a steam press.

Perfect pointed poise!

NOT by Bruce Weber.

Another important note: frothy headpieces and a closed-mouth smile. MMMM! We win!

Liya Kebede: From the Runway to the Red Carpet

2010-04-05T20:14:00.003-04:00

Remember when models acting was just a big ole, hearty, malicious laugh Hollywood had in the nineties? Well, who's laughing now, Billy Baldwin?

Liya Kebede is acting her bony, flawless face off in Desert Flower and I am filled with questions and awe. Who knew? Where was I? What will she wear to the Oscars? And will they strip Halle Berry/Gwyneth Paltrow/Julia Roberts of her trophy to make way for someone more deserving?

I can't wait to see this and cry whatever tears that haven't been drained by a movie based on the novel 'Push' by Sapphire.

Feeling Exuberant...

2010-04-01T16:18:00.004-04:00

I threw on a tulle skirt and boogied my way onto the cover of Elle South Africa. It's great to dance again, now that apartheid is officially over thanks to that Clint Eastwood movie no one saw. You know the one...Gran Million Dollar Invictus.

In Other News, the World's Not Flat...

2010-03-29T17:44:00.006-04:00

Ricky Martin, that bastion of heterosexual bon-bon shaking and purveyor of la vida loca, has come out as a big ole manlover. I, for one, am shocked. SHOCKED. Let's take a stomp down memory runway and see how we ended up here, shall we?

There she is. Queer it all began. Though only a young Latina, Ricky was already well on her way to fag superstardom, popping out of that background in that bright yellow T.

Fame, as well as these flowing locks, soon followed via gurney onto General Hospital.

Flash forward to her big breakthrough, leading the Latin Explosion. And like everyone else from said explosion, his career was lost somewhere in the resulting rubble.

From one queen to another.

La Martin soon began to pair his gay face with gay hair and gay beard, of the non-Aniston variety.

The look on his face says it all: "Who am I fooling?"

Then the inevitable happened and Ricky got knocked up. The final step for the gay of a certain age who wants to stop having sex in public bathrooms and (re-)create the family from which they were insensitively excluded.

Then this happened. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just two heterosexual friends...who look like that...doing yoga on the beach...in speedos...yeah, the closet door pretty much fell off the hinges at this point.

Congrats, Lady Martin! It's about time. Good for you for taking that important (though rather unnecessary) stilettoed-step.

Honestly...

2010-03-25T14:01:00.005-04:00

I've been over Baptiste Giabiconi for a while. I get it, you're fucking Karl Lagerfeld, join the club.
But here she is giving her best Gaga drag and my interest is suddenly reawakened.

Sure, he looks a little (uncharacteristically) mannish, but no more so than the genuine article.
Other icons filtered through the Giabiconi lens include Prince, Jim Morrison and 50 Cent.

Again, in drag.

Why not? Strip him down and leave him for dead in 1971.

I love his commitment in donning drag for Gaga and wish he had shown similar commitment for Fiddy. As we all know, black face is always hilarious.

Buggin' Akimbo

2010-03-25T08:59:00.005-04:00

Take a look at the newest girl on the block, and the most shocking thing out of New Jersey ever, Ann Kenny:

We haven't loved a bug-eyed hoofer this much since AnA favorite Masha Tylena opened Christian Dior in Fall 2008. Crazy Kenny opened half the shows this Fall. Plus, she's a slightly cuter half of the Kenny twins. Let's hope this buggin' beauty keeps it up!

One More Shoe to Prance Her

2010-03-24T09:38:00.007-04:00

Isabel Toledo is collaborating with Payless to create an affordable *cough* cheap *cough* line of shoes and bags.

Now, Payless being the big-footed girl on a budget’s dream, I can only hope the Toledo heels will come in at least a size 12 (though preferably a 12W or 13) so I can stuff my giant pontoons into them.

Sadly, the line won’t be ready until September, meaning I’ll have to go with my original choices to P-Town this year. But they aren’t too shabby. What do you think, dear reader(s)?

I think this for a good day heel. A simple black patent leather pump to stroll along the cobblestone streets in.

For the beach, I'm thinking one of these numbers. The plaid is really calling my name, but I feel the black lends itself to more outfit possibilities? Anyone? Beuller?

I'm praying to Gaga this hooded sandal is in my size as the last time I checked, the largest they had was a 9. I could barely fit a toe into that.

Afternoons will be spent teetering about drunkenly in these cute little numbers while I do laps in a comfortable romper.

I know I'm a little heavy on the black (insert racist joke here) but you can't go wrong with a slingback and how fun are those little gold studs?

And finally, the moneymaker. Hot red with a demure 4" heel. These shall be evacuating any and all dancefloors. Paired with a white lace bodysuit, this will surely turn heads while I am surely turning IT.

Payless sure has come a long way from the Star Jones collection. To bad the same can't be said for Mr. Jones himself.

Real designers are actually in on the fun now! Doesn't it feel good?

T...W...Heeeeeeeeeeeey!

2010-03-23T17:51:00.010-04:00

Strange Bedfellows?

T magazine editor, Stefano Tonchi is moving up in the alphabet, or down depending on how you read it, to edit W. Though we -- nor anyone, really -- have never paid much attention to the T. Aside from a Julianne Moore poke her face,that is.

But W! W has been a favorite of we AnA girls since...well, we were little AnA boys. They have featured some of our favorite editorials ever. Brad and Angie giving Aniston the middle finger. Naomi giving the world the middle finger. And more recently, Linda Evangelista giving the recession the middle finger.

Tonchi claims he wants to make the mag more "accessible" (so vague, or rather Vogue of a word) and "more of a general-interest style magazine, and less of a fashion-obsessed publication."

Kill me.

Who cares about accessibility (besides Si Newhouse of course)? W is the high fashion (more or less) equivalent of American Vogue. Sparring hunch to hunch, exposed nip to exposed nip with the far superior European oversized titles.

Not to mention, W is one of the few American mags that still puts models on its covers...

An end of yet another fashion era? Perhaps. I don't like to jump to conclusions, unless said conclusions include an open bar, so we'll see what Tonchi has in store. Expectations, though, are admittedly low.

Kloss Klan (A)Kimbo

2010-03-19T11:18:00.004-04:00

What were you doing when you were 17? Were you, perhaps, going to high school? Maybe you had a part-time job, scooping ice cream at the downtown ice cream parlor? Did you on the weekends drive to the cinema with your "boyfriend?" Or were you like us Akimbo gals, snorting powders off of our first Chanel purses? I'll tell you one thing you sure as Donna Karan hell weren't doing: Hemming and Hawing across Vogue in fabulous frocks, flat-ironed fringe and foward-thinking flip flops!

I'm prettiest when I'm hunching! Eyebrows? The heck with that, I'm Dutch!

Get that wind machine out of my face, please, I'm working this peasant skirt!

My hair is so fun! And pretty!

We love this statuesque teen as if she were our illegitimate Anderson Cooper offspring! Proud!

American Vogue or Shape Magazine? Akimbo

2010-03-18T20:20:00.007-04:00

Dear, sweet, hippy Gisele Bundchen-Moynahan-Brady goes commercial for the April Vogue - gone are her Dior days, kids - that included a cover shot. Infuriated, Ms. Ross accidentally swatted Soon Yi in that delicate face as she delivered low-fat Starbucks lattes to the loft. Here's a particularly offensive shot from the "fashion" story inside:

That better be a diet shake.

"I'm coming, Bridget! Fetch!"

Meanwhile, AnA has a bone to pick with photog Patrick Demarchelier, who stole Arthur Elgort's near-iconic shot of Stella Tennant diving into a pool, all 90s and stuff, for this grossity. Here's the Gisele rip-off:

I'm sopping over this infinity edge!

The infinitely more humorous Stella/Arthur original was on view at the Model as Muse exhibit; email us a a picture and win a prize! Soon Yi couldn't find it. Anywho, Gisele's attempt to prove her return to hotness post-enfant en Vogue should be done in Balmain, not bikinis.

Speaking of babies, Anna hasn't loved one since Bee, but loves pregnant chicks in an attempt to show "shapely" women. Gisele may be fat here, but at least her arms are still bone!

My back!

One thing we did like: this outtake from SJP's next Vogue shoot for the Sex and the City Sequel!

MOVE // Toddler Turning It

2010-03-17T15:06:00.001-04:00

The Final Curtain Akimbo

2010-03-16T14:20:00.007-04:00

16 immaculate looks marked the end of an era last week as Alexander McQueen's final show last week in Paris. Though the presentation was only open to a few select editors, AnA's own Dolly managed to sneak in just in time to open the show.

There she is, doing me and Ms. Streisand proud.

Well aware of what a momentous occasion this is in her career, Dolly refused to treat her posing lightly. Lee would have been proud.

A fitting end to one of the most brilliant careers in the history of fashion.

Anatranny of a Murder...

2010-03-15T11:45:00.000-04:00

Well, after crawling back from the brink of death after gagging over 'Telephone' -- and subsequently scarfing up death's poisoned sandwiches by watching and re-watching it in all its nearly 10 minute glory -- I'm finally at a place (drunk) to talk about it.

The lesbian theme starts off strong and disturbingly muscular...

Cooter -- thanks, but no thanks. She might not have a dick NOW, but sex reassignment surgery has come a long way. I'm just sayin'...

Yes, that is smoke. Yes, this is also where I began to have heart palpitations from all the fierceness.

This big black bitch might be my favorite moment, well...ever. Here she is owning the world in an all too brief moment.

Give it a Mugler stutter step...

B makes her first appearance, breaking Gags out of jail. You know what they say, once you kill a cow...you gotta eat some fish.

B clearly getting ready to stick her face betwixt Gaga's legs. What would Hova think of all this?

Beyonce couldn't give less of a shit, because she's going full on dyke and Mr. Carter-Knowles be damned.

Call her mellow yellow. B goes to meet Tyrese, who is apparently still alive...? Though not for long...

"Sometimes I feel like I live in Grand Central Stay-SHUN. " That's it. ACT! Throw an Oscar in this face.

A pussy sandwich? Meanwhile, I love the queens turning it in the kitchen while the Lady poses in what has to be the must-have accessory of 2010. Call all you want, but you're not gonna get my telephone hat.

I know this is Gaga's song and video, but B blatantly steals the show. That face. That wig. That jacket. Those thighs. I think we've just been introduced to Gaga Fierce.

Speaking of epic (read: tranny) faces...

By the way, this recipe is my diet for the next 5 months as I prepare to enter a speedo, as being dead will be the only way it'll happen.

Hot cakes and hamhocks, anyone? Hold that thought, I've got an incoming call. No, I don't want to switch my long distance carrier. This isn't even a real phone. Yes, I'll hold.

Oh you know, I'm just standing here, posing, nonchalant as usual, with this phone in my hair. Just a regular day in the Haus of Gaga.

After stealing her honey, that selfish motherfucker Tyrese got what was coming to him. He'll soon be back to singing for sodas on the bus.

And here we have the inevitable dance routine, amidst a sea of corpses.

Gaga bless America!

Blow-up Doll Beyonce, now available in Buxom Brunette and Sapphic Sasha.

Fosse.

Flanking their pussy wagon, Gaga and B give their all while looking impossibly fabulous. This is what pop music is all about. Not giving a shit.

They give one last pose for the cameras...

Before driving off into the sunset, a la Thelma and Louise, leaving a path of destruction and tranny heels in their wake. To be continued...? Let's hope so.

Dying of Antici...pation Akimbo

2010-03-10T11:24:00.004-05:00

The wait is almost over. Ever since B admonished that her life resembled the commotion of Grand Central Station, the ladies of AnA have waited with bated breath for the video. After several delays, our pateince will (hopefully/no doubt) be handosmely rewarded.

Pray tell, will you be taking any calls tonight?

Doubtful it seems as I plan on dancing.

This Is the Most Acting I've Seen Jennifer Aniston Do...Ever

2010-03-10T09:42:00.004-05:00

Hunching to save her life, the other Jenny from the block, if Sherman Oaks could be considered the block, is uncharacteristically giving it.
It may have taken 15+ years, but Aniston finally gave us a good magazine cover.
Now if she could actually give us a good movie, she'd be set.

Paris Fashion Week : Manish Arora - Taste the Rainbow

2010-03-09T14:38:00.004-05:00

What did I do to deserve this little confectionery treat? Gaga knows I haven't been anywhere near good this year. Well, I must be doing something relatively right, or Manish Arora is just magic. It's probably the latter. I mean, look at this....

LOOK AT IT!

The one on the left is playing some serious tricks on my eyes. And these tricks aren't for kids.

Is it futuristic? Is it completely batshit? Is it everything I've ever wanted? The answer is D, all of the above. I want this collection in my closet by Friday. If it's not, someone loses a pinky toe.

Red Carpet Rundown: Based on the Novel 'Boring Me' by The Oscars

2010-03-08T15:26:00.015-05:00

Les Oscars -- the grandtranny of all red carpets -- is sort of like the wedding day of a close friend or relative. You look forward to it for months, all the while knowing that it'll be long, boring, and everyone there will be drunk and yapping on for hours about nothing. By the end of it all, you're exhausted, can't remember what happened or why you came, but are looking forward to doing it again soon.

This year's telecast was, well, i only bothered to watch the first 2 hours since I only wanted to see Mo'Nique run off with that trophy -- but the part I saw was all right. NPH was adorable, per usual, Steve and Alec were entertaining enough, though I hear I missed cameos by Michelle Pfeiffer, Babs Streisand and God herself, Mama O. Well, that's what YouTube's for. As for what mattered most, the fashion, I was left wanting more, namely a Kidman in a column, but there was some fierceness to be relished.

I'm ready to get myself a big lady because big girl YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. Gabby Sidibe was hands down my favorite gal of the night, giving glamour and girth. Marchesa actually got it right...for once.

Unsurprisingly, Mo won Best Supporting Actress, to a standing ovation no less. I barely heard what she said afterwards since I was screaming about Meryl Streep giving her props, but she was elegant and stunning in her Tadashi Shoji, whoever the hell that is. He'll surely be someone after clothing that broad, Oscar-winning back, however.

Arising fashionista, Carey Mulligan, dared to dye and looked flawless in her Prada gown. There's nothing I love more than a short do with a big statement earring. Something I'm hoping to try this summer.

Carey's co-presenter, Zoe Saldana, was also a vision in Givenchy HC, which admittedly looked better when she was descending the 35 flights of stairs to get to the Oscar stage last night.

Oscar winner and professional turner of IT, Charlize Theron rocked Dior. The two have done better, but the boob rosettes are hilarious.

Cameron Diaz in Oscar de la Renta. Note, the only time Cameron Diaz and Oscar will ever be mentioned in the same sentence.

Speaking of Oscar longshots, Sandy Bullock everyone:

Who still doesn't know how to pose to save her life. The Bullock delivered a great speech and looked the picture of glamour in, ugh, Marchesa (fine, Georgina, two for you...) Run off with that little man, girlfriend. Just make sure you don't trip over your heels a la every movie you've ever been in.

Our dad looked great, as usual, in his own design, as usual. Meanwhile, call me Mackenzie Phillips because I'm ready for this papa to preach on me...about sex.

Apparently, someone left the door to the stables open. And she snatched a gown straight off the Chanel Haute Couture runway not three weeks ago. Crafty equine.

Though not quite reaching the heights of her Balenciaga print at the SAGs, Meryl looked every bit the gracious loser in her Chris March (of PJ Runway...fame...?). We'll see you next year, Mer!

Another Oscar-winning lady of a certain age, Dame Helen Mirren, continued to give frat boys across the country questionable boners. Dame's got it goin' ON!

Vera Farmiga chose Marchesa, and though Georgina scored with two other ladies, this one left me about as limp as these accordion ruffles. Marchesa has one trick that they continue to turn and by now I'm tired of it. How many goddess gowns can I see before I become a full on atheist?

Speaking of limp:

La Lopez continues to try to recapture her past red carpet glory, but she's not quite there. Tuck that giant hip in place! However, bravo for choosing this aspirationally-dramatic Armani Privé, but it's a column that's shitting itself. Also, that HC collection sucked.

Speaking of things that suck:

Here's tween sensation Miley Cyrus. Apparently they'll let anyone without a d gag reflex come to the Oscars these days.

Oh, and there's Nick Canon. Cannon? I don't care. Slap a smile on that face. I know you're just NOW realizing what you've gotten yourself into, but just remain quiet, smile when spoken to and pretend that you're not dying on the inside every day. Meanwhile, Mimi, sucking it in to save her life, gives another reason why this recent couture season was awful, in Valentino HC.

Kat Bigelow. Go. Head. Girl. Friend. The first woman to win a Best Director Oscar. And it only took two centuries! You are an inspiration to us girls everywhere. Thank god you dumped that Cameron fellow, who apparently revived then subsequently married a corpse. Is it just me? Anyone? Bueller?

Sometime actress, but perennial movie star, Demi Moore was flawless in Atelier Versace. Noticeably absent, but not at all missed from this picture, Ash Kutch. I'm assuming he's in daycare with Nick Canon, playing with blocks and taking meetings with various cable networks in a futile attempt to extend their fifteen minutes of fame.

Last year's Oscar darling, Kate Winselt. Perfection, as always. Methinks I've got a ladycrush. I haven't had one of those since the sixth grade! And I've made very little progress since then...

I see these three ladies all came freshly-shaven. Later, at the VF after party, Zac was found being spun around on the Lazy Susan while Ryan, Jake, Tom and Elton covered him in glitter and lube. Those girls sure know how to party!

LOVE old lady chic! Especially on a pair of nubile ingenues. Kruger in Chanel, Kendricks in Elie Saab, both couture. Lovely.

Pepe Cruz, I know you, I live you, I love you. That said, I've been a bit disappointed with you this award season. This gown is perhaps the best of the lot, but it still feels off. You looked a bit boxy in the waist. There. I said it.

Maggs Gyllie chose a simple, Dries van Noten, reaffirming her love of this particular silhouette. Tell me the truth. You know you didn't stand a chance, so you just rolled out of bed and threw on the nearest designer? It's fine. I don't blame you. After all, who-who-who gon' love you?

Vogue cover girl, Tina Fey, chose a great dress - one-shouldered Michael Kors - but the hair is a little too matronly. Throw it in a chignon for a sleeker, sexier look. However, I'm willing to forgive this slight misstep since your little presentation with Bob Downey Jr. was one of my favorite, and probably one of the funniest, moments of the night.

What better note to end this post on than with the divine Ms. O. I don't know why she was there, nor do I care. I can only imagine that she informed everyone in attendance that they all had Oscars sitting underneath their chairs before inviting her friend and ours, JOHN TRAVOOOOOOOOOOLTAAAA to dance with Mo'Nique and Sandy Bulls to close the show. Anything less and I would be severely disappointed.

FACE Akimbo

2010-03-05T13:50:00.005-05:00

AnA's favorite scissoring sister Freja Beha gives us a subtle turn-of-the-head on the latest Italian Vogue cover shot by Mr. Meisel. Under that white lace, diamond earings, and sensible gauze headwrap is a ferocious kitty-eating serpentine.

Oh, hello.

We haven't enjoyed Head this much since ... yesterday, when Anderson Cooper chained us in his Tribeca fire house! Anywho, with those pin thin legs and elegant pursed mouth, we're expecting a lot editorially from this seasoned hoofer! She gives a whole new meaning, after all, to "catwalking."

While You Were Sleeping: Sandy B - Style Icon

2010-03-04T14:17:00.010-05:00

While drowning in a bottle of wine and watching my Wendy Williams last night, I heard a story that sounded vaguely familiar. About Sandra Bullock being the Oscar nominee most likely to generate sales from her red carpet appearances.
Huh.
Shocked -- not as shocked as the fact that she's probably going to win for The Blind Side of all movies -- I decided to investigate some of her recent looks.

With more than a little skepticism in my heart, I leafed through and was pleasantly surprised.

Sure, there were the horrible missteps:

The Lanvin on the left is just not her. Meanwhile, I prefer that she leave the awful bed hair to Cammy Diaz who always looks awful, but at least we expect it from her. And the Alberta Ferretti is unflattering on that flat chest and wide hips.

Here she is dressed as a beard. At least the make-up is fierce. Sandy's too.

But then we have these gems:

A double dose of McQueen. You can never go wrong there.

This Bottega Veneta number was a controversial choice:

But how does one grow unless one challenges oneself. She took a risk, I enjoyed it for that fact alone.

My favorite look, though, has to be this:

Halston with the perfect accessory: Ryan Reynolds. He goes with everything.

More Legs Than a Bucket of Chicken Akimbo

2010-03-04T13:55:00.003-05:00

I'm sensing a trend.

Divas Live Akimbo

2010-03-03T15:34:00.000-05:00

Brilliant.

LFW Fall 2010 Recap: Nathan Jenden - 80s Clubland A-Go-Go

2010-03-03T14:07:00.004-05:00

Color! Animal prints! Black lady church hats! I'm in love again.
It's like my fantasies of 80s dance dance revolutionizing come to life.
Quick! Someone throw on some Klymaxx because I have a meeting in the ladies room with Boy George and an 8-ball of coke.

Thank you, Nathaniel, for sounding a fun, technicolor toot toot, heeeey beep beep into my life.

You Can't Teach an Old Bitch New Tricks

2010-03-03T11:20:00.006-05:00

Naomi is at it again. Thank God.
The super has allegedly attacked the driver of her Russian billionaire boyfriend, after he refused to tell her if the Commie was cheating on her.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting at work crying over my bank account.
When the authorities came to the scene, Naomi had already sprinted off in her stilettos.
The cops are now on the search for her and one can only guess she's already fled the country and is hiding out at Papa Azzedine's til this ugly mess blows over.
All I can say is, at least someone still knows how to be a supermodel. Long live the Queen!

Oh hi...

2010-03-02T15:05:00.003-05:00

Where am I?
Who's this blonde teenybopper next to me?
And why can't I feel my face?
What? What do you mean? It's when? 2010? The future! I made it!
Oh, hello, little girl. What's your name? Oh, that's cute. You remind me of a young...er me.
I hope I'm wearing something under this robe....let's check...guess not!
Meanwhile, what's in this tea cup?
Anygay, I guess we're doing something.
Take my hand, Cyndi. I've got a disco stick built for two waiting outside.

LFW Fall 2010 Recap: Burberry - Sheer Shearling and Shante

2010-03-02T12:35:00.004-05:00

Mouthed and Agape // Gimme Gimme Moore

2010-03-02T11:34:00.003-05:00

Actress with a capital A and perpetual Oscar snub story, Jules Moore looks stunning, albeit airbrushed into near oblvion, in the new Bulgari ad that has been thrown in my face every time I visit Style.com.

And here she is giving face on my favorite fake fashion publication, The New York Times Style Magazine. T time?

Look at that divine bone structure. It's screaming out for a Best Actress trophy.
Throw it in her damn face!
Le sigh. Maybe next year.

Say It Ain't So Akimbo

2010-03-01T14:44:00.003-05:00

This is what I have to look forward to? Kill me now.

Style.com's Style File Blog is apparently determined to ruin what's left of my interest in the global fashion weeks. Claiming that the sky-high heel craze, like the pashmina or Gwyneth Paltrow's career, is dead. First Marc Jacobs, now this? What's the point of wearing clothes anymore? I might as well gain 300 lbs, join a nudist colony and dedicate my life to something...real. Shiver.

LFW Fall 2010 Recap: Christopher Kane - Leather and Lace

2010-03-01T14:41:00.007-05:00

Mourning Glory

2010-02-26T16:46:00.006-05:00

Lee Alexander McQueen was laid to rest today and his impossibly glamorous friends payed homage to his impossibly glamorous career by not resting on their funeral laurels.

Superwomen, Kate and Naomi, were suitably fierce...

Meanwhile Daphne Guiness was subtlety itself in this flowing McQueen cape and veil.

What better way to say farewell -- except maybe a black armadillo heel?

NYFW Fall 2010: Alexander Wang - Working, Girl

2010-02-25T13:13:00.008-05:00

Alex Wang is giving grown-ass woman realness this season, that is if grown-ass women wear mid-riffs and mini-skirts. Which they clearly should.

Since New York is officially the North Pole, these camel capes will come in handy. That is if we'll be alive by the time they come out. Should the Northeast turn to ice, the bones will obviously go first. Then the gays since we don't do inclement weather. The lesbians will have to carry on.

Is it a camisole? Is it a powersuit? A camisuit? A powersole? A camiwersuit? I give up, but I'll take it.

Is that you, Aggy? Here I thought you were buried up to your wide-set hips in editorial work. Or dead. It's a season of comebacks!

Velvet continues to haunt my waking and now my sleeping hours. Wang's take doesn't make me want to kill myself, so I guess that's a start.

I'll ignore the velvet boots since the dresses are so cute. This time.

NYFW Fall 2010: Proenza Schouler - Smoking in the Girls' Room

2010-02-25T12:13:00.007-05:00

AnA's aspirational boyfriends and occasional stalking targets, Jack and Lazaro, churned out a tough but flirty collection for us tough and flirty girls not afraid of a graphic jean or a thigh-high stocking.

I want these jeans and I want them now. Size 4 please...6...8. Don't look at me.

Meanwhile, I'll be hiding a switchblade beneath these hemlines during those late nights of turning it in and around town.

The neckline may say sweetheart, but the leather says street tart.

But every bad girl needs to feel pretty, and though some of their cocktail dresses were not as good as past seasons (adult diaper anyone?), these two made me want to put away the brass knuckles and just be held like a girl should...

If only Lazaro hadn't placed that damn restraining order against me.

I JUST WANT TO LOVE YOU!!!!

Hunch of the Day // The Prodigal Pose

2010-02-24T15:33:00.003-05:00

Jourdan Dunn, she of the bun in the Dunn, will walk during Paris Fashion Week. It is the hoofer's first runway stomp since giving birth to her career-ruining aberration, er, child. Let's just hope these measurements are still accurate.

Running Akimbo

2010-02-24T13:45:00.003-05:00

“John [Galliano] would stand on the runway and tell you a story about who you were. He’d say, ‘You’re a princess and you’ve just escaped from the castle and you’re running away from the wolves,’ and the wolves would be howling on the soundtrack, and he’d send you out, and he’d cry, ‘Run, Kate, Run!’”

--Kate Moss

You're a supermodel and you've just escaped rehab and you're running away from the paparazzi. Run, Kate, Run! Hit him with that $3000 bag! Pose while he's taking pictures of you attacking him! Steal his coke! RUN!

NYFW Fall 2010: Rodarte - Dia de las Mulleavys

2010-02-24T12:48:00.004-05:00

Well, once again Rodarte delivered another pretty, well-crafted, high-concept show that I can only pretend to understand or care about.

I'm a traditionalist at heart. Put me in a corset, a tiered ball gown with an understated origami bow at the neck and I'm in fashion heaven.

Rodarte's clothes tell a story -- this time apparently about sleepwalking in Mexico, I dunno; tell me all about it Nicole Phelps -- but with those hefty Mulleavy girls, it's never just about the clothes.

They have a vision, they're making a statement and I respect/love that.

Would I wear it?
Well, maybe the Tarzhay versions.

NYFW Fall 2010: Ralph Lauren - Gypsies, Trannies and Sleeves

2010-02-24T11:09:00.005-05:00

Romance was in the air, and probably some frankincense, at Ralph Lauren. The old girl took her love of preppy all-American wear and infused it with a largess of lace, a ruching of ruffles and a shot of Bohemian botox.

Meanwhile, Cecilia Mendez, I haven't seen you on a runway since the Stone Age. I'm glad to see you're still turning it.

The girls of AnA have never met a jodhpur they didn't like especially one paired with that adorable little fur on top.

This disturbing velvet trend continues but feels suitable amidst all the lace and floral prints. Good morning, Pagan Chic.

The dress on the right is just begging for a bone to don it at an awards show. If that lemon-face Zellweger wasn't perpetually suckling on Carolina Herrera's teet, I could see her in this.

I'd seriously be willing to kill Jac for this bolero. The slightest of reasons being that she insists on going by that one, unimaginative name.

Can I Take Your Order Akimbo // Subtlety

2010-02-24T11:08:00.003-05:00

Welcome to Cafe Gaga. Party of You?

Our specials today are hair phones, razor sunglasses, Beyonce references and our house specialty Baked Ziti by Elton John.

We're trembling in the AnA loft - and not because our recently fired intern Soon Yi left the windows open last night -- in anticipation of Gaga's new video with Beyonce!

What a Diff'rence a Fey Makes

2010-02-24T10:18:00.004-05:00

America's sweetheart, Tina Fey graces the cover of Vogue, looking windswept and skinny as a real actress.
Inside she triumphantly waves the flag of normalcy -- normal apparently being thin, smart, funny and cute.
Hmm...
There seems to be an obese, illiterate, conservative grading curve on what passes for normal these days.

NYFW Fall 2010: Marc Jacobs - A Grayer Shade of Stale

2010-02-23T10:51:00.000-05:00

Usually everything Marc does I greet with open arms. With one chubby Brazilian exception. And much like that exception, this collection left me a little limp.

Nothing really stood out. Of course, there were some great pieces, including a fur bolero and the finale gowns.

But like me on a weekday afternoon post-lunch, the show lacked vision. Everything was nice, but not epic. Maybe Marc wasn't feeling particularly epic.
However, as he has proven time and time again, he's often on the forefront of a trend so maybe, as I am afraid to even consider, Marc's just on the mark.
What with the extreme heels, severe silhouettes and gag-worthy futurism of the last few seasons, and with no end to this couture-killing recession in plausible sight, perhaps this decade will mark a shift towards the subdued, the wearable and *cringe* the flat.

Well, whatever Mrs. Martone is saying, I'll be buried in my armadillo heels with a coffin designed to accommodate the one dramatic shoulder I plan to get murdered by a jealous ex-lover in.

NYFW Fall 2010 Recap: Jeremy Scott - A Vogue Idea

2010-02-23T10:36:00.003-05:00

Jeremy Scott channelled the Material Girl's perhaps second most iconic look (behind the boytoy Virgin of the mid-80s): the Girlie show Gauliter slut of the early 90s. There were high ponies, bustiers and even that magical cone bra re-imagined as a pair of suspenders.

Meanwhile, I'll take those lady silhouettes to go. Just not sure how well they'll hold up as I push and shove my way through those awful common people on my way to the sanctuary that is the AnA loft

As my favorite mode of transportation is with a Mahogany-esque stride, arms fully out, this bat-wing dress has my name all over it. Literally.

Not only is this dress perfect for a night out, when one inevitably gets home wrecked beyond all imagining, it easily slips into one's closet by the tip of its train. While one is still in it, too.

Technicolor dreamcorset anyone?

NYFW Fall 2010 Recap : MIchael Kors - Luxe Life

2010-02-23T10:36:00.002-05:00

Michael Kors apparently endangered numerous species while hunting and skinning them alive (with his bare hands) for his Fall 2010 collection. And I can't imagine that those animals would have wanted it any other way. What's romping about unbothered in your natural habitat when you ca be paraded down the runway on the bony backs of Karlie Kloss and Chanel Iman?

A fur skirt? Please, give me fur everything. We're all dying soon anyway, let's just skin everything and wear it in anticipation for the Apocalypse. I, for one, am gunning for a Kardashian .

Oh, those dead foxes, minks and whatever have you. They're the real heroes.

Thoroughbred Throwback

2010-02-22T19:34:00.002-05:00

The return of Jessica Miller to the racetrack was met with applause and fainting spells in the Akimbo loft and with this new editorial for W, involuntary death-dropping has caused Ms. Ross to take a trip to the ER for something other than a standard overdose.

Don't stare at those thighs for too long kids lest you suffer the same fate...

Out of My Face Akimbo // Wilting Whities

2010-02-22T17:45:00.017-05:00

How did model diversity fare on the New York runways this season? About as well as an Ugg after a slushy snowfall: not at all, and ugly.

The Calvin Klein show dazzled us AnA girls -- we sat front row, two seats from that pre-teen blogging whore and sadly out of clawing range-- with tons of black and muted tones on cool shoulders but no Lyndsey Scott, the New Jersey native who stomped out this Spring as the first black Calvin exclusive. With Shena Moulton in the lineup and 90s supermodels Stella Tenant, Kristen McMenamy and Kristy Hume as muse, we forgive Francisco for his lack of diversity!

Miss Moulton went ponytail-t0-ponytail with 90s supes!

The Row designers dazzled the 176 super-VIP invitees -- Ms. Streisand gave a pity wave to Tila Tequila, shunned outside the venue before she was stoned to death by Grace Coddington -- with an epically minimalistic collection in mostly black that was pieced together by an army of tiny goblin hands.

The clothes were about the only thing black in that room, besides of course the olives floating in Ms. Ross's early morning martini. Pump up the casting! If we see one more wide Eastern European face sneering down a runway, we'll smash Magdalena's.

Kudos to DVF for picking all mannequin types for her cute, flouncy, expectedly wearable presentation. The casting included:

...boring white girls...

...black girls (hey girl hey!)...

...asians...

...blasians...

...blatinasians...

...dots...

...supermodels...

...new girls (who dat?)...

...too many Canadians...

...VS Angels...

...bones...

...fatties...

...perfection caught in a ground-tilted stare...

...and of course Ms. Ross herself, in her singular runway appearance. She knocked Naomi right off the catwalk! Work! Maybe they'll let more ethnics in at Lincoln Center!

Hunch of the Day // Shady Slump

2010-02-22T17:41:00.001-05:00

La Vie En Cordero

2010-02-19T15:35:00.003-05:00

What It Feels Like for a Boy

2010-02-18T16:40:00.010-05:00

Sometimes being fierce gets lonely.

What with all the turning and the deathdropping, the catwalking and shade-throwing, one finds it hard to find time for anything else.

Like love. Or at least a decent hook-up.

Well, at least we have Commonwealth Utilities to show us what we're missing. Their boys came down the runway looking polished, but with an air of rugged charm, that sent our still (barely?) beating hearts aflutter.

We've got the clothes, now if we could only find the boys to put them in, we'd be all set. Any takers?

Feeling Graphic...

2010-02-18T10:40:00.002-05:00

The girls and I decided to go out on the town last night, when who did we find but a man in a high-waisted pant! A personal favorite of Dolly's so we had the nearest hobo snap a candid of us. My nose was a little raw from...well, anyway, Dolly was giving crouching tiger, hidden penis and Ms. Streisand brought out her trusty commercial smile. Overall it was a fun night, but I woke up this morning missing an implant. C'est l'amour!

A Fitting and Fitted Tribute

2010-02-17T12:54:00.002-05:00

Coco, Straight Up

2010-02-16T14:33:00.004-05:00

La Rocha is not pulling any punches with the New York Times.

“You know what, I’ve stopped caring...If I want a hamburger, I’m going to have one. No 21-year-old should be worrying about whether she fits a sample size.”

Stuff that burger into your saucy mouth, girlfriend!

But jut because you're a supermodel doesn't mean it has to be super-sized.