And my personal favorite, matching outfits.
Showing posts with label Fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fashion. Show all posts
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
MORE ON FASHION IS DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. A POST MORTEM IS TRIPE.
It does seem like a contradiction for someone like me who was Public Relations ( remember that it used to be called (Propaganda ) by the genius who invented it - Edward Bernays) He was a nephew of Sigmund Freud, as their mothers happened to be first cousins. Freud and Bernays really did a job on Humanity. I used to admire Bernays. Indeed, I took PR classes with him at Columbia. No longer.
Without him, Fashion would not have turned into this monstrous behemoth, ultimately destroying itself. What was the tragedy? So many hardworking and, I might add underpaid talented people lost their jobs forever. So many young men and women corrupted, drugged, mentally ill, their lives ruined by Aids.
Back to my Gucci days in the late 60's, 70's and mid 80's, the scams and the bamboozles barely existed. For a fact, the New York Times always paid its own way. Bernardine Morris, the extraordinary, no BS talking Head of its Fashion Bureau never, but never even accepted a luncheon paid for by me. Its fashion illustrator, Maning Obregon followed her example. They often invited me to lunch and I was delighted to accept.
The gifts I gave the writers and journalists never went over the top. The works of Art were the foulards. I gifted my favorite journalists and fashion writers with those. Full Stop.
Drusilla Gucci, married to Roberto Gucci, painted and designed all the Gucci foulards. Audrey Hepburn bought two of everything; one for herself and the others ended up on her walls framed in gold leaf. I was unaware of this action of Audrey's at the time. She was inspired by the atelier in Via Condotti, one of the places where I had offices. It had quite a few of Drusilla Gucci's foulards framed in gold too.
No one ever duplicated them because each and every design was copyrighted. That was not a deterrent to pirates. They simply lacked the secrets Drusilla as a true artistic Florentine had used. Those thugs never captured the colors the same way. Drusilla, who is the Princess Cafarelli used such vibrant colors and then worked step by step with a master craftsman/chemist to reproduce the same dazzling colors clients gasped in amazement in Gucci Rome, Milan, Florence, Paris, London, New York, Chicago , Beverly Hills and Hong kong. Unlike the ones sold today at Gucci, Hermes, Vuitton et al, you could not tell which was the so called underside. Both dazzled you equally. Ca va sans dire - Drusillas paintings on silk did not come cheap.
I shall say it again. In those days, the Fashion greats did not attempt to buy the Media with ultra expensive gifts or lavish luncheons and dinners. Nowadays, the jungle has turned into a bordello. Most everyone in "the business" is falling all over themselves to outshine the House of Puff or the House of Fluff.
I was against loaning any dress, gown, or accessories to ANYONE. Movie and television celebrities paid for all their Gucci treasures. If they happened to be loyal clients, which meant that they spent effortlessly $!00,000 minimum per annum, I might be persuaded to give a 30% discount. Producers such as the chaps who made the Bond films paid for every single item. Product placement was not automatic. I did not give a tinkers damn what they did with the products in a movie. Editors love to clip, clip, clip and it was best not to take them seriously.
In those days at Gucci, only the Media received discounts on shoes, handbags, coats or accessories. The rich never dared to ask for one because the atmosphere was such that they knew it would be demeaning.
Sales staff did not fawn or grovel. If a customer was rude, "There's the door," said the Vendeuse.
Models exuded femininity and sex appeal. Slim, small boned and tall was the catchword. No anorexic, rachitic, cachectic, bulimic models in sight.
Audrey Hepburn was one of the most elegant actresses on and off the screen. She was a Lady. That explains the reason why the Media kept mum about her struggles with anorexia, her passionate but devastating love affairs with handsome but wrong oh so wrong men. I'll cite just one example: H. R. H. Alfonso de Borbon Dampierre. He had claims on the Spanish throne and his claims would have been stronger than those of Juan Carlos. His father Jaime, a deaf mute had "voluntarily" renounced his rights to the Spanish throne in favor of his younger brother, Prince Don Juan. Man proposes and a Dictator disposes. Generalissimo Franco picked Don Juan's son, Prince Juan Carlos, but he kept Alfonso and his brother Gonzalo on the side. It was murky at best. Prince Alfonso had endless love affairs with models . starlets, stars and actresses. Holy Matrimony? Forget it. He married Franco's grand -daughter Carmen.
All this was done very discreetly until Linda Lovelace, star of the Pornographic movie "Deep Throat" made the XXX rated obscene films now lightly called Porno into something mainstream. She was the Precursor of the Beginning of the End of Good Taste, Manners, Style, Sophisticated or Casual
Elegance in New York. Deep Throat metastasized the rest of the Western world slowly but surely.
In Italy, an enterprising young man whacked out on Pornography launched a young Hungarian woman in skimpy clothes with skirt lengths just above her tanga panties. She wore circlets of flowers in her hair and always carried a stuffed toy. She was Cicciolina - Little Cuddly. I thought she was as sexy as Lassie. It became de rigeur - almost all parties in New York, London, Paris, Rome and Milan had porno flicks and drugs for entertainment.. Good and witty conversation was flushed down the toilet together with Coquetry, Subtlety and Values.
Most designers went pari-passu with the Pornography, Pedohilia and the drugs. Some designers had/have a true aversion and fear of WOMAN. Out went the feminine, sexy looking gals in their early 20's or late teens. We now saw 14 year old scarecrows pigged out on cocaine horsing down runways maladroitly. The rags plastered on their bodies emphasized pre-pubescence. It glorified Pedophilia. It sent clear messages to a debauched, money grasping community of men who worshipped Lucre and Lust.
Let's have child models. Are they not lovely to look at and easier to manipulate? Are they not more pliable for drugs and sex? Most of the time these poor. devastated underage, underfed, and overpaid girl/things sniffed up to their cerebral cortex, mainlined with heroin up to their brains, hopping jets on some Lecherous Pederast's private plane, thought the world was their oyster. They didn't realize that they had already reached the gutter. Death would be the only way out for some.
We all knew certain Couturiers with fragile egos and vulnerable feelings of timidity and/or inadequacy who took drugs themselves. But to their everlasting credit, they never used minors. I loved one in particular, one who will live on in Fashion history, one who is right up there in the Pantheon of Elegance and Couture with Molyneaux, Schiaparelli, Balenciaga, etc. I won't mention his name because he was immensely talented, more so than many Couturiers and he was beset by emotional problems. Yet he remained a gentleman and a generous friend.
Pornography, Pedophilia and Drugs played a major role in degrading women and the fashion industry. It has not stopped, don't be lulled. It is worse than ever.
Cicciolina in Italy was supplanted by a highly sexual, beautiful young woman whose IQ was off the charts. Her father was a nuclear researcher. She choreographed her own sex scenes. She introduced lewd and scatolological acts in her live shows. She was in her early 20's.
Bettino Craxi, (who would soon become Prime Minister) was in a spurious affair with an actress acquaintance of mine, Olga Bisera. She unfortunately became emotionally involved. Bettino dropped her from one minute to the next and disappeared from her life without an aye or a bye. The future PM had fallen deeply in love with Moana Pozzi, the girl from Mensa who became the Queen of Pornography. Stylists and Designers elbowed their way into her presence to show her their sexual accessories and clothes.
Moana had her own talk show on television. With an IQ higher than Einstein's, her show was erudite for a few minutes until she would shift to sexual subjects. I personally think she was a product of mind control. Her brain cells had been tampered with by the Secret Services. She was probably sexually abused by numerous men and women continuously from an early age. The tragedy of Moana was that she could have been whatever she wanted and accomplished anything she wished to be or do. Women and men alike hang on her every word. Her 5 inch and 6 inch stiletto heels showed off her long bare legs stretching all the way to the V line of her black underwear. Was it even a covering? Forget about clothes. Their only objective was to show her boobs, legs, and bottom. Average girls attending University, High School and Office girls all rushed to look like Moana. Duck Lips, hair extensions, curls mops everywhere, boob jobs, liposuction, whatever Moana did; they copied.
She believed that Sex , like fashion should be available to everyone. More of Less is better.
"What does it matter who the designer is so long as you show off the beauty nature or your plastic surgeon gave you?"
Moana died suddenly in France at the age of 33. There is some irony in the fact that the hotel wherein she died is called Hotel Le Dieu. Some say Aids caused her death. Her Mother angrily denies this and claims liver and pancreatic cancer killed her. We shall never know. She had sex with as many men as she fancied. But, she also had sex with too many powerful men throughout the world. Some sent for her in secret and thrust her into their private jets and yachts for nights of ferocious sex. Others came to her in mufti for a "Notte con Moana" A Night with Moana. Men of that milieu like to brag, They talk too much. Remember her off the charts multiple intelligences? Perhaps she knew or surmised or presumed too much. She became a dangerous weapon, a liability. In this day and age, liabilities are not tolerated, they are eliminated. Cancers cells can be injected. It is one of the easiest things to do.
Fashion has lost its Mystique and its mystery. Women dress and act like harlots. Male models are no better. Most are homosexual lovers of men in high places or gigolo, toy boys of successful older women close to Menopause who feel powerful buying the attentions of boys much younger than themselves.
All the clothes featured are by Cristobal Balenciaga. The suave man wearing a loose fitting white shirt is none other than Cristobal Balenciaga himself. To be continued.
A talented shoe designer Manolo Blahbik had created a line of shoes for a friend of mine who wished to take hand made shoes to Shanghai. Stunning is not the word for them. Ravishing perhaps is a better word to use. I still have most of these collection. Sadly Manolo Blahnik sold his soul to Mammon. Moana;s shoes came from his atelier. I challenge you to find a short heel on any of Manolo's collections today.
Sex and the City 's considerable contribution to Free Love, Sex whenever and whatever you want, easy and casual references to sex as normal as drinking and eating and ... lest we ever forget ... the Dominatrix high heels; must always be considered. That was another ugly nail in the coffin.
Without him, Fashion would not have turned into this monstrous behemoth, ultimately destroying itself. What was the tragedy? So many hardworking and, I might add underpaid talented people lost their jobs forever. So many young men and women corrupted, drugged, mentally ill, their lives ruined by Aids.
Back to my Gucci days in the late 60's, 70's and mid 80's, the scams and the bamboozles barely existed. For a fact, the New York Times always paid its own way. Bernardine Morris, the extraordinary, no BS talking Head of its Fashion Bureau never, but never even accepted a luncheon paid for by me. Its fashion illustrator, Maning Obregon followed her example. They often invited me to lunch and I was delighted to accept.
The gifts I gave the writers and journalists never went over the top. The works of Art were the foulards. I gifted my favorite journalists and fashion writers with those. Full Stop.
Drusilla Gucci, married to Roberto Gucci, painted and designed all the Gucci foulards. Audrey Hepburn bought two of everything; one for herself and the others ended up on her walls framed in gold leaf. I was unaware of this action of Audrey's at the time. She was inspired by the atelier in Via Condotti, one of the places where I had offices. It had quite a few of Drusilla Gucci's foulards framed in gold too.
No one ever duplicated them because each and every design was copyrighted. That was not a deterrent to pirates. They simply lacked the secrets Drusilla as a true artistic Florentine had used. Those thugs never captured the colors the same way. Drusilla, who is the Princess Cafarelli used such vibrant colors and then worked step by step with a master craftsman/chemist to reproduce the same dazzling colors clients gasped in amazement in Gucci Rome, Milan, Florence, Paris, London, New York, Chicago , Beverly Hills and Hong kong. Unlike the ones sold today at Gucci, Hermes, Vuitton et al, you could not tell which was the so called underside. Both dazzled you equally. Ca va sans dire - Drusillas paintings on silk did not come cheap.
I shall say it again. In those days, the Fashion greats did not attempt to buy the Media with ultra expensive gifts or lavish luncheons and dinners. Nowadays, the jungle has turned into a bordello. Most everyone in "the business" is falling all over themselves to outshine the House of Puff or the House of Fluff.
I was against loaning any dress, gown, or accessories to ANYONE. Movie and television celebrities paid for all their Gucci treasures. If they happened to be loyal clients, which meant that they spent effortlessly $!00,000 minimum per annum, I might be persuaded to give a 30% discount. Producers such as the chaps who made the Bond films paid for every single item. Product placement was not automatic. I did not give a tinkers damn what they did with the products in a movie. Editors love to clip, clip, clip and it was best not to take them seriously.
In those days at Gucci, only the Media received discounts on shoes, handbags, coats or accessories. The rich never dared to ask for one because the atmosphere was such that they knew it would be demeaning.
Sales staff did not fawn or grovel. If a customer was rude, "There's the door," said the Vendeuse.
Models exuded femininity and sex appeal. Slim, small boned and tall was the catchword. No anorexic, rachitic, cachectic, bulimic models in sight.
All this was done very discreetly until Linda Lovelace, star of the Pornographic movie "Deep Throat" made the XXX rated obscene films now lightly called Porno into something mainstream. She was the Precursor of the Beginning of the End of Good Taste, Manners, Style, Sophisticated or Casual
Elegance in New York. Deep Throat metastasized the rest of the Western world slowly but surely.
In Italy, an enterprising young man whacked out on Pornography launched a young Hungarian woman in skimpy clothes with skirt lengths just above her tanga panties. She wore circlets of flowers in her hair and always carried a stuffed toy. She was Cicciolina - Little Cuddly. I thought she was as sexy as Lassie. It became de rigeur - almost all parties in New York, London, Paris, Rome and Milan had porno flicks and drugs for entertainment.. Good and witty conversation was flushed down the toilet together with Coquetry, Subtlety and Values.
Most designers went pari-passu with the Pornography, Pedohilia and the drugs. Some designers had/have a true aversion and fear of WOMAN. Out went the feminine, sexy looking gals in their early 20's or late teens. We now saw 14 year old scarecrows pigged out on cocaine horsing down runways maladroitly. The rags plastered on their bodies emphasized pre-pubescence. It glorified Pedophilia. It sent clear messages to a debauched, money grasping community of men who worshipped Lucre and Lust.
Let's have child models. Are they not lovely to look at and easier to manipulate? Are they not more pliable for drugs and sex? Most of the time these poor. devastated underage, underfed, and overpaid girl/things sniffed up to their cerebral cortex, mainlined with heroin up to their brains, hopping jets on some Lecherous Pederast's private plane, thought the world was their oyster. They didn't realize that they had already reached the gutter. Death would be the only way out for some.
We all knew certain Couturiers with fragile egos and vulnerable feelings of timidity and/or inadequacy who took drugs themselves. But to their everlasting credit, they never used minors. I loved one in particular, one who will live on in Fashion history, one who is right up there in the Pantheon of Elegance and Couture with Molyneaux, Schiaparelli, Balenciaga, etc. I won't mention his name because he was immensely talented, more so than many Couturiers and he was beset by emotional problems. Yet he remained a gentleman and a generous friend.
Pornography, Pedophilia and Drugs played a major role in degrading women and the fashion industry. It has not stopped, don't be lulled. It is worse than ever.
Cicciolina in Italy was supplanted by a highly sexual, beautiful young woman whose IQ was off the charts. Her father was a nuclear researcher. She choreographed her own sex scenes. She introduced lewd and scatolological acts in her live shows. She was in her early 20's.
Bettino Craxi, (who would soon become Prime Minister) was in a spurious affair with an actress acquaintance of mine, Olga Bisera. She unfortunately became emotionally involved. Bettino dropped her from one minute to the next and disappeared from her life without an aye or a bye. The future PM had fallen deeply in love with Moana Pozzi, the girl from Mensa who became the Queen of Pornography. Stylists and Designers elbowed their way into her presence to show her their sexual accessories and clothes.
Moana had her own talk show on television. With an IQ higher than Einstein's, her show was erudite for a few minutes until she would shift to sexual subjects. I personally think she was a product of mind control. Her brain cells had been tampered with by the Secret Services. She was probably sexually abused by numerous men and women continuously from an early age. The tragedy of Moana was that she could have been whatever she wanted and accomplished anything she wished to be or do. Women and men alike hang on her every word. Her 5 inch and 6 inch stiletto heels showed off her long bare legs stretching all the way to the V line of her black underwear. Was it even a covering? Forget about clothes. Their only objective was to show her boobs, legs, and bottom. Average girls attending University, High School and Office girls all rushed to look like Moana. Duck Lips, hair extensions, curls mops everywhere, boob jobs, liposuction, whatever Moana did; they copied.
She believed that Sex , like fashion should be available to everyone. More of Less is better.
"What does it matter who the designer is so long as you show off the beauty nature or your plastic surgeon gave you?"
Moana died suddenly in France at the age of 33. There is some irony in the fact that the hotel wherein she died is called Hotel Le Dieu. Some say Aids caused her death. Her Mother angrily denies this and claims liver and pancreatic cancer killed her. We shall never know. She had sex with as many men as she fancied. But, she also had sex with too many powerful men throughout the world. Some sent for her in secret and thrust her into their private jets and yachts for nights of ferocious sex. Others came to her in mufti for a "Notte con Moana" A Night with Moana. Men of that milieu like to brag, They talk too much. Remember her off the charts multiple intelligences? Perhaps she knew or surmised or presumed too much. She became a dangerous weapon, a liability. In this day and age, liabilities are not tolerated, they are eliminated. Cancers cells can be injected. It is one of the easiest things to do.
Fashion has lost its Mystique and its mystery. Women dress and act like harlots. Male models are no better. Most are homosexual lovers of men in high places or gigolo, toy boys of successful older women close to Menopause who feel powerful buying the attentions of boys much younger than themselves.
A talented shoe designer Manolo Blahbik had created a line of shoes for a friend of mine who wished to take hand made shoes to Shanghai. Stunning is not the word for them. Ravishing perhaps is a better word to use. I still have most of these collection. Sadly Manolo Blahnik sold his soul to Mammon. Moana;s shoes came from his atelier. I challenge you to find a short heel on any of Manolo's collections today.
Sex and the City 's considerable contribution to Free Love, Sex whenever and whatever you want, easy and casual references to sex as normal as drinking and eating and ... lest we ever forget ... the Dominatrix high heels; must always be considered. That was another ugly nail in the coffin.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
FASHION IS DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! A POST MORTEM IS USELESS.
Fashion Week in New York, Milan and Paris is a bore and a chore to attend. Time is Money, so say the foolish pundits, who do not deserve being called pundits if they are in the Fashion Business. It is an unmitigated waste of Time,Money and physical Energy plus an unpardonable waste of sleep. Regular good night's sleep keeps you healthier and younger than anything these food quacks and bamboozling cosmetic scammers can tell you.
In truth, time and space for those of us who have an inkling of Quantum Physics does not exist. I am not going to waste my time explaining it to those whose life depends on the color of his or her new so called Collection. If you are in the shmata trade you have no business knowing anything about algorithms, time travel and other fascinating subjects which are upon us. Get real. Get another business to sink your rapacious canines into. Get out of Fashion. It is stone cold dead, like so many of its drug addled, brain fried, whacked out, litter glitter plastic surgeried to caricatures of themselves or of their favorite pets. I will no longer put up with self-centered Mode gurus with cocked up kids, suicidal, maniacal stylists, HB, TB and HIV pouring from every pore; we have all taken to kissing the air surrounding them if we absolutely must.
Once upon a wonderful Life - Designers did exist, Virginia. They had good educations - from the streets, their bisexual lovers or from their bourgoisie families. They knew how to cut any fabric including your throat if you overdid the rich bitch role or misbehaved or caused scandals in which you ended up getting CAUGHT and photographed with their priceless creations on the floor as your spouse's slimy photographer clicked on in order to sue you for adultery. Worse, if you dared display any of their suits on your faithless body in court. Please please pay attention, the catch word here is Caught.
They had CLASS to sell, dispense with and spare. A woman might have the Lolly, but never think for a moment that She chose them. Artists like Cristobal Balenciaga, Norman Norell, Irene, Mainbocher, Pauline Trigere, Balmain, Givenchy, Dior, Saint Laurent and Nina Ricci; if they deemed you worthy to carry their clothes on your straight and elegant back with elan and panache chose YOU. That is a fact. If you thought otherwise, delusional is the only word for you. In their rarefied world, Money was NOT everything. You know what? It isn't!
These Couturiers knew how to cut and sew as I said. They heard and knew plenty. Rich bitches were not known for their gentility and kindness. Barracudas was a more apt description: backbiting about their best friends, husbands. lovers, parents, siblings, anybody who might be more interesting than they. It did not take very much. These clothes horse dingbats screwed their friends lovers and husbands to death without a qualm. The Couture Grandees saw and heard all; they kept their lips sealed, like tombs.
The revelations of that weasel Truman Capote can only be described as reprehensible. But the actions of his vicious "Swans" towards each other (Babe Paley excluded) are even more malicious and nasty. They all deserved each other. I found it quite incestuous. Madame X's former husband ends up marrying Madame Y, whose former lover married Madame Z. This sexual Carousel caused a great deal of damage - to their helpless and guiltless children. Jails, overdoses, death by suicide, ashrams run by hucksters, cults, sleazy friends and even more obscene mates. Nothing was too horrifying for these lovely children who turned obnoxious from lack of parental love.
What possessed these fashionable/fashionista women to befriend a loathsome creature like Capote? Perhaps not even God knows.
I met Capote several times. He was fawning, patently false and repulsive. I always felt like spraying disinfectant all over him. I can see why my darling friend Gore Vidal could not abide the Capote creature. Good Lord! He couldn't even write!. Which reveals a great deal about the publishing industry.
Their outer shells shone with style and elegance. I have had some dealings with most of these "Swans". Empty, vacuous inner shells. Desperately unhappy women. They lived for clothes, furs, and jewelry, yet more palatial mansions to decorate, yachts, and the inevitable parties with pussy/penis galore. To be adored by the fashion/gossip columnists was their goal and that made their pitiful days and nights It gave them orgasms to constantly see their names talked about and see themselves and their beautiful clothes photographed. Showpieces of their husband's success, they seemed unaware or uncaring that their lawfully wedded spent their afternoons f--ck--g the pea brains out of some hooker or starlet.
The only one I take my hat off to is Babe Paley. She was a natural; beauty with a kind and spiritual side tht was endearing. Her husband appeared suave and sophisticated but he frequently abused her verbally if not physically. Like President JFk, he appeared to be in a constant state of priapism, He never had JFK's magnetic looks or charm so I doubt his conquests ever came close to the President's. On the other hand, more girls and starlets would have done anything ( what's a little whoopee in bed) for a small role on television?
Paris no longer dictates anything. Milan? Are you daft? Rome? Only if you want to see boobs and bottoms. London? What did you say? All the greats have died, their Houses taken over by Octupi corporations who have no idea what Style and Elegance mean, not do they care. Why? Because the dumbed down public follows what Mad Dory Malone and Stinky Rinky wear in their disgusting Reality shows.
Take Lady Gaga. Who taught her how not to dress? Madonna is not an improvement but anything is better than the thingies on Lady Gaga. As a fifty something woman Madonna really ought to know better. Back to Lady Gaga. In French Gaga' means dotty / craeked in the tete.
In Castilian Gaga or Gago is used to describe someone who behaves as a mentally deficient individual. That does not mean that they may be lacking some nuts and bolts in their skull.
In the Philippines, Cuba and Mexico a gaga or a gago is some one who is incapable of distinguishing right from wrong but in a silly way. Thus a gago might eat shit - crap. You are what you eat, therefore you are a gago shit. Get it? A gaga or gago will stroll into gangland territory without a gun relying only on his gago/gaga demeanor. Guess what happens to them? I realize the PC word to use is mentally impaired. Never mind. You get the drift.
My 4 year old grandson Niccolo used to like Lady Gaga. I explained what the word Gaga means. He is now eight. He digs Beyonce and Will Smith. He's moved on and is growing up. Adults, so called are going backwards like some crabs in the Sulu Seas.
Fashion has moved East. Some Sheikhas have their entire wardrobe made by Ninon de Lenclos. Be quiet. Madame Ninon only creates for them. We never see them,because they don't attend silly charity balls, where most of the dinero never seems to find its way to the charity anyway. They are rarely photographed. images of them in newspapers or on television are not welcome in Islam. Indeed, they are forbidden.
Besides, Power and Influence function better behind a screen. these sheikhas, unlike their American and European counterparts have many duties to fulfill. Their traditions are old fashioned ones. Some of them have their own courts, protocols, business empires to run. Some own their own private banks. They are very engage women and are sincerely endeavoring to improve the attitudes of the men towards women in their countries. by their actions and/or their writings they influence girls and women to be more assertive as opposed to aggressive.
Not that women in the West are treated any better. by their men in the workplace, or at home. tt was all a humongous feminist hoax by those monstrous chimeras Simone de Beauvoir, Betty Friedan, Susan Sontag and Susan Sondheim. They are a part, albeit a small one why true and becoming feminine Fashion is dead in the West.
Slacks are more comfortable and are more becoming to a woman than jeans. Yet we all wear them like the idiots we are. That's because the Feminists who are not at all feminine women and glorified sex with other women, putting down sex with men as toxic began to wear jeans . Many women felt oppressed, because their lives were not going according to the American Dream. Someone deliberately did not tell them that happiness cometh with inner joy and serenity,
In any case, before Women's Liberation, we had to all fight together for Men's Liberation. One cannot be done without the other. Men are still enslaved and downtrodden in our society - nay throughout the world.
As a result of tight jeans which delineated women's vulvas and men's penises. many women complained when they developed Candida, which is a deadly infection, believe me, not the harmless infection OB - GYNS pooh - poohs. God help us. Oy Vey!
TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT INSTALLMENT.
In truth, time and space for those of us who have an inkling of Quantum Physics does not exist. I am not going to waste my time explaining it to those whose life depends on the color of his or her new so called Collection. If you are in the shmata trade you have no business knowing anything about algorithms, time travel and other fascinating subjects which are upon us. Get real. Get another business to sink your rapacious canines into. Get out of Fashion. It is stone cold dead, like so many of its drug addled, brain fried, whacked out, litter glitter plastic surgeried to caricatures of themselves or of their favorite pets. I will no longer put up with self-centered Mode gurus with cocked up kids, suicidal, maniacal stylists, HB, TB and HIV pouring from every pore; we have all taken to kissing the air surrounding them if we absolutely must.
They had CLASS to sell, dispense with and spare. A woman might have the Lolly, but never think for a moment that She chose them. Artists like Cristobal Balenciaga, Norman Norell, Irene, Mainbocher, Pauline Trigere, Balmain, Givenchy, Dior, Saint Laurent and Nina Ricci; if they deemed you worthy to carry their clothes on your straight and elegant back with elan and panache chose YOU. That is a fact. If you thought otherwise, delusional is the only word for you. In their rarefied world, Money was NOT everything. You know what? It isn't!
These Couturiers knew how to cut and sew as I said. They heard and knew plenty. Rich bitches were not known for their gentility and kindness. Barracudas was a more apt description: backbiting about their best friends, husbands. lovers, parents, siblings, anybody who might be more interesting than they. It did not take very much. These clothes horse dingbats screwed their friends lovers and husbands to death without a qualm. The Couture Grandees saw and heard all; they kept their lips sealed, like tombs.
The revelations of that weasel Truman Capote can only be described as reprehensible. But the actions of his vicious "Swans" towards each other (Babe Paley excluded) are even more malicious and nasty. They all deserved each other. I found it quite incestuous. Madame X's former husband ends up marrying Madame Y, whose former lover married Madame Z. This sexual Carousel caused a great deal of damage - to their helpless and guiltless children. Jails, overdoses, death by suicide, ashrams run by hucksters, cults, sleazy friends and even more obscene mates. Nothing was too horrifying for these lovely children who turned obnoxious from lack of parental love.
What possessed these fashionable/fashionista women to befriend a loathsome creature like Capote? Perhaps not even God knows.
I met Capote several times. He was fawning, patently false and repulsive. I always felt like spraying disinfectant all over him. I can see why my darling friend Gore Vidal could not abide the Capote creature. Good Lord! He couldn't even write!. Which reveals a great deal about the publishing industry.
Their outer shells shone with style and elegance. I have had some dealings with most of these "Swans". Empty, vacuous inner shells. Desperately unhappy women. They lived for clothes, furs, and jewelry, yet more palatial mansions to decorate, yachts, and the inevitable parties with pussy/penis galore. To be adored by the fashion/gossip columnists was their goal and that made their pitiful days and nights It gave them orgasms to constantly see their names talked about and see themselves and their beautiful clothes photographed. Showpieces of their husband's success, they seemed unaware or uncaring that their lawfully wedded spent their afternoons f--ck--g the pea brains out of some hooker or starlet.
The only one I take my hat off to is Babe Paley. She was a natural; beauty with a kind and spiritual side tht was endearing. Her husband appeared suave and sophisticated but he frequently abused her verbally if not physically. Like President JFk, he appeared to be in a constant state of priapism, He never had JFK's magnetic looks or charm so I doubt his conquests ever came close to the President's. On the other hand, more girls and starlets would have done anything ( what's a little whoopee in bed) for a small role on television?
Paris no longer dictates anything. Milan? Are you daft? Rome? Only if you want to see boobs and bottoms. London? What did you say? All the greats have died, their Houses taken over by Octupi corporations who have no idea what Style and Elegance mean, not do they care. Why? Because the dumbed down public follows what Mad Dory Malone and Stinky Rinky wear in their disgusting Reality shows.
Take Lady Gaga. Who taught her how not to dress? Madonna is not an improvement but anything is better than the thingies on Lady Gaga. As a fifty something woman Madonna really ought to know better. Back to Lady Gaga. In French Gaga' means dotty / craeked in the tete.
In Castilian Gaga or Gago is used to describe someone who behaves as a mentally deficient individual. That does not mean that they may be lacking some nuts and bolts in their skull.
In the Philippines, Cuba and Mexico a gaga or a gago is some one who is incapable of distinguishing right from wrong but in a silly way. Thus a gago might eat shit - crap. You are what you eat, therefore you are a gago shit. Get it? A gaga or gago will stroll into gangland territory without a gun relying only on his gago/gaga demeanor. Guess what happens to them? I realize the PC word to use is mentally impaired. Never mind. You get the drift.
My 4 year old grandson Niccolo used to like Lady Gaga. I explained what the word Gaga means. He is now eight. He digs Beyonce and Will Smith. He's moved on and is growing up. Adults, so called are going backwards like some crabs in the Sulu Seas.
Fashion has moved East. Some Sheikhas have their entire wardrobe made by Ninon de Lenclos. Be quiet. Madame Ninon only creates for them. We never see them,because they don't attend silly charity balls, where most of the dinero never seems to find its way to the charity anyway. They are rarely photographed. images of them in newspapers or on television are not welcome in Islam. Indeed, they are forbidden.
Besides, Power and Influence function better behind a screen. these sheikhas, unlike their American and European counterparts have many duties to fulfill. Their traditions are old fashioned ones. Some of them have their own courts, protocols, business empires to run. Some own their own private banks. They are very engage women and are sincerely endeavoring to improve the attitudes of the men towards women in their countries. by their actions and/or their writings they influence girls and women to be more assertive as opposed to aggressive.
Not that women in the West are treated any better. by their men in the workplace, or at home. tt was all a humongous feminist hoax by those monstrous chimeras Simone de Beauvoir, Betty Friedan, Susan Sontag and Susan Sondheim. They are a part, albeit a small one why true and becoming feminine Fashion is dead in the West.
Slacks are more comfortable and are more becoming to a woman than jeans. Yet we all wear them like the idiots we are. That's because the Feminists who are not at all feminine women and glorified sex with other women, putting down sex with men as toxic began to wear jeans . Many women felt oppressed, because their lives were not going according to the American Dream. Someone deliberately did not tell them that happiness cometh with inner joy and serenity,
In any case, before Women's Liberation, we had to all fight together for Men's Liberation. One cannot be done without the other. Men are still enslaved and downtrodden in our society - nay throughout the world.
As a result of tight jeans which delineated women's vulvas and men's penises. many women complained when they developed Candida, which is a deadly infection, believe me, not the harmless infection OB - GYNS pooh - poohs. God help us. Oy Vey!
TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEXT INSTALLMENT.
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