On Balenciaga and going beyond the LBD
Being that one of my vices is a taste for fashion magazines, I'm up on the latest designer clothing offerings. The past few years have been full of duds, in my opinion: everyone has been trying to play it safe due to the bad economy. My thinking is, if you're on a really tight budget and can only buy one thing per season, why would you buy something completely boring-- another iteration of what you already have in your closet?
Even if I had all the disposable income in the world, I'd still shop primarily at consignment stores and places with reasonable prices and ethical manufacturing practices like American Apparel. Once or twice a year, I'd buy select designer pieces that are actually bits of art from a distinct moment in time-- things that can't possibly be aptly replicated by Banana Republic.
I've already done this a little: In college, I decided to splurge on my first "designer" handbag. After considering a bunch of neutral colored purses from the likes of Kate Spade and Coach, I went with the graffiti-inspired L.A.M.B. bag pictured here:
It couldn't have possibly been more 2003, but I actually still think that's what's cool about it.
What I've seen in Harper's Bazaar and Elle of Balenciaga's current collection has stoked my long-dormant desire for truly unique fashion. I read that the designer Nicolas Ghesquière's inspirations included "cosmonauts, seventies Formica, packaging and food boxes, synthetic foam, and plywood." It's bananas, and I absolutely love it.
If I could, I'd buy several pairs of Balenciaga's Fall 2010 shoes-- some to wear now, and others to put on ice for myself and future generations. I really think they're that special.
On seizing the day, and the difficulty thereof
"Life is not what you dream"
The Flaming Lips performing at Bonnaroo 2010; photo credit Kravitz/Film Magic via RollingStone.com
“People
say, ‘Why are you doing Dark Side of the
Moon? It seems dark and cynical,’ but I don’t believe it is. I think it’s a
great, simple mantra, this idea of ‘all that you touch and all that you see and
all that you taste’ – the idea that your experiences are your life.
I think that says a lot to this crowd here, saying, ‘This isn’t about reading something in a book or watching a movie or being on the Internet. This is about really living life.’ It’s about your friends, it may rain on you, it’s going to be hot, you have to shit in some Porta-Potty. It’s about experiences, and that’s what your life is. Life is not what you dream, it’s what you live.”
-the Flaming Lips' Wayne Coyne about the band's decision to cover Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon in its entirety at this year's Bonnaroo music festival in Tennessee. I finally leafed through the July 8-22 issue of Rolling Stone, the one that contained the much ballyhooed article about Stanley McChrystal. But the part of the issue I liked most, which wasn't posted online, was Brian Hiatt's wrap-up of Bonnaroo.
"Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry"
I particularly like the final paragraph (as do a lot of people, judging by the fact that that's the only part of the letter that seems to be published anywhere, mostly in spiritual quotation books and websites) but I prefer to read things in context, so I tracked down the whole thing here. I'm glad I did, because now I have a new favorite way to sign off on letters.
Your eternal old lady,
Colleen
------------------------------------------------
Monday, Jan 28, 1957
Dear Edie,
That was a beautiful letter you wrote me. I read some of it to Lucien later on.
You know, before Joan died, when I saw her in 1950, she said you were the greatest person (I think she said nicest) she had ever known.
As for Willy B., he's queening around now but as ever he never bothers me with that. Instead we take long walks in the evening with hands clasped behind our backs, conversing politely. He is a great gentleman and as you may know, has become a great writer, in fact all the bigwigs are afraid of him (W.H. Auden, etc.) Yes, he knows we're coming in February, late.
Allen never loses track of me even when I try to hide. He does me many favors publicizing my name. Well, we're old friends anyway. But I can't keep up the hectic “fame” life he wants and so I won't stay with them long in Tangiers. I'm going to get me a quiet hut by the sea on the Spanish coast, then join them in Paris in the Spring.
Escaping reality to go into simplicity is just what I do, except I regard reality as being simplicity. That is, God is Alone. Don't worry, I eat plenty, I have my cook kit in my pack and make delicious food wherever I go, when I have to. In NY naturally everybody invites me to big dinners in homes. But like in Spain and Europe, I'll make my pancakes and syrup with black coffee for breakfast, boil my big pot of Boston baked beans with salt port and molasses, make salads, eat French bread, cheese and dates for dessert. Etc.
I'll write you and you keep writing and if you suddenly get the impulse to see Europe I'll be here to show you around.
I have never left you either, and had many dreams of you, wild dreams where we're wandering in dark alleys of Mexico looking for a place to bang, etc.
I want to end my life as an old man in a shack in the woods, and I'm leading up to that soon as I dig the whole world including the orient. I'm invited to a Buddhist Monastery in Japan and will go within 5 years. Also other things. Make movies too, later. I'll have more money than I need. Or maybe only what I need. I'm glad to send my mother her reward, think eventually I'll take her out to California and get her a little rose covered cottage, and get me a shack for half the time, in the wild hills beyond Mount Tamalpais.
Hearing your voice at night over the phone, in a hotel where I'd gone to hide out to work, was like a strange and beautiful dream. You sounded warmer and more mature. You will always be a great woman. I have a lot of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky ways of cloudy innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere, or one universal self. Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes through everything, is one thing. It's a dream already ended. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the one vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born.
The world you see is just a movie in your mind.
Your eternal old man,
Jack
