Category: fashion

How Children Ruin Halloween!

I Love Halloween

I have always loved Halloween. I think it’s tailor-made for girls- who doesn’t like dressing up and being rewarded with candy? Maybe I love it because I snared my first boyfriend in 8th grade at a Halloween party while dressed like Cleopatra and kicking serious asp.
In college, I rocked an Egyptian Cat Goddess (Bastet for the nerds) look with face fulla paint and a head fulla acid and met a different guy. We made a date for a couple days after, but I didn’t keep it when I realized he did not actually know what I looked like. Of course, being a suburban gothgirl meant that the day after Halloween was the optimal time to head to Michael’s MJDesigns and stock up on cheap-azz clown white and fishnets. Day of the dead, indeed!


Historical Document from 1987.

Modern Adult Costumes

I like that in America, adults still get to dress up, although women’s costumes are limited to some combination of Goth girl and whore.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s not a giant difference between the two. But really- I’m a sexy witch, I’m a sexy maid, I’m a sexy corpse- and then the guys are all sumo wrestlers and ketchup dispensers? How is a sexy witch supposed to hang out with a sumo wrestler? All the guys are so into pirates, but they’re not into dressing as hobos, the disabled, cross-dressing transient muggers of today.
It’s not fair.

But my point- and yes, I have one.

Children Ruin Halloween

1. There is a new horrifying phenomenon when sometimes lazy, whorish Mom’s outfits are handed down, so you see an eight year old dressed as Spooky Nurse Fuckalot. Here’s some candy, honey. No, I don’t want an enema.
2. Halloween is about fantasy, and children don’t need any more fantasy. I’m tired of hearing their bullshit stories about what supposedly happened at Grandma’s.
3. Kids refuse to keep their costumes on. Last year, I met a ninja who had lost his sword and taken his hood off, so what we were dealing with was: a little person in black pajamas. I ask you. Pirates have their eyepatches upside down on foreheads.  What kind of commitment is that to a “look”? No commitment at all.

Trick or treat is a farce, and as far as I can tell, it’s our fault.

The little ghosts and goblins are home having their stashes rifled through by their paranoid, chocolate-starved parents by the time the street lights come on.  Let me say- most of the time that candy is, god forbid, poisoned, it’s the kid’s own parents who do it, and I’m sure they have their reasons.

Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus

Recently Tivo recorded a film for me based on my interest in art stuff and Robert Downey, Jr., and so I watched a movie I’d never heard of called “Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus. The main message that I took away from this film, loosely based on a book based on a rumor based on the photographer’s life, is

Q: How can one discover one’s own artistic voice and vision?

A. To truly discover oneself as an artist, but one must first befriend, fully shave, make love to, bear witness to the suicide of, and then wear a coat made from the hair of, a dog-faced boy.

Q. Do you mean that metaphorically? Like, broaden your horizons?

A. No. I mean it literally. Go find yourself a dog-faced boy.

Q. Okay…thanks.

It was weird, and coming from me that’s saying a lot.

Goth Juice: The Most Powerful Hairspray Known To Man


I don’t know the last time I was just an out-and-out shill for something, but I was pretty excited to pick up a container of GOTH JUICE last weekend, the new hairstyling product from Lush. It’s purple, it’s powerful, and it’s inspired (along with a companion product called King of the Mods) by the fantastic UK comedy, The Mighty Boosh.  Each tub claims to be “Made from the Tears of Robert Smith.”

Confidential to Gabe Dinger and Pete Ellison: Robert Smith is *still* not a member of the Smiths. Oddly, none of them were called Smith, which makes them the opposite of the Ramones, who were all named Ramone.

POSTSCRIPT:

I loved this product and used it when my hair was short, and then one day, I went to Lush to pick some more up and my friend Andrea, who is now the lead singer of the great band Holy Grove, had to break the news that it was discontinued, and comfort me because I was crying in a soap store.  Zen teaches us that loving something means one day you will lose it, and you must always prepare yourself for that loss.

Opi8

Although it is a couple of years old, I think this rendering of myself and my spouse at the center of the party in the pages of a sequence of Adam White’s Opi8 is worth sharing. I am depicted as my own midgetized version, but the dancing and haircut are spot on. Spouse is the tall fellow who looks like himself. Also pictured are author Tait B. on the left-hand side of the bottom panel, New York’s Billy K on the right at top, and the gentleman on the far left is Damian Ramsay, who left us last April but would have been 29 on October 28th.

The Bitter Tears of The Eternal Poseur

On the thirtieth anniversary of the first punk record that I heard, the Sex Pistol’s Never Mind The Bollocks, I find myself helplessly drifting off into nostalgic reverie, as the aged will sometimes do. When I was a teenager, I was 12 years too late for punk. Punk was dead and in a coffin in the King’s Road. But I had a haircut and some homemade t-shirts and I remember thinking: “It’ll be great, man, when everyone’s a PUNK and you go to the bank and the teller is a PUNK and the waitress at the restaurant is a PUNK and the COP is a PUNK and PUNKITY PUNK PUNK PUNK, and we will TAKE OVER.” And now, at last, my dreams have come true.

Everyone from movie stars to graduate students wears black, smeary eyeliner and has tattoos and a really nice guy at work is a 24 year old Cornell alum with a two-tone faux hawk. And it’s terrible. Really, really bad. When I spent my free time getting superfluous facial piercings and listening to questionable music, I felt part of a small, surly culture, but because these pursuits only involved a small cash outlay and willingness to risk infection, they eventually filtered down to the general population. The first time I saw an eyebrow ring/baseball hat combination, I knew it was no longer a mark of my people.

All I’m saying is: bike messengers, death metal kids, transvestites, animal activists, militants of all stripes and outcasts of all denominations: don’t be surprised when one day, people you have nothing in common with look just like you. I found it painful, and I hope you’ll steel yourself from that same disappointment.

Convergence 13

OK, be fair: It’s really not as bad as this. But it’s not that much better, either. Today I saw a magic recipe of top hat/frock coat/mourning trousers/WHITE SNEAKERS, and I had to wonder what’s going on in the world.

The lovely Kat deflected my admiration of her costume, claiming that it was just the dress she cleans the toilets in.

It’s a fair question- why get dressed for an hour to go someplace and stand around in the dark? And did you know that the slang for goths in Mexico is “Darks?” It’s kinder than my favorite euphemism, “Dark Dorks”.

On the good side, we did get to see an amazing acrobatic troupe called Kazum.

And here’s the backside view, which is also pleasant.

The man on the left is part general,
part bird.

This man on the right was imprisoned for five years, but spent his time writing his diary on a dinner jacket.

Two days in, questions still abound: Why are giant platform boots still necessary? Are big girls in corsets really fooling anyone? Why did Nivek Ogre perform entirely behind a scrim? Are the rumors true that it was really Clay Aiken filling in for the lead singer of Skinny Puppy?

I love you, Clay Aiken.

Gloomy, The Naughty Adult Bear

Judging by the referrals on my site meter, a lot of people are getting to my page because they are looking for pictures or information about Gloomy, The Naughty Adult Bear. Since I sometimes pretend to myself that I am providing a service, here is a good page from Wikipedia about Gloomy, a toy series and his creator, Mori Chack.
From his press release: Gloomy, an abandoned little bear, is rescued by Pitty (the little boy). At first, he is cute and cuddly, but becomes more wild as he grows up. Since bears do not become attached to people like dogs by nature, Gloomy attacks Pitty even though he is the owner. So Gloomy has blood on him from biting and/or scratching Pitty.

The moral: wild animals are dangerous, even when they are cute and/or pink. I’ll bet you didn’t know that a hippo will take your arm off if it gets a chance. I met a guy who was pulled out of a boat in Africa and badly maimed by the cutest, fattest hippo ever. Hippopotamus means “river horse” in Greek, but you absolutely should not ride him.

Many celebrities exhibit the same behaivor, appearing cute and harmless but lashing out when cornered, like Mel Gibson, Peter Buck, and that guy from Seinfeld.