In the years since Cristóbal Balenciaga launched his eponymous fashion label on Avenue George V in Paris during the summer of 1937, his maison de mode has outfitted more than a few recognizable dames. And, as an in-depth New Yorker profile from last year pointed out, Balenciaga, the company, has long depended on Read More
It was after midnight last Saturday, and Bungalow 8 was filling up. I wanted to ask the famously exclusive nightclub’s regular patrons their thoughts about Iraq.
John Flanagan, a 40-year-old nightlife impresario, was sitting with a large group drinking $350 bottles of vodka.
“I’m upset for the American lives that are lost, and the Iraqi Read More
The 2007 Spring Fashion Week is proving to be one of the most decisive, the most black and white, in the history of La Mode. Based on what I have seen in the last few days, it’s about two things, and two things only: It’s about being either insanely, ridiculously tall, or bizarrely, frighteningly small. Read More
The 2007 Spring Fashion Week is proving to be one of the most decisive, the most black and white, in the history of La Mode. Based on what I have seen in the last few days, it’s about two things, and two things only: It’s about being either insanely, ridiculously tall, or bizarrely, frighteningly small. Read More
At the risk of sounding like a pathetic old-school fag, I must confess that the end of summer always puts me in the mood for a little early Barbra. The looming of Labor Day invariably finds me humming that haunting Streisand number entitled “The Summer Knows.” Don’t pretend you don’t know the song: It’s the Read More
Now that cutting little slits in one’s arm is the preferred form of self-mutilation, eating disorders seem almost passé. Like Balenciaga bags, everyone in New York has had one, and they’re worn fairly casually.
But what’s more curious to me is that my admission of having once been bulimic has often been met with nods Read More
Now that cutting little slits in one’s arm is the preferred form of self-mutilation, eating disorders seem almost passé. Like Balenciaga bags, everyone in New York has had one, and they’re worn fairly casually.
But what’s more curious to me is that my admission of having once been bulimic has often been met with nods Read More
The ladies of Park Avenue have a big problem. Yes, they can’t help it. They’re insatiable (and some might say insufferable, but that’s for another piece); most therapists assume it’s an addiction. On the Upper East Side, it’s an unsurprising kind of moral failing: the state of being a handbag whore. (She’s the kind of Read More
The ladies of Park Avenue have a big problem. Yes, they can’t help it. They’re insatiable (and some might say insufferable, but that’s for another piece); most therapists assume it’s an addiction. On the Upper East Side, it’s an unsurprising kind of moral failing: the state of being a handbag whore. (She’s the kind of Read More
To the outside world, you present a trendy veneer of Theory, Marc Jacobs and Balenciaga. Meanwhile, chez vous , the grim, unstylish grunginess of your college years lingers on like a horrid odor. Though you now earn good money and could easily afford to upgrade your lifestyle, you blow it all on trendy drag and Read More
