Observer » Blizzard

The Blizzard Nemo: Goofus and Gallant Tips for a Stormy Fashion Week

Drew Grant — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 11:00:55 -0400

Goofus and Gallant.

A Winter Advisory warning for two feet of snow couldn't have come at a worse time for all those fashionistas who make their biannual bread during the upcoming weeks. While we'd never encourage anyone to take risks during Blizzard Nemo (awww ... even the name makes us sleepy!), it's also not a day to slack off! There is Fashion to reported on, people! However, there's definitely a "right" and a "wrong" way to cover it. Here, our friends Goofus and Gallant take us on a journey through the Fall 2013 line during a snowstorm.

- Gallant works from his home, careful to be aware of any Advisory Warnings from the MTA, Amtrak and airlines.

- Goofus still tries to make it to tent shows today and shuttles from Milk Studios to Lincoln Center, thinking, "A blizzard can't stop fashion!"

- Gallant rechecks the official Mercedes-Benz schedule to see about any cancellations or updates to his day.

- Goofus doesn't even glance at Twitter; ends up waiting two hours for a Marc Jacobs show that has already been rescheduled.

- Gallant realizes after several hours that he might not even need to go to the actual shows; bloggers posting real-time updates and Getty Images give him everything he needs besides an hourlong wait in a freezing auditorium.

- Goofus still bitches to his friends that he remembers the real Fashion Week ... when it was still held in tents.

- Gallant keeps up with his contacts and gets real-time information by using the phones during today's storm.

- Goofus pretends his wifi is down and watches House of Cards all day.

Brooklyn Blizzard Hearing Canceled Because of Bad Weather—Again

Matt Chaban — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 21:40:39 -0400

Those snowpocalypse conspiracies are real!

Why else would a special hearing planned just for South Brooklyn, the hardest hit part of the city--it's the only borough with two such hearings--wind up being cancelled. Twice, now. Because of more snow. The hearing was originally scheduled for last Wednesday, when the second big snowstorm hit, and today's slurry of snow, ice and sleat has pushed the meeting back until next week.

Whoever is controlling the evil weather machine that keeps this meeting from happening--God, Goldfinger, Mayor Bloomberg--they clearly don't want the truth to get out. This has nothing to do with striking workers or global warming. It's all about manipulating the salt markets.

CORRECTION: Looks like the conspiracy was on us. There was no hearing scheduled for tonight. The council was simply announcing that because it was canceled last week, it will be rescheduled for next week. Barring another blizzard, of course.

mchaban [at] observer.com | @mc_nyo

Katie Couric Delivers Hope to a Snowy City By Moving Barry Diller's Maserati

Nate Freeman — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 17:42:44 -0400

The worst part about braving a thunderstorm blizzard is that, sometimes, your Maserati gets stuck in the snow.

Barry Diller learned this the hard way! Lucky for him Katie Couric happened to be strolling by and possesses a hitherto unknown ability to move heavy objects. As she's an adherent of the "Pics or it didn't happen" rule, Couric had someone take a Twitpic and relay news of her heroism to her 133,000 followers.

The snow drifts may have made this morning's commute a bit more unbearable, but it seems this simple picture of a smiling millionaire and a smiling billionaire has brightened this city's spirit. Let's take a look at the comments!

You are so much fun Katie - always with a smile on your face!

Go Katie!! That mas is sweet; I used to park next to it everyday.

I tell people all the time...Katie is a real person..Bravo!

And then, at the end, someone inspires some serious jealousy.

Wow! I'm glad I live in fla!

Real talk.

nfreeman [at] observer.com | @nfreeman1234

Click for Scandal Report: Champagne Mania Makes for A Boozy Golden Globes

Internal Memo: Snow

Christian Lorentzen — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 01:07:55 -0400

We will bury you. You will be helpless in our frigid embrace. We will stop your trains, halt your cars, stall your trucks and cripple your buses. We will put your city into a coma. All of your money is useless against us. Your billionaire mayor is but an impotent elf. We will close your schools, and your children will learn nothing. We will starve you, chill you, bite you. Ponder the word amputation. Consider a life lived without fingers. Imagine your feet without toes. The wind blows us into your eyes, and you cry. Shovel us, and break your back. We mean to obstruct you, to remind that the spark of life is fleeting, that what burns today might tomorrow be covered in ice. We mean to shut you up in your apartment, where it is either too hot or too cold, where you cannot escape your spouse or your spawn or your roommates, or, worst of all, if you live alone, where you cannot escape yourself.

We are born falling. We are conceived in the heavens and die in your sewers. In our presence you can never deny that beauty is terrifying. All that glows could soon grow dark. What is pure and white will soon be the filthiest puddle. You watch us fall, watch us glow in the morning sun, watch us be soiled and turn to muck, watch us melt and dribble down the drain. You watch all this and you glimpse the secrets of your own fate. You too will fall, you too will shine, you too will melt.

We are beloved by your children. The innocent know nothing of the world’s rot. Purity is for them a natural state. They fashion us into your image. Yet nothing could be as beastly as a snowman. The only thing they prefer to playing God is to plummet in their sleds, to simulate the ultimate journey--into the abyss. We break their fall, and it’s all a day in the park. But as the little ones pack us into balls and toss us in the air, as they learn the cold art of aggression, are they engaged in anything but a dress rehearsal for a carnival of carnage like the world has never seen?

You call us flakes. We hardly ever arrive on time. And when we do show up, we bring too many of our friends.

Sometimes we make you feel romantic. Walk with your lover down a street stepping a foot deep in our blanket. Fall with her into us. We are cold, but she is warm. Will she still love you when the spring comes, or will her love turn to slush? Is love like a tall tree, sometimes bright with leaves, sometimes glistening in ice, but always stable and strong? Or is love like a snowplow, something crude and blunt and always in short supply? The truth is, love is like the salt they toss on the steps. It’s coarse and unsightly, and it leaves you dirty and dry.

We are a metaphor for death. If we have not yet convinced you of that, it seems time to state it outright.

When you look out your window upon a landscape covered by our white legions, do you think of cocaine? Do you want to get high? If so, you are a drug addict, and we sincerely advise you to seek professional help.

Artists Try to Get Famous by Posting Blizzard Photos on Jerry Saltz’s Wall

Julia Halperin — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 21:13:51 -0400

Aspiring photographers, head outside and take some photos—now's your chance to be critiqued (and maybe discovered!) by New York Magazine art critic and Work of Art judge Jerry Saltz.

On Monday, Saltz began soliciting blizzard photos on his Facebook page, which would be uninteresting except that some of the photos are quite good and Saltz seems to be leaving comments on most of them.

Most of the people posting photos are emerging artists—many have New York representation but aren't particularly famous. Julie Harvey, whose work has been displayed at the Museum of Modern Art's research center, submitted a photo of a Virginia marina covered with snow. ("Beeyouteefull," commented Saltz.) Jon Rappleye, who participated in PS1's studio visit program and has shown at Invisible Exports and the Wassaic Project, posted a photo of the view from his studio in Jersey City. "Gooood one," said Saltz. (Wonder if that qualifies as an official Saltz rave?)

Although the critic had pledged to take a break from the old FB until after New Year's, it seems he can't help but comment on particularly good shots. And the photos keep on coming. Who ever said artists weren't good at networking?