Another home run for the MGMT camp!
“I read an article about this photographer Tseng Kwong Chi, who took all these shots of himself looking very stern and dour, his arms rigid by his side, at tourist destinations around the world. I thought they were kind of cool. And when we were on tour in Japan, I stayed there an extra week, and one day when walking around, I took a photo like that. I thought it was funny. At this point, I’ve probably taken about 100. I don’t really do them for any reason except to do them. Chris Baio, who’s in the band with me, thinks they’re equally funny, and I have given some to my mom. I’ve sort of developed a taste for traveling alone. When I’m by myself, I can actually do what I want. I kind of just like to walk around, I like to get lost, I don’t have destinations. Most people don’t find that quite as enjoyable as I do.”
I'm not the kind of girl who thinks too elaborately about weddings and all that hubbub, but, here it is: I'd love this song to worm its way into the reception somehow. If not as the couple's first dance, then a cameo sometime after. To me it's just one of those timeless vintages, you know? The kind of song you know people have been dancing to for decades now, together. Almost as if it were a tradition in and of itself. I like a little individuality here and there, but the idea of being a part of something bigger just warms me from the inside.
Blah di blah. I love this song, simple as!
Artist and med student Satre Stuelke uses her handy-dandy CT scanner to do just the kind of invasive investigation we all wish we could do. Oh, the things you could see (and not un-see).
Barbie has a skeleton?
This looks so lamprey-like it's creeping me out.
Little and brave!
Had to do it.
Had to do it, pt. 2.
Insanity! I wish I had a CT scanner of my own.
Check out radiologyart for more.
Check out radiologyart for more.
Having lent my camera to Monsieur Tres Frais for the week, I relied on my phone instead. Bless its little heart.
Tuesday night: Waiting for doors to open.
Wednesday: One of Mychael Knight's (killer) looks.
The Saturday finale: Serving champagne to the guests.
Okay, so this isn't really CF/W-related (try the
Southeastern Wildlife Expo on for size instead), but
I had completely forgotten about this photo until
I was sending myself the first three in this post.
Very lucky I was laying down while I was doing
this; had that not been the sitch, I would have
been stumbling all over the place from all
the cute. Dumas's window should look like this
August 4, 1974, 7:15AM: Philippe Petit sets foot on a 3/4"-thick steel cable between the Twin Towers.
"I observed the tightrope 'dancer'—because you couldn't call him a 'walker'—approximately halfway between the two towers. And upon seeing us he started to smile and laugh and he started going into a dancing routine on the high wire. . . . And when he got to the building we asked him to get off the high wire but instead he turned around and ran back out into the middle. . . . He was bouncing up and down. His feet were actually leaving the wire and then he would resettle back on the wire again. . . . Unbelievable really. . . . Everybody was spellbound in the watching of it."
--SGT. CHARLES DANIELS
My friends and workmates Najee and Rebekah put our heads together at her apartment a week ago to assemble this article as seen here at charlestonscene.com. My first photography credit outside of Stratford High's Excalibur yearbook! It's not much, but it's still excitement-worthy, I think (then again, a lot of things that wouldn't necessarily be to other people, are). I need to nab a paper copy of this somehow, for keepsake's sake.
Before I begin this write-up, I have a confession to make: Until this past Tuesday the 16th, I had been completely oblivious to the name Logan Neitzel. My introduction came suddenly in the form of a tight squeeze between runway seating, where in a flurry of movement I self-cropped myself out of a fan photo and soon after paid witness to young (and I mean pre-preteen young) girls being ushered forward by their mother for his autograph. A quick whisper to a fellow volunteer for information gave me the leg-up I needed: Logan Neitzel of Project Runway's sixth season, and first on Lifetime Television. Don't get it twisted -- if I'd had cable in the apartment, I would have been planning my Thursday nights around it just like everyone else -- two participants, Gordana and Carol Hannah, hailed from South Carolina, after all.
Looking back, I suppose it would be more correct of me to say that this past Tuesday was my first introduction to Neitzel as a person; it was a quick exchange of words on his way out of the runway tent and not another until this afternoon, when three friends (Najee, Vandie, and Ryn) and I had the fortune of seeking out his trunk show at Hampden Clothing while he happened to be milling around the store back.
And this would be where I experienced Neitzel as a designer for the first time; after a cursory first run-through of his rack, I bore the assumption that the pieces displayed were factory-made. Not so -- I was impressed to learn from a sales associate that the clothes were, in fact, hand-made by the designer himself. This would later be confirmed by the man of the hour, who graciously stepped out not long after to greet us with a, "Hey, kids!" and kindly hung around to field a few questions. With the proposition of a trunk show pitched to him without much forward notice, Neitzel had had to cut and sew and, I presume, hand-dye (I so do covet those moss-green leggings with the black paneled knees and stitching) in order to rush-deliver. But the finishing was superb, and the showcase "sci-fi inspired", with a rippling effect between "hard and soft." Stand-out pieces included a brilliantly bad-ass draped-fit hoodie with all-over black mesh and contrast leather trimming (I'm a sucker for details as it is, but the crippling straw had to be the sequence of cut outs zipping down the length of the sleeves) and a little white dress with a diagonal sash of looped leather forging a path from shoulder to waist. Also featured were shoe skirts (so simple but so brilliant -- just strap it around the front of your ankle and bam! footwear totally transformed, quick as fairy dust!), a wide double-buckle belt (and I mean wide as a cummerbund), and a beautiful cropped white vest (if I knew what the yarn-like hair was, I would tell you!). If I had to throw out a name to compare the aesthetics to, I would have to say that Anne Demeulemeester's menswear sensibilities came to mind -- as devil-may-care as they are empowering, yet appropriately softened and tailored to a woman's silhouette when translated into Neitzel's vision.
But that's not all that Neitzel has up his sleeve for us. Non, non, non. To whet our curiosity further, he gave us a phone-screen preview of a lookbook that won't be wowing the Internet until its April 1st premiere on his website. And let me tell you, whether or not you have the wallet for it, you're in for a real treat.
The tents are up, the sun is out, downtown temperatures are finally rising, and as soon as increments of clean clothes start coming out of the dryer, my assembly process for Fashion Week-worthy looks can finally begin. It's become a little trickier than I thought, dousing myself in black; I've spent the past week Look for Less-ing and coming back empty-handed, but I think I'll be able to scrounge a few things together. Tonight is orientation at Marion Square for the volunteers, then tomorrow the fun begins!