Thursday, October 23, 2008

These Are a Few of My Favourite Things...

>So I have been going through a pretty schizoid time, in a pretty schizoid city and it has been trying to say the least. Having twenty bucks two days before payday in Diego is bad. Having 2 quid in you bank account 2 days before payday in London is Dickensian.
But getting an apartment in this city costs close to 10k (US) smackers. And I ain't talking NYC style loft. I am talking about a completely average little 2 bedroom apartment.
And not in Kensington or Holland Park or anything.... Freaking EALING!!!!
And that is why I am skipping meals and living off the candy and chocolates people have around the office. That and PG tips with milk...
So inspired by Francesca at Manolo for the Big Girl and Maria from the Sound of Music I decided to list a few of my favourite things including my 5 "freebies". That means MILFs ( Men I would Like to F.... or like my Celebrity Aunt Lulu would say " slap bellies with") without any guilt whatsoever...
Since they are fantasy guys it does not matter if they are married or gay...
So here are mine:
Daniel Radcliffe

No one gets it....

James Marsters

How can someone possibly NOT get it?

Alan Cumming

He is just mhhhhh intriguing....

Hugh Jackman

Geezus... he's fine...

Ewan McGregor

I feel the force Obi Wan....

See.. that right there cheered me up already...

Nothing to make you feel less poor and hungry than thinking about the things you'd like to eat and you'd like to buy....

So firstly...

Marshmallows and Turkish Delight from Fortnum and Mason
No photos but trust me, YOU have to try them...

A proper Sunday Roast from the King's Arms's Pub in Fulham

A Weeping Jesus from Balan's in Soho...

A huge bottle of Suggo di Orangia Rossa ( blood orange juice)

A bowl of Menudo from Lalo's in Hillcrest in Diego...

A choripan with lots of chimichurri sauce from anywhere...

Thing I would like to buy....

A new coat and scarf and gloves...One that is warm and long... I am freezing in manner of little matchstick girl.

This handbag
Lulu Guinness Tallulah Black

A plane ticket home to Cali....

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Changing the World

So, today I was having a day... work, work work, photocoagulation work , work, work, macular degeneration, work, work work, renal carcinoma, work, work, work, The Declaration of Helsinki was derived from the Treaty of Nuremberg which came to place because of the Nazi medical atrocities and unethical clinical research exemplified by the Tuskegee Syphyllis experiment.. call from recruiter, call from recruiter.. Same shit, different day.
So I come come back from a tream lunch with my co-workers and I check my emails and one of them made me cry....
You have to get the story. I was still in Montreal. I was starting to get hard -core into realizing that what I wanted to do with my life was fashion. Not really good timing since I was in the middle of an advanced degree in biomedical science, but that is how my life goes.
And I started to realize the discrimination and limitations that exist in the fashion industry when it comes to addressing the needs of women who are not super thin.
I mean when a size 12 is considered an XL, we have hit an all time moronic record.
So in my sweet , adorable innocence I wrote Pam and Gella at Juicy and asked them to make Plus Size Juicy Couture. The label was at its height of popularity. It was a sweet, angelic letter, almost like one a child would write to Santa.
Of course they blew me off. I was a fat chick who did not realize being a fat chick was BAAAAD. Despite years of abuse and battling eating disorders and self-hate. No, of course I do not know.
A few weeks ago, I mentioned again the fact that I have written many designers and asked them why are they not making plus size clothes because their clothes are what a lot of us want to wear. And they would make a LOT of money in the process too. Now I am someone who writes about fashion all the time and I attend Fashion Week and I am on people's radar if nothing for my persistence.
On the career day at ghetto Diego ghetto Mesa ghetto College ( I love it with all my heart) about 3 years ago, because I was in Apparel Construction, the lady who was the main buyer at Nordstroms was speaking there. In front of the whole department, I got up and I gave her a massive bollocking because of how SHITTY the offerings were in their plus size department. I started by telling her how much money I spent in her store. And how the offerings in the rest of the Womenswear department differed significantly with their "Encore" department. She said that they were doing well in sales. What she did not understand is that they could have been doing WAY better and that the only reason people plus women bought that hideous, hideous polyester pantsuit, mom jean, empire-waisted top and mother of the bride beaded evening suit crapola, is because WE COULD NOT WEAR ANYTHING ELSE UNLESS WE BLOODY MADE IT.
But I am sure it's a bollocking she did not forget.
I have been writing my fingers off since trying to effect change in regards attitudes towards plus size clothing and women within the MAINSTREAM fashion industry. Mostly everyone would say "Girl.... like getting blood from a stone".
But Michael "The Duchess" Kors put out a Plus line. And Calvin Klein put out a Plus Line. and Rachel Pally put one out too and so did Norma Kamali. And guess what? Now THIS has happened:

Juicy Couture Velour Zip Hoody (Plus)

Plus Size Juicy Couture!!!!
I think for some reason I have had a part in this change and this catalysis. I am changing the world. As I read on another blog "No cause is too small for a true revolutionary".
My reason for fighting in the ditches of this revolution is that I do not want any little girl to go through what this little girl went through:

I was the one all the way in the right hand corner... The one they called "the fat one".

This is me, a few years later ( exactly 2) after ana and mia made their homes in my body...

I am the one in the sweater with red stripes. And they still called me "the fat one".
I was a train wreck. And now I can see that I looked just like everyone else. They were making me fat. I was not fat.
And I could not fit into Gloria Vanderbilt jeans like the little evil bitch sitting right next to the teacher on the second row who said to her friend sitting right next to her :" The fat one would not be so bad if she lost weight and got a nose job and straightened her hair..." I was my daughter's age.
I do not want any other little girl to go through not being able to go to a party because she did not have any jeans like her friends'.
Specially not MY little girl. I want my little girl to wear whatever she wants to and to not hate her body for one second in her life.
So I am very proud I am fighting for these things to happen.
These are the things that matter to me. For this I put up with a "career" I hate in a field that bores me where people once again treat me horribly, so I can one day do what I truly love and change the world full time. I know I have what it takes.
On the other hand, I also got this in the mail...

Dear Milla,

The International Team thanks you for your support of London Fashion Week September 2008.

As the Spring/Summer09 collections unveiled you were there to witness and report on another stage

in the evolution of London design and creativity. Please do send us any coverage you produce on the designers and

their collections as this is vital part of the LFW September 2008 report we are compiling.

From the established Big Brits to the emerging talents of New Generation & Fashion Forward,

The September 2008 London Catwalks and Exhibitions provided something exciting for all tastes.

It has been an amazing season and we thank you for uniting with us once again to celebrate

25 incredible years of British Fashion.

We look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best wishes,

Anna, Katie, Alessandra

International Team

Not bad for "the fat one" , eh?

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Weird Fashion Happenings In London Town...

Yesterday I went walking around Sloane Square because I wanted to go fondle a certain hand bag at the Lulu Guinness store.
I will not name the bag, but it got mixed reviews when it first came out.
It is not every woman's cup of PG tips like a Fendi baguette or a Chloe "Paddington".
But it is my personal cup of tea all the way and not surprisingly, Dita Von Teese's too. The woman likes the exact same stuff I do.
Maybe it's a cue I need to die my hair my natural colour (blue black) and wear bright red lipstick (MAC's Russian Red, to be exact. My go-to-reds are Chanel's Rouge Star and Benefit's "Such a Red).
The bag IS WAY marked down and the girls at the shop are LOVELY.
But I will not name the bag or else another savvy fashionista is going to snag it up.
I went to the store next door since I was around there and I had the most fortuitous and strange encounter.
The shop next door to the Lulu Guinness Boutique is... Selina Blow's.
Yes, as in Isabella Blow.
She is her sister-in-law.
The legendary "Mad Hatter" prodigy of the ungrateful fashion world was married to her older brother Detmar. Without her there would not be an Alexander McQueen. Without her there would be no Phillip Treacy.
And I got to meet her and her heart-meltingly adorable daughter, Violet.
Selina was really enthused and helpful.
And she really seemed like she wanted ( actually needed) to sell some of her actually beautiful clothes really bad...
She, unlike most designers in London, MAKES plus size clothes and her tailoring and quality ARE impeccable. Yes, granted it is NOT CHEAP, but this is bespoke tailoring people....
The finest tweeds. Lovely linings. Her finishings are flawless. I went over her stitches and seams with a fine toothed comb... Why is this woman not selling like pancakes or is being carried at big stores?
Beats me...She has the right friends...
Here is a coat I particularly liked :
It's called the "Barbarella"...
Violet and I made good friends...
She slipped me an adorable note in my purse...
Here is a little bit about the Blow family from a recent interview...
By the way isn't it coincidental that just before I left the house I wrote a blog on Bipolar Disorder?
Yep, like attracts like.... I said it before.. like magnets.

From The Sunday Times
February 3, 2008
Relative Values: Selina Blow and her brother Amaury
The fashion designer Selina Blow, 41, creates clothes for such clients as Anjelica Huston, Joan Collins and Debbie Harry. She lives in London with her husband, Dr Charles Levinson, and their children, Augustus, 9, and Violet, 5, and has two stepchildren, Bessy, 19, and Johnny, 15. Her brother, Amaury, 42, runs the family estate in Gloucestershire. Their elder brother, Detmar, 44, a gallerist, was married to the late fashion icon Isabella Blow, who committed suicide last May. Their father, the writer and historian Jonathan Blow, took his life in 1977. Their mother, Helga, runs the hotel Helga's Folly in Sri Lanka

Beverley D'Silva

SELINA: Amaury and I spent a lot of our childhood playing together in these big arable fields above our parents' home in Stroud. It was like Swallows and Amazons, a make-believe world with us repelling armies, battling dinosaurs and killing Vikings. We lived in a large Arts and Crafts house, Hilles, which was designed by my grandfather, Detmar. My father grew up there. He loved history and writing, and he wrote for The Times. Then he inherited the family estate, and he stopped his writing and journalism. He was 42 when he married my mother, who was 17. She came from Sri Lanka; her grandparents, George and Agnes de Silva, had been critical in gaining independence for the country. My parents ran the estate, and never had much life outside it. I think my dad really wanted to write, and that haunted him.

I was quite headstrong; Amaury was very kind, gentle, sensitive, aware. There were people around me who loved me, but we grew up in chaos. I didn't have good social skills and I got bullied, and Amaury always protected me. He was this huge totem pole of security for me.

But when I was 10, my father died, and our lives changed for ever. He died very sadly and traumatically. It was unbelievably awful. He had suffered from depression since he was young. We didn't really notice it or understand it. He was so gregarious and charming, with a flamboyance and warmth. He was quite like Amaury: a big, manic presence who made life exciting and fun. But when he was depressed, he'd drink. He wasn't a wild drunk. He would go into the library and drink, in the hope he would wake up feeling better. He had electric-shock therapy and drugs for depression, which helped, but he slipped back. My mother was beside herself. Theirs was a big love marriage. She tried to give him the will to live, but she had no support, and his family were in denial about his illness.

The day it happened, Amaury was at home. My mother had taken him out of school; my father was tutoring him at home. He got on very well with Amaury, and my mother thought: anything to help his depression. Maybe that was wrong. Amaury tried to help, but it was too late. When I got back from school my dad was still in the house. There were police all over the kitchen. My mother, who has always been very glamorous, was there in these big sunglasses and a beautiful red dress. It was kind of insane.

After my dad died, everything died. The house went silent. My mother was traumatised — she still is. Detmar looked after her; he took on a father-figure role. My mother would stay up all night playing my father's Edith Piaf and Marlene Dietrich records. Her life stopped. My father's ashes were kept in the house for 25 years. She could never let go of him. She still can't. It's like Miss Havisham: her future is her past.

Amaury and I clung to each other like two children in the woods. He kept a bit of childhood going for me. He'd create a dinosaur museum. We cooked together. We parented each other. I don't think anybody asked how we were. I was at boarding school and Amaury, who was at Millfield, would send me sweets and Tintin books. It was a silent allegiance. We felt we had to be like soldiers.

My mother was only 32 when my father died, and she still had the estate to run. She remarried when I was 13, a businessman who was critical of me, and who I found controlling and unpleasant. He was aggressive to me. My mother tried to protect me, but Amaury protected me more, and later, when I had to leave home, he found me a place to stay in Oxford and gave me £700. He was always utterly generous.

My mother separated from her second husband and went to live in Sri Lanka. Detmar went to work at the bar and married Isabella. I went to New York, to work in fashion. Amaury stayed in Gloucestershire, running the estate. He held it together and made it possible for the rest of us to get on with our lives.

But it diverted him from his great passions: archeology and architecture. He wasn't happy. We'd always seen him as a romantic; his melancholy got worse and more chronic. In his thirties he got really ill. It was like my father all over again: looking tortured, eyes shiny. The illness was twisting him. It terrified me.

Fortunately my husband, who is a doctor, helped us find a good psychiatrist. Then Amaury found a wonderful treatment centre in Arizona, and he was doing very well there. But then in May our sister-in-law [Isabella Blow] died; Amaury came back to support Detmar. It's been very painful. Amaury had been going to get married, but then he decided not to: he was worried, I think, about his illness.

Amaury was very emotional when my children were born, and they're very fond of him. I'd go to hell and back for him.

I had a lot of criticism as a child, but Amaury was never judgmental. He listened, and accepted me for what I am.

AMAURY: Selina and I formed an alliance early on. She was in my gang when I was six: we stood for virtue. When the leader of a rival gang went on a recruiting drive, everybody in my gang deserted me except Selina. And when I was chased by 30 or 40 children, Selina was the only one who helped defend me.

My father was ill with depression for much of our childhood, and my mother was preoccupied with him. Selina and I were left much to our own devices. We grew up in a very magical house, full of tapestries and ancient furniture, a place of dark forests and maidens to rescue. Hilles is like a stage; it makes you perform. Selina and I created a farm in our minds where we were both men, Jack and John. We had a newspaper and we'd write stories about her toy pandas.

But we were also expected to be adults: we had to do much of the housework and the gardening. My mother would say: "Don't mix with other children — adults are more interesting." She once took Selina's toy pandas from her, and my father gave them back. He had more of a sense of childhood. When things were good he could be the best father: he'd jump on all fours, growl and chase you. It was exciting. It was Narnia. But it wasn't always so, and I still have a fear that anything good will be snatched away. And if Selina has a box of chocolates, she has to eat the lot.

My father was a powerful, charismatic man, and a very capable writer, yet he never thought he was good enough. My mother tried to keep his illness from us, but we were aware of it. Christmas could be cancelled, birthdays deferred, because he'd go into a depression. He was drinking, and receiving electric shocks. My poor mother was at her wits' end. She took it out on us, occasionally in the form of mindless violence.

My father was 58 when he killed himself. That day I came downstairs and I walked in, and my father had just taken the poison, and suddenly that big event comes in, bang. Childhood ended that very day. My mother said, "We have to look after each other," and hugged me. It was the only time she had hugged me. I was 11. She said to lose a husband was far worse than losing a father, and I felt guilty that I was suffering for myself. A few weeks later, Selina and I were playing and she said: "How can you play? Your father is dead." So you can't mourn your father, because my loss is greater; but you can't show you're not mourning by playing. My poor brother, Detmar, had a difficult role. My mother used him to take charge of us and, I think, as a surrogate husband for a time.

I was told my father sacrificed himself for the house, and I accepted it. But it's been very difficult for my mother to accept his death, even today. In her mind, he lives through Hilles. By serving the house, you serve him. She would be happiest if we were all there, working for the estate. She doesn't live there herself — hypocrisy runs through the family.

My mother married again and became largely absent. I was 14 and we were left in charge. It was fun, but we all grew up quickly. As children we were adults; now we've become children. The world is more exciting as a child. Detmar complains Selina and I speak to each other in nursery voices. We have a code.

My father was brought up in 1930s England, when they thought ignoring mental illness would make it go away. It doesn't. Depression steals the sense of self. I didn't begin to understand my dad's illness until I was in my late teens, when I myself was feeling this… loss of self. My mind shattered when I was 17. I couldn't speak for two weeks. Through my twenties and thirties I suffered depression. About five years ago it became murderous. I tried various treatments, I went to a centre in America; I've made some improvement. I have my doubts, but I reassure myself life is enormously beautiful.

In my early twenties I took on the estate. I enjoyed it but perhaps I became too obsessive. I have tried to get away. One day I went out for a pint of milk and I stayed away for eight months. Cheap flight to Milan, I jumped it. I built theatrical sets in Florence. My mother tracked me down and I came back. I didn't really mind.

I thought if I suffered for the estate I'd gain virtue. It's taken a lot to realise that is an abusive way to work. Putting my needs first has been difficult but necessary.

Detmar married Isabella: each was the eldest child and came from a broken home. My sister married Charles, who had two siblings who committed suicide. Like seeks out like. But Selina is making a huge effort to ensure our early life is not recreated with her children. I sometimes think it would be nice to have a family. But, though I love people, I don't necessarily trust them. In some ways, I still feel abandoned by my father.

When I was young I gave up on myself. But I'm realising I am capable of a huge amount. We are separating out our interests in the estate. I feel a lot of sadness about it, but I recognise this is essential if we are to become healthy. I adore my mother, but the fact is every one of the family is sick to some extent. Some of us are working on a cure.

Interviews: Beverley D'Silva.

Main portrait: Ivor Prickett
By the way I saw another ladybug. On my window. In October. In London.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Celeb2Plus Couture: Dita Von Teese and Me

I am a big believer that with imagination, good taste, consciencious shopping and confidence, anyone can wear the same styles ( and sometimes the EXACT same clothes) as skinny chicks and pencil thin celebs.

Case and point the fabulous Dita Von Teese who is one of my style icons.

Recently, I attended my best friend's wedding in Austin.

And Ditta attended some sort of Patrick Demarchelier/ Dior event.

And we both anchored out looks on the EXACT same couture piece; Thomas Pink's Tuxedo Shirt from his luxury White Collection.

This is how Ditta wore hers:

celebrity photo gallery main image - Your weekly roundup of sexy celebs, big spenders, and style standouts.

And this is how I wore mine:

I did the bow tie because I was going to leave it undone like Dita but the Bride rolled her eyes and made me tie it.

I am wearing my Thomas Pink tux shirt with a vintage men's tux jacket from Marks & Spencer, a Ralph Lauren silk skirt, a vintage beaded evening bag, Taryn Rose flats and crochet gloves from the gift shop at the Victoria and Albert Museum. You cannot see my fabulous skull ring, but it's from Topshop.

Here is a photo of my absolutely fabulous hairdo which was 50% Marie Antoinette, 50% Elvis...

Rocking it and still eating our cake ;-)

Monday, September 22, 2008

Hand-me-down Haute Couture

This is a repost from Joy Nash's blog...
It was entirely too perfect not to promote...
AAAMEN to Lesley at Fatshionista and the The Rotund with their posts on dressing like YOU.
I've been thinking about this a shitload too.
I kind of have a problem with "dressing for your shape". To me it means "tricking people into thinking you're less fat." It means forgetting about what you like and tossing out what you want people to think about when they look at you, all in the hope that they will not be thinking about your fat.

Who cares. If they care about fat, they're going to see it whether you swathe it in jersey or not. Whether you wear all black and structured everything or not, if rolls on other people's backsides are the stuff that keeps them up at night, IT'S WHAT THEY'RE GONNA SEE. Big deal.
So what? People like that are toxic and wastes of space. Quit trying to make them happy. I say quit trying to make ANYBODY happy. Make you happy. It's the only thing you can do anyway.

Growing up, I was the oldest, but my family didn't have a lot of money, so with the exception of 2 or 3 outfits that grandma bought, all of my clothing came in giant garbage bags from the neighbors with older kids.
I mean they were hand-me-downs transported in garbage bags. They weren't dumpster trophies. Although that would have made a way better story.
Anyway, I thought this was AWESOME. My mom pretty much gave me free reign to dress myself and I was all about wearing ridiculous crap to school just because I liked the texture of the turd colored knee socks. One of my very favorite outfits was a short-sleeved brown floral cotton top with a matching ankle-length patchwork (all patches being variations of brown floral) skirt. The brown was the same color as the haircut I'd given myself, and I was thrilled with the way that everything matched. It was total hippie 70's, and I wore it to 4th grade in the super-rad late 80's. I didn't have a lot of friends. Okay, ANY friends.
The other girls were busy in fuschia bike shorts with little skirts sewn on top, and I had more in common with Laura Ingalls .. or Nancy Drew. Or Trixie Belden, depending which garbage bag I had been pawing through.
I vividly remember Dana Vanderschaaf asking me why I was wearing knee socks and penny loafers. It was because I found them in the garbage bag and they fit just perfectly! They were ribbed and the nylon was squinchy and they had tassels!! "My mom forces me." That's what I told her.
She still didn't invite me to her birthday party.

Anyway, in middle school we moved, and I kept wearing my dad's jeans and my mom's sweaters from the 60's and 70's and it still didn't cost me anything, but suddenly I had a bunch of friends!! My clothes were COOL! Or more accurately, I finally met some kindred spirits who could recognize the glory that was a corduroy FFA jacket with my Dad's name and 1969 stitched on the side. (Dad was the Vice President!)

The moral of the story is: the haters are gonna hate. Shockerooney. Maybe I'm crazy, maybe it's superficial and naive, but I can't be the only one who can make people go away by refusing to think about them. I've forgotten all my "embarassing moments". Why on earth would a person dwell on something that makes them feel terrible? If that's the dress you were wearing when you did something monumentally and horrifically awful, GET RID OF IT! Or reframe the situation or hack it in half and make it into a headband. Just quit living there.

The girls I see on fatshionista and wardrobe remix, the ones who make my jaws drop every time they post their mugs are the ones who don't ask for permission. They don't attempt to appease the masses; they don't assume that anything is off limits. There's nothing that "shouldn't be done", nothing their fill-in-the-blanks are "too big for". No doors are closed, no options are inaccessible. They shop in catalogs and the old stand by brick and mortars, they scour thrift stores and ebay, friend's closets and museum gift shops.

For a good 7 or 8 years, once I was larger than a size 14, I gave up on thrift stores. I shoved them into the same category as Wet Seal and Anthropologie. Why on earth would I set foot in a store that doesn't carry my size? But the fatshionistas and a few real life friends busted me out of my little box.
"Do you think no one was fat before 1990?" "Where do you think old Lane Bryant clothing goes? It doesn't just vanish out of fat people's closets..." "Where do you think 6-foot-tall, 300 lb female impersonators find their first sequined dream?"
Granted, I'm partial to obnoxious prints and dramatic EVERything, but I personally think the key to looking frigging incredible is to decide what you want to look like. Who do you admire? What do you want people to be reminded of when they look at you? Marilyn? Diane Keaton? Ally Sheedy, Bettie Page, Richard Nixon? Pick something!
And then shop for things that make you happy. Is it too small? Says who? What if you wore it backwards? Inside out? Make it a dress!

Fat Fashion, even more loudly than straight-size fashion, demands creativity. No, you're NOT going to find exactly what you want in your size. Big deal. Now, what are you going to do about it?

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Blogging Project Runway: Working 9 to 5...

I got to see this last week's episode from a real TV in Austin,TX.
The whole make over a young graduate gave me the impression that NO ONE in the fashion industry has the foggiest clue of what the real working world is like at all and that Nina, Michael and Heidi ( and Cynthia Rowley) have NEVER interviewed for a regular job in their frail little fashion universe lives.
If you read the "What to Wear to a Job Interview" section on any job board from "The Ladders" to, it pretty much tells you clearly to err on the side of conservative, to wear a suit and dress up from the people who work there. This effectively means that if the worplace is " business casual" , you show up to the interview in a suit.
This even applies to creative or fashion jobs. I can hardly see ANYONE applying for an editorship at Vogue or Elle in anything BUT a Helmut Lang or Chanel suit maybe with a nice TSE cashmere tee or Anne Fontaine shirt or for a buyer position at Neiman's, Saks, Harrod's or Barney's in more the same.
I have a lovely black Louben suit ( a high end Canadian label) that has a spectacular fit and that I wear with a bevy of Thomas Pink shirts and works like a charm. I try to promote Canadian fashion every time I get a chance :-)
So the judges "you made her look old" complaint was completely misplaced. Funky, sexy and cool is what you wear when you ALREADY have the job, not when you are interviewing for it.
I can hardly see myself walking into a pitch at, let's say, Astra Zeneca, in a DVF printed dress or a Pucci top or a Temperley cocktail dress. There is a time and a place for everything.
I was actually intrigued by the thought of them dressing a girl who works at a biomedical lab.
It was going to give me the chance to laugh my ass off.
I worked at a lab for AGES.
I had to do it all, treat animals, run Western blots and RT-PCR's, mix buffers and solutions, animal husbandry, dissections , cultures, slides, immunohistochemistry and wash dishware.
Including writing reports and papers.
The nerdy labgirls in their majority dress like utter crap ran on them.
There was one who wore overalls and reminded me of my Uncle Chico Che except my uncle was less hairy and looked better groomed. This chick had hair like Mafalda, the Argentinean cartoon character. So you undertand, like Gilda Radner's character's Rosanne Rosanna-Dana.
Others dressed like Quebec versions of washing women.
And they all were MEAN as vipers.
There were 3 or for of of who were nice, pretty and who actually cared about fashion and these chicks ( who believed themselves to be smarter and more dedicated than us) were BITCHES.
And they humiliated us and often left us the most menial tasks.
My friend ( who is French and beautiful and looks like a model) and I decided " We might be washing the glassware but goddamn it, we are going to do it in motherfucking Chanel!!" And we always did..
We were ( the French girl, a Romanian sexy lady and me) the best dressed, best put toghether fashionistas the science world has ever seen. We turned those labs into a perpetual Fashion Week Montreal.
And it was a better place for it.
How many of these mustached bitches can reproduce off-the-runway Carolina Herrera AND run a Western in it?
I was ever so curious to see what the PR peep were going to come up with...
So let the corporate backstabbing, bullying and pink-slipping begin...
rate_510_jerell.jpgThis was actually pretty decent. I don't know if I would wear it to an interview but it would be a good thing to wear to work everyday at a "business casual" place. Which was totally surprising coming from Jerell, official designer to the co-ed burlesque team and a couple of schools. At the Rio Carnivale.
rate_510_joe.jpgThis was the closest to a suit but the styling was APPALING. What is up with the dominatrix/ hooker heels? WITH BARE LEGS!!!!! And the shirt that made her boobs look like melons in a Whole Foods eath friendly canvas bag. SUPPORT is not a 4 letter word... and he is supposed to be the straight guy.

rate_510_kenley.jpgLe dicen "Betty La Fea"....I think she forgot her "Guadalajara" poncho on the set... And the only place of employment she would thrive at would be "Mode" magazine....eeekkkkk

rate_510_korto.jpgThis is SHOCKING and disappointing coming from Korto, the only decent designer in the bunch. This is one major fug and I would have never been caught dead in it in any of the labs I worked at. Which probably would have made it an A-1 choice for the Le Chateau-wearing quetaines or the ubiquitous lab-ho's.
But seriously NO ONE wears bare legs and high heels in a lab. Pants are always preferable and the skirt is FAR too short for any lab in this planet.

rate_510_leanne.jpgTo me this was the one that most ressembled workwear.... actaully decent for an office...

rate_510_suede.jpgOMFG!!!! This wa atrocious, hideous and it made my eyes hurt.
The dress looked like a cocktail party in suburban Italy and the jacket came off of wardrobe at a traveling 3rd rate circus. This one was the one that most certainly deserved the boot not only because the contruction SUCKED witha capital S, but because NO ONE could wear it to any job without expeting to have all co-workers and supervisors think that you just wandered in from an orgy with the carnies.

Unitl soo when i will cover the PR Bryant Park Collections and the rest of NY and London Fashion Weeks. And please remember kindly... I have a day job :-)

Friday, September 19, 2008

Cheesecake Liberation

Article by Lady Becca for Fashion Sanity
This past weekend I went to an amazing social salon. Every month this group gets together and presents on topics they know, feel passionate about, or are interested in. It’s a varied group in terms of gender, economic background, sexual preferences, and lifestyles and so the topics are equally varied. During a break I ended up getting into a deep conversation with this super hot red head about the fat acceptance movement, the fashion industry, skinny models, fat hate, skinny hate, medical science and self love. I realized a few things:
1. the media half truths are more pervasive than I thought.
2. even “fat chicks” will think of anecdotal evidence that reinforces the media’s half truths
3. I really dig red heads
4. I need to do more home work on the subject.

So I did. I sat my cushy ass in front of the computer and stuffed my brain with facts and figures. The more I learned the better I felt about myself, my body and my ability to have this discussion with people. I looked at myself, and what I do and don’t eat. I knew I was ok, but now I see where I’m doing better than ok, and where I could be doing just plain better. I’ve also become more aware of people.

Last night I went to a certain big name home improvement store. No, the other one. Along the way my housemate, boyfriend and I stopped into Trader Joe’s to feed her addiction to dried mango and my addiction to chocolate…and dried mango. I bought a box of cheesecake bites, enrobed in deep dark chocolate and we wandered about the home improvement store eating chocolate covered cheesecake and dried mango while discussion devious plans for a Rube-Goldberg device. And I noticed something…I didn’t care.

A week ago, I would have bought that box, put it in the car and waited until I got home to open it and enjoy those little morsels with my boy and a few Heroes episodes. Instead, I walked proudly, defiantly, through a major chain store nibbling on cheesecake and my boy. I know, for a fact, that several of the older women manning departments and registers looked. I could see the thought as it marched passed on their faces, the thought that I could be so pretty if I would just put down the sweets and get moving.

I wanted to laugh in their 40 something plus, pursed lipped faces and ask if they had any idea how much moving I do? I wanted to lustily grope my boy right there in front of them, and show them just how hot he is for me. I wanted to rub their faces in their own self loathing and ask if they were really happy with swallowing the bullshit fed to women every day about our bodies and how they should look.

Instead, I smiled coquettishly and had another bite. The effect was better.

Monday, September 15, 2008

London Fashion Week- Ozzie Clark Review

I, like the looser I am, had to actually work the high powered nerdy day job today, instead of attending fabulous Fashion Week events which my sister did for me. ( No, the PR twinkundchick fashionbots did no scare me off. I actually had to earn more than they get paid in a.... really long time)
A couple of the best shows took place today including two of my favourites: Luella and Paul Smith.
It is kind of my fault to not have gotten invites since I should have queried for them a long time ago. But I had no clue ALL shows were by "invitation only".
NO ONE informs you of that.
It was a shame that the Ozzie Clark PR-chicklet was such a harpie because I would have LOVED to see the show now that I have seen the photos. Maybe the tanning machine and the excess of UV rays have fried her sense of human decency.
Avsh Alom Gur who is now designing for Ozzie Clark showed some of the most all around universally wearable garments and something that I had not seen on that scale since St. Laurent and Pucci in the '70's: the Caftan.
I love Caftans, maligned as they have been.
See, I am from the "Studio 54" generation. Not the ones that partied there with Bianca and Andy and Harlston but of the teens who saw that as it was happening.
The ones that drooled at the DVF wrap dresses, and "Le Tuxedo" and yes, Talitha Ghetty's Caftan in Vogue.
Women of all sizes look regal in a caftan and these ones are beautiful, fluid and languorous. They have a little bit of St. Tropez with a dash of Casablanca and Haifa for good measure.
I am going to give up food for a while for one of these....

They are fairly exquisite... The prints somehow remind me of Provencale pottery.
And they would be the perfect thing to wear with a pair of breezy sandals to host a party at home. I think for my housewarming party, I will be wearing an Ozzie Clarke... God I AM the bigger woman!!! In every sense of the word.
As I always say... God gave me a big body because I need it to fit in my giant heart and enormous brain. (Pstt: Ask Bianca what a PDE-5 inhibitor is... or why is it that nosocomial infections such as MRSA emerged...)

Sunday, September 14, 2008

London Fashion Week: Ozzie Clark and more

Well everyone, I am at the press tent for London fashion week.

I think the best thing so far has been the protest that was happening outside. A flock of absolutely FABULOUS plus size compatriots were dancing to Mika's " Big Girl You are Beautiful" dressed in very Harajuku Super Kawaii outfits. That and the MAC press lounge which is divine. They do touch ups to your make out and have a glorious gift/swag bag with awesome MAC stuff.

I am wearing a very Goth/Alice in Wonderland inspired getup. My Marc by Marc Jacobs polka-dot pinafore dress and Tarina Tarantino skull jewelry with black leggings and my Kitson Zebra and Patent ballet flats.

My make-up is to die for. Black smokey eye and pale sugar frosted lips.

The girls at the MAC lounge were ADORABLE.

Another business altoghether with the Ozzy Clark catwalk show.

Some PR bizziches acting in manner of " Studio 54" doormen, were deeming who from the press was and was not worthy of getting in, particularly a rude duckfaced woman named Bianca.

I was reminded of those days back in the mid-80's when we used to stand outside of Mexico City's most popular club called " Magic Circus" begging some a-hole that under ordinary circumstances would have been our driver or gardener to let us in ..we would go " Juan-Jo, Juan-Jo" begging for his attention and he acting like he was motherfucking St. Peter, waiting to open the gates of Heaven.

It's a FASHION SHOW people!!! If we are press, you SHOULD be grateful.

We are there to review your clothes and are making people think in a positive or negative way about your product.

Turns out most of the catwalk shows are by invitation only.

Otherwise you need to deal with the Juan-Jo little witches.

I think my fashion website is probably the only objective source of fashion information since I am not sponsored by ANYONE.

Thus, my opinion and that of the people that contribute for my site is completely unbiased.

We are like the PLOS or Mother Jones of fashion.

When I look at and review a designer's clothes, I do so on their merit alone.

And you'd think people would value that....

Well, I did not get into Ozzie Clark.

I think I am trying to get into PPQ.

What I do know, is that I am not standing for an hour outside a tent begging some bitch on a power trip to let me in only to be sent away after an hour of waiting.

Shit, now my feet are swollen. If I get DVT, I am billing Ozzie Clark's PR company for the medical treatment....

Stay tuned to see if I actually get into any of the catwalk shows...or I have to watch them all from the press exhibition tent...

Boys and Ghouls...We are Big Time!-London Fashion Week

Well people... we are in as legitimate press at London Fashion Week.
I accredited without a problem.
I am covering some of the catwalk shows today.
I am wearing my Marc by Marc Jacobs black polka dot pinafore dress, black leggings, a vintage velvet blazer, and Tarina Tarantino jewelry.
There is a BRILLIANT, BRILLIANT protest going on outside with a flock of GORGEOUS plus size beauties dancing to Mika's " Big Girl You Are Beautiful" and REPRESENTING..
As I walked in, I gave the the rock on sign and told them " I am here for you sisters".
Stay tuned for all London Fashion Week coverage...This is amazing!
MillaX, Editor-in-chief and UK correspondent, Fashion Sanity ( Anna who, you said?)

Friday, September 12, 2008

Blogging Project Runway: 13 Ghosts

Geezus the baby Christ, this week was bad... wicked bad.
The designers were tasked with designing an Avant Garde look based on Zodiac signs.
Really, actually kind of cool.
Yet NOT ONE could come up with something that could be considered remotely Avant-Garde by any stretch of the word.
Not even 3/4's as good as the stuff that my classmates at ghetto-Mesa College used to show at the little cute ghetto-fashion show/ provincial dance recital they had at the Airport Ramada or something. Not that they did not fancy themselves at the tents at Bryant Park, mind me. My rule of thumb is the following: if your fashion show is proudly organized and advertised as a "G-rated and family-oriented" event, that is a fashion show that is not the right venue for me. Just the fact that the show is thought with people's grandparents and kindergartners in mind makes me want to show my collection on 7 feet tall drag queens with mohawks and put cod pieces on every single one of them. While playing "God Save The Queen" by the Pistols and with Andres Serrano's "Piss Christ" as my runway background. Shit... that actually sounds brilliant...
MANY, MANY of my classmates were ( are) statistically significantly more talented than a good 96% of the PR designers both as technical/construction people, and more rarely as designers ( a lot of them were very commercial and Forever 21-ish, some tacky-ass bitches and some devoid of originality, but there were a couple of three REALLY talented peeps).
Crap, of all that was shown this week maybe 2 were wearable and 1 was derivative in a sad way.
But let's start the carnage...
rate_509_jerell.jpgThis was the winning look and that just about tells you everything.
The skirt is a'wigth and interesting in a McQueenish sort of way. The rest of it looks like a mother of the bride in a favella in Rio.

Keebler Elf on Meth ( aka as Blayne)
rate_509_blayne.jpgHow can I word this?.... oh, oh, I know..." Textile neoplastic disorder (TND) is characterized by abherrant growths of bridal fabrics thoughout the body, and is considered pernicious, fatal and incurable. Its precise etiology is thus far unknown, but it is thought to be caused by uncontrolled lack of the good taste isoenzyme in the frontal cortex of the brain and by dysregulated egos in vectors known as designers. Presently, the only means of existing treatment are surgical (excision with a pair of Ghinger's and a seam ripper, anesthesia optional), and provide patients with a modest hope for improvement in quality of life (QOL). Active research is necessary to further investigate if the immediate administration of atypical anti-psychotics to designers during full manic/schizoid episodes, would indeed prevent the increased incidence of this disabling and disfiguring condition." The End :-)

I am disappointed. Very disappointed.
This looks like a room at my grandmother Medina's house. Comforting for me. But for a couture dress? Bad, very bad. She has a thing for clowns and circuses...

rate_509_joe.jpgAnd this would be another bedroom at my nana's.... I did not know PR had morphed into an INTERIOR design show. EVERYTHING looked like upholstery. Which brings me to....

rate_509_kenley.jpgHoly fuck, what was that??? This is like fashion version of "The Island of Dr. Moreau". Kenley obviously possessed by a mad couture obsessed scientist, decided, with disregard to ethics and human decency, to create a chimera of past dresses by Dolce & Gabanna, Jean-Paul Gaultier and Viktor& Rolf. The results, here for your examination, are as you can observe, appaling and nausea-inducing.

rate_509_korto.jpgNot Avant-Garde. But being that is is somewhat wearable, met the challenge brief and as at least marginally aesthetically pleasing, to me it was the winner by default.

This one met the challenge brief and was innovative but seriously who the hell would wear that? Not even Tilda Swinton...

Which brings us to Suede's:
rate_509_suede.jpgWell, yes Major Nelson... your wish is my command...
This cheezy "I Dream of Jeanie" costume is as couture and as Avant-Garde as my ass is tiny and inconspicuous.

Single-handedly the WORST episode as far the the clothes go in a fever-pitched tie with the "Real Women" challenge.
This was more sallient because the memory of Chris March's and Christian Siriano's Avant-Garde dress which was one of PR's 5 best ever is still fresh in our minds.
Intead of signs of the zodiac, these were the signs of the Black Zodiac thus the allusion to one of my favourite horror b-movies "13 Ghosts" one of the most sublime cheesefests ever.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Blogging Project Runway: Digest Version

Well, I have not done my usual Project Runway commentaries because I am now in London, the episodes are not as readily available and because frankly this season, a couple of the designers are a'wight but none have ignited my furor.
I stand by my initial prediction for final 4:
Maybe Leann sneaks in there.
The Olympic uniform challenge was kind of boring and blah to me.
I always end up comparing with the lines that this rocking Canadian company Roots, puts out for the Canadian Olympic team. They ALWAYS have the hottest and best selling Olympics-related garments.
I ( and Prince Wills) have worn their gorgeous hockey newsboy hat.
Compared with the freshness of what Roots puts out, what the PR people put out for the challenge was kind of well, Valerie Stevens or Sag Harbour.
But as usual, Korto's was the best..
Then the obligatory product placement challenge ensued and they had to make something from car bits...
Actually. Korto's coat was a beauty...
The winning look was kind of dromedary on the hips. I did not see Mugler or Galliano at all.
They BOTCHED the drag queen challenge. BOTCHED it.
On that challenge you could do anything. The sky was the limit and NOT ONE OUNCE OF BRILLIANCY...
The utter mediocrity PISSED ME OFF!
The Brooke Shields "Lipstick Jungle" challenge? Shit does anyone watch that show? I really could not care less.
And then there was the DVF challenge. Those cunts...
Sorry but they FUCKED UP!!
This was the chance for a PR designer to go legit. To actually impress this woman and get a good job as a head designer with a MAJOR design label. I am sorry but I would eat one of my relatives in a Oaxacan tamale for a chance like that.
AND NONE of these designers was able to effectively channel the DVF gestalt without resorting to something that looked like a page in the costume section of the McCall's Patterns Catalog. Leanne's was a nice dress... But it was NOT DVF. It was a 1930's high end costume or an Oscar gown. But not cohesive with DVF's line.
The closest to real DVF was again Korto.
This is a picture of me in a REAL vintage DVF so you can see the similarities in cut, print, silhouette and drape.

Working with prints is one of my design fortes. And I would be in sheer heaven in the DVF fabric archive. I was lucky enough to get my hands on DVF yardage and I have not touched it yet.
But these guys really missed their chance.
I always ask myself why has there not been the equivalent of a Kelly Clarkson or a Carrie Underwood coming out of Project Runway?
And I always have to contemplate the possibility that the Project Runway franchise cares more about the ratings and making appealing reality TV than about finding solid and enduring talent.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Plus Size Life: UK vs US and Darwin ATTACKS!

After a few weeks living here, I can say that both countries have their pluses and their minuses when it comes to living in them as a plus size person.
I cannot speak for ALL plus size ladies, mostly because I have a very specific taste ( edgy couture) and I am on of those bridgy plus chicks where I can still buy stuff at chez the "God's Choosen" straight sized stores even though they look at me, to quote some people in size acceptance, as if my diet consisted of baby-flavoured doughnuts everytime I walk in one of their upscale hallowed stores.
I think that if my taste leaned more towards the totally alternative or the very conservative, I might have an easier time finding clothes, but the fact that I am contantly looking for size 18 Marc by Marc Jacobs or size 16 McQ or a size XL (and not an idiotic size 10 as XL as per Juicy Couture, but a REAL XL like an 16-18) House of Holland t-shirt makes me at best a dreamer and mostly determined to fill a niche that NO ONE has bothered to address: High End designer contemporary apparel over a size 8. I know that one day I am going to be rich. How come no one but me has given a thought to a "Miss 80" ( Instead of "Miss Sixty')?
Or to Plus DVF? Or yes, even plus size Juicy?
I HAVE CALLED and written all of these companies asking them to do plus lines but they act like I am asking them to have sex with household pets. Yes, I have written AND called Diane Von Furstenberg and Marc Jacobs AND Pam and Gella at Juicy and they will make clothes for you if you get knocked up. But if you are fat? Burn bitch and burn in a muumuu.... ARGHHHHHH
So if they don't do it, I will. I will be more than happy to sell my clothes full price and not see thousands of XS garments languish month after month on clearance racks until they end up on the backs of small children in El Salvador and Erithrea.
Which I guess is who they were designed for in the first place.
The buyers at upscale stores make me laugh. They really do. It's like they live in a perpetual state of denial when they they see the XLs and L's sell for full price. The M's go at first markdown and those XS stay there through clearance and past TJ MAXX AND the Goodwill store, until they have to be shipped back to where they came from in a sad cycle of waste.
But they keep stocking 1 XL, 2 L's, 6 M's , 10 Ss and 20 XSs just because they think that because they wish it, we will all shrink on demand.No, not EVERYTHING in Anna Wintour's diabolical agenda moves forward without a hitch...
Most buyers must be fundamentalist Christians, I think. They refuse to accept evolution and that as a species, we are growing bigger and taller with each passing generation. Ok... my grandma: 5'2. My mom: 5'5. Me: 5'8. My daughter: 5'10 and STILL growing? Get the picture? It's NOT an "Obesity Epidemic"... It's fucking evolution. Like MRSA but WAY cuter.
The sad part is the science people are not any better. They know about evolution and yet refuse that it's happening IN HUMANS in front of their eyes. They only acknowledge it when it comes to microorganisms.
They think that we should weight the same as peeps did in the 40's. Since we are taller and stronger and bigger than people were in the 40's and we no longer die of smallpox or polio or work all day in small rural farms, they deem us all not genetically fit and better fed, but "obese". Fuck them and the pocket protector they are wearing. Shit, that would be more sex than most of them get in a year..
And no, most of us who break the BMI commandments do not eat out every meal at a place that serves super sized fries and sit on our ever expanding asses all day.
We just are bigger and taller than average. I walk about 5 miles on a bad day. And I eat like 1500-2000 calories. Usually the same as my skinny compatriots. Sometimes a lot less. Yet they stay skinny and I stay fat. Something in the equation does not compute...
But back to the fashion...
So far I am noticing that a lot less is available as far as specially dedicated plus-size retail outlets.
I have only seen the plus departments at Harrod's ( big but VERY conservative) and Debenham's at Oxford St. ( minuscule and cheesy) and that intriguing little store in Kew.
But other than that zilch. I am being told about this store called Evans. But I have yet to see one anywhere.
In the States I see a Lane Bryant at every mall, and a Torrid every other mall.
In some there's both.
A lot of the brands go up to a size 20 or 22 UK which is like a 16 or 18 and that is what I buy here. Some good ones are Monsoon, the Star line by Julien McDonald at Debenham's
.tr> Black and white checked coat..table> Grey faux fur jacket..table>.tr> .. -->start of product image--> Chocolate animal print dress..table>

and Pink by Thomas Pink.Grey Nelson Women's Silk Luxury Top
Pink Tailored Non Stretch Harlem Stripe Women's Shirt- Double Cuff

One thing I direly miss is a place where I can find plus size, affordable hosiery.
My favourite in the US is Assets by Sarah Blakely ( the chick from Spanx) that I get at Target. It's not super cheap ( around 10 bucks a pair) but it wears well and it fits great.
Here big hose is borderderline impossible to find. The only available thing is the expensive Spanx and some ( very few) models of Wolford. And if you are anything over a size 18 I would not attempt ot because that is how far they stretch,
They deperately need a Target here. And the Right Fit Jeans by LB. I am so freaking happy that I got 2 pairs before I left the US and I snagged some of the new Trouser jeans.
I am going to continue to explore what is available here. I mean I KNOW there is Anna Scholtz and everything but I am looking for more other options and things that are unexpected.
I keep trawlling the charity shops too in search of the unexpected find.
Saturday I was looking for a cover up for the ballet because it is COLD and I had to leave my winter coats behind ( the bloody 30k luggage restrictions and all)... I got a great men's tux jacket for a few pounds and an adorable tiny evening bag because NOTHING looks less graceful than a giant diaper bag-like handbag on an evening out. I do NOT comprehend the giant handbag thing...
I had to limit my handbag allowance to 1 bag for the plane.... I almost died.
But so far I have not unearthed miracles like I used to in Montreal.
If anyone has any suggestions of plus- size retail outlets or designers I should cover please let me know.
I really want to support any stores or designers catering to plus sizes.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Blogging PR: Not For Little Pussies Who Scream

So I am a bit late posting my Project Runway blog this week because I am exhausted.
I moved out of San Diego place yesterday.
Wednesday me and my Celebrity Personal Assistant went to watch the show at a cozy little gay bar in San Diego called The Loft (2150 5th Ave, Hillcrest) and the scene pretty much was the gayest thing you have ever seen.
We were watching Project Runway in a gay bar with same level of attention, devotion and play-by-play commentary usually dedicated to the Super Bowl at sports bars.
The audio was via close caption while on the background the likes of Olivia, Shania, Queen Madge, Abba and Cher played on the juke box....
Great show and great challenge this week.
Create an evening cocktail look inspired by New York City at night...
The possibilities were amazing
and this is how our current crop of sartorial artistes responded to the challenge...
This dress was so New York....during Pride Week...
Blayne's homage to the Rainbow flag was not the most interesting nor sophisticated offering of the show. To me, the only difference between this and the eliminated look , were the sleeves. But if you act like a Keebler elf friend of Tina,you are pretty much guaranteed to stay around until the semi finals just because of the sheer entertainment value and because you make for good reality TV...


Onyx Nites Prom Collection 2008. When are young designers going to learn that lame is only to be approached when you are a Zen Master of Couture?
Memo to non-exceptional designers: Unless your name is Norman Norell, Valentino, William Travilla or Giles Deacon STEP AWAY FROM THE LAME!!!!
This is how lame should be done

And this is what Daniel gave us...


Ok... this loosing proposition of a dress made me think of two things, loose labia and an overtuffed mortadella sandwich... neither are pretty. Enough said..


Jennifer: I am convinced that The Duchess, Nina and Heidi are possesed by either the Bratz Dolls or Vegas hookers... Anything that does not look like a slutty 14 year old's idea of "sexy" is deemed "matronly". Matronly is what you find in 99% of the plus size retail outlets in the world. Jennifer's dress had some construction issues for sure. But it was LOVELY!!!! I actually have a Stella McCartney dress that looks almost exactly like it. If the had been shown in Vogue on Natalia Vodianova with the label Prada on it, these bitches would have been all over it.


This dress and this styling ARE 2 years ago Galliano verbatim. BUT it was a feat of skill to turn a dress this elaborate and well made in a day.Two snaps up for Jerrell and his mad construction skillz....


I actually loved this dress. It was actually oneof the truest to the initial inspiration in the photo.


One word: "Derelicte!" ("a fashion, a way of life inspired by the very homeless, the vagrants, the crack whores that make this wonderful city so unique.")... So, actually and in an indirect way, he was right on target...


This dress was gimmicky, but really kind of cool. What I really liked was the hair and make up.


Yet again I disagree with the judges...this dress looked like an pinata that was too sizes too small. Loving Kenley... the dress? Not so much...

I actually love this look I have had it in my closet in many variations. It is definitely not innovative. But it is elegant, well made, flattering, sellable and infinitely wearable.


This was gorgeous!! Perfectly made, inspired, tasteful and restrained... The construction was flawless.What a difference a week makes.

Leatha!!!!! Really girl... the LA rocker chick look this literal, is tired even in LA...
Evolve, grow, or stick to Melrose and the Hell's Angels....You are 43....time to try new things...


One phrase echoed across the gay bar "That looks like Beyonce and Baby Phat"...I tend to concurr. Suede did not rock it this week.

The Sandra Bernhard was ooing and aahing about this look. I liked that she did pants. I like the general idea. I hated the print and the proportions....

This week kind of proved something to me. That despite the hype of"better and better"designers the claim sort of does not hold true. Sights of NYC as an inspiration had been previously done with beautiful and memorable results...Remember Jay's "Chrysler Building" dress? Or Andrae Gonzalo's "Dirty Water"dress?
This challenge has actually yielded two of the most memorable PR creations of all times.
Yet this time the designers failed to deliver an equally memorable and awe inducing result. Go figure....