Tag Archives: East Village rants

Let’s see, what happened this week? The Dow lost about 1,500 points, The New York Sun and Cosmo Girl both folded, Iceland teetered on the verge of bankruptcy . . . and Neiman Marcus launched its Christmas Book catalog!

Now if you know Neiman Marcus’ annual holiday catalog, you know this is the first place to go when you’re wondering how to blow all that extra cash you have lying around. Past catalogs have included such necessities as a personal submarine and a his-and-hers chocolate portrait. And the “wow gifts” in this year’s catalog do not disappoint, no matter what may be going on in the so-called news.

Bad day at work? No worries. Just blow out of the office on this $110K Limited Edition Fighter Motorcycle. What better way to say “I already made millions before the sh*t hit the fan”?

This football season, why enjoy the game on a regular old TV when you could get this Dallas Cowboys Texas Stadium End Zone package? For a mere $500K, you can go to the game in a luxury suite and get your photo taken with Jerry Jones and cheerleaders. The $500K goes to the Salvation Army, but obviously getting a Dallas Cowboys logo spray-painted on your lawn is a lot better than just giving the money to charity. (Installation costs not included.)

Remember those old records Dad had sitting in the basement? Turns out you should have kept them, because now this Thirty-Five Year Collection of Top 100 45 RPM Records is now worth $275K–probably not what Dad paid for them when he was walking to school in the snow uphill both ways.

You know that awful feeling you get in a museum when you just want to buy stuff but it’s not for sale? Well now you can, because these Medieval and Renaissance Era Rings ($25K-35K) can finally be sitting pretty on your finger, not in some stupid glass case at the Met.

This. Costs. One-hundred thousand. Dollars.

Because it’s not really art unless it’s a portrait of you, acclaimed artist Nathan Sawaya will make these HIS & HERS: Life-Size Replica in LEGO Bricks just for you for $60K. Sure to terrify small children for years to come.

When even the most exclusive golf club is not exclusive enough, turn to Jack Nicklaus to design this Custom Backyard Course Package ($1M). Finally, you can play golf alone. (Construction costs not included.)

One of the best things about basketball is it costs little or no money to play–it requires just cement, a hoop, the ball, and you. Now if only your kid were a decent player. Get some skin in the game for real with an on-court experience with the Harlem Globetrotters ($110K), who won’t bitch and moan if you ask for a “do-over.”

You always told your kids that marriage was about a lot more than love, it’s about money. Show Daddy’s little girl how much she’s really worth with this $1.3M Luxury Destination Wedding Package at The Resort at Pelican Hill. Guaranteed to make the groom feel inadequate and ruin the young couple’s sex life forever.

Ever wake up with that groggy feeling of “how much did I spend at the bar last night”? Well now you’ll really wonder what happened when you get this $250K tab for this Authentic Guinness® Home Pub. Drunk friends who run up your bill sold separately.

Don’t worry about the kids’ college funds–they’ll be fine by 2010, right? And besides, you could really use that $160K for a new car.

You know nothing about horses. Or racing. But it would be cool to be that guy on TV whose horse just won that race, what’s-it-called. Because when you buy this 10-million-dollar Three Chimneys Farm Thoroughbred Racing Stable Package, “as the owner, you get to name your stable and any unnamed horses, design your own silks, attend races, pose for pictures, give quotes to the media.” Because isn’t that what it’s all about?

After all the hoopla about the all-black Italian Vogue, which underscored the lack of black models in magazines and fashion shows, American Vogue retaliated this month with a single article featuring all black models–not exactly mind-blowing. Issues of race have infiltrated fashion in other ways as well. The late ’80s/early ’90s practice of photographing fashion models in third-world countries against a backdrop of native people has returned without much noise from the critics.

J. Crew keeps actual Moroccans mostly out of the picture in their newest “Morocco” catalog, like the blurred sheepherder in this shot (click on the images for larger versions):

The one time they do incorporate native Moroccans, we get an unintentionally hilarious shot–notice where the “local guerrab (water man)” is looking!

You would think Vogue would stay away from controversial images involving race considering the criticism they recently endured for their LeBron James and Jennifer Hudson covers. This may be why they cast black Ethiopian model Liya Kebede in their photo shoot in Mali (an unfortunate reason to cast a black model). But does it erase the elitist overtones when you use a model of color?

The piece is breathlessly narrated by Sally Singer, who writes of Djenne that “everyone in this bustling market town looks as if they’ve stepped off the Dries Van Noten catwalk.” Riiight. The contrast in expressions and attitudes between the women in the marketplace and the model, despite the similar prints on their clothes, is what fascinates about this photo:

There is another strange photo whose caption reads “Malian children mix traditional textiles with items recycled from the West–‘a testament to a visual culture that’s profound and inclusive.'” It seems doubtful that the boy in this photo ordered his stained Beaver Creek Colorado sweatshirt from Net-a-Porter trying to mix and match. Aren’t these Western clothes castaways donated by American charities?

It’s hard not to see the colonialist overtones in this next photo: the traditional outfit, the sherpa walking several paces behind the model, carrying a tiny leather handbag. Notice how many cars are waiting in this ferry line to Timbuktu. The narrator has just informed us that while native Malians wait for hours and hours to be ferried across, the photo shoot crowd simply left their cars with drivers and “hired a boatman to row us across in a long canoe.”

Given the number of global, particularly African, influences in fashion this season, it’s not surprising that fashion editors would choose to set photo shoots in Africa. But the resulting photographs raise issues that were easily forgotten in the sanitized, rock-music-fueled environs of an Oscar de la Renta show. Where are these prints from, how did Western designers end up appropriating them, and what does it all mean? Are Americans any better than the Europeans who became infatuated with Orientalism at the turn of the last century, or have we merely adapted the same attitudes to a different continent, 100 years later?

Possibly one of my favorite Page Six items ever appeared today, a report on the Style.com book party for Candy Pratts Price. It reminded me of a sticker I saw in a cab last night, right. (The cab driver totally freaked out when I took a picture inside his cab. I might distribute it, thus enabling other people to see the inside of his cab!) In Page Six, we learn that at the Style.com party, guests like Zac Posen and Doo-Ri Chung were served a menu of champagne, almonds and cheese sticks. That’s all. No doubt it was some anorexic underling who planned the party, not Anna herself, as the Post implies. As the spy notes, “Everything was white, and there was no bar, no branding – just emaciated models eating cheese sticks.”

Don’t even think about actual cheese, that fatty, disgusting substance. Or passed hors d’oeuvres, which are certainly a waste of money. Besides, no one has figured out a way to pass sashimi. It’s not like anyone’s going to eat rice, for Christ’s sake. Did you say pigs in a blanket? If I hadn’t thrown up after lunch already I’d be throwing up now. The thought of these fashion icons – I mean, it’s Lazaro Hernandez and Jack McCollough, people – living gods! – putting anything like that in their mouths is just sickening. There are certain people that you just don’t want to imagine eating, ever. And you want to pass food in front of the models, over and over again? That’s just, like, inhumane. Better to ban food from the party altogether. Then there’s no chance of overeating and getting that not-so-thin feeling.

Phew. I’m glad I got that off my chest. Congratulations to the cab driver for reminding us of what we already know (except for that drinking part.) Now, to that “spy” who dared voice disappointment over the fact that there was no food at the party, I say, come forward. You will be banned forever from Conde Nast parties. And as for the Waverly Inn, even if you manage to get a reservation, don’t even think about eating there.