FOR HIM

Lovers, I am writing this post to you while throwing shit in my suitcase with the fury of a thousand suns packing extremely carefully for my annual holiday escape. Although I am half-lost, dreaming about shimmying in the sand and splashing in the ocean, I could never leave without taking care of you first.

 So - as promised - let's take a look at gifts for the boy/man/boyman in your life:

1. The James Bond Archives: 007 - A solid tome including 600 pages of classic cinema history. I have a slightly sneaky ulterior motive with this present, though: if his favourite Bond is Roger Moore, this is the ideal way to find out so you can move on as fast as humanly possible.

2. Margiela Double Layer Knit Cap - If he's anywhere in the Eastern hemisphere, homie will actually need this wool puppy to cover up his frozen ears. If he's anywhere in the Western hemisphere, he will need this cap to solidify his greasy-haired, IDGAF hipster image or cover up his receding hairline. The choice is yours/his, friends.

3. Alice Made This Brass Cufflinks - These babies are tough as nails, but smooth like butter; come to Papa (Mama?).

4. John Smedley Striped Merino Pullover - YEAH, I KNOW IT'S MERINO NOT CASHMERE, but you already spent most of your money on my last post's 17 gifts for yourself all the special females in your life. Econo-smize.

5. Louis Sidoli 'Most Wanted' Prints - What better way to celebrate his machismo than with art? Throw the cliche label at me all you like, but the best boys are always bad. These 'Most Wanted' prints by Louis Sidoli are designed to please those that love GOOD MUSIC.

6. Nike Custom Kicks - Customize any style for him, so if he tries to run away, your name will be on his shoes.

7. The Rolling Stones: 50 - Because he loves the Stones and you love Keith Richards. And by you, I of course mean me.

8. BLK DMN Olive Padded Leather Jacket - Is it even necessary to explain this one? If he doesn't already have a leather jacket, he needs one; and if he does have one, he also needs this one. Plus, last time I checked it was on sale. Hoppity hop.

9. Mark and Graham Cashmere Jersey Blanket - The sweater you give him might be merino, but the blanket under which you both will lay must be cashmere. You can monogram this muhfuh for him, too.  No gift screams 'I love you' like jewelry personalized items.

10. Want Les Essentiels de la Vie iPad Case - The Want brothers make the sickest, sleekest leather goods and the colour of this case is just Hermes enough without being too fem. Don't say I never gave you nuthin.

11. Persol Vintage Tortoise Shades - Sunglasses give you the glorious option to purchase something vintage for him without worrying about germs. Also: I want to hump every man that wears these and if you've lost that loving feeling you will be newly motivated to hump him, too.

12. Fujifilm XF1 Digital Camera - Designed for the blogger that needs her boyfriend to take her pics without entirely subjugating his manhood stylish man that loves technology, this camera is the latest bidness. It also looks vintage and is encased in pebbly black leather.

13. Miansai Anchor Bracelet  - If he's into wearing man jewels, this is just the ticket. Someone has to keep you grounded, so he is your anchor, after all.

If you wanna thank me in the comments below for my hard work and dedication to you, THAT WOULD BE NICE.  If not, may I suggest this special gift just for you:

I will be away until January, so posts on the blog may be scarce but follow me on Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram (@CWICW) or Pinterest if you feel yourself needing some crazy love. Let's get through the painful magical holiday season together! 

ALL MY LOVE! 

SANTA, DO YOU EXIST?

Earlier, I tweeted a link to the sheath Scarlett Johansson had recently worn on the David Letterman show that prompted the late night king to exclaim, "this is how a movie star should dress!" Yes, the Giambattista Valli piece is incredible, awesome, lovely, beautiful, stunning and a slew of other superlatives I am saving for the rest of this post because without these nonsensical filler words I will be forced to use my brain in an attempt to write intelligent things instead. THE HORROR! 

The minute I laid eyes on this dress, I wished for it to be mine. I closed my eyes and with all of my magnetic might I thought: Universe, God, whatever omniscient force is out there, I think I've been... okay this year? I've practiced gratitude! I've helped others! I've managed to keep my insanity bubbling at a slow and gentle simmer! I've not physically harmed another living thing! Unless you count hydroponic sprouts, which I have eaten the shit out of. THIS SEMI-DECENT BEHAVIOUR MUST COUNT FOR SOMETHING, NO? Deliver me from my sartorial dearth! 

Soon after this wish, the realization that today is none other than 12/12/12 - and 12:12pm was fast-approaching -  fell upon me and swiftly led my conscious to another thought: maybe I should, you know, make another wish? Other over-privileged white folk people will be wishing, and I'll be damned if their wishes come true and mine do not because I ignored the proven power of numerology. 

Yes, I instagrammed this; INSTAGRAM IS FUN. I AM A STEREOTYPE; I loathe myself.

So, I sat on my sheepskin rug in lotus pose belly-breathing deeeeeeply in preparation for 12:12pm. When the hour was nigh, I closed my eyes and immediately began panicking like a mother that had just lost her precocious toddler at a Macy's Boxing Day sale. 

What am I supposed to wish for? 

And with that exasperated cry, a flurry of thoughts ascended from the underworld of my ego screaming:  PRETTY THINGS! ADMIRATION! NO, NO, MONEY! What if I don't wish for enough? Enough money or shoes or PEACE? I should be wishing for others, not for myself. What if I make the wrong wish and never get another chance to connect to this quasi-special energy field? My ass aches. How do people sit and meditate like this for 20 fucking minutes? I hope I get that Valli dress. 

Until, suddenly, my thoughts fell silent. My mind's flatulence transformed into a meditation on intention; I could feel a stream of light beaming from my third-eye and the scene in my room morph from purgatorio to paradiso.

It all felt so cleeeaaaar.

I wished for abundance - and the holy grail for an anxious, scattered freak such as myself: a peaceful state of being. But, for insurance purposes, I also wished for Santa to be kind and, you know, real. Homeboy would never let me go without the good stuff this holiday season; and he brings it for other people, too! 

With that in mind, I got to thinking about what I intend on giving and receiving. And, of course, that lead me straight into the vicious online shopping vortex. Without further ado, I present to you the fruit(s) of my labour.

For the girl/woman/girlwoman/you in your life:

1. Manolo Blahnik Hangisi Pump: during the holidays, even the very toughest, fetishistic bitches have perverse cinderella fantasies.

2. Connor NYC 'Forever' Stationery: forget sexting; these beautiful notes will encourage her to write you an erotic magnum opus worthy of the handcuffs that adorn them.

3. Oscar de la Renta Narcissus Holiday Candle: mythology tells us that Narcissus fell into a lake and drowned after becoming fixated with his own reflection. Great story. Has nothing to do with this candle. It's named after the latin word for daffodil and I bet grandma will go batshit for it.

4. Estee Lauder Zodiac Compact: perfect trinket for the girl that loves both astrology and staring at her own ethereal reflection (usually the two go hand-in-hand). HAVE I TOLD YOU I REALLY LOVE ASTROLOGY?

5. Tom Ford Lipstick Set: I also really love a quality lipstick and these are the cream of the cream, top of the tops, kids.

6. Vivienne Westwood Kiss Necklace: she can wear this as a daily reminder that your lips are the only ones allowed free access to her sweet cleav. This one is going to my sister, y'all; she's got a great rack.

7. Delfina Delletrez Pearl Cuff Ring: if you can think of a woman that doesn't want a Delfina piece this holiday season I will be speechless. Me. Speechless.

8. Valentino Rockstud Flat: see description for item 1. Yes, I will repeat my own content: I AM NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS, REMEMBER.

9. Georg Jensen Brass Bowl: because you need a stellar gift for the one special host that won't appreciate the bowl you usually bring to parties. Hi, Mom!

10. Equipment Pyjama Set: after wearing these 100% silk DREAM LOIN-COVERINGS on Christmas morning, she won't take them off for the rest of the year.

11. Grace Coddington's memoir, Grace:  she's the raddest woman to ever walk the halls of Vogue and a genuine inspiration to me. No snark, no funny business, just pure admiration.

12. Rodarte Hair Jewelry: the fact that this is called 'hair jewelry' makes me want to catapult my corpse into the depths of hell, but the actual product warrants respect. Like your girl, it's a thing of beauty; and since she already has stars in her eyes, you should crown her with them, as well.

13. Noir Pave Swirl Earrings: if she's not interested in ramming a pave black diamond tusk through her ear, she's probably not the girl/friend for you.

14. Karen Walker Helter Skelter Sunglasses: these sunglasses are certifiably cool without being showy and cost much less than the over-exposed Celine alternative.

15. Givenchy Shark Lock Heels: see item 2. Sue me.

16. Rag & Bone Floppy Brim Fedora: I'm not sure about you, but I have an unhealthy obsession with finding the 'right' hat. It's an elusive quest that led me straight to this bad boy after I realized the Pucci one I initially wanted was sold out.

17. ASOS Pack of Smooth Rings: these rings are the definition of cheap and cheerful. Get her a few packs and she can randomly place them on her fingers a la Balenciaga SS'13. If you like it then you should've put a, you know... 

Come back next week to see what I've unearthed for the boy/man/boyman in your life. I ain't too proud to beg. For more gift ideas, follow my Pinterest GIFT board. Pinterest is shit (not the shit - just plain, old shit), but you won't be sorry. I LOVE YOU!

COME AS YOU ARE

First, I'd like to acknowledge something:

The SS'13 Paris and Milan shows were feebly covered on this blog and for that I sincerely apologize. What can I say... the fashion month challenge was a flop. The blogging equivalent of LiLo designing for Ungaro.

 Smells like sartorial suicide.

Even after an 8-ball EIGHT STRAIGHT HOURS OF HARD WORK, Lindsay can tell these designs are Loh-lacking.

In my case, attempting to stifle my superfluous rhetoric also seemed to stifle my creativity. I felt boxed in, deflated, I didn't have anything to say. MY CREATIVITY DITCHED. IT WALKED OUT ON ME. Dramatic, duh, but also accurate. I happen to love my words and after I imposed a limit on them, I felt a sense of hostility towards this portal. I just... didn't feel like blogging. Meh.

MUTE.

IS THIS THE WAY THE WORLD ENDS? NOT WITH A BANG BUT WITH A BLOG WHIMPER?

As a professor of mine once said: "there's something special about you, or... I don't know... you are... insane? Too much, actually. But, I'm afraid if I tell you to tone it down I'll be HARMING YOU AND THE WORLD AND ALL IT'S CREATURES.. you talk too much.

Never doubt one thing about me, kids: it's tough being so supremely full of shit. So, I'll be damned if I am ever censored; especially if I am ever censored by my own self. I'm here, I'm chemically imbalanced, get used to it.

Now that my desire for a regular verbal exorcism has returned, I'm ready to have a massive love-fest with this blog. I'm also prepared to change things up a bit - the time has come to diversify. There will still be fashion, but there will be other topics, as well. I will not constrain or restrain myself much. If I like it, it will be here. If I'm thinking about it, I will share. At times there will be more - or fewer - images; there will be more - or less - writing.

One thing will certainly come into effect: I will not write about things simply because I feel obligated to mention them, or because everyone else is writing about them. If it doesn't genuinely give me tingles or get the flag up my pole, it won't be here anymore. 

GET READY TO GROW OUR POLES TOGETHER !

Now, with respect to the title of this post, not only will I be coming to you as more of myself from this point forward, but what I also mean to say is: my unholy obsession with Driesus Van Noten continues.

The sole reason I'm still compelled to mention the SS'13 shows is Van Noten's insane collection - an androgynous display of grunge couture that is so excellent it would make any modern 90's maven convulse with enthusiasm.

Dries delivers 90's staples like plaid shirts, pajama-inspired garments (my favourite, remember? here and here) and chunky sweaters that have been given a shit, shower and shave at Le Meurice (as my supremely eloquent grandfather says). 

Plaid shirts are no longer flannel; they are organza. Pajamas are no longer polyester; they are silk and mousseline. Chunky sweaters are no longer itchy wool, mohair or acrylic; they are cashmere. 

It seems that Van Noten's muse is Courtney Love circa 2012 and I'm majorly gulping the spiked kool-aid he's serving. The roots are painted on, the lips are penciled and filled in expertly, and the hair is courtesy of Bumble and Bumble wave spray not the morning-after byproduct of a sweaty romp with Dave Grohl.

My favourite look is one I fully intend to imitate for the remainder of my.. life... as I continually strive to impersonate the lovechild of Jenna Lyons and Kurt Cobain.

This was a Nirvana/Paris mash up for the fashun ages, on par or superior to what is arguably the greatest Nirvana mash up to ever grace this planet:

Soak it in... smells like post-pubescent musk teen spirit, freaks.

Follow the insanity on Twitter @CWICW or, you know, send me erotic love letters: crazywithitcrazierwithout@gmail.com. 

BACK TO THE FUTURE

Although I am of the opinion that it's always far better to move forward rather than backward, in a moment of time travel that is ultimately so confusing and mind-bending it can only be served to you by Michael J. Fox FASHION PEOPLE me, today we're skipping back in an effort to look forward at next Spring/Summer's situation for a second time.

 DOC BROWN: MY FILM ALTER EGO DRESSED EVER-CHICLY IN WINTER WHITE + MARANT-INSPIRED KICKS. 

ARE YOU ALL WITH ME? No? In simple terms: let's go back to collectively drooling over the rad clothes and other sartorial shit seen on the runway in September and early October, which will then appear in magazines January, and finally be worn in May. Earliest April. Ready to board the De-Laur-ean? THIS ALL still makes no sense, fuck it FEELS SO CLEAR NOW.

Onwards, fools: In a stunning feat of rhetoric, my one-sentence fashion month challenge continues. Below, you will find the final New York delicacies (and next week, the Milan and Paris instalments), before the usual programming rears its head and life on this portal returns to normal levels of wEiRd.

May I quickly say - in my defense - I prefer to see all the collections before I present them to you through my special tint of rose-coloured crazy. SO THAT'S WHY I WAITED. Just to be safe. In case some brilliant, life-changing insight arrived after Paris was over that could alter the way I see New York it didn't. May I also say I'm currently suffering from a mean case of cheek hives. Thank your respective higher powers that you don't have to see my mangled face on the screen while you spend time with my brain juice. GOD BLESS YOU, INTERWEBZ.



Let's kick it off with Jason Wu.

Wu knew I was desperate for some Helmut Newton ribollita revisitata and ladled it out dirty delicious with lace, leather, harnesses, net veils and Nadja Auermann crimson lips in a collection crafted for seductive yet tough bitches that want to use their sartorial choices to allude to their seductive yet tough bitchiness (there's an upcoming La Perla collaboration to boot, for those that would rather reserve lace/leather/bondage for hitting the materazz'). Bonus sentence: gazing at this collection I find myself wondering what piece Michelle Obama will use to congratulate America Barry O with come November in the House formerly known as White and now known as Second-Term Sexual.

Because of this wildly scrumptious collection, the Prabal Gurung girl still has the raddest prints and most ethereal wardrobe in town; bejeweled, sleeveless labcoats and sheer tunics over trousers grounded a slew of dresses replete with flimsy ruffles on ruffles on ruffles and a show-stopping maribou gown that aptly mimics her well-loved anatomy at Kotex time.

LET'S PAINT THE TOWN RED, FLO.

Alexander Wang ensures you will be kept cool underneath your powerful, deconstructed then reconstructed garb this Summer by rendering underwear virtually impossible; however, if you're into black, white and leather and have a fondness for publicly displaying your body in strips/wearing Star Trek-like strips all over your body  - all systems a-GO, Captain.

INSPIRATION

Narciso Rodriguez is this year's King of NYFW, displaying WHAT YOU WANT AND NEED TO WEAR IN REAL LIFE IF YOU PLAN ON TRANSFORMING INTO A VISION OF NEW YORK CITY PERFECTION BUT NOT REAL BECAUSE IT'S $5000 A PIECE. I AM DROOLING. 

Ralph Lauren's collection bursts with the latin-inspired garments I dream of wearing to the Goya Awards as Pedro Almodovar's latest muse: I envision a muy loco night of vigorously rolling my r's as I jaunt down the red carpet with Cruz-like locks, then dancing flamenco until sunrise, while Benicio del Toro attempts to spike my tequila with spanish fly. ¡GLORIOSO, GRACIAS RALPH!

 

Above, DREAM. Below, REALITY:

FASHION IS ULTIMATELY ABOUT DREAMS AND YOU CAN NEVER TAKE MY DREAMS AWAY FROM ME.

I end with my favourite collection live from New York, it's Altuzarra. He gave me sunshine on a cloudy day.

Everyone who knows me knows there's truly nothing I love more about fashion than two things - 1) fringed items that make me feel like STEVIE KNOCKERZ, and 2) clothes that bellow, "I AM RICH BUT STILL OPT TO DRESS LIKE A HOBO BY COVERING MY SKINS WITH KNOTTY RAGS + 24 KARAT GOLD ACCENTS" - for, I must ask, what could ever be greater than dressing like a modern-day gypsy queen covered in swinging tassels that flap faster than my mouth on meth? 

 

Special NYFW mentions go to:

RODARTE'S BADASS SERPENT EAR CUFFS

CALVIN KLEIN COLLECTION'S LWDeez A LA CHER HOROWITZ CIRCA 2013:

Toodles, America! Next time: we'll invade Europe together in a crazy fashion coup d'etat.

Until then, kids: stay alert, stay safe, stay out of swishy tracksuits.

Follow the insanity on Twitter @CWICW or, you know, send me erotic love letters: crazywithitcrazierwithout@gmail.com.