Wednesday, October 30, 2013


I've been trotting on my Azzedine Alaïa heels today, I've left my Hogan sneakers behind, not because its unanimous, everyone find them intolerable, its just because I'm meeting Rhodes & Fast. 
I should therefore represent Paris accordingly, and be rewarded a metal for it too. 
Try racing around on cobblestone paths on 15cm heels....I didn't think so.

This building has a Californian tone for London, and naturally it stands out, as its the Fashion and Textile Museum. We would not have it otherwise in our microcosm. 

I stress to Zandra upon arrival, how much I love the building and that I feel nostalgic peeking at it, because it carries me back to L.A. 
Zandra whips my fingers: "Its not inspired by Los Angeles Alexandra, its Mexico for god sakes. I've commissioned one of the most famous Mexican architects, Ricardo Ligoretta to erect it, he died a year ago, its my penthouse too." 
Mama Mia! fine.

I'm impressed Zandra can extend her vision of aesthetics into a building. If I had to extend my mad world into a home, I still have no clue what it could be. 
I've always wanted to live in a Tree house like the Robinson's. Oh yeah....That would be lovely, a nice tree house in the Park of Versailles. Like the one Winnie the Pooh has, or Hagrid's house in Harry Potter, only on top of tree. 

Zandra Rhodes is hot, those smokey eyes, have a killer attitude, and that boiling panache is well alive. 
I could not stop gazing into her eyes, she's prettier than ever.For the past 25 years, Zandra has weld commerce and madness with brio and those eyes carry a good dose of indolence. Zandra has seen it all, met them all, introduce them all and convinced them all. 
We're taking about the 1980's artists saga.

Insanely beautiful graphics.

Oh my days - Marisa Berenson, I adore you, I worship you, I love you, I desire you. You make me go nuts. You're the prettiest actress model in the world, you didn't need surgery, those lips were fine as they were. 

On your way to Woolich, you hop on the DLR and head to Westferry studios. In the brink of a moment, I though I was back in Brooklyn. 
London is this vast, that despite having survived here for 6 years, I never had the occasion to take the DLR. This garguantous capital, imposes 9 lives to suss it out. Since I've got no intentions in being reincarnated in a cat, London will remain undisclosed to me.

Mark Fast FW2013 collection. 

I'll stop taking it personally when Mark's PR refuses to accomodate a look for AÏE. From now on, I'll hang up the phone, move on, and let go. I will not smash the phone, curse the PR, weep on my desk, have two shots of vodka or take out on my frustration on dad.

  Mark Fast creates HAND-MADE unique pieces, in other words -COUTURE-garments. 
There is literally ONE piece for the world, and so its OK if its impossible to photograph a talent in his ravishingly, amazing, hot, smashing, dazzling - to die for - dresses.


Mark and I, fly together on that note. We agree that meeting Mr Alaïa before death take us part, is essential, and that life has not been fullfilled until the encounter happens.
Mark can prepare his grave now, Mr Alaïa reveres Mr Fasts work, and has told him personally. 

Mark made me cry of laughter, garments of his collection carry peculiar names, such as CHINASSID, meaning Chanel on Acid or CRACKONI, Missoni on crack.
(I'm wearing Crakoni)

The Canadian prodigal child

Mark Fast all in black. 
I suggested he wear one of his knitted capes, but designers love their monastic style, to better translate their fantasy onto womenswear.

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