…a collection of anecdotes I’m in the process of assembling entitled Degeneracy: A Love Letter .
Essentially, the book is a series of stories about what my grandmother described as “orneriness”— in other words, the type of socially inappropriate behavior atypical to teenage delinquents that revels in being bad…but not evil.
Thing is, I seem to have been precocious in the sense that I jumped feet-first onto shaky territory before I’d even broken double digits in my natals. However, unlike my wiser peers who limited their bad behavior into a period referenced the same way as that proverbial phase The Parental Units continually told me my interest in eccentric fashion and avant garde music was, its been over two decades and my love for the outlandish remains omnipresent. Sure, perhaps its more refined in focus—but if anything, it flourishes.
Ditto the story with whatever inherent need I have to be a juvenile delinquent. No doubt I’ve well outstayed my welcome, as these days I’m twice the age of most teens yet just still can’t seem to “just let go.”
Granted, I don’t indulge in the reckless behavior I did throughout my early twenties. Not only is the thought of following the same pattern and routine a total yawn; its physically and mentally exhausting. For seven years, I cut out all drug and alcohol consumption completely. That’s when and how the book idea for Degeneracy: A Love Letter came about. I mean, cmon: theres really no need to dial Dr. Freud on the white courtesy phone to realize that whether its been my active pursuit to engage in unusual sexual proclivities known as Caking, frightening adults through acts of puppet terrorism, experimenting with polyamory, indulging in the sensory overload from various elements of the fetish scene—specifically, the slippery sheen of the latex, or hopping myself up via ritualistic can-to-mouth over-consumption of nonfat Redi-Whiptheres still an ornery element of my personality on the eternal quest for some new kind of kick.
Amanda (one of my dearest friends, a responsible mother who’s incidentally a ‘partner in crime’ from those—ahem! We Dont Talk About Those Things Now—nascent years of naughty behavior when we were trapped within the chokehold of the Southern Baptist Bible Belt notched in Jonesboro, Arkansas) is illustrating each of these romanticized, exalted, and equally self-deprecating tales through the lens of her camera. However Ms. Brooks chooses to interpret the text is her decision: be it literal, tongue-in-chic, or in a manner perhaps not as obvious…that’s none of my business. Still, Ive gotta admit: weve been fortunate thus far in the sense that theres been no shortage of dynamic individuals who’ve donated their talent, time and physical being (you know, bodies) to function as the medium for Amanda’s canvas of choice.
In this instance, model/actress Mageina Tovah (Spiderman 2-3, Joan of Arcadia, et al) gives a preview by proxy for the forthcoming release. Yes, its merely a fragment of time captured by shoddy digi-cam footage from an afternoon she spent being bad. Though at the time of me clacking out this palaver, Ive yet to see one frame of the finished product—so to have the real life reference of bargain-bin wallpaper rigged with duct tape, clamps and a seamless in front of a garage versus the end result?
Well, the recounting of events via oral history has everything to do with inflection, delivery, technique. By that same token, ultimately what Mageina provides Amanda, then Amanda delivers, make these anecdotes more universal—i.e., less about me.
And were getting closer both to an overall expansion in scope as well as the project’s completion.
All I have to do is continue cranking these “stories” out, reminding the reader/audience of the adage “No one can be sure my friend/Where truth begins and fiction ends…”
(Any Tones on Tail fans out there still? Anyone, anyone?)
*********
NOW, FOR THE PROPERS:
The stylemeisters “werkin’ their magic” with us there on the set are make-up artist Genevive Lamb (a ‘face-beater’ and cutie pie from Christian Dior) and the inimitable Irene Urias from Hollywood’s white-hot epicenter of cool: Hairroin Salon. Hairroin’s a powerhouse of prettiness, so if youre in the greater L.A. area and have yet to discover it
Yes, I wore the soles off my 20-e Doc's many an eve
dancing to the 12" mix of Ministry's "Everyday is Halloween"
in back-alley nightclubs where I was years away from years from
being 'of age' to attend in the first place
(translation: the main thing that made it fun--
or at least that's how it seems, looking back)
back in ancient history, also known as
my bereaved degenerate youth I've been revisiting some of the more
dynamic moments from what could aptly be filed away in memory
as 'The Clintagious Chronicles' due to
the current book project on which I've been working
Degeneracy: A Love Letter.
// R.I.P., oh Long Lost Love...despite the toxic goulash of highlights,
lowlifes and embarrassingly awkward good times, how
exhilarating it seems your freedom was // Whatever the case, here's a recent update "from the set,"
featuring the inimitable beauty of actress/model Mageina Tovah
in the first of her two looks for the day:
Copious detail/commentary is provided on the clip's YouTube page,
including info on the other peeps present who
deserve some serious 'propers' of their own.
(Irene Urias from Hairroin Salon, Genevive Lamb from Dior, and
of course my co-conspirator, Amanda Brooks:
childhood f(r)iend/former 'partner in crime'-turned-responsible mom)
Maendi and I lived by the edict that everyday presented
a new opportunity: the chance to become whomever/whatever we want
by dressing up.
To this day, I'm a tremendous advocate of the belief--
I mean, it was a mere three weeks ago, yet
I'm already missing Halloween.
With an outfit as genius as what Jared Gold concocted me,
how could I not?
and for the more detail-obsessed
FASHION DIE-HARDS OUT THERE,
here's a considerably morecomprehensive 5 minute clip in which
The Master of Delicate Decadenceshares everything from the costume's "reveal"
to secret compartments ensconced within:As for All Hallow's Eve 'proper,'
I gotta tell ya: generally speaking,
I was stoked to see so many
Alice in Wonderland
characters runnin' around...
There were a slew of them both at the 'Bitches Brew' party
as well as a hearty smattering of Mad Hatters afterwards
when we hit the Brite Spot
for some "fine" (enough) dining.
Seriously now: being a "Glad Hatter" myself--how could I not adore them?
Despite accusations that I'm a 'camera whore,' (harumph!)there aren't many pictures of me from the evening.
I managed to snap one of that dang adorable little Janine Jarman and
face-beater extraordinaire Noelle
within the first few minutes of our arrival,
the cheers began
as guests arrived...
Q: Ever "spanked the monkey"?
(Effing genius coincidence captured, that...)
As for me, I danced to the phenomenal tuneage spun by D.J.s Marta & Jen,
workin' my 'Demented Barber, Circa '99...1899, That Is' accessories
for all they--and the accompanying attitude in which I came "dressed"--
were worth
(looks like SOMEONE needs a hug, hrmm?
Just call me 'Mr. Congeniality!')
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Hence the "Not My Best Look" oilslick on my gesicht
(Hand on aMerrie breast, though Mr. Gold seems unimpressed...)
Rockin' TWO TYPES OF CLEAVE...
Thanks for the mammaries, Miss Sarah Merrie! [Ampersand.Hearts.Semicolon]
Another shot from the evening:
Kaiden as "Epic Fail: Scene 'LOL'," Stevie Ryan as a pretty version of Pee Wee Herman,
and Adam Paranoia throwin'Teen Wolf in a most serious way...
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
And speaking of serious,
I was seriously surprised to learn that when my pal Brandon came to town for a visit
he comped me a frickin'--well, really expensive Madonna ticket.
9th row front, 3rd center of the 'T-shaped' stage
for one night
vs.
more than an entire month's rent?
Can't say I would've made that one happen myself...
* Thanks again, B! * (I love how undeniably excited he is...)
and of course, via his iPhone
we've got
"Pics or It Didn't Happen"O.K... so Home Skillet put on a phenomenal show.
I won't make any references about how "I would hope so"; moreover,
I'll refrain from utilizing any clichéd monikers in my commentary.
(Seriously journalists: by this point, any hack who refers to Mz. M as "The Material Girl"
should be force-fed the Oxford English Dictionary
One. Page. At a time.)
but let me just tell you: when she threw down some
DOUBLE DUTCH... Well, let's just say... despite another '80s ricochet
(nod to Keith Haring notwithstanding)
I was seventeen shades of impressed.
It's no secret I've been trying to assemble my own double-dutch squad
capable of weaving our way through the ropes while
dressed in elaborate couture
for quite some time...
So until 'The Swingers' come to fruition,
I'll cease this gargantuan post with the note
What I'm really dying to know is:
Has anyone else heard the rumor that Alexander McQueen
will be designing a limited-run for Target?
They've scored some outstanding talent in the past
but McQueen?
Truly: it's a shame Isabella Blow isn't here with us
to share her thoughts on the topic
(not to mention her opinions in general--but that's a given)
And on a final rash note about fash:
Did anybody rack up any great scores among the merch available via H & M
through their collaboration via Comme Des Garcons?
I wasn't able to devote the entire morning of the 13th to waiting in line
in an attempt to score at least one piece of the instant collectibles.
(Different story altogether with the Viktor & Rolf launch from...hrmm...
Two years ago, wasn't it?)
However, thanks to my dear pal Pedro,
I didn't completely miss out on the goods
that were gone in...what? Something like 17 minutes?
And though you might have thought it'd never happen,
this is me,
waaaay all kinds of outta here!
(an outburst on 08 14 08 — while harassing that dang Audrey Kitching during our photo shoot for the new Lipstick Prophets catalog.)
In between shots–and struggling to keep the Malibu sand out of my eyes– you’ll see I got down to some
VERY SERIOUS BUSINESS.
Gentlemen, don’t mess with me unless you can rock hardcore Viktor & Rolf, Jared Gold, Comme des Garcons, Alexander McQueen, Vivienne Westwood–and of course, hat sculptures by Philip Treacy and Stephen Jones.
While. You Navigate. The Muthrafeckin’ ropes.
After watching this clip, somehow I doubt I’ll need to “pull the crazy card” on ya… or?!
the cheers began as guests arrived...
Q: Ever "spanked the monkey"? (Effing genius coincidence captured, that...) As for me, I danced to the phenomenal tuneage spun by D.J.s Marta & Jen, workin' my 'Demented Barber, Circa '99...1899, That Is' accessories for all they--and the accompanying attitude in which I came "dressed"-- were worth
(looks like SOMEONE needs a hug, hrmm? Just call me 'Mr. Congeniality!')
(Hand on a Merrie breast, though Mr. Gold seems unimpressed...)
Rockin' TWO TYPES OF CLEAVE... Thanks for the mammaries, Miss Sarah Merrie! [Ampersand.Hearts.Semicolon] Another shot from the evening:
Kaiden as "Epic Fail: Scene 'LOL'," Stevie Ryan as a pretty version of Pee Wee Herman, and Adam Paranoia throwin' Teen Wolf in a most serious way...
* Thanks again, B! * (I love how undeniably excited he is...) and of course, via his iPhone we've got
"Pics or It Didn't Happen" O.K... so Home Skillet put on a phenomenal show. I won't make any references about how "I would hope so"; moreover, I'll refrain from utilizing any clichéd monikers in my commentary. (Seriously journalists: by this point, any hack who refers to Mz. M as "The Material Girl" should be force-fed the Oxford English Dictionary One. Page. At a time.) but let me just tell you: when she threw down some DOUBLE DUTCH... Well, let's just say... despite another '80s ricochet (nod to Keith Haring notwithstanding) I was seventeen shades of impressed. It's no secret I've been trying to assemble my own double-dutch squad capable of weaving our way through the ropes while dressed in elaborate couture for quite some time... So until 'The Swingers' come to fruition, I'll cease this gargantuan post with the note What I'm really dying to know is: Has anyone else heard the rumor that Alexander McQueen will be designing a limited-run for Target? They've scored some outstanding talent in the past but McQueen? Truly: it's a shame Isabella Blow isn't here with us to share her thoughts on the topic (not to mention her opinions in general--but that's a given) And on a final rash note about fash: Did anybody rack up any great scores among the merch available via H & M through their collaboration via Comme Des Garcons? I wasn't able to devote the entire morning of the 13th to waiting in line in an attempt to score at least one piece of the instant collectibles. (Different story altogether with the Viktor & Rolf launch from...hrmm... Two years ago, wasn't it?) However, thanks to my dear pal Pedro, I didn't completely miss out on the goods that were gone in...what? Something like 17 minutes? And though you might have thought it'd never happen, this is me, waaaay all kinds of outta here!
