« Posts tagged editorial

Zoetica Ebb and Clint Catalyst for Giuseppina Magazine

Giuseppina Magazine : Halloween Edition : Blood Red V.5

Release Date : October 30, 2014
Editor-In-Chief : Jessica Rowell of J-Chan’s Designs

Zoetica Ebb and Clint Catalyst
Make-Up Artist : Zoetica Ebb
Photography : Deniz Uzunoglu
Hair : Master Stylist Irene Urias @ Hairroin Salon
Clothing / Fashion Design / Accessories : Mother of London by Mildred von Hildegard

Alright, I realize this blog tends to be a bit Zo-centric . . . though not without sufficient cause! Not only is The Intergalactic Naturalist, Prodigal Cosmonomad and Mercury Vagabond a mega-talented creature of massive multi-media creative outpourings; moreover, not only is she one of the most stead-fast, stand-up, all-around superlative friends one could hope to have . . . but also, that beauty! The solo shot in which she’s serving Military Chic? Seriously : Can. Not. Get over!

On a similar tip : Steady gagging over the radness of a certain Editor-In-Chief, who featured me giving face two issues prior; then surprised me with the back cover slot, current ish! [So much adoration and admiration, Jessica! Truly . . . Truly : It’s an honor and a privilege ♥]

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The Hangers also express mad gratitude to actor / musician / promoter and international nightclub impresario Mario Diaz for the benevolent usage of his estate, Casa de la Decadencia.

Incidentally, the full-frontal, effing incandescent career of none other than Mssr. Deez-The-Deed Diaz was immortalized on celluloid earlier this year, via the release of Club King — a feature-length documentary directed by Jon Bush, in which the solar system of this evening star is chronicled in all its sordid, dazzling glory. Check it!

Clint Catalyst, Darenzia and Johnny Raymond for Giuseppina Magazine

Cover Story / Editorial Feature for Giuseppina 21 : The Acceptance Issue

Release Date : August 20, 2014
Editor-In-Chief : Jessica Rowell of J-Chan’s Designs

With Clint Catalyst, Darenzia and Johnny Raymond Jr.
Photography : Dirk Mai
Make-Up Artist : Shandra Jade
Hair : Master Stylist Irene Urias @ Hairroin Salon

FAIR / FORE WARNING : IMAGES “BENEATH THE CUT” ARE NSFW
»Read More

And Here’s One For The Fang-Bangers, The Coffin-Rockers, The Couture Hounds:

Have I mentioned how much I love the site Haute Macabre?

Haute Macabre, haute goth, logo

From the lavish editorial finds in their impeccably-curated archive of Tear Sheets, to the highly covetable objets-de-art many an absinthe-hued eye would ogle with envy — in the darkest-of-dandy / Domestigoth‘s high-end digs, without doubt.

This virtual locale of the monochromatic cognoscenti also posts invaluable blogature, with topics ranging from How To Wear A Headband And Not Look Dumb to DIY projects for dark-siders interested in harnessing creativity to learn How To Make [ One’s ] Own Latex Gear, or even rock a wicked sicked take on Christian Louboutin for Rodarte’s Spiky Heels With Studs.

Short of the long [ of tooth ]?
This site is bloody genius.

The following archived cough! STOLEN cough! editorial post was written by sultry wordsmith Samantha, both Haute Macabre’s co-founder and a veteran Suicide Girl, who shares her personal exploits at Five Twenty Three [dot] com

But enough of my incessant rambling — now it’s

“…Over To You, Sam!”

Vampiricus Synonymous

vampire fashion, haute goth, men's fashion, Clint Catalyst, Hoda Amel Abdalla

Sun-Sensitive Brocade Cloak by Jared Gold Couture † Vivienne Westwood Tie Shirt

Dark G-Star Denim † Romanian Militia Motorcycle Boots

Seeing as how I have spent my entire weekend glued to my computer working while listening to the first of the Sookie Stackhouse books on audio, I feel it totally appropriate to post this vampire editorial sent to us by Clint Catalyst . Since Nixon posted his spoken word video a few weeks back, he and I have bonded over our mutual love of True Blood, so in Fangtasia Fashion, here’s a first look at his recent shoot by Hoda Amel Abdalla.

Clint is shown wearing pieces from Jared Gold‘s Caspian Collection runway show. Each item is a one-off, and was not duplicated for public distribution.

Tophat, vampire, haute goth, fashion, Clint Catalyst, Hoda Amel Abdalla

Felt Top Hat with Couture Grosgrain Trim † Vintage Victorian Mourning Suit circa late 1800s

White Oxford from Ross Dress for Less † After Six Tuxedo Neckpiece

John Fluevog Wingtip Ankle Boots

Viking, vampire, fashion, editorial, Clint Catalyst

Jared Gold Couture Black Phoenix Cape † Jared Gold Couture Polygamist Werewolf Armrills

Jared Gold Couture Dark Tundra Infantry Cap † Vivienne Westwood Shirt

Kill City Stretch Denim Jeans † Romanian Militia Motorcycle Boots

Brocade cape, haute goth, Clint Catalyst, Hoda Amel Abdulla

Jared Gold Couture Blood Bay Foundry Brocade Evening Coat † Marrow Satin Cravat

Tarina Tarantino Necklace † White H&M Button Up Shirt

Vivienne Westwood Tie † Ksubi 5-pocket Peg Leg Pants

Vintage Comme des Garçons shoes

Warlock, fashion, editorial, Clint Catalyst, Hoda Amel Abdalla

Jared Gold Couture Black Greasy Colonial Jacket † Jared Gold Salem Witch Stetson Hat

Ksubi Black “Dee Dee” Straight Leg Stretch Denim † Irregular Choice Suede Boots

All pieces on Ericka, Clint’s willing victim, were her own.

Make-Up/Special FX by Julie Pound

»Read More

Snip, Clip, Scan… It’s “Show & Tell” for the 21st Century

O.K., before I have to dial whine-one-one for the waaaahmbulance, please allow me to throw down a disclaimer in hopes that I’ll spare even a single set of phalanges out there clacking terse comments about how I “really need to post this type of information while issues are still on the newsstands…” [ad nauseum, ad nauseum; cue vomitorium]

‘Cause hey—guess what?

I really need to post this shit in a more expeditious manner, man.

Just so happens that–ahem–I might very well have a few issues of my own to deal with. (One of which is the preposition by which the previous sentence just ended, dangling like an unworn pair of silver Les Chiffoniers’ leggings aching for the latest Girl of the Moment to slide into them before dashing out to paint the town bloodshot. It’s as inherent a pairing as Edie Segwick hopped-up on a fistful of whites and having her coiff spray painted Just For The F Of It while donning Balenciaga originials. What other lack of logic explains the perfect sense it makes to purchase what’s essentially a thick pair of pantyhose with a thousand dollar price tag? Not really…but REALLY, babes.)

But oh, that’s but a footnote of damage from a former version of myself in which I worked as a technical writer. A footnote among essays within archives buried deep inside some virtual boneyard we’ll call The Chronicles of the Clintasaurus and opt to visit some other time just dust our hands of it.

.kthanxbai.

At least all this self-aggrandizing material is contained within a single post. Couldn’t give two turds about what ‘they’ might have said about me?

Scroll on; scroll on!

It’s as easy as the pro-Ana mindset by which to skip dessert:
“Does Not Exist.”

What does exist, nonetheless, on the other acrylic claw:

Recent media in which I appear–sometimes but a smidgen; luckier instances full effing-on.

For instance, the following pic and mention in H Magazine is a case of what might be deemed “peripheral press.” Or, to utilize the vernacular of savvy SoCal realtors in sensible shoes: an “adjacent feature.”

Not gonna lie (or “ngl,” for those who speak Millennial): this is one of the first photographs of Mister Glenn Kaino that shows how handsome he is. Not exactly a stranger to the slick and glossy pages of newsstand racks, there’ve been many a magazine where I thought the printed results of the flashbulb-pop just didn’t do him justice. Props to the photographer for capturing why it is his lovely wife CoryLynn went “Whoa”—y’know?

And insofar as my image—the look I ‘turned out’* for bits and pieces of my soul to be sacrificed via Glenn’s manipulation of the bulky/beautiful Polaroid Big Shot favored by Warhol himself?

*’turned out’ by no means appropriating cred as if this was my own creation! Au contraire, it was the make-up of Stacey Humell; the cut/color/extensions of scissormeister Irene Urias of Hairroin, Hollywood’s hottest salon (www.hairroinsalon.com), and–excluding the Westwood brooch–another cerebellum-melding, history-making, custom couture creation by the genius Jared Gold

(moving right along…)

Big deal if I’m “giving away too many of my secrets” by sharing this delicious little inside joke—it friggin’ slaughters me how many people took the ‘pomp and pout’ of the picture at face value. I mean, if I’m going to rock an outfit, hair and make-up that ostentatious… how could I not get “in character”?

What ELSE would I do? Smile like a politician and “compassionately” hold a stranger’s baby?

And in the meantime, reword “Let Them Eat Cake” into something more…inclusive…in tone?

yeahRIIIGHT.

It’s like this: one wink or nudge of the elbow during the Polaroid shoot, or Nhat Nguyen’s studio takes thereafter in which I “amped the prance” so high; by foppish standards it was even off-the-charts, or even a single word cluing in ‘The Children’ a la Interwebz? (No worries now: it’s been months… and while it’s a hasty generalization, yes: gnats have better attention spans than they do, for the most part.)

Let’s face the music, sweetcheeks:

Simply wouldn’ta worked.

Art versus Artifice // Appearance versus Reality // Truth Revealed Through a Guise // Everything Is “Real”—Though What Of It Is Lies?

So many motifs swirling around in my head like a majorette’s glitter-fringed baton at half-time…

Yet all of them beg the question, it seems:

Exactly who or what is this ‘Clint Catalyst’ supposed to be, anyway?

And why would it even matter if he (and I) weren’t among the ‘Lucky Ones’ in Flaunt magazine, issue 96?

I’ll tell ya what it was like when I spot-checked the (who cares if it’s a mere thumb-nail sized) pic, standing there, thumbing through the pricey pages in the Echo Park 7-11:

the second I saw my little powder blue top hat (by L.A.’s premier Gothic Cholita, Creepsuela Switchletto: “big ups” to my shiv-wieldin’ glamour sis), I felt a surge of validation sweep over me like the frost-bitten clouds fleeing a freezer behind me as some nameless faceless customer opened then sealed shut the door.

No doubt this earth-shattering, molar-splitting, life-changing moment is fraught with layers of meaning… but c’mon, isn’t everything? (Unless, of course, it’s deconstructed to the bloodless core of nothingness—but that’s so Small-Town-Liberal-Arts-School-Curriculum-For-30K+-A-Year-Of-Make-Believe, I’d rather just ‘keep it real’ and say

Mostest Massive thanks to Photographer Melissa Manning and Flaunt magazine!

Shit you nunca, y’all: that was wickedcool of you, and was “Really Saying Something…”

[Fun.Boy.Three.From.This.One.Here.]

Verbose? Hell yes. I conquer “tl;dr” pussywillows one paragraph at a time—deal with it, or head off for culturally-stimulating activities like an episode of “Cops” or a Budweiser-fueled swirly-go-’round-and-then-down on the Sunset Strip’s Mechanical Bull.

“I.D.G.I,” arseholians. (Said, of course, with the deepest affection…)

Besides: this is kind of like, my diary…yo?

All the same, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell you, though: the printwork I’m most stoked about as of late is a two-page editorial in the latest Lipstick Prophets catalog/magazine.

Here’s one of the images from the spread…

Copies are available through LipstickProphets.com for a scant 2 1/2 bones — and that’s with free shipping and handling, dearlings.

With the American economy in the shitter as it is, at least somebody’s followed my lead regarding “Other Humanitarian Acts That Require Little or No Effort.”

The Clint’s Notes version?

Have passport; will travel. ‘Handling’ is subjective terminology best discussed in lush, exotic locales—and, as with everything else in life, varies from individual to individual (all the while assured that we’re treated equally: It is, after all, the American Way!).

Air Kisses and Ass Kissing,

CC “Giving You” L.A.

in the best of

worst of

ways

(and vice-versa)