1. At the bookstore last night a man asked an employee if they had something, I missed what the item actually was, but it was something rare, one-of-a-kind. The employee shook his head and said, "I'm so sorry, someone just came in and bought it as a gift for her husband." And the man looked at him for a second before responding, slowly, "Wait...what did she look like?" The employee blushed, realizing what he had done, and tried backtracking, saying that maybe he was mistaken, maybe it wasn't really a gift for a husband, and we all laughed, and another customer said "Just try to act surprised," and we all laughed again. READ MORE
Watch Charli XCX on The Today Show, you say? Don't mind if I do!!
While most of art history looks askance at female pubic hair, Marilyn Minter invites you to get all up in these hairy snatches. Just as she’d previously done in her glossy, liquid photos of women’s lipstick-loved mouths, bedazzled high-heels in mud, gilded tongues, and glittered eyes, Minter simultaneously deconstructs and glamorizes her subject in Plush.
Really into Chelsea G. Summer's review of Marilyn Minter's latest book, Plush; I'm really into anything that combines women doing what they want with their bodies, women controlling representations of said bodies, and jokes about what a loser John Ruskin was. Read the whole review here.
Clarice Lispector gave exactly one television interview in her entire life and—unsurprisingly—it is 22 minutes and 49 seconds of perfect. Apparently, the director of TV Cultura in São Paulo had gathered all his courage and simply asked her to appear, and she said yes. READ MORE
...I would have exactly one dollar, because I've only been asked once. But that seems like more than enough, right? This was back during my makeup artist days and it was for some terrible independent short film, a kind of "safe sex" mockumentary informercial, and a character was supposed to hallucinate a pregnancy that ended in a teenage boy being born. "I want him to be, like, covered in placenta," the director told me in our initial meeting. "Like his hair should be dripping wet from placenta." READ MORE
The voice is your head that’s asking how dare you is the voice produced by an environment that’s going to be challenged by your daring. The risk of undervaluing what you have to offer, especially for women of color, is so much greater than the risk of overvaluing it. Your contribution may not be grand, but its absence is going to be deeply felt and be part of a much greater void in our culture and history. READ MORE
But it isn’t really fashion that has such a hold on me. It is (like the ultimate book in my head, which is storyless, characterless and perfect) an image, without any detail, of the perfect outfit, the one that slips over my frame and drapes itself around my contours in a way that finally defines me—look, this is what I am—just as my flesh defines the boundaries between myself and the world. And it’s a private thing essentially, not primarily about being seen in or envied for a fashionable look: indeed, I generally imagine wearing these incomparable outfits in the privacy of my own home. It’s stuff to sit on the sofa with that I’m after first of all; then it’s OK to go out and flaunt the frocks. Fashion statements and identity statements are much of a muchness as far as I’m concerned. To look like, to feel like and to be like are as close as flesh and bone.
After reading this interview with Jenny Diski in The Guardian yesterday, I fell down a bit of a Jenny Diski rabbit hole; is there any other kind? Her 2002 essay on fashion as art, as a practicality, as an identity, and even as a kind of unwanted charity, is the kind of fashion writing I live for. READ MORE