I’m Not a Cat Lady

All Twitter, All the Time

  The New York Times' obsession with Twitter is getting a little creepy. Since May 1st, it has racked up seven articles about Twitter, including, confoundingly, a blog entry about how a U.S. commander in Iraq doesn't use it. And that's not even counting the references: In his Bits blog entry What Annoys Me About Twitter on April 22, Saul Hanson provided his own count of 32 references that day—one of them being, serendipitously, Why I'm Obsessed With Twitter. What might have pulled the proverbial finger from the dyke—oops, dike—was Oprah Winfrey's decision to become a late adapter a few days earlier—live! AND ALL IN CAPS!—which caused Twitter traffic (Twaffic?) to jump by 43 percent.

It's okay to get all excited about new-fangled phenomena, but this is a little extreme. Yesterday's Sunday Styles piece, A Night Out With the Twitter Guys, is like the New York Times starring in an episode of MADE called "I Want to Sit at the Cool Table!" It's The Real Housewives of New York's Ramona dressing like her daughter. It's a little pathetic. The average age of the NYT's reader is 45.9, which falls in the age range that makes up 5 percent of Twitter's demo. The average NYT reader doesn't need 24-hour bulletins on Twitter, nor to hang out with the Twitter Guys, who, by the way, seem like fabulous dinner companions—they spent most of the evening staring into their phones, tweeting. (And, um, look at them. This is the cool table?)

The NYT needs to calm down already and to stop trying to be as hip as its kids. Their brains are wired differently, they're moving faster than you are, don't be so desperate to keep up. You might rip a tendon.

photo via New York Times

UPDATE: Browsing through Gawker this morning I came across this item about writer Dan Baum Twittering his experience of getting hired and fired by the New Yorker. Unfortunately, Gawker's also gone all breathless over Twitter in recent months too—no doubt a result of its shift into its more advertising-friendly corporate environment of late—and applauds this gimmicky move as the future of journalism, right here right now. Except: Come on. He's just writing an essay 140-characters-at-a-time, creating serial tweets that can't possibly hold up individually but require a separate forum to string each tweet together. It's an embarrassingly transparent gimmick. It ain't tweeting, it's twatting.

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: Dan Baum explains his rationale behind the micro-serialization here. It's an interesting argument. Still, I call bullshit.

Fashion's Groundhog Day

If shoulder pads are seriously back in style, then the fashion industry needs to retire. Here we are, 10 years into the new millennium, and fashion is recycling itself at such lightning speed, soon everyone will be wearing Ugg Boots again. Oh wait. They never stopped, did they?

I'm no fashion historian, but I do know that around this time last millennium, fashion elements were being introduced for the very first time, like corsetless dresses, the bias cut and casual skirts. These were not simply old looks rehashed for a generation that was too young to remember them the first time around: They were experimental, revolutionary innovations. Throughout the decade, firsts galore: trousers, separates, knits, jeans, miniskirts, bikinis, the little black dress, minimalist shapes, the bra.

We've had clever twists on past styles, like Halston's revival of 30s and 40s glamour for the 70s disco era, or Vivienne Westwood's wildly witty, ironic takes on British classics dating back to the 17th century. But what's happening now is just straight-up reproduction. Back in the 80s, the shoulder-pad silhouette was an obvious homage to the militaristic shapes of the 40s: Women were back in the workplace after a brief fling during World War II. What's the latest incarnation, a nod to Dynasty? If so, why? The bejewelled, pointy shoulder was never a cool look. Why try to pass it off as hip or edgy now? And don't tell me it's ironic. Not when a Kardashian is wearing it. Same goes for the dreaded harem pants with the floor-sweeping crotch, which desperate designers have been trying to revive since 2007. Okay when swanning around the Studio 54 dancefloor with cocaine-packed nostrils; a joke when MC Hammer wore 'em; an even bigger joke now, I don't care how louche and model-skinny you are. Even worse: harem shorts. Just throw on a pair of Snuggies, no one will notice the difference. Superfluously, New York magazine asks, Are You Excited About Harem Pants, or Just Plain Terrified? The answer: Neither. Anyone who reads New York is too old for these, end of story.

The pouf skirt—been there, several times actually, in the 80s, 90s and again in 2003–5. The 80s pirate boot—I think it's been five years now. The gladiator sandal—three summers and still going strong! The Ray-Ban Wayfarer: The hepcat's choice in the 50s turned glamorous in the 60s turned rock-star cool in the late 70s/early 80s turned frat favorite by 1983 thanks to Tom Cruise in Risky Business, and now—in candy colors and stripes and plaid, oversized and undersized—as boring and ubiquitous as a Gossip Girl. Not clever. Not edgy. Not original. Just sad.

It must be crap to be in your teens or early 20s now, when the clothes being sent down the runway were all worn by your mom. Whatever they try to do to be stylish or edgy has been done and done and done some more. Their fashion choices are sloppy thirds and fourths and fifths at this point. They'll never know what it feels like to wear a brand-new look that's never been seen before. The upside? Hmm. I guess it's super-hip to recycle.

iPhone's Coming: Bring Out the Dags!

The iPhone launches on Friday, June 29, and reports are in that norks and derds from all over the land are already in line outside New York's two Apple stores. The Times (UK) is calling them "Apple Tragics." I think I'll just call them iTwats.

This guy was first in line at the midtown store. He's already been there for 24 hours. So clever.

These two specimens were the first at the Soho store.

It's 90 degrees out there. Tomorrow it's going up to 93. It's super-humid. The skies are going to open. There will be thunder and lightning.

Good luck guys! I'm so sure it will be totally worth it.

photos courtesy of valleywag

Got Ray-Bans?

I'm really glad the weather's getting better and the sun is shining and all that. But not so psyched about some of the unfortunate sartorial sights: stocky, hirsute jocks in baggy khaki cargo shorts and flip-flops, gaggles of girls sporting identical tunic-and-leggings ensembles or shorty-shorty-short-shorts. And smock tops galore--it has never been so challenging to play the "Fat or Pregnant?" game.

But perhaps the worst offense has to be the resurgence of the Ray-Ban Wayfarer. They are ev-ery-where. Naturally all the self-appointed Hollywood Hipsters kicked it off, no doubt thinking they're all super-cool and cutting edge.

I'm sorry, when I see the Ray-Ban Wayfarer, everyone just looks like this.

Nogurt Anyone?

 

So that trendy treat that's sooooo gooooood  people call it Crackberry, well, hey! It's a little more cracklike than we thought. Seems Pinkberry--the designer frozen yogurt that created such insane mob scenes when the first store opened in West Hollywood that guards were hired for crowd control? The fabulosity of which resulted in 13 outlets in Los Angeles and 4 in New York? And inspired in a mini-explosion of copycats? It isn't yogurt at all. The airy, tangy concoction is created from a powder base, which, according to a civil suit filed against the company, is then "mixed with water and/or milk on site." Ain't no bacteria cultures in there. No healthy, clean, organic goodness at all, despite the fancy fruit toppings and healthy-chic flavors like green tea.

Now if this delicious allegation is true, there's really only one thing to say about it.

Source: Defamer

Joke's on You, Ladies!

So this, everybody, is the must-have shoe of the season. Women are sacrificing their newborns to get a pair. Waiting lists are a mile long. It always amazes me that women are so willing to put their name on waiting lists for fashion items—it's the biggest cliché ever. So Sex and the City Season 2.

I have a thing about super-high heels like this. I see women wibbling preciously along on the streets in their stiletto heels looking so… compromised. It’s not easy to walk with all your weight shifted onto the ball of your foot. I always hear that you get used to it but really high heels always make my feet hurt and, call me crazy, but I hate being in unnecessary pain. I also like to get from A to B without too many complications. I don’t want to be at the mercy of my stupid high heels when I'm navigating cracks and grates and cobblestones and unexpected shifts in pavement heights and angles. I’ve been known to lose it out there in a completely flat shoe.

However, millions of women seem to think that wearing stilettos is powerful and sexy and an absolutely mandatory part of being a woman. As a fashion writer rhapsodizes in the New York Post today: “…there’s something confident, gutsy and cool about a girl who can get that high.” Oh please. How about “slavish, gullible and vain?” Except not vain enough, apparently: Super-high heels might look sexy, but they really, really fuck up your feet. Just look at serial stilettoists Sarah Jessica Parker and Victoria Beckham, who both have the ugliest, buniony, bulgy-veined feet you’ve ever seen. “Granny feet,” Posh calls them. There's even a rumor that SJP’s feet are so funky, she had to have her feet digitally altered in Failure to Launch. She once tore several tendons in her foot after running in heels, yet still chirped, “I’ll never give them up!”

Well I guess she can’t, she’s about 4’11”. But honestly, why would anyone knowingly do this to themselves?  How different is risking deformity for the sake of looking “hot” from the archaic Chinese practice of foot-binding? I reckon the must-have sky-high heel trend is one of the meanest jokes gay fashion designers have ever played on women. “Let’s make a six-inch heel with a two-inch platform and watch them claw each others' eyes out for it. Haha, bitches!” I mean, they don’t have to wear them. Not in public, anyway.

The other day, a writer for the Daily Mail bought a pair of the new Yves Saint Lauren It Shoe to road-test. A male shop assistant "purred" that they made her look sexy and assures her that she could “dance all night in them.” Yeah, he'd know. He totally lies about how the ratio of platform to heel makes it super comfy. Look at that vertiginous drop. That is pain, sister. Still, Miss Daily Mail believes every word. Sucker.

I guess these shoes are fine if you're one of those people whose feet never ever touch pavement and you never ever have to stand and you’re escorted or perhaps even carried around on all your nights out. And, why, darling, they’d be just fabulous for the red carpet. But for anyone who's not a celebrity, model, trophy wife or Anna Wintour to get off on the idea that she's so cool to get that high? Not very clever. The only way to wear this shoe is when you’re on your back. For once, Miss Fergie-Ferg gets it right.

 

Best Thing I've Seen All Day

Kate Moss's clothing line launched yesterday at Topshop in London and there was a mob scene outside. People had queued for hours and were allowed inside in designated groups, each allotted 20 minutes to buy five items tops. The ladies went mad. Literally, I think—witness their photos. (Click to enlarge for the full effect.) Look at these clothes. You could do better at Conway! Admittedly there's a little mutton-dressed-as-lamb going on here, but even the three under-20s look a tad heiferish here. Today, this Daily Mail fashion writer rails about the "horrible synthetic fabrics and dingy colours" but gets caught up in the frenzy anyway, buys a bunch of crap and then hates herself later. Hey, y'all, guess what? You're not Kate Moss! The line is coming to Barneys this month. Girlfriends, you've been warned.

Just Say No

Dear Fashion Victims,

If you're thinking of buying the high-waisted trousers that the fashionistas would have us believe are, like, so hot right now, behold this image before you do.

What is happening here? Jessica Simpson looks like the bottom half of her body has done a 180. That's her bottom coming at us, right below her breasts there. It's enough to give you nightmares.

The lesson here? Sometimes you have just got to let a trend pass you by.

Madge Power

Madonna's H&M line launched today.

Sometimes I'm so embarrassed by my gender.

photo courtesy of Drowning Madonna, where someone admits she's in this photo.

Spring Equinox in NYC

Okay so the offical Spring Equinox was four days ago, but one of the signs that spring really has arrived in NYC is the rush to eat and drink al fresco. Especially in some really cool spot like the Shake Shack. Because nothing says "Hey, let's grab a nice, juicy burger outdoors!" than a damp, chilly grey day.

Sure, it wasn't as cold as it's been in the last couple of weeks, but it's colder than it was two days ago, when it was in the 60s. Today it was in the mid-40s, tops. Not cold enough for a hat, scarf and gloves, perhaps, but too cold to stand in a line about 100 people long. For a HAMBUGER.

I mean, look at these people!

Wait, there's more.

I had to go to the back of the line for a closer look.

Look at that guy with the yellow suitcase. Did he fly in especially to eat here today?

Seriously, the burgers at the Shake Shack aren't that good. I've had one and, frankly, it gave me a  stomach ache. Gave three out of four of us a stomach ache, in fact; the one who didn't get a  stomach ache didn't order the burger.

But I don't care how good a burger is, it is not worth standing in a line like this in 40-odd chilly degrees for. Yet this kind of inexplicable behavior seems to be happening more and more every day in this city. Who are these people? And what am I doing sharing a city with them?

I guess we know who they are: These are the folk who are filling up all those new luxury condos spreading around New York like mold and robbing the city of its esoteric feel. People with no imagination or taste, happy to follow the crowd while believing they're actually leading the pack. Nobody's lining up here for the burgers, they're lining up for the bragging rights. "Hey, been to the Shake Shack yet? We went last Saturday. Oh, yeah, it's open. Had the burger. It's the best."

Yeah right, dude. Totally worth waiting for an hour in the cold for. Now let's go chase that burger with a cupcake from the Magnolia. They're the best.