Balenciaga, A Spanish Master; an exhibit

A review of the Balenciaga retrospective at the Queen Sofia Spanish Institute in Manhattan.

“He is the only couturier. He is the only one who knows how to cut a fabric and mount it and sew it with his own hands. The others are just draughtsmen”.

So once said the infamous Coco Chanel of her fellow craftsman, the inimitable Cristobal Balenciaga. High praise coming from perhaps the most famous womenswear designer of all time. Yet it was not only Chanel who believed Balenciaga to be superior – he is widely considered to be the master of haute couture, even overshadowing the great Christian Dior and far surpassing Coco. His adroitness was astounding, creating new fabric and forms and revolutionizing the entire concept of one-of-a-kind clothing. To look at a Balenciaga archive is to see at once an architect’s attention to form, a jewelers eye for the exquisite, and a curators understanding of paint and palette. To those who care to see that much from clothing – and we exist in number, I can assure you – these things are near general knowledge.

However, what’s frequently overlooked is how deeply rooted Balenciaga was to his Spanish heritage, for, as many are ignorant of, he was an import of the Basque region of Spain. This past fall, Hamish Bowles, Vogue’s European Editor-at-Large and long time Balenciaga fan and collector, decided to cull his great knowledge of the legendary designer’s work to demonstrate the direct inspiration of Spanish culture on the couturier’s life. The resultant exhibit, titled Balenciaga: A Spanish Master, debuted at the Museum of Queen Sofía on November 19^th (it runs through February 19^th) and features a juxtaposition of Balenciaga’s works alongside historical information, traditional costumes, and artwork representing various areas of Spanish culture. The exhibit was particularly enthralling for me, having just returned from a semester in Spain, and I was amazed to find just how enormous the parallels were when one looked closely enough. And though I am perhaps slightly more appreciative of the minute cultural details, the exhibit is wonderfully curated and features plenty of background for those without any prior knowledge of Spain.

Spanning three floors, the exhibit begins in the basement with a room dedicated to the classic Spanish elements: southern bullfighting and flamenco dancing, and niche styles from Balenciaga’s own Basque country. While Balenciaga was not Andalusian, it is near impossible to be Spanish and not adore the intricate flamenco and bull-fighting costumes. Balenciaga himself disliked the blood sport but loved the ‘trajes de luces’ (suits of light) worn by the matadors and designed small beaded boleros and bowed hats for women to mirror them. There is also a row of exuberant dresses, bold, colorful, with ruffles that seem to move of their own to the Spanish guitar playing above. The master of the frilled dress, Hubert Givenchy, was a former protégé of Balenciaga’s and took from him the impressionable words, “A ruffle must be intelligent”. This is displayed in a dress whose skirt is folded upwards into the waistline, cascading down like a train; it comes from the Basque fish markets, where women used to tuck their skirts up as makeshift aprons for purchases.

The Basque region, with its quiet fishing villages, is far different from the vibrant south of Spain and sartorially distinguished by elaborate black mourning clothes and use of cotton linen as an everyday clothing material. Displayed are two-piece black suits, dated 1953, with wide short sleeves and boxy yet loose frames, indicative of the revolution in form that Balenciaga’s tailoring inspired and which overtook Christian Dior’s ‘New Look’ that had dominated womenswear since 1947. Where Dior’s woman was dainty, restrained by wasp-waisted A-line skirts and collared jackets, the Balenciaga woman was a commanding and modern presence who could move freely in her clothing, both literally and stylistically. This is perfectly exemplified by a V-neck cotton linen shirt – the shirt whose 1953 Harper’s Bazaar feature put Balenciaga on the map – with wide-set armholes and triangular insets that freed the chest, allowing movement yet with precise tailoring that kept a flattered womanly form. It is elegantly clean; Carmel Snow, then-editor of Bazaar, wrote of Balenciaga’s accompanying collection: “Nothing is so mysterious as simplicity. [Balenciaga’s work] will sink deeply, noiselessly, until it pervades the world of fashion”. She was, of course, absolutely correct. The Balenciaga form became the new silhouette and took a place in the foundation of modern fashion.

The first floor room is modeled after the cathedral of San Sebastian, the Basque region’s major city, and is devoted to the dual nature of Spain’s pervasive Catholicism. The church had an extreme contrast between severe austerity and extravagant luxury, which Balenciaga interpreted through both plain wool capes and coats and highly beaded frocks. There is a small picture of a brown-cloaked monk alongside the most lovingly draped cape I have ever seen. Its beige wool pleats down the arms like rounded armadillo plates, yet seems as weightless as the pictured hooded sackcloth. Against a church-interior backdrop stand a black buttoned dress and wide red caped coat; they uncannily resemble their inspirations, a priests and cardinals traditional vestments, respectively. They are neither stiff nor staid, revealing Balenciaga’s true mastery: few can turn a Catholic priest into couture.

The second side of the room features Balenciaga’s modernist works. Deeply inspired by Miró, he began to experiment with forms using gazar, a stiff silk gauze invented for him by a Swiss fabric house that allowed for sculptural forms with minimal sewing. I am spellbound by the infamous dress whose picture prefaced the exhibit – it is a black, crepe, floor-grazing column with a gazar ‘wrap’ that envelops the head, neck, and upper torso in a frothy bubble. It’s the most amazing creation I’ve ever seen, and I’d be breathless if I wasn’t sighing deeply in appreciative ecstasy.

Upstairs are several Irving Penn photographs of famous pieces, along with archived magazine coverage of the designer, a wall smattered with quotes about the Balenciaga work ethic and atelier, and a flat-screen showing several collections from the late 60s. It is a nice culmination, especially seeing the clothing in motion on the models - despite the perceived heaviness of wool or gazar, the models glide and turn with complete unrestrictiveness

Perhaps the most extraordinary part is the lasting modernity of his works; most of these could be worn today. Though a gown or two seem dated, they are the ones commissioned for royalty. Balenciaga’s own creations are classic eternal tailoring at its finest, something that is always enviable. Fashion fanatic or not, it is an exhibition that explores the threads beautifully tying together the worlds of art, culture, and style, as well as revealing to a perhaps-unaware public just how intelligent fashion can be.

review: Girl Talk, 'All Day'

Nothing like a little Black Sabbath and a rousing, “Move, Bitch” to really get things moving eh? So begins the nonstop 70-minute flow of All Day, the latest musical epic by Girl Talk, alias of mash-up artist Gregg Gillis. This heavy intro heralds the seamless, fluid mix that will surely provide soundtrack for every iPod-controlled party for the next several months, years if one measures it equal to his previous endeavor Feed the Animals in popularity; a very real possibility given the hype of All Day’s release and the many overridden servers it caused.

Of course, that hype was based on the exceptional work of Feed the Animals and many (myself included) wondered how another album could measure up given the repetitive nature of mash-up style. It has to be said that Feed the Animals was no doubt influential, bringing mash-ups to the masses. Amongst the many none are quite as comprehensive or smooth as Girl Talk, whose work flows seamlessly so no matter how polarizing adjacent samples may be all meld perfectly for an entirely new track. And it has serious power in recognition. Take the soundtrack from a party where someone grabbed the iPod and played old favs that got everyone screaming off-key and play that over something spun by a pitch-perfect DJ. It’s no wonder Feed the Animals kept up momentum for so long.

It’s in the energy where All Day steps away from Feed the Animals’ shadow. This new endeavor is a bit slower but overall better developed. Primary vocal samples take the spotlight, backed by the melodies from both obscure and well-known songs which are layered themselves, with one taking precedence and the tempos of the other samples/ voice tracks altered to fit. The method isn’t new but it’s matured; All Day has more depth and variety: more heavily-sampled periods, some obscure instrumental accompaniments. There’s an onion skin element that is undoubtedly complex but appears completely fluid. Take a section of the opening track, Oh No: there is a final heavy Black Sabbath chord when ‘Teach Me How to Dougie’ rings out; Sabbath fades and Jane’s Addiction’s ‘Jane Says’ eases in to replace it; meanwhile, in between the pause in words 'Dougie' has been sped up to meet the pace of ‘Jane Says’. It all lasts about 26 seconds and the older melody folds out, a third eases in and a new vocal track begins. Many times a third instrumental has been barely audible the whole time and fills space in between sets of ‘bigger’ samples, often changing the track’s mood entirely. It’s with that that Gillis has made a slower album, one less conducive to ragers but one that displays much more skill and attention to detail.

Of course, there are a few clutch sections that demand revelry. Let It Out is an excepcional track, especially the ‘Twerk’ midsection and the ‘Rude Boy’ ending with a heavy beat that’s reminiscent of the ‘Lip Gloss’ sample on Feed the Animals. Jump on Stage emerged an early favorite too, including a fantastic Skee-Lo (‘I Wish’) throwback and a pounding ending that combines Gaga’s LoveGame and Beastie Boy’s ‘Hey Ladies’ over instantly recognizable ‘Lust for Life’. Another all-around winner, Steady Shock, samples three oldies – the first 50 seconds combine Nicki Minaj over Blue Oyster Cult and then fades to Bruce’s ‘Dancing in the Dark’ topped by Soulja Boy (an admitted favorite of Gillis); later on there’s a little Drake on top of a tweaked Flock of Seagulls.

It’s likely the general population will listen to this album primarily while inebriated and thus find it identical to Feed the Animals, which is a pity. The depth and attention to detail are truly impressive, like hearing "Wiz Khalifa’s ‘Black and Yellow’ while recognizing the Stones 'Paint it Black' in the background – those with attentive ears will appreciate Gillis’ progress on All Day. He has, in fact, done it again.

Revival - Lanvin for H&M

I'm trying to get this going again... it's not easy from here. the life of an abroad college student is just so trying...


I'll jump right in with Lanvin for H&M, which debuts today in stores and whose riotous runway took place a few days ago. Chandeliers, Anna Della Russo and a poodle (obsession), and little Alber looking as adorable as created a champagne ambiance - bubbly, sparkly, lighthearted. Everything we've come to expect from the ruler of cocktail-hour-dress compacted into a diffusion line. Personally, I might just avoid H&M altogether until everything is sold since I can't afford to spend the money on it but absolutely will be powerless to resist given an opportunity.
Here, some of the best shots of the show.

there was some seriously amazing makeup combinations. Some coordinated beautifully with the accessories, while others, especially the wide array of vivid lip colors, stood out solo.

note the great coordination of the teal lips, nails, and bracelets.

this only adds to my utter obsession with ADR. Of course appearing with some form of head wear, the poodle just adds to her signature eccentricity

arcade fire will rule the world

I'm sorry, I know this has been on hiatus but it's difficult to keep up in summer when the beach is calling my name far louder than the Internet does.That said... if there is one thing that can spark a revival, it's the new Arcade Fire album, the Suburbs. A friend secured the leak for me a few days before it's August 3rd debut and ever since it's been on repeat in my car, my iPod, my house... I can't get enough. Apparently, neither can the rest of the world; it hit #1 on the Billboard charts this week. Normally this might cause some uneasiness - nothing ruins a really great band quite like mainstream approval. However, if there's one band that can maintain their voice and style through popularity, it is definitely Arcade Fire.The Suburbs had considerable build-up for several reasons: one, the obvious excitement a new Arcade Fire album brings; their previous endeavors, Funeral especially, remain some of the greatest indie albums of our time. This leads to the second reason for pre-release hype: many questioned how a band that became successful for epic songs of mixed composition and unusual form could continue to be different when this would be third album in the same vein; that is, if their unusual production was what made them unique and this album was done in the same style, would it lose some of that uniqueness and become stale? But then, if they changed things up in an effort to be 'edgy', or rather, continue to be relevant, would they still be Arcade Fire? The mind, it baffles!

The circular logic was dizzying and, in the end, pointless. The Suburbs foray into lost childhood is poetic and poignant but never sappy or cliche. It twinges nostalgia with gentle, unobtrusive chords that progress into those stylistic Arcade Fire song-endings where the cymbals crash and the harmony swells and there is one final lyric and you feel it; it's that house you grew up in, uninhabited and holding nothing but memories of youthful optimism, now dampened by adult reality. Win Butler likes the word 'kids' (if there is any criticism of this album, it's the overuse of that word. and the word 'suburbs'.), and while Funeral was the youth's trumpet of setting forth into the world, The Suburbs is the wake-up call to their hibernating consciousness. The kids are all grown up, and they've figured out that things really aren't what they thought they'd be; shown with lyrics like "I feel I've been living in/ a city with no children in it/ a garden left for ruin by a billionaire inside of a private prison" from City With No Children or "strange how the half light/ can make a place new/ you can't recognize me/ and I can't recognize you" on Half Light I.
This leaves a depressing image, and if they had mirrored the music to match then the album would be almost unbearably sad. Yet it isn't; those swelling chord progressions and tapering, single-note outro/intros keep an optimistic energy flowing. Again, the wake-up call; all is not lost. There is realization of reality's emptiness on Modern Man and Rococo, a track that targets the naivete of intellectually condescending hipsters, and a thread of escapism from said empty life snakes it's way through the album via car imagery and the repeated line "in the suburbs I, I learned to drive/ and you told me we'd never survive/ grab your mothers keys we're leaving", which first appears in the opening song The Suburbs and then follows later in Suburban War. It's hopeful, and the generally uplifting beat keeps that alive.
Thus, despite the (supposed) potential for stagnation, the Arcade Fire delivered another epic album definitely worthy of the #1 standing. I would love to lavish more praise on it, but it is far better to just listen and understand. For streaming: www.myspace.com/arcadefireofficial

things I learned from Interview's April issue

Interview is generally my favorite of all the many many magazines I subscribe to / frequently read; they have a much wider range of the arts and their stories are more dialogues than articles, far more insightful than the stereotypical magazine profile on both the subject and the interviewer. Though the April issue arrived, for some unknown reason, about 2.5 months late, I'm completely willing to overlook that as it's one of the more thought-provoking I've seen in awhile, in both good ways and bad. Generally I don't dissect my magazines like this but these few things really got me and were worth sharing.

The Good
First, their usual relatively-up-and-coming music profile was on Wild Beasts, who I discovered this winter and really haven't gotten the acclaim they deserve. The maybe 350 word piece managed a near perfect description for such a short article; I won't go into detail, but will simply quote: "bacchanalian musical explorations... for naked midnight runs through the forest". Yes and yes.


Continuing with great music, their playlist included four EPIC choices: The Magnetic Fields' 'You Must Be Out of Your Mind', Karen Elson's 'The Ghost Who Walks' (which I highly recommend downloading), Elliot Smith's 'Bottle Up and Explode' and Taylor Swift's 'Forever & Always'.

Second, the Michael Alig article was amazing. Don't know who he is? Wikipedia that shit, stat. I'd known of New York's early 90's Club Kid scene the way one generally knows about CBGB punks or the Misshapes parties - one of those New York movements that defined a generation way before my time and whose aftereffects resonate today in ways I'm mostly unaware of - but never really read anything in-depth about it. The interview not only unabashedly painted this segment of New York fringe life in equal tones of glamour and depravity but showed what a drastically different place the city is today. True, Giuliani's crackdowns yielded a safer city, but one that's missing the random insurgency of rebellious youth social scenes that have so characterized the nightlife there. A great quote mentioned that "[the nightlife] is the lifeblood of the city, and I[Alig] don't know why it's taken them so long to realize that. Anything stylish or hip or cool that's come out of New York in the last 25 years has originated in nightclubs". Which isn't entirely true but does hold a lot of merit; while I haven't been around long enough to know what may or may not be missing from eras past, it's plain enough that the time when fantastically face-painted and costumed revelers hopped from bar to bar like one large club-going family is past, especially since the scene today requires a bit of money. Whether you are the patron or the owner, you probably have significant amounts of disposable income. The Club Kids were eschewing the Warhol Factory stipulations of fame, money, or beauty; now, we're right back to holding those three in high esteem again, only with the consumer culture itself as a rallying point instead of an artist championing that materialism. Living in New York now, this article was a fantastic profile. Also, as a final note, it's insane to think that someone alive today has never used the Internet or a cell phone - Alig has been in prison since 1996 and has knowledge of technology but never come into contact with it. Interesting to think what you'd miss if you were cut off from technology today for the next 14 years.

The In-Between
In the Jersey Shore story/interview with the show's four guys...
the Situation compares his show's craze, and his own fame, as equal to the Beatles 3 times; Vinny has a poli-sci degree and cites a cushy government job a back-up plan if he fails as an aspiring actor, and also idolizes Leonardo DiCaprio to the level that he's constantly asking himself, "What would Leo do?"; Pauly D explains everything when answered the question "Do you have any role models?" with "Not really". Funny because they hilariously believe these things, bad because... well, these people share a nationality with us.
Bar Refaeli as the female model companion is stunning. awesome. But there's a terrible pun of a picture with her mining sucking a dick, that's actually a 6 foot sub held by The Situation. misogynistic.
Terry Richardson was the photographer, and he is the worst human being to ever lay eyes on another's body.


The Bad
They did a profile on Justin Bieber. Very very brief, but still double the length of aforementioned (and more deserving) Wild Beasts. It's no doubt the kid has a decent set of pipes and an uncanny knack for driving tweens into early hormonal overdrive, but it's not like he's starved for press attention. Leave the Biebs to Tiger Beat; Interview is better than that.

The ultimate worst: there's a huge story with accompanying spread on Ke$ha, whom I despise. Her music is generic pop and not particularly different from anyone before / contemporary to her, neither edgy nor soulful nor vocally exotic; her self-perpetuated image I think is supposed to come off as Christina Aguilara circa Dirrty video but actually is more along the lines of 'homeless unshowered crack wench'; she is egotistical without any talent to support it - it's arrogance, not healthy pride. I think she's absolutely insane. And NOT in a good way. If I didn't think all these things before reading the article (I did), I would definitely think them now (she just makes me cringe more, to the point of seizure). The spread is her in terribly styled clothes, consisting of a leather jacket, some weird sheer and striped shirt, orange high socks, and weird white sandals with platforms that look like those terrible foamy Sketcher platform sneakers, covered in body paint. It's not in the least bit provocative, physically or fashionably. She then opens her mouth and cements her IQ/sanity somewhere around nonexistent by citing that she believes she was JFK in a past life. She oozes 'desperate attention whore' with her explanation of her use of glitter as: "Apparently most animals are instinctively very attracted to glittery things - our brains are just drawn to them. So I figured, Why not smear it all over my face?" and then saying she loves making out with men with beards because the glitter sticks in them and 'marks' the poor fellows as 'hers' because the sparkles are difficult to rid for about three days. Oh, let's not forget her great display of family values either; she'll apparently call her mother to tell her about the blow job she gave the night before, to which the great maternal instinct kicks in and responds, "Ke$ha, you slut".
Really? Are we honestly championing this kind of girl as a beneficial product of modern society? Nothing about this girl is remotely special. She is not talented. She is certainly not a role model - her music and videos are blasted everywhere and teach impressionable young minds that smearing one's unshowered body in glitter, wearing ripped clothes, and having negligible values are desirable and produce popularity. Way to go, America. Picked a winner right here.

I can't quite say this was the best issue I've ever read because the Ke$ha/Jersey Shore/Beber bandwagon inclusions are total disparities from everything I love about the magazine. However. I still love it very much, and if it wasn't already off newsstands I would urge you to go pick up a copy right now.

Sex and the City 2: Adventures in Failure

Let's be honest. When they announced a sequel to the first Sex movie was in the works more than a few of you had some reservations. Sequels are usually terrible and slightly diminish the appeal of the first one that maybe you actually liked. Call me crazy, but there's something about taking a good thing and just raking it over the coals to capitalize on its prior success that just doesn't work.
This is what happened with Sex2.
I'll preface this review by saying that I love the series AND the first movie. I own the pink collector box set of all the seasons, I'm a Samantha, whateverdon'tjudgeme. But I was not at all excited for this movie, least of all when I saw the revoltingly airbrushed posters and anti-climactic trailer. I knew this would be bad, so I went in with not a single expectation to avoid disappointment.
Yet somehow I was still let down.
I won't go into a full break down of the film, I do not have the patience to relive it. But a few key points beg addressing:
1) WHY DID STANFORD MARRY ANTHONY WHEN THEY ALWAYS HATED EACH OTHER.
This makes no sense to me (and if you weren't a fan of the series.... skip this, you won't know what I'm talking about); remember when they were first set up together and it was so bad they didn't speak for like the next 3 seasons? Remember how Stanford always called Anthony 'that bitchy queen' and Anthony called him fat? This seemed to me a very sad, thrown-together union that Michael Patrick King came up with because there weren't any other minor characters to force into marriage/excessive pageantry. We have no one else... oh hey, wait there's two gay characters LET'S DO A GAY WEDDING!!! Even though it contradicts basically everything except in the first movie when they're randomly friends!! This upset me, a lot.
2) There was no plot to this movie. If you had to sum it up.... Carrie has minor mid-life crisis that is really just her being bored and unsatisfied with her perfectly amazing and well-provided for life (and frankly a huge spoiled diva - you don't need to go out every night to have 'sparkle' in a marraige, you wastrel), creates a 'problem' for her and her marriage (more boredom), makes fake problem a real problem by (SPOILER ALERT) kissing Aiden (Ok, like you really didn't see that coming? please, the trailer was too transparent for words), has cliche revelation when she thinks she might lose Big and realizes hey, my life was pretty awesome and I fucked it all up by being whiny and high maintenance. But even that is a stretch. It was more like a bunch of random scenes thrown together and geld by the rehashing of Charlotte's anxieties about Harry and the hot Irish nanny and Samantha's impending menopause problems.
3) We get it, Samantha, you are really going to miss your sex drive when menopause fully sets in. It was funny at first; no one appreciates a really terrible sex pun more than me - Lawrence of MyLabia? pure gold - but after awhile it gets really old. Like you. I'm sorry, I really am, you were always my favorite and I usually think you're actually funny, unlike Carrie who is just insipid and begging for a slap 90% of the time. But as the movie dragged on you were a huge contributor to my next off-color point which is...
4) The movie perpetuates the American idea that we can go to foreign countries, ignore the local customs and traditions, be huge overbearing assholes, and get away with it. Miranda spends the entire trip to Abu Dhabi (which was basically the whole film) trying to teach the girls about Arab culture, failing the whole time. Carrie repeatedly wears Eastern-looking clothes that make her seem shallow - a metallic rainbow head wrap? really? that's all you got from this culture? And Samantha has blatant disregard for every possible Arab social custom, even getting arrested for kissing on the beach. What is usually just her headstrong independence translates to "bigoted American tourist" here; every move she makes induces cringes.
5) Racism. It has to be said. The stereotypes of Arab people and culture keep on coming here, and it's really unsettling. Burkas and the veiling of womens' mouths is a big conversation topic - the women watch, gaping and laughing, as they see a veiled woman eat french fries. She is a spectacle. They then attempt to launch into a spiel on women's rights, talking about how 'it's like they just want their women silent, like objects or property'. oh, how insightful ladies. regular feminists over here everyone! Oh, and that last part, where the Arab women "rescue" our four heroines from a mob of men angry that Samantha spilled her condoms all over the market (totally irrational, right?) and end up having Louis Vuitton under their burkas? Definitely not egotistical at all. All cultures bow to the U.S. Of course people would wear another layer of clothing resembling American dress underneath their robes; who cares if no one sees it, deep down, they know they're conforming!
6) Why even bring Smith back if you're just going to have him go to the premier with Samantha and then never show him again?! You can't tease us like that; Smith is too beautiful and too close to the perfect man. I wanted that to work HARDCORE. This little cocktease of a cameo was BULSHIT.


There were a few things I did like. Miranda and Charlotte get drunk and have a bonding sesh about motherhood, which not only let's us see Charlotte as a fallible human (not comically flawed, like usual, but with real emotions!) but has two women ONE OF WHOM IS NOT CARRIE talking about real things. It is really really rare to see any of the four doing anything, least of all have a serious discussion, without Carrie, and this gave us a welcome break from the Bradshaw Show. Miranda was generally my favorite in this film, which is NEVER the case. Shes the only normal one here, without any of her usual high-strung uber bitchiness, and her jokes are on-point without being repetative (cough, Samantha). Also, despite my problems with the idea of the Stanford/Anthony union, the wedding scene was awesome. So many Liza Minelli jokes. So much Liza in general! She does the Single Ladies DANCE for her cover. The woman is in her 60s! That's amazing. Kudos.
The fashion was unremarkable. A lot of Halston, which makes sense given SJP's involvement with the brand. Too many sparkles. Carrie wore a tux to the wedding, which I really loved. But there was too many attempts to look 'Arabic' or 'Eastern' or whatever (camel scene, when they walk over the dune. Never have I been more upset with a costume department. Although making Samantha look like Cleopatra, complete with white hat-that-looked-like-a-wig, was so crazy it almost worked). As always with Carrie, there were hits - generally anything she was wearing in her apartment, especially the white suit she came back from Abu Dhabi in - and there were misses - that weird green striped sweater during the wedding brunch? that enormous straw hat on the plane? - so for her character... pretty typical. Everything else... eh, more of the same. There was basically no emphasis on fashion, unlike the first movie. If the movie had had a strong plot this would have been understandable but it didn't, so including more (or better) fashion would have at least given it a boost.

Overall... total bomb. Shoulda kept it buried; now it's only going to leave that bad-sequel aftertaste on top of an otherwise-successful run.
For shame, ladies.

On a Scale of 1 to Disappointed...

American Apparel is really annoying. Their advertising campaigns are porn people with eating disorders, they charge upwards of $30 for cropped Ts you could make yourself with a Hanes and a paint pen, and their stores are always run by uber stuck-up hipster bitches. They have somehow managed to take an awesome idea - sweatshop free, U.S. made clothing - and turned it into the bastion of all that is condescending and overpriced. They also kinda hate women; recently a "best ass" competition was held and... need I mention the ad campaigns again? Yes, they're (likely) consented to but they are also definitely not helping to promote the image of women in the media. Needless to say, I dislike that store a lot. However, I'm also a huge hypocrite; every once in awhile I really need a gold lame´ bandeau bra, and with one on every corner in New York it's like the drug store of random clothing necessities (I hate myself every time I check out but... what are you gonna do?).
So although I don't condone the way they run their company or operate their stores... would I like to see them shutter their doors forever?
AA is running entirely in loans right now, and their latest - a paltry $80 mil - needs to be paid off by June. And with a reported 7% decrease in sales for the first quarter as compared to last year's figures, it doesn't look like a lemonade stand and some discounted v-necks will pull them out. Especially as their stocks fell 40% yesterday, when multiple news stories came out revealing the company's serious financial woes.
Is the company totally fucked? ehhh. Probably not. As a 20-something fashion-conscious female, I'm well aware of just how much money that pit of despair rakes in; they got my money, they got my best friends' money, and they got all the paychecks of the residents of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. And that's just in New York. Maybe sales are down but they still make tons of cash and the founding idea isn't too far down the tubes to be saved; re-structure their budget and make a few tweaks to their body image promotion and they could be back on track. Someone out there with enough cash to invest knows this. It's doubtful that everyone in the financial world is unaware of the potential market this place harbors; I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that come June, AA will be just as brazenly nude-tastic as ever.

But if not, on a scale of 1 to disapppointed... I'd give it a 3.

A few gentle orchestral notes, a smattering of applause… and a pushy violin breaks the still air, a gong sounds. Operatic chants begins, tinkling reminiscent of computer-speak in old sci-fi movies resonates. 30 seconds in and Janelle Monae’s The ArchAndroid is heralding itself with the oddest amalgamation this side of the Y2K scare.

In pre-release interviews Monae has cited Hitchcock, bad robot invasion movies, and famous hair styles (Princess Leia’s buns?) as influences, as well as verifying the album’s namesake: “I think androids are sexy”. But whether or not you’re a fan of mechanical humans, you can and should be a fan of her. Delving deep into the archives of deep South jazz and soul, her music infuses these with technologic – not electronica, as this bares no resemblance to house or pop music – jingles and warbles. Her debut EP, Metropolis: The Chase and an accompanying tour with the doyennes of all weird shit, of Montreal (who also add vocals to a track on ArchAndroid), helped put her on the map, but it was her unbelievably strong vocals belting from a pint-sized tuxedoed frame that garnered her acclaim. Considering the small number of songs released prior to this album, the hype over The ArchAndroid was substantial. And it’s definitely been met – the album is not only a fearless blend of genres and styles that resonates loudly and smoothly throughout but also a very welcome new voice and style that isn’t like anything currently being produced.

The mix is more than odd: it’s ultimately soul with parts jazz, R&B, and classical, but the overriding theme is futurism: the android’s voice is a wavering lazer, his laugh an electric xylophone, and he is not to be overshadowed by this mere human. This first track is purely instrumental but the second, ‘Dance or Die’ ft. Saul Williams, is a tango of snares and computed riffs where she asserts what is to come: “Baby can you understand the clock will never rewind”. There is no pause into the next, appropriately named Faster. The drums are incessant and are actually the frontrunner to the gently accompanying electric guitar. The repetitious chorus of “Faster and faster I should run” combines with that incessant beat to assert that this album will be anything but langorous. Time moves fast, the future is now. “I’m a weirdo” she interjects. Perhaps. But that’s the appeal; in this age of the cyclical female pop star (Lily Allen, Katy Perry, Amy Winehouse, Ke$ha) a ‘new’ voice is barely deserving of that adjective as it usually sounds the same as last year’s chart-topper.

This first half of the album, Suite II, does not center on a shattered or budding romance, unless you’d like to stretch out an analogy to humanity’s love for technology. She makes statements on the reality of living in today’s world, saying “in this life you spend time running from depravity/ This is a cold war/ you better know what you’re fighting for” in ‘Cold War’ and “so much hurt/ in this Earth” in ‘Oh, Maker’. Suite III is a bit slower, the emphatic drums taking, if not a back seat at least a middle, to purer trumpets in ‘Neon Valley Street’, unaltered guitar chords in ‘57821’, and a generally more prevalent keyboard and xylophone. Her wails descend to croons but do not lose the heart for a minute. Here we feel her step away from the futurism for a moment, touching upon tender togetherness in ‘Say You’ll Go’. It’s a more classically based second half, which poses a beautiful contrast to the punches and gyrations of the first. If Suite II was Monae’s iconic dance moves – combinations of the twist, Michael Jackson’s toe-stands and Elvis’s hips, all struck by lightenting – Suite III is the crisp cleanliness of her white tuxedo and wide, long-lashed eyes.

The combination is her social commentary, saying in an interview: “People think, ‘Oh god, robots are going to kill us!’ I don't want us to think that because I want my music to unite as many different species and humans and everything as possible. I don't want my future kids living in fear of anything”. She’s taken her Southern and Midwestern roots and made them modern, literally: technology is the future. She’s banishing stereotypes and breaking the female singer/songwriter mold all in one. Expect (even) big(er) things from Monae in the future.