Welcome those long-awaited brisk evenings with a little colour and panache.
Cotton & silk gingham scarf by YMC, $100 @ Oki-Ni
One of the fascinating things about following an artist’s career is charting the evolution of their work as they mature and explore new frontiers. For me, Erwin Olaf ranks high on the list of notable photographers who have shown compelling development as artists. As a young, gay photographer, Olaf explored the energy of the 80’s and 90’s, playing with the ideas of age, gender, and sexual fantasy. This first phase of his career produced wonderfully imaginative and evocative series, including the gothic Chessmen (1988) and amazingly detailed Blacks (1990) series.
After a hiatus from his early photographic career, he returned to the camera in his forties to explore more mature themes and with a markedly different stylistic approach. Aperture Foundation has recently released a new collection of this work in a self-titled book that spans a number of series, including his well-received Rain, Hope, Grief, and Le Dernier Cri series. Calling on the iconic imagery of American artist Norman Rockwell, Olaf applies his matured, modern perspective, filtered through a contemporary perception of the loss of cultural innocence, giving rise to images that are profoundly affecting in their despair and loneliness.
Included with the book is a DVD with a collection of five short videos produced by Olaf in a style similar to his still images. The short entitled Wet is sure to get your heart racing, as it tracks a voyeuristic mature woman transfixed by the beauty of a young, showering male. Olaf toys with the viewer, playing with expectations for the outcome of each interaction and showing us that things are not always what they seem to be.
Check out more of Erwin Olaf’s work, including his older series, at his website and if your interest is piqued grab the recent book and check out the photos and short videos yourself.
Pea coats and bomber jackets are for the unimaginative. Strive for a little drama this winter.
Black wool coat with attached stole by Yohji Yamamoto, @ Atelier
The Olympics came to a close on Sunday. Personally, I’ve given little thought to these events in the past, but was enthralled with the stories of victory and defeat, not least of which the gold medal win of Australia’s 20-year-old Matthew Mitcham, who held the distinction of not only defeating the heavily favored Chinese divers but was the ONLY openly gay male athlete at the games. It was nice to see the out and proud Aussie take the gold — though the silver may have better suited his fair skin tone. Still, the whole Olympiad just made me think of sex, or rather my lack there of. With the solos, the duos, the teams, the “water sports,” spandex, and the relentless parade of perfectly toned bodies, the Olympic Village must have been a veritable Shangri-la for Mitcham or any of the closeted competitors.
Unfortunately, the Olympics fell far short of the abundant and gratuitous porn one can find online to really satisfy any carnal yearnings. The nightly barrage of chiseled abs and taut pecs reminded me that these sporting events too closely resembled the challenges we face on a more consistent basis — the challenge of dating and maintaining relationships in an age of up to the minute updates. Whether on TV or on your laptop in the living room, the man of your dreams seems to be within reach, but the games we play in the competition of love, often keep us from the podium of happily ever after.
Any casual viewer of television sitcoms or romantic comedies, (I assume that to be anyone reading this column) knows about ‘the game,’ its apparent ‘rules,’ and that no matter how closely played or followed, how it’s next to impossible to win. Like the tie-breaking guidelines for women’s gymnastics, ‘the rules’ of the game are both arbitrary and unfair. They ask us to go against our better judgment and emotions and force us to agonize about making the wrong decision. In an age of constant communication, they tell us to be aloof and unavailable. When we are falling head over heels for someone they dictate that we play it cool and act like there is something else we’d rather be doing.
The decathlon may seem like the ultimate torture for many, but anyone who has agonized over when to send a text message after a second date knows that playing ‘the game,’ can be even more exhausting. So why do we put ourselves through it? The game seems to be designed to ease ourselves and the object of our affection into a relationship that neither may truly wish to be a part of. We heighten tension by becoming aloof, and replace genuine affection and growing interest with a competitive drive to successfully woo the unwooable. Am I the only one that sees the flaws in this plan? More… »
The cover shot for the extremely special debut of Vogue Homme Nippon is out, the issue being extremely noteworthy as it’s inspired directly by Hedi Slimane himself. It’s one of Hedi’s first musings in fashion since he left Dior Homme in early 2007. Hedi shot the cover, an accomplished photographer certainly, and who knows what other goodies are in store. The issue comes out September 10th and expect a full review from Homo-Neurotic.
But let’s not forget his wonderful work for Vman, where he also made the cover image as well as rather nice spread of the Vman Model search winner Petey.
MONDAY - Buck the disposable fashion trend and invest in a luxurious statement piece for the coming fall. Just repeat after me….cashmere is forever.
Double Breasted Cardigan by Phillip Lim, $722.00 @ Oak
TAKE A NUMBER – Today’s Modern Love column in the Times is so fucking funny. Bob Morris describes gay marriage best in terms of Fresh Direct or smoking or Botox or parking permits. Read on.
Then there’s the fact that marriage often lasts about as long as a Botox injection. And what is marriage anyway but (if I may be so pretentious) a hetero-normative institution that clumsily mixes property and the State with the divine and ethereal ideals of love?
Then there’s the most insightful quote I’ve read all year:
“Being gay and single is becoming the new smoking…”
Who is this Bob Morris man? And when can I break up his marriage (and subsequent re-marriages), and keep him for myself?
- We’ll Marry Each Other as Often as Needed | Modern Love [NY Times]
- Another brilliant article by Stephen Marche about our obsession with coming -of-age-celebrities, their very public meltdowns, and the blurry line between adolescence and adulthood. [Esquire]
- Japanese author Haruki Murakami on Billie Holiday et al in the latest issue of The Believer. Murakami’s memoir What I Talk About When I Talk About Running was published last month. [The Believer]
- A quick review of William Shakespeare and modern culture. More Kenneth Branagh than Hamlet 2 — both equally smart. [LA Times]
- How long can you go without having sex? A couple falls into an unintentional love-making marathon. I smell a book deal. [Nerve]
OBVIOUSLY the dude on the right is gay. Right? Lately, our gaydar has been totally wack. But a study out of Tufts University — led by grad-student Nicholas Rule (as in “I rule!”) — claims that gaydar is as real as Britney Spears’ drug and alcohol abuse problem. And not only could respondents weed out the suspected fruitcakes just by looking at their faces — they got it right in record time.
For the study, 15 undergraduate students, both male and female, were shown photos of faces of 90 men, evenly divided between gay and straight. The photos were taken from Internet personal ads and from Facebook. More… »
Discard any conception you have of old world charm; bicycling through Paris with a bottle of wine and crusty bread in your basket, a gondola ride through venetian canals, slurping that last string of pasta with your lover ending in an unexpected kiss. There’s a kind of romance that can only be had this side of the Atlantic. You’ll find it in the literature of Cooper, Emerson, and Twain, in the fantastic and wildly lush landscapes of the Hudson River School, or maybe hear it in the triumphant yet melancholy music of Philip Glass. It’s a romance that springs from a uniquely American perspective.
And this kind of romance can inform your style and even, if you let it, transform you. You don’t need a French label with a name you can’t pronounce sewn in under your jacket’s breast to feel fancy. Why, instead you can throw on a simple tweed jacket, classic, understated, the kind that Polo does so well. Wear it casually with raw dark jeans or perhaps matching trousers, a crisp oxford, chili brown Allen Edmonds, and an eccentric tie - Ivy League style of course with an animal jacquard motif. The American way is not sultry and lacks the sophistication a Euro accent provides (no rolled r’s, froggish throat speaking, or mispronouncing s-h-e-d-u-l-e here). Instead it’s rugged, it’s slouchy, and it’s got all the bravado and swagger than can inspire the most insatiable libido.
What is it about the American look that makes it so appealing at this moment? Perhaps we’re sick of Tom Ford (ironically enough from Texas) and his Europeanisms. Or maybe the Slimane slim attitude, in a petit noir suit, has become a bit drab. Maybe as the U.S. takes a step down from the world stage there’s some new found nobility in our humility. Fashion swings as does our idea of romanticism, dress accordingly.
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