Comeback of everything and everyone

tatarataaaa!!! ok, so i finally came back from my one year business trip which served the humble purpose of conducting research in the following fields: american fashion, simultaneous mass pms-ing, boston kreme donut over-ingestion.

in this post i will concentrate on american "fashion", which is a straight out lie because it doesn't exist and writing about it would be like writing about something that doesn't exist for god's sake. i can't think of anything that doesn't exist. is this a trick question, mind? are you kidding me again? like yesterday when i thought i could grow up to become a butterfly made out of rainbows?

actually i will talk about la roux, which is a lie too, bc. seriously actually actually actually i will rant about the fash catastrophe that is the decade between 1980 and 1990:

my partly ironic obsession with the 80s began when i was a young agile female of 16 springtimes. as a result of my self-prescribed pathetic lifestyle (i.e. "smiling is for losers", "i do not need to wash my hair, there are children in africa dying") i moved to the dark side like mischa barton and started listening to 80s popsongs composed of three main characteristics:

sad beautiful

sad strange

sad suicidal

in retrospect i have to admit that the (non-)styling of certain lead singers did at some point contribute to my fanatism (understatement radar goes wawawawa!!!!)

robert



siouxsie



ian




moz

after i saw R.S. at a life concert literally rolling on stage like a minimuff, i got disenchanted (and felt really really fremd-sad), forgot about all these black and white shots, discarded my semi-rebellious NATO jacket and moved forward to experience the dumb joy of colourful 80s music arranged around these three traits:

fun dancy

(it always kept me wondering: where did the water drain off? was there a special plumbing arrangement constructed especially for the stage? these are not the only questions i have about this flick)

(just because)


(zoom in, woman!)

fun gay


you were always on my mind...thanks to these hats


have faith, george. and tell the heeled devil to fuck off!



ooops...wrong decade

fun synthy


kawaiiiii!!!!

knowing my backstory, no wonder that my weak popsoul got shaked by this. the hair? the neon lamps? the make up? the coats? the attempted modernism? the lyrics (so damn true...)? is it too early to crown her as an androgynous molly ringwald of the 00s?

madmad, get ready to rumble. this time, i'll be bulletproof.

Irgendwo in Virginia...

Letzte Woche war ich in D.C. und da Freitag nach Thanksgiving -"Black Friday"- der Startschuss für Ami-Weihnachtseinkäufe ist, hab ich folgendes gedacht "american experience equals obligatory experience". Ich hatte noch nicht mal mein Käsetruthendl vom gobblegobble-Vortag verdaut, stand ich schon in irgendeiner Mall in Virginia herum. Warum Virginia? Keiner weiß das. Der wunderschöne Name dieser Mall war Potomac Mills. Nach fünf Stunden Shoppingmarathon fühlte ich mich wie ein Kaugummi der auf einem Basketballschuh klebt: dehydriert, grantig, pickig, mordeslustig,....


Warum erzähl ich euch das alles? Das ist meine Einleitung für folgende Begebenheiten, die sich in anderen Malls in den USA am Black Friday ereigneten: 1) die Zertampelung eines Wal-Mart-Mitarbeiters in NY und 2) zwei erschossene Teenager in einem Toys 'R' Us (!!!) in CA.

Ich habe immer schon gewußt, dass Shopping gefährlich ist. Drum bleibts zuhaus und machts eure eigenen Kleider. Ist sowieso viel besser, weil da kann frau gleichzeitig auch rauchen.


Happy late Thanksgiving from Miss Turkey!

ein halbwegs netter tag

schöne krawatte trug er gestern um 2am, der obama. ich bin noch immer ganz begeistert vom colour-scheming.

As seen in Soho, NYC

Apparently those Ed Hardy UGGs are so popular that they even fake them. My oh my!

News from the New World I

For my lovely new int'l readers, I will TRY to write a post in a funny language that includes words like "bamboozle", "flabbergasted" or "shenanigans" in its official vocabulary. A big cloud of European nosiness and arrogance is floating over the Atlantic and encircling me:

• Are they dumb? [No. They are much smarter than me. At least in this specific Disney-created place I live]
• Are they fat? [No. I live on the East Coast not in the f.... midwest]
• Are they supi-dupi-niceish? [Yes. To an extent that is unhealthy for my grumpy European soul]
• Is there music except for R&B or this? [Unfortunately not. I can't talk about that without poking my ears out with a stolen fork from the mensa]
• How can I get tickets for that fabulous underwear party in spring? [Strictly follow these orders: First, buy me lingerie; Second, finance my liposuction; Third, get over here!]
  

After answering your boring questions I can now move on to the really important stuff:

UGG Boots

I know, I know, I talked about it some other time. But until four weeks ago, I underestimated the sponging impact this particular footwear has on my brain (even worse than Crocs).

Many of you are asking themselves: What else can she possibly tell us about that topic? Hasn't everything been analyzed, critizised and dissected? No. I will tell you a little story. Its not better than Titanic I and II, but certainly more enjoyable than "The Fast and The Furious":

On a dreary, humid saturday I went to the Mall, bc. that's the thing you do here on a dreary, humid saturday. The Mall provides the two things you need to overcome dreariness and humidity: choco en masse and air conditioning. What I saw there wasn't ever meant to be seen by a sensitive human being like me:


But that's just the beginning. After the first shock settled, I drank sweet coffee, ate sweeter donuts with the sweetest filling and stumbled into a shoestore in which my fashionradar instantly detected this:

Was it just a dream caused by my massive intake of sugar? Was it all just a hallucination, a crack in the Matrix? Who does that? Who buys that? Why should you tattoo your shoes? Why?

On my search for Ed Hardy UGGs I found this UGG Hawaii - beauty: I just have to share it with you:

This story has no happy ending like Titanic II, in which Rose DeWitt Bukater owns a fashion imperium bought from Mugatu with the blue fancy disco-stone she found in her pocket and is divorced from Jack, who swam all the way to NY, bc. he was just kidding bc. he brought a thermo-mug with him so that he can warm his artsy hands in black decaff-tea, and he was a really good swimmer and I will play Kate Winslet, bc. obviously I look like her and we will all be very happy and live our glamorous/ tragic lives in the city of cities until a giant iceberg rams NYC bc. of global warming or whatever and then Rose (me) will fly to Alaska bc. they produce comfy clothes for cold weather and will live in Sarah Palin's house bc. it has a fireplace and I will have a cushion bunny or a cushion squirrel.

Since I am the humblestestest girl on the planet I have to admit that my winterboots unfortunately look like this. I wonder if they are still the inofficial uniform of the Austrian Green Party???