Last Saturday night in Paris, after a long day of shows, Marina Khorosh and I ate a rushed dinner, caught a 25 minute zig-zagging taxi ride from the 11th to the 16th Arrondissement, and arrived at the Hermes show just as the last few models were exiting the catwalk. With nothing else to do that evening, I turned to her and said, “Shall we go fall in love?” She nodded, and off we went to find the nearest bar.Click to Continue!
I don’t want to go so far as to say that going through old photographs of myself is cathartic, but one of the advantages of having Le Bloggy Wog — and of chronicling aspects of my life in minute detail — is that I can look back and immediately recall moments that otherwise might have been lost. So without further ado, here are a bunch of my favourite (and most memorable) blog outfits of 2014, with a couple of little anecdotes to go along with them.Click to Continue!
Another day, another dip into the back crevices of my wardrobe.Click to Continue!
On Thursday last week, someone named Marie who I cared about deeply killed herself in New Zealand.Click to Continue!
So back in 2011 when I first moved to New York, I started hanging out with party promoters a bit, and I knew that it was skeezy and sleazy and a little like aiding in prostitution, but I did it anyway because it ensured that I could always get into the parties I wanted to go to, and that I never had to pay for anything, and that I’d even get dinners at five star restaurants for free every now and again so long as I was accompanied by a sufficient amount of female models.Click to Continue!
I live in Alphabet City which is east of the East Village, and it’s one of those neighbourhoods that you wouldn’t think twice about walking around in now, but apparently just 20 years ago, New Yorkers used to have a formula for the Avenues that denoted their danger levels: Avenue A: Adventurous; Avenue B: Beware; Avenue C: Crazy; Avenue D: Dead.Click to Continue!
The year that I was born, my Dad wrote an illustrated children’s book named Estralita about a statue of a beautiful girl in the Auckland Domain that came to life for one night every full moon. She’d run around the trees and dance and play, and one day a handsome young man found her and they fell in love, but she was gone by the morning. He’d come back every full moon to see her again, but then he’d be devastated when the sun came up and she’d leave him.Click to Continue!
Those of you who followed my Instagram closely while I was in Europe might remember a photo I posted of a piece of paper covered in psychopath-esque chicken scrawls. That’s because on the first day of Milan Fashion Week I interviewed Umit Benan for GQ by phone as I was waiting for the Costume National show to begin, and since iPhones don’t allow you to record phone calls, I was forced to scrawl the answers on the envelope of the Ermenegildo Zegna invitation while sitting on top of a speaker in a not particularly quiet corner of the room. It’s a glamorous life.Click to Continue!
1. On Tuesday in Paris, I woke up at 5:00am, caught a cab to Charles de Gaulle, walked into Terminal 1, and discovered that my United Airlines flight to Newark had been cancelled due to a snowstorm in New York. I waited in line for 30 minutes with 400 or so disgruntled passengers, and finally got to the counter where a surly Parisienne told me that I could catch the American Airlines flight to JFK, leaving four hours later. The flight was delayed. I boarded at 12:30pm, waited on the tarmac for an extra hour due to plane traffic, then took off for NYC. When we neared New York, we were told that there were two other flights attempting to land simultaneously, so we circled the city for an hour before we were allowed to land.Click to Continue!
Hello friends! Allow me a stream of consciousness for a moment. I started coming to the shows in 2009 when I was 24 years old. It was a pretty bold move for someone so young and inexperienced, but it was literally a situation where ignorance was bliss — I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I remember flying into Milan for the first time and knowing two people — both of whom were backstage photographers, so I’d hang out backstage assisting them as they worked, and then go out and watch the shows and look around hoping someone would come up and say hi (which, of course, they never did).Click to Continue!