Dear tele-trannies & fashion fans in the flyovers:
I never watch the ridiculous "America's Next Top Model" but I tuned in to the season premiere last night to see my friend Kelly Cutrone, best-selling author and owner of People's Revolution PR company, who has been chosen as one of the judges (replacing Andre Leon Talley). I'm not here to do a recap--I'll leave that to the parasitic TV bloggers--as I'm sure you can watch the episode on Hulu. I will say that Cutrone did a right-on job with her savvy, seasoned advice for the young contestants and I'll never say a bad word about Kelly Osbourne because I revere her father and adore her mother.
However, I can't resist logging in my drive-by comments regarding the segment where the models were dressed as either American or British archetypes (this season pits girls from the US and the UK against each other), and then asked to jump up and down on a trampoline while being filmed by sixty cameras. (For a 3-D effect....the money they throw away on these shows could go to feeding several African countries and then some.) The girls were expected to mimic the precise facial expressions and mannerisms of each icon they were imitating, while jumping. How on earth a 19-year old girl is supposed to possess insight into the likes of Andy Warhol and Pocahontas (which, in a racist jab, the judges imposed on the show's Native American girl) is beyond me. The judges were unrealistically harsh on the contestants, which I suppose is all part of the show's cartoonish appeal. (They acted like they had cocktails with the real Pocahontas, who died in 1617, on a regular basis and therefore understood her intimately.)
I'm surprised they didn't set fire to the contestants and then pour molasses on them while they were jumping up and down....and then berate and humiliate them for not projecting the exact same facial expressions, body odor and souls of Jackie Kennedy and Elton John.
Daphne Guinness at the Angel Orensanz Foundation, February 12, 2012.
Dear acolytes of all things stylish:
Earlier today I sent my longtime friend Camille Paglia my report from A Shaded View on Fashion on uber-muse Daphne Guinness at the Genghis Khan fashion show and film screening during New York Fashion Week. During the course of our email correspondence, Camille had this to say about the divine Daphne--and she also had more than a few choice words about Lady Gaga. As you can guess, she didn't hold back:
"Daphne is sensational! Of course Gaga ripped off an incredible amount from her, but she has no idea how to WEAR those amazing fashions. Gaga just puts stuff on that the savvy Nicola Formichetti hands her and wears it like a donkey with a saddlebag! Daphne WORKS it--like a dancer--and she adopts and projects the correct PSYCHIC MOOD for it. Fashion as extreme as that requires a dance-like relationship to the environment--to physical space. It's really captured beautifully in the trailer for 'The Legend of Lady White Snake', where Daphne is walking in giant red clogs along a balcony rail and makes precisely the right interesting and graceful moves. Whereas Gaga in the same shoes just clunks along like a bag of potatoes, just showing off for the paparazzi. Gaga has such glaring lack of instinct and intelligence about the relationship between fashion and the body. That people can't see that drives me crazy--they're so fooled by Gaga, it's pathetic!
Daphne exudes the poetic, atmospheric mood of those European art film stars like Delphine Seyrig (in 'Last Year at Marienbad', 'Daughters of Darkness', and also 'Accident', where she's so mysterious and discreet having the secret affair with Dirk Bogarde in London). There's a little of Edie Sedgwick in Daphne (little rich girl lost), but Daphne is infinitely more glam, assertive, and urbane. She is evidently a sophisticated book lover, which is why she dropped by the National Book Awards banquet at Cipriani two years ago, when I briefly met her. She swept in like an electric breeze from a photo shoot at Harper's Bazaar. She truly has authentic charisma!!!!"
A king’s heir makes living under a legacy look easy. By Glenn Belverio. (From ZOO Magazine, Spring 2008)
When Riley Keough, the 18-year old model and granddaughter of Elvis Presley, made her runway debut at Dolce & Gabbana over four years ago, the mass media and fashion world palpitated like love-struck teenage girls. The portentous moment elicited a chorus of oohs and aahs over Riley’s Elvis-like features: heavy-lidded eyes, full cheeks, and a moody stare. A few front-rowers (Ruth La Ferla of The New York Times, specifically) even claimed to spot the ingénue break into one of Elvis’s trademark curled lip snarls. “The resemblance to Elvis was uncanny. We were all stunned,” one fashionista gushed. And of course Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana chimed in. “When we met Riley last year, we were immediately struck by her beauty and fresh, pure spirit. With her mother’s beauty and her grandfather’s attitude, she is sure to be a star!”
These days Riley’s reaction to the media’s relentless gawking is understated, to say the least. “I haven’t been looking for attention, so I haven’t gotten much of it,” she says. “My job isn’t the lowest profiled job so some attention is inevitable and expected, but I don’t really want more than that.” This is, of course, Riley staying true to form. She is known to be demure and as someone who considers the act of publicity-seeking distasteful. You won’t see her baiting the paparazzi by driving around West Hollywood with a rent-a-guru ala Paris Hilton or gallivanting panty-less around town ala starlets too numerous to mention. “She doesn’t have that whole ‘I’m gonna be a sexy teenager’ thing,” her mother, Lisa Marie Presley, said at the beginning of Riley’s modeling career. “She’s actually got so much class. She’s very graceful and has this sort of Grace Kelly-esque thing to her. She has had this elegance and finesse since she was a baby.”
Looking back to May 29, 1989, the day Riley (her birth name is Danielle Riley Keough) was born, there was something elegant if not protectively discreet about the way the daughter of Lisa Marie and musician Danny Keough entered the world. Her birth in Santa Monica, California was cloaked in secrecy; only one photographer, a friend of Danny’s named Cesare Bonazza, was allowed in the hospital room. (He reportedly sold a photo of the newborn to People magazine for US $300,000—a huge sum for a celebrity photo back then.) Baby Riley managed to elude the mob of paparazzi outside the hospital in a way that resembled Baby Moses being secreted down the Nile. But the pharaonic media caught up with her soon enough. Stories emerged that the child would be named “Elron” in honor of both Elvis and L. Ron Hubbard, founder of the Church of Scientology, the controversial organization of which Lisa Marie, Priscilla Presley (Riley’s grandmother), and Danny Keough are all reportedly involved. Tabloid astrologers were more charitable, predicting “a screen and music career” for Riley.
Crawling out from under Elvis’s massive shadow has been a long-term theme, almost a cliché, in the lives of Lisa Marie, Priscilla, and now Riley. The persistent memory of Elvis exists as an array of archetypes: corruptor of youth, musical revolutionary, sacred deity, camp actor, comeback kid, totem of kitsch Americana, damaged martyr. Generations have watched (and re-watched, through thousands of hours of perpetually released film footage) with awe and sadness as a sweet, sexy country boy was transformed into a dissolute neurotic by the harsh realities of fame. His incalculable influence on 20th and 21st century culture is, like Andy Warhol’s (the Popist’s 15-minutes-of-fame prophecy is routinely fulfilled) sometimes easily dismissed—partly because its lingering effect has been so thoroughly successful and ubiquitous. You’re not always aware of it but, to quote a long-running American dishwashing liquid commercial, you’re soaking in it.
Considering what they’ve had to live up to, the Presley women have not so much crawled out from under that shadow but negotiated it, as they’ve forged their own identities in the process. And their preservation of the legacy, it should be noted, has been admirable. Lisa Marie fought, and won, in court to retain the rights to her father’s name, image, and likeness. (The law at the time, which Lisa Marie permanently changed with her victory, dictated that such rights became public domain rather than be turned over to heirs.) When Graceland was set to be handed over to the state or put up for auction due to the large debts Elvis left behind after his death in 1977, Priscilla masterminded the plan to turn the property into a museum. It opened in 1982 and is visited by over 600,000 people a year.
Last September, Lisa Marie and Riley appeared together on The Oprah Winfrey Show. After performing an imaginary and rather audacious duet of “In the Ghetto” with her father (The King appeared in vintage footage on a jumbo video screen), with backup from the Harlem Gospel Choir, Lisa Marie fielded questions from the Big O. Speaking about Riley, Lisa Marie explained, a bit tongue-tied, that, “I didn’t want her to lose her own identity…I wanted them [Riley and her younger brother, Benjamin] to be raised normally…I didn’t want her to have that shadow where she felt in competition or intimidated by anything. I was raised never to flaunt who I am so I’ve raised them the same way…just do your own thing.”
But was it hard for Riley growing up in this dynasty, with this legacy? Oprah wanted to know. “Not really,” Riley responded nonchalantly before laughing and gesturing toward her mother. “Not like her.” Long story short, life for Lisa Marie has been a bit bumpier than a one-week stay at the Heartbreak Hotel. In her late teen years, her mother sent her to the Scientology center for their version of drug rehab. It was there she met Danny Keough and married him shortly thereafter in October 1988. After her divorce to Danny in 1994, she notoriously married the King of Pop, Michael Jackson. He was not popular with Riley—she reportedly fled in tears whenever her eccentric stepfather entered the room. Lisa Marie’s next husband was Elvis fan Nicholas Cage. That lasted about three months. Her current marriage to musician Michael Lockwood—the pair wed in 2006—has been more promising, as Lockwood is now her music producer. Even before the marriage, Lisa Marie had already begun to establish her recording career. In 2005 she released her second album, Now What. Riley sang backup vocals.
“We have a really good relationship,” Riley says glowingly. “My mom is extremely strong and can deal with pretty much anything thrown at her. And she has the biggest heart at the same time. Both of these things are really inspiring to me.” Although Riley loves music, listening to everything from Daft Punk to The Grateful Dead on her iPod, she has been adamant about not following in the musical footsteps of her mother and grandfather. And while she has been tight-lipped about her interest in photography and a rumored foray into acting, her modeling career has been marked with more than a few highlights. After her stint with Dolce & Gabbana, the 5-foot-7-inch mannequin walked for Christian Dior for four seasons and scored the campaign for the brand’s Miss Dior Cherie fragrance. In 2005, she appeared in a campaign for David Yurman alongside Amber Valetta and Kate Moss.
Dakota Fanning & Riley Keough in "The Runaways"
“I love working. I love meeting new photographers and seeing how they create,” says Riley, who has worked with Nick Knight, Mario Sorrenti, Peter Lindburgh, Rankin, and Arthur Elgort. “My favorite thing about being a model is being able to travel.” While she says there is nothing she dislikes about her career, Riley—who debuted as a model at age 12 for a Tommy Hilfiger campaign—does have her criticisms of the industry. “I don’t like how much attention is put on girls’ images, especially young girls,” she says. “I think it’s really unhealthy for 13 and 14-year olds to be worried about what they look like. It’s not always the case but when it is, I don’t like that at all.”
Elvis's leather-clad comeback in 1968
What’s next for Riley? A cosmetics campaign, a juicy movie role, a career as a social worker? Social worker?! “I’m involved with the Presley Charitable Foundation which is a non-profit organization that provides housing, daycare and counseling for homeless families so they can get back on their feet again,” Riley explains soberly. “We are currently working on opening up a center in New Orleans. I’m also working on various projects with different organizations. I love charity work; it’s something I want to be involved in as much as I can. That’s one thing that truly makes me the happiest.”
The oil may still be gushing into the Gulf and making its way up to the north-east coast (and England!) but at least we had picture-perfect weather on Saturday for my favorite summer event, The Mermaid Parade. I've been attending this Coney Island parade on-and-off since the late '80s and am happy to report that it hasn't changed all that much. It's still wonderfully rag-tag and eccentric with a refreshing absence of any kind of corporate branding or advertising. (It's also the largest art parade in the US.)
The big changes in Coney Island that we bohemian types have been fretting about for five years were not all that bad so far: The old Astroland was torn down last year and has been replaced by a sparkling new Luna Park (the name comes from an early-1900s incarnation of Coney Island's amusement park). Thankfully it's no glossy, corporate Disney production but I think it's nice the kids have brand-new rides. (And of course, the Cyclone and the Wonder Wheel, both historical landmarks, remain, as does the disused but refurbished Parachute Jump.) I was dismayed to hear that the Shore Hotel/Theater, where Tod Browning's "Freaks" premiered in 1932, has been earmarked for demolition as are a few other landmark buildings.
But onto happier thoughts: Here are my highlights from this year's parade...
Of course our first stop was Ruby's Bar & Grill on the boardwalk (the space was a speakeasy & underground cabaret in the '20s. After a long stint as a Hebrew National Deli starting in 1934, it became Ruby's in 1975. Without it, Coney Island would have no soul.) We loved this trio of bathing beauties.
Raw clams & beer at Ruby's is a long-standing Mermaid tradition for me.
Another not-so-great change in Coney is the old boardwalk being torn up and replaced with concrete. (Update: I received this message from Ruby's: "The boardwalk is not being replaced with Concret. They are reinforcing with concret then the natural Honduras wood goes on top. The area from Keyspan to Cyclone will always be the natural wood.") The parade ran along the old boardwalk side, with a fenced-off construction area cutting the width of area for parade watchers in half. Feeling claustrophobic, we fled to the parking lot where many of the marchers were being siphoned off....
...and I ran smack dab into this year's Queen Mermaid & King Neptune: Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed. Lou eschewed the traditional crown for a cap from Totonno's pizza parlour. (More on that later.)
One of the main themes at the parade this year was--surprise!--the BP oil spill disaster. Oil-covered mermaids were legion, as were agit-prop placards (BP = Boycott Pollution).
There were even oil-covered Somalian pirates....
This was my favorite: a zombie mermaid whose flesh had been dissolved by the oil spill.
The protest slogans were a bit....I don't know....it is just me, or are they a bit pointless? Would BP care if a mermaid swam in their toilet? Would a mermaid fit inside a toilet? And if they could, what would that achieve?
Meanwhile, back at Ruby's.....
....a spontaneous mermaid mosh pit broke out.
No, I didn't travel back to 1940 to take this photo of the Cyclone...but wouldn't that be grand if I could?
I talked everyone into riding the Cyclone (Corey & I stayed on for a second ride.) Here's Christine on her post-ride high!
Exhausted and starving, we made a pilgrimage to Totonno's Pizza on Neptune Avenue. It's considered the best pizza in the US. Opened in 1924, it is the oldest continuously operating pizzeria in the country.
On our way there, we were told by a local: "They have a LOT of attitude there....so make sure you give it right back to them!" When we arrived there was a long line of Brooklyn hipsters waiting to get in. Inside people were lingering over cups of melted ice, couples hogging tables that could seat six, a lone woman waiting over a half hour for a take-out pizza taking up a table that seated four. The staff could have cared less about the people waiting outside. I didn't mind waiting (we bought some cans of Foster's at a nearby gas station and sipped away in line); I just thought the restaurant's laid-back, almost passive-aggressive attitude was hilarious.
Of course, not everyone is as mellow as I am. One outraged guy went inside and started loudly complaining about the seating arrangements and the long wait. He was swiftly kicked to the curb by a tough-as-nails waitress who looked like she had seen it ALL.
Next was a bleached-blonde, leathery junkie woman who, despite the fact that she lived in Coney Island most of her life, was flabbergasted by everything that was happening around her. "Did you see the shit that's going on up on that damn boardwalk?! There are a bunch of fucking MERMAIDS running around up there!" And she wasn't trying to be funny. Then she was appalled by the wait to get into the pizzeria and went in and complained. She nearly escaped being turned into sausage by the chef.
The pizza , cooked in a coal-burning brick oven, was definitely worth the wait. The thin crust was heavenly, with a smoky taste, and the pie was delightfully grease-free. All the ingredients tasted very fresh. We wolfed down two pies.
Corey digs into his slice.
Nancy contemplates the beauty and simplicity of a plain slice.
I of course wanted sausage and mushrooms on mine and as you can see, I look like a maniac eating it.
We burned off some calories by walking back to the entrance of the new Luna Park. It's designed to look like the original Luna Park entrance.
A postcard image of Luna Park in 1913.
This 105-year-old film clip starts off slow but it has many rewards...including a live camel ride and a woman mysteriously collapsing on the beach.
Above: Diane at the SCOPE cocktail at Quality Meats
Dear Readers,
My friend Diane Pernet was in town last week for SCOPE and we had a very Warholian afternoon at Kelly Cutrone's loft where MTV interviewed Diane & Kelly about the Oscars and Lady Gaga's new "Telephone" video.
OFF WITH THEIR HEADS! Diane & I ready ourselves for our next victim.
At the cocktail, I was delighted to meet fellow Shaded View contributor Dustin Pittman. We chatted for a long time and of course he had the best stories about photographing Mick Jagger at a show in the early '70s and really that was just the tip of the Chanel iceberg. After the cocktail he took me to a party for Michael Musto...it was just like the old days again.
Joan Rivers hosted Michael Musto's 125th anniversary as a scribe at the Village Voice. By the way, did you hear about Joan's date dropping dead in front of her during dinner at Le Cirque recently? Seriously. She made a joke about how it was the first time he saw her in the light so it was too much of a shock for his heart. But really, having a date drop dead at Le Cirque? That is SO glamorous. I am jalouse.
Dirty Martini came out to do a little dance to commemorate Musto's 225 years in the nightlife biz. At one point during the night I rested my champagne flute on what I thought was a nifty end table made out of faux-petrified wood. I later learned that it was Cindy Adams.
Earlier on the evening Diane & I had tea with our friend Pierrot Carrilero at the Tribeca Grand Hotel
On Monday, I had breakfast with Diane at Pain Quotidien before popping in at Kelly Cutrone's. We thought it would be a short visit but we ended up staying for 4 hours.
Kelly relaxing in her loft
Kelly & Diane in Kelly's bed being prepped for their MTV interview
I was in Rio again last month at the invitation of ABIT (The Brazilian Textile & Apparel Industry Association) to attend the Carnaval parades at the Sambadrome. My full reports can be read here on A Shaded View on Fashion:
