I'm not dead. Promise.

It's hard to dance with a devil on your back, so shake him off.

Fall has finally arrive and homework is slowly piling up. I'm far behind on any Spring/Summer 2012 coverage, but I hope to post on some of my favorite shows. In the meantime, enjoy this rather magical new video from Florence + The Machine. I can only hope Halloween will be so dreamy.

I've probably posted it already, but this one's better.



Back to writing...

In the simplest of ways, Justin Wu knows how to make me smile.

Sunday Night

I'm lightyears behind in any Spring 2012 coverage, but that's not exactly news. Instead of being productive today, I ate a ton and watched several episodes of "My So-Called Life." Around 9:00 tonight, I wondered if I should even bother trying to be productive before bed. I still haven't decided, but I cleaned up my apartment a bit, lit my Gothic candelabra (that's probably not the correct term, but you know, it's sounds nice), and put a live Pat Benatar record on my half-working record player.



"Looking for a Stranger" is always a fantastic choice for a slow night. Escaping my apartment to do something dangerous often sounds desirable. For now, I think I'll just stick with pretending my life is much darker than it is in actuality, candelabra and all.

NYFW Spring 2012 from David Sherwin on Vimeo.

Fall is coming.

Losing my Rocky Horror Picture Show virginity was one of the best moments of the beginning of my Freshman year. I can't wait for what this year brings.

Gaga on Criticism, Ms. Horyn

GAGA MEMORANDUM NO. 3

In her latest column for V magazine, Lady Gaga investigates critical culture, directing much attention to the esteemed (and notoriously harsh) Cathy Horyn. Gaga questions the necessity of being highly critical to the point that said criticism is negative to the point it becomes predictable. She herself has stated that critics are bullies, which one cannot easily disagree with. Certainly being a critic requires expertise and (hopefully) disgression, but often critical writing reads as if the writer is reveling in being mean spirited. I myself have weighed the value of being critical, struggling with saying something that could be potentially divisive. That is, if any of the creators I write about actually read my blog—they don't...yet. Every time I have this conversation, of sorts, Horyn comes up, perhaps because she is the most vocally critical fashion journalist alive today. Without a doubt, I feel that honest criticism is necessary to keep artists thinking forward and such shoes are difficult to fill. For that, I applaud Ms. Horyn's bravery, as I could not be so objective that I eliminate the possibility of befriending—or at least having the respect of—the world's most important designers (perhaps journalism isn't really for me...?).

Gaga asks, "Is it not even more critical for fashion and art critics to be profusely informed not only in art history but in the subliminal? The public operates with the assumption that critics are experts in their respective fields. But are they? Does every critic have the soul to really receive a work in the transcendental sense? The out-of-body experience of art?" Too often those who experience art only think of it in terms of good and bad. What I believe Gaga asks for in this column is a journalistic consciousness that looks deeper, that experiences the work. I sometimes wonder if I have the "soul" for it and cringe at the thought that I may not. Then again, I wonder that about a lot of things. Perhaps that's telling...or not at all.

I found the piece to be probing and important, even in it's a bit of an assault on Horyn. I still believe Horyn has a valuable place in the fashion community. This kind of discourse often has me searching within myself for a guide, if you will. I just hope Glitter Way presents itself to me in time.

Dancing Queens.

Lanvin ads always have a sense of life to them, much like the work Alber Elbaz does for the house itself. Last season, the campaign featured Iselin Steiro and Kinga Rajzak mid-catfight. The Fall campaign—shot by Steven Meisel—brings something more light, with Karen Elson and Raquel Zimmerman performing synchronized choreography. The result is as playful as the brightly colored and voluminous dresses pictured below. If the stills weren't enough, a campaign video has surfaced which shows the models (and male counterparts) dancing to Pitbull's "I Know You Want Me." The soundtrack choice brings me a smile for the simple fact that something mainstream won out over something indie. Any pretension is stripped once Pitbull's voice emerges. Quite simply, it's lighthearted fun that is undeniably refreshing. I hope you'll enjoy a couple stills and the video as much as I did. There's a lovely surprise at the end.







Photos via Fashion Gone Rogue

Marc and Robert.

Photos via WSJ Magazine

I'm constantly thinking about having a kindred spirit to work alongside. My dear friend, Gillian, certainly fits the bill, but the majority of her year is spent in Portland. This insightful profile of Marc Jacobs and Robert Duffy for the Wall Street Journal Magazine illustrates their personal and professional relationship. Not only is such a relationship something I crave, but what has resulted from their partnership is nothing short of inspiring. In addition, the old photo is awfully precious. Enjoy.

Carine Roitfeld by Karl Lagerfeld

Carine Roitfeld photographed by Karl Lagerfeld

The two had quite an interesting chat in Interview magazine, accompanied by some ravishing photos. I cannot help but to feel full of wonder after reading the interview. Huh.

Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams.

Vintage wrap, thrifted BDG t-shirt, BDG jeans, deaux lux bag, BP Nordstrom scarf (worn as turban), gifted silver and seashell necklaces,
ring purchased at Moksha, tassle necklace Forever 21, assorted bangles, gifted flats

On the day of the Pride weekend street fair, Gillian and I explored the less charted regions of Capitol Hill, where we found a wonderful vintage store called Indian Summer, tucked away not far West of Broadway. I found a beautiful greyish, jade greenish wrap, printed with fish, antelope and other exotically rendered creatures all over it. The fringed hem also got my motor running. I had just spent nice sum at Cairo, another nearby vintage store, and reluctantly fell in love. Gillian looked at me and knowingly said, "Don't pretend you're not going to buy that." (For whatever reason, I have a fierce attraction to ponchos, wraps, capes, and any other garment that loosely covers me that couldn't be called a coat). The large "10" written on the tag seemed oddly low, so I made sure with the owner who reassured me it was ten dollars. All resistance was quelled thereafter.

The Summer weather has required me to be virtually naked (I'm a whiny Seattleite), so my excitement about the garment has not been fully exercised, but on the day I took this photo, it was rather cool and grey. I even put on some pants. I'm also fairly obsessed with headwraps and the like, so I devoted a chunk of my morning to mastering a turban shape with a long scarf. An excess of jewelry, eyeliner, and room in my bag brought together all of the bag lady elements.

I'm so fucking ready for Fall.

Don't tell me I'm less than my freedom.

It's not the door you're using, but the way you're walking through it.

The Kills at Lollapalooza 2011

Copies 6¢

Praise Mario Lemafa for always having his camera with him.



Thrifted button up, BDG cigarette jeans, thrifted Banana Republic ankle boots, thrifted green (faux?) snakeskin clutch