Mutant Bastard Yucky Colors of the Apocalypse
Lavender is the Yellow of Japan. Hot Pink is the Navy Blue of India. So how did dusty rose, suntan and what my friend, Generation X author Douglas Coupland calls “veal” become America’s first palette? The platinum bombshell Mae West is quoted as saying, “I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.” Ladies and gentlemen, we have drifted. I blame Michael Graves. You gotta blame somebody. To be honest, I’m not really sure, but I do remember seeing pictures of fussy, contrived, overproduced “postmodern” buildings, ornamented with garish aqua architectural doodads. Maybe…
i became, after extensive on-the-job training, and with mixed results, a production artist at the new york times magazine, then a designer at self, mademoiselle, and gq.
to this day i am not sure what the differences are between creative director, art director, and designer. all i know is that like mel brooks as the 2000 year old man has said, i have known and worked with “the great and the near great.” bea feitler, marvin israel, alexander liberman, and david bowie. wait! i think there’s a story there, and i have several more.
when did most people start using…
Some people get stuck in a decade, usually the happiest decade of their youth, in their fashion, music and hairstyle choices, and I’m surely guilty of this as well. My look is “Freckled fifth grader on way to Menemsha softball game, 1966” but with way more eyeliner than is appropriate.
“Mariniére” stripes have been back “in” with a modish vengeance since about 2004, but I didn’t just jump on this horizontal bandwagon. Oh, no. I’ve been dressing like an elderly French bumblebee pirate clown since childhood. In any given decade, if not attending a state funeral, I’m in red and…
Dreydl, dreydl dreydl
I made it out of clay.
We make up today.
though in the Spring,
Let us please include
But- no pictures!
That would be
Be black and proud,
And say it loud
from every mosque and steeple.
All the colors Celebrate
the Opiate of the People!
For Diasporic Africans, for
Spiritists and Sikhs,
Holidays and Holy Days
Prevail the coming weeks.
Three Kings Day,
Our Lady of Guadalupe,
Juárez, and Abu Dhabi…
For Atheists, Agnostic ones,
For Godless Techno Geeks,
For Hellenic Polytheists
(a.k.a. Ancient Greeks)
I was born in New York City in the 50’s, into an arty, progressive, Jewish, Upper West Side milieu. Everyone was in analysis. When I was three, my parents divorced. Their mutual guilt resulted in my earliest therapeutic experience, in which crayons and a collection of foam animals played a vital part. Since that time I have been in and out of therapy, with mixed results. In spite of the conviction that I’m therapy-proof, 46 years later I am still a neurotic, angry New Yorker, searching for the perfect shrink. Where’s my Dr. Melfi?
Never mind my problems with impatience…
On a daily basis, my mailbox is lavishly festooned with a stupefying assortment of invitations. Galleries, book parties, and fragrance launches want me. They want me real bad.
How dare they assume that I have nothing better to do than imbibe free Aperol Spritzes and ingest free Thai meat lollipops? Would I bother to don my stripes and bless their little shindigs with my adorable presence for the paltry reward of a gift bag brimming with Nars Dragon Lady lipsticks, Prada key rings, Vahlrona chocolate and La Prairie White Caviar Illuminating and Replenishing Mask? You’re damn right I would.
In light of this global phenomenon, it occurs to me that my only chance of attracting attention might be very much improved upon were it that of the unwelcome variety. With that desperate goal in mind, I have just launched bitterspinsta_gram. I already have 8 followers, all of them twenty-four carat losers, to whom I say, “Please stop following me! I am lost.”
And, as if that weren’t enough, I have now fashioned a uniquely shrewd and inventive cover letter that I plan to enclose with every creative submission in any and all media, guaranteeing that, rather than disappearing from…