Friday, October 24, 2014
This is Musical Tears, where I usher great bands that are often to convoluted for me to really offer an objective review. Seriously, though, I leave it to the professionals: Amazon users.
I present to you Zoë and friends. Akin to Beyonce and friends, but a whole lot more angst and less about divvying the bills. That's not the case here, the band, Lolawolf, comprises of Zoë Kravitz, Jimmy Giannopoulos and James Levy. They are based out of New York and are not concerned about popularity. You guyssss are soups kewllll.
Lolawolf's intention is to find a niche audience: Feminists (see: Jezebel review).
They recently toured with Lily Allen and is currently opening for singer-cum-hippie designer Miley Cyrus in Australia. They've been reviewed by Pitchfork, Noisey and Vibe. Vibe is kind of an anomaly. No?
You can stream their music on Soundcloud because independent records stores in Toronto be like: "Sorry man, I don't have Lolawolf." WHERE THE FUCK DO I FIND A PHYSICAL COPY OF LOLAWOLF IN TORONTO?!!
Photo: Brad Ogbanna
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Katy Perry tweeted at Yelle, world domination ensues.
I had no expectations entering a Yelle concert last night at The Mod Club. I had just finished an 8 hour shift and what I really needed was a shitty beer. That shitty beer cost me $8 + tip. I proceeded to the dance floor alone swaying back and forth to Lemonade (the opening band), tearing about said overpriced pilsner.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
There are classics, like the dessert boot, that should remain a staple in your wardrobe. Other pieces should include a good pair of jeans (which, I don't own, condemn me!), a breton shirt in a myriad of colours, a Proenza Schouler PS1 and the quilted jacket. I played around with the classics, but it's relative.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
This is thee year for the height of the Basic Bitch. Retailers are stocking yoga pants consistently, Lauren Conrad: Queen Basic Bitch, got married and Starbuck's released their famous Pumpkin Spice Latte (P.S.L. for short) extra early for the basic bitches that just couldn't wait. Crazy basics.
Then, I got cogitating, what about the basic bro's that they attract, that perpetually sexually assault them while they down their smooth Coor's beer. Who the fuck is still drinking Coor's beers. Okay, their rebuttal, though, the babes were "asking" for it.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Not that all black eeerrrryythinggg. Get your English together, millennials.
I migrated to Toronto just over two years ago to escape the perpetual boredom of suburban life. I used to ride bikes on sidewalks. Now, I'm the person pushing them off the sidewalks. (Not literally.) The city that I left just recently opened an Urban Outfitters. The city I was born and raised in is doomed to cultural appropriation.
My style hasn't evolved too much living under the fascist and racist Rob Ford. I committed to my staples for fall: skinny pants, sweaters and some modest footwear. I gravitated towards colour, occasionally neutral palettes and added flair with colourful socks and scarves. I was ultimately contesting Toronto's natural inclination towards black.
I didn't understand an all black ensemble. I didn't want to understand it. I went to school for sociology and more than anything, this is kind of the perfect case study, right? Of course it is. Throughout the years, I have opened myself to understanding why Toronto is permeated in black outfits.
It's easy, really. Black pants, black shirt, etc, etc, you get it. It took you a whole ten seconds to get ready. What I had qualms with, was that, I felt it was more of a conformity tactic. Toronto likes to be safe, sartorially speaking. There wasn't much range in textiles, cuts and quite frankly, personality.
As of late, I am slowly introducing black into my wardrobe juxtaposing them with colour to create a personal sense of style. Think black pants cropped to expose about three inches of ankles, black leather boots and a colourful, yet muted plaid shirt because I'm Canadian. It's formal-cum-casual and rewriting the the rules to black.
Black, count me in.
Photo: surprisingly, I found this on MTV.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Fashion is funny. It also cloaks you in homosexuality.
This story begins Friday night at a bar -- named after an adorable rodent -- between a group of four friends. Or as Carrie Bradshaw says, "a squirrel is just a rat in a cuter outfit." The squirrel is like J.W. Anderson, where as the rat is like the mall staple Jack & Jones.
My friend, the squirrel, but lets call him Boner (it's synonymous with his actual surname), dresses well with confidence. Boner has a penchant for cheerful socks, fitted jeans, collared shirts, fall jackets and knows the difference between oxfords and monk straps. He's a heterosexual that is pursued by both members of the sexes.
Why? How? I don't get it.
My other friend, lets call her Hydrangea (it's synonymous with her actual surname [I'm so good at this!]), has null gaydar, but knows how to navigate an a-line skirt to perfection. Hydrangea thought Boner was a homosexual based on how he presented himself. We all had a good laugh and she proceeded to explain herself saying that he just dressed, "too well." We subsequently continued to drink some more.
I have to wonder, though, in a denizen of relatively well-dressed people, how do you differentiate between gay and straight based on sartorial choices? I know homosexuals that think cargo pants are trending this fall, you would assume they are "straight". On other hand, you have straight men who enjoy hand welted footwear, you would conclude they're "gay". They probably are gay, they're just "masc". Duh.
Me, I would say I am well-dressed. I embody a post-minimalist look. I don't know what that is, but sure. Hydrangea already assumed my sexuality.
Was it the moustache? My exposed ankles? My mannerisms? My left-wing ideologies?
Photo: Le 21eme
Friday, October 3, 2014
All the hoopla surrounding fall fashion magazines began back in late August/early September only to my demise that only in Canada am I able to purchase them now in store. It's fucking October. Sure, with the wonders of the Internets, I was able to view all the covers and ads online. The feeling, though, of flipping through physical paper intensifies the experience and you lose yourself in the moment like I did at Lykke Li earlier this week. I have those Little Bit dance moves on lock. "Ooohh, Ooohhh."
Prior to the aforementioned concert, I had some leisure to go to a shop in hopes that Dansk would be available for purchase. To my surprise, there it was: Dansk: The World's Most Independent Fashion Magazine. There were two cover options, one with Matthew Terry and the other with Elisabeth Erm. By default, and by default I mean gay, I chose Terry.
The autumn/winter issue features a Q&A with the designers behind Proenza Schouler, Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez offering insightful answers -- with a humourous tone -- about fashion. In fashion as of late, there's this strong discourse about the direction of fashion. Is fashion too commercial? Is it necessary to have pre-collections? Why were there Barbies at Moschino? And will there really be a menswear collection?!!
There's dialogue. That's enough to excite my loins.
McCollough begins with, "We're talking about it. But, I don't know... I like the idea of menswear also on a selfish level. I mean, you could just create what you need, fit everything on yourself, and like...."
And Hernandez humourously ends with, "What, you think you're a sample size now?"
I am not a sample size, but I will gladly take the burden of consuming Proenza Schouler. I'll take ladies wear too, man.