Mark, Charlotte, and Samantha Ronson photographed by Jenny Gage and Tom Betterton for Harper's Bazaar a la Tenanbaum. Brilliant.
"The parallel between the Ronsons and the quirky prodigies, Chas, Margot, and Richie Tenenbaum, of the 2001 Wes Anderson-directed dramedy The Royal Tenenbaums isn't just a clever concept. All are products of an unusual upbringing and artistic environment."
Read the full-length article here.
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Tuesday, August 12, 2008
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New York
St. Mark’s Bookshop, Printed Matter, Ink, Opening Ceremony, Spoon bill, McNally Robinson, Bluestockings, Rapture, Matter, Art book PS1
Chicago
Museum of Contemporary Art, Quimby's Bookstore
Minneapolis, MN
Walker Art Center
Los Angeles
Ooga Booga, Opening Ceremony (la), Silverman Gallery, Skylight Books
Distribution is also available through Textfield textfield.com
Santa Monica
Arcana: Books on the Arts
 |  | The French may prattle on about how totally different they are from the English, but when it comes to Parisian fashion in 2008, a lot of guys are taking notes from Michael Caine circa 1969. We’re seeing clean-cut nonchalance and a strict color code that mostly revolves around black, gray, and navy blue. Goofy dad glasses are generally the icing on the croissant. Although Parisians rarely leave the city, it looks as if they’re all preparing for a weekend jaunt in the countryside with their heavy brown coats and lumberjack shirts. 2008 also marks the return of yacht-rock chic, with a petit twist of grunge for good measure. Everyone looks like they love Vampire Weekend, but we hope they don’t really because that band is lame. A quota of at least two vintage items per outfit seems to be an unwritten rule. This is most likely a rejection of 2007’s obsession with all that was new, shiny, and overpriced. To wit, fluorescent Nikes have been replaced by the classic patent-leather dock shoe and a total disdain for flashy colors. Of course, like everywhere else in the world, tight jeans remain a fixture. Layering hoodies, simple slacks, and uncoiffed hair are also acceptable looks this year. Basically Parisian guys need to get stoned, raid their granddad’s closet, and come out looking like they’re ready for an afternoon of beers, bon mots, and Gauloises. Parisian women are always classy—almost annoyingly so. Last year, French girls were all done up like grannies having afternoon tea. In 2008 they’re more like your cool babysitter—a girl who can teach you how to walk in high heels but who’ll also make you do your homework. They look neat and cozy and smart. The French are also one of the few nationalities not clinging to the garish “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” 80s look. Good for them. The streets of Paris are full of artsy women wearing black, charcoal, and more black. Girls don’t mind spending some money on quality wool coats, sweaters, and ankle boots. No self-respecting girl will ever leave the house without perfectly tousled hair and swept-to-the-side bangs. Also, no one can wear a jaunty scarf like a Parisian lass can. | |  |
| Photos: Alberto Cabrera; coordination: Alex Hughes | ||||
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Tuesday, April 29, 2008
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Wax Poetics lionizes that kind of nostalgia, from its reverent history-lesson writing style to its gorgeous vintage photography to its cover stars: classic names like Miles Davis, Slick Rick, Rick James, Mandrill, Too Short. It’s a godsend for hard-core audiophiles, but with immediate appeal for anyone who remembers the vinyl era, long before tapes, CDs, and certainly the cold, bloodless computer files that house our music now. “There is no aura to an MP3,” Torres notes.
A record—a warm slab of 
vinyl, round and thick and shiny and oddly comforting—is all aura. It’s music you can feel, smell, almost taste: “tactility,” Torres calls it.
“There’s a sort of ritual attached to listening to a record,” he says. “You open ’em up sometimes, the gatefold, and find weed from people rolling joints back in the old days.”
-Rob Harvilla (music editor, village voice)
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Friday, April 11, 2008
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