It's getting hot in here. So hot that Crano and I hit the streets in full sunlight - which for me is really saying something. After lunch at our favorite California Roll Factory we stormed the monstrous new Bed Bath and Beyond where the best looking merchandise was on two legs. I'm jus sayin. Above is proof that Crano really does suck - in Fiction no less. And his finger makes rainbows! Awwww.
Today I have been photo editing pix shot at JUICY in Tokyo - actually from both trips to Japan last fall. Above is the provocateur MadameBonjour JohnJ. I know this is obvious, but I love that surprising feeling when you dig out pix and they rush you back a moment, a day, a month from something that seemed like a lifetime ago. Suddenly I am back in Tokyo and it is 3am. Sigh.
Hands down the ugliest store in Westwood Village is Ahhh's (or as I think of it, Ewww's) with Urban Doubtfitters running a close second. Lucky for some, they are right across the street from each other so you can hop from from trash pit to another. The pic above is a recent sampling of their store window for Mother's Day. And yes, that onesie actually says "My Mom is hot AND SINGLE!"
Maybe it's because of those images of a newly sprouted neighborhood from the 1920's, I always think of Westwood Village as somewhat charming or refined. But in reality it is a rather ugly collection of overpriced crap, extortion deli's, and - wether it be a bank or a cafe - typically bad service. Westwood Village is caught in a downward spiral of lousy property maintenance and ill-conceived development. So I am starting a new photo album of all the ugly crap I see everyday in Westwood. So now you can laugh and cry along with me.
Discovered during one of those late night walks, when Crano drug me into a 7/11 on Westwood Blvd. The Vanilla Sparkle Body Spray seems poised to start some serious trouble. Sparkle, Body, Sparkle!
Sent from my iPhone
No this isn't the bedroom window of Junior HS girl (or boy). Or maybe it is? On a stroll with Crano, we spotted this Salon in the high cultural no-man's land of Westwood Blvd. between Wilshire and Santa Monica Blvd's. It isn't that the stores are tacky exactly, just cheap in that how-can-this-be-so-expensive-when-it-is-such-a-piece-of-crap kind of a way. That turbaned face staring out of the window brings to mind Funny Girl or the terrible un-Funny Lady. Or maybe a bit of that Jackie Beat - Baby Got Front kind of a way.
On the last night of my trip to Kansas I hit the streets of Kansas City and did some podcast recording in Westport with Thad and Heath. Nothing could have prepared me for the evenings encore - we ended up at Missie B's. Thad escaped this near drag experience with the excuse of wife and child awaiting his return.
Heath and I witnessed unspeakable acts - mostly deflated ones. The strange highlights include the drag show surveillance playing out on cheap flat screen tv's. The color and signal kept flickering in and out, which revealed the drag show (going on in the same room) as the crime scene that it truly was.
Upstairs there was no relief for our ears and eyes, as unlikely contestants had been drafted into some sort of competition. We couldn't figure out the point exactly and the MC was barely able to muster a groan from the audience. Any remaining blood drained out later when the formerly attractive-enough victims were paraded in adult diapers. It was borderline moment - it could have gone several directions.
During a dance break, a cluster of drunken trampy boys attempted to out-slut each other - on the same pole at the same time. No matter how hard they did the bump and grind, I couldn't get the image of the earlier leather-faced-cowboy-cum-lord-of-the-dance who had made that pole truly his own.
Kosaku san and I hit the streets today working our way through several galleries, obscure fashion and handmade house-ware shops. For the record I must state Kosaku has impeccable taste. This pic is in Roppongi - as the last light of day disappeared we headed for tea. There were photographers, journalists and news crews crawling all over the area as a major press event was playing out across the street from us. Oh, and I sure hope they decorate this street for the holidays.
Rebecca and I hit 3rd Street in West Hollwood, trolling for what I call work clothes. As a fashion address, 3rd Street has lost its way. The shops were terminally low on fresh ideas. The pic above is from Milk (as in cute and ironic has been milked bone dry) where we were amused/horrified at the promo being shot and the line of shop girls fixated on the would-be spectacle.
As we strolled from store to store, our favorite thing to hate were the shop girls and their bad impersonations of friendly or knowledgeable staff: "Can I get your size for that Babe?" or "Are you two doing alright" said while not really looking at you or listening for an answer.
Early on I encouraged Rebecca towards a terrible pair of stone washed, pencil-thin low cut jeans and doing a Laura Dern look from '82 or something. And although we both agreed we love her, she thankfully passed on the suggestion.
Our favorite things to love were the fruit with fruit, and the bicycle man with buckets.
We had an emergency recharge of iced green tea and fresh zucchini bread at Joan's. (Note to my Mom - it was good, but not as good as yours.) After we rehydrated our moods lifted considerably.
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