Archive for fashionistas

Tribute to Goths in Hot Weather

Posted in art & music, humor with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 19, 2009 by Sunshine Superboy

yes, its an actual blog, and its actually called Goths in Hot Weather, and it kicks ass. Out of my own sense of support and reverence for this hallowed/forlorn project, I would like shout out to GIHW during these last days of summer- the accursèd season of hot sun and bug bites.

but first! To get you in the mood… an interlude from our friends NIN

ah… memories!

Great so, Goths in Hot Weather was revealed to me by a buddy sometime in the heat of August, and it really helped me shuffle my sweat and suffering into perspective! What if I had to suffer the noon-time humidity of Philadelphia in laced boots and leather instead of hotpants?! How self-absorbed I had been! There are legions of wan gothic devotees enduring the dual afflictions of summer AND copious black clothing!!! Behold:

(from Goths in Hot Weather)


Goths, I love ’em! I even used to be one for a bit (well, I was a Didi-Goth for at least 6 months). But there’s one thing that troubles me about our cheery friends: what to do they do in summer? All that makeup, long black leather and rubber must get very sticky. I think we should show our respect for these poor unfortunates, struggling to stand out from the vanilla crowd despite blazing temperatures and sunshine that puts the rest of us in shorts and vest tops. Join me in celebrating the majesty of the Goth, who, eschewing any practicality whatever, still has the commitment to don a full length leather trenchcoat, stupid New Rock boots, and half a Superdrug counter of makeup. All hail the Hot Goth!

Thusly, it begins. A few vignettes are in order. Seriously folks, I think I pissed my pants the first time I read these posts.

Exhibit A:
Goth Like an Egyptian
MArk Rimbach

Gothiness: 5 Sweatiness: 10
I know it’s the 80’s Mark, but you’re in EGYPT. Wearing a LEATHER JACKET. I’m proud of you.

yep. And next, the newest vocab in my fashionista lexicon, friends of all genders, I’d like to introduce: the Gothkini (exhibit B)

Gothiness: 8 Sweatiness: 9 (crotch area only)
Ladieeeeeez! [and whomever else!] Check out this Goth’s cradle of filth! He’s all man, and he’s waiting to satisfy your every need – poetry, navel gazing, and Terry Pratchett discussion groups with dark sexual chocolate drops on top! Witness the muscular physique! Gasp at the bulging source of his power! Swoon at the bullet belt adorned cowboy boots! This, surely, is every (straight) Gothette’s onanistic, narcissistic gothboy fantasy!

und, finally, Exhibit C:
Come Feast at the Bitter BBQ of Banishment

Gothiness: 7 Sweatiness: 6
Take heed mortal, and fear my warning! Tear your eyes from the alluring glare of this Dark Temptress! Heed not the cool, refreshing can of beer and refuse the promise of delicious pre-prepared kebabs with artichoke hearts from M&S! You can plainly see there’s nothing on this fire – like the Dread Pirate Roberts, this evil succubus waits to barbecue your SOOOUUUUULLLLL! Probably in a nice piri-piri sauce.

and with that… let us join hands and march wistfully into the congenial autumnal weeks which await us, just around the bend. Yes! Its our reward for putting up with blistering winters, pollen-filled springs, and the relentlessness of summer:

Sunshine Superboy

b-b-b-bonus! Goths vs. B-Boys Dance-Off!!!

first of all: holycrapamazing.
second: omg is Skinny Puppy still a band?!
third: you MUST watch the last 10 seconds. Killer!


Fashion Thinktank of Techmology

Posted in science with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 4, 2009 by Sunshine Superboy

With egg on my face, I sheepishly removed my corduroy coat, and humbled myself for the enlightened fashionista-scolding that was about to bare down on me. Thusly prepared for their upbraiding, I remained standing in the doorway in my corduroy pants…

“Are you seriously about to leave the house in a corduroy jacket and corduroy pants??! Thats like a Canadian tuxedo!”

Ahem. A wha? Bewildered a tad, certainly perplexed, and above all else intrigued, I took note of how I had absent mindedly grabbed that particular coat, and the fact that it did make for some masterpiece-theatre-esque combo with the outfit I had consciously donned. That I got. But what the frak was a-

“Canadian tuxedo: You know, like when someone wears jeans and a denim jacket? A DDT? A denim on denim threat?! Surely you’ve heard of this, Esteban.”

And being who I am, I really should have. I mean… had I missed all the signs?mattdamon_4001

I quickly came to, and acknowledged what had never quite taken hold in my mind as the denim phenomenon. But along with that, I had to admit that unlike Sara Romero, I actually have a soft spot for the coarse material. When contemplating what so bad about a Canadian Tuxedo, Sara blogs:

The answer to that question is, EVERYTHING. Everything is wrong with a Canadian Tuxedo… I’ve lost many a night of sleep, my mind just churning in thought of why the Double Denim Threat is such a heinous faux-pas in comparison to, let’s say cotton. No one cares if you wear copious dichotomies of cotton, or wool, or tiger-printed Lycra. Alright, that last one might just be me.

I remain unchanged. But then she goes on to deconstruct the DDT:

What makes or breaks your denim wear is the sheer volume of that denim; it needs to be just the right amount of jean to be deemed acceptable, and it’s so easy that even your run of the mill suburban mom should be able to figure it out.

Now here she is on to something. We’re not gonna reach consensus anytime soon regarding what that upper limit of blue on blue might be, but something about calibrating the scientific imbalance made something else finally start to make sense to me.

the Fashion Institute of Technology. F.I.T. is right up near my school, but closer to PENN Station, in midtown manhattan, on… (non-new yorkers might want to brace for this) Fashion Avenue. (its actually called that on the street signs that also decree the more modest moniker “7th Avenue”). Why in gods name is there a place by that name. I mean, really. A fashion institute… of technology??! Really you guys?? Its something about new york that has nagged at my gut since I was a kid. Where fashion meets techmology?? Thats just ridics.

But think of the ways they could break shit like this down:

Our own helpful tour guides to demystify the labyrinthine wasteland of materials, fabrics, accessories, and the ubiquitous faux-pas. What if we had an actual fashion force of faux-pas police? Could we have avoided the “ironic” hipster mullet? The rampage of VICE magazine? The saturday-night bisexuals who put the “faux” in “faux-hawk”?

Okay, short of a full on indictment of fashionistas, I hope its clear enough that the last thing we need on the East Coast (and new york of all places) is more frakking policing. We’re up to our elbows in that crap. If I wanna rock a DDT, y’all are just gonna have to let me rock it. 21e-7qtul_aa160_Thats not to say I don’t appresh my buddies looking out for me when I unknowingly strut out my front door in what I imagine we’d call a Cambridge Tuxedo. By all means.

But if I’m intentionally assembling a Cambridge Tux, a DCT (double corduroy threat?), best get the hella outta my way. I’m just glad I know whom to call when I’m putting it all together…

the world is yrs,
Sunshine Superboy