Our first reaction on reading New York's report that Lindsayism.com proprietress Lindsay Robertson had been "cyberstalking" Corey Feldman was, in a word, denial. "Mild-mannered Lindsay?" we asked ourselves, amazed. "That blonde pixie we've known all these years? Her?" (And, more to the point, in what world is that cyberstalking?) It couldn't be, we thought. It just couldn't.
The byline and lede are unnecessary; one really only needs to glance at the headline to know that this was written by anthropologist of the barely-legal, His Skeeviness David Amsden. In his defense, however, Amsden seems to be growing up: These girls are high school graduates, after all.
The notoriously raunchy East Village gay bar The Cock will be closing in a few weeks. One wonders: What finally sealed its fate? The post-ban smoking? The backroom? Nope.
Former Nervester Grant Stoddard recounts a recent day spent prowling the streets in a New York-funded U-Haul, finding sufficient castoffs to fully furnish a one-bedroom apartment.
New York magazine's latest Look Book borderlines on the shockingly normal. Brian Sullivan is a stay-at-home dad with a hankering for Irish lit — so much so that he's named his daughters te and Saoise. Spending his day at Bleecker park and reflecting on his evening art classes, Sullivan is wincingly cute and we are thus defenseless to his old-man trucker-hat charms. After the jump, Intern Alexis rounds up Hampton Stevens, Anna Arkin-Gallagher, and Zeke Reich for their haute commentary on daddy style.
We're passport-carrying residents of Romeneskoland, and, even so, we admit we find an awful lot of media criticism to be stultifyingly boring. We agree entirely with one famously incisive observer, who recently wrote, "It's not that I don't believe emphatically in square dealing and maximum honesty, but the customary righteousness, disingenuousness, futility, and wonky tedium of such debates are for me almost unbearable."
Next week in Amy Sohn: And what's the deal with guys never putting down the toilet seat? Am I right, ladies?
At left, the Look Book picture of Madison Brigode and, at right, her secret life as Olsen-approved arm candy.
We've often suspected that not every featured fashionista in New York magazine's Look Book feature is simply someone spotted on the street. For instance, Look-Booker Kay Goldberg is the daughter of successful record executive Danny Goldberg and well-known entertainment attorney Rosemary Carroll — it's doubtful that a New York intern just happened to bump into such an illustrious offspring, right? In a similar vein, this week's Look Book features Madison Brigode (our standard review TK), who dresses like an Olsen because, looky there, she's friends with an Olsen. What a koinky-dink.
The original and, to the left, the world's strangest interpretation thereof.
There are very few things in this godforsaken world that we love more than a national holiday, but they sure do fuck up our extremely rigid schedule. As such, this week's edition of the New York magazine's Look Book is a day late — but, considering the comic potential of Corcoran realtor Miriam Sirota, it's hardly a dollar short. Miriam lives in Bed-Stuy, sings Fiddler showtunes to her clients, and is unabashedly pro-pubes. After the jump, Intern Alexis rounds up Choire Sicha, Molly Jong-Fast, and Maureen Miller for a panel discussion on the implications of platform espadrilles.
We've had a lot of wonderful editions of the Look Book but, without question, this week's edition features perhaps the most fantastic man on the street since Brooklyn hipsters donned their diapers. If you couldn't already guess, the man at right is Bobby Vita, an electrical contracter from Astoria. Bobby likes rear-entry pornos and expressing his feelings with all sorts of women; and while his track suit may say Puma, Bobby knows it's really Armani in disguise. In her weekly panel of Manhattan's toughest fashion police, Intern Alexis rounds up Sarah Brown, Anne Kislevitz, and Allison Lorentzen for commentary.
No, this week's edition of New York magazine's Look Book has not been brought to you by the Brooklyn Council For Adult Undergarments. It has, however, been brought to you by the Hipster Association For The Advancement Of Lisa Jo, an artist who's hunting for a new place in Greenpoint. Now, now, you totally want to make fun of Lisa but, the truth is, she knows damn well that her waist and navel are the same thing — and you have to respect her for that clarity. After the jump, Intern Alexis rounds up panelists Guy Cimbalo, Jessica Grose, and Matthew Schneider play Dress Me Up L-Jo.
This week's Look Book provides you the opportunity to mock the door guy at Crobar, rather than the other way around. (Actually, if you're the sort of person who stands on line at Crobar you deserve exactly what you get, you status-obsessed twat.) After the jump, Sarah Gray, Caroline McCloskey, and Rakyesh Satyal tell intern Alexis why they'd keep this guy behind the velvet rope. Or whatever - we don't usually read this feature.
John Simon, New York magazine's lead theater critic lo these 37 1/2 years, got the boot from editor Adam Moss yesterday. Simon told BOLDFACE that Moss intends to take theater coverage in a "new direction"—which, judging by the magazine's other bold new initiatives, presumably means intensive coverage of one-woman shows involving teen overspending and the psychosexual implications of rapid weight loss. To be sure, Simon, who never seems to have met a racial minority or gay agenda he liked, will be unmourned in much of the theater community: Playwright and neophyte Huffablogger David Mamet famously remarked that Simon and former Times theater scribe Frank Rich were the syphilis and gonorrhea of the theater world. Simon seems to have, um, picked up that meme himself: "My last review is 'Sweet Charity,' " he told the Times, "Which is ironic."
We wanted to read the piece on the Ansonia in the new New York. We really did. We've always thought it's an interesting building to look at. It was also home to the Continental Baths, and, without getting into our feelings on gay bathhouses, any connection to the Divine Miss M sends a shiver up our spine. There's even the whole Plato's Retreat thing. But, stupidly, we stopped first at the table-of-contents page, where we saw this pic of Robin Leach on his way into Plato's. And it'll be tough to read the article now that we've had to gouge out our eyeballs. —JO
Also, she totally looks like a man.
