Posts tagged magazines
Hay friends! Stop drooling over that for a second. We’ll get to Hattie, but first up is HARLAN. Big ups to my office-pal Rob for sharing this gem at work this morning:
Harlan Ellison is a hugely successful American science fiction writer. He’s brand new to me, but I love him already. That fire, that passion, that refusal to be taken advantage of. I admire that kind of gusto and sincerely hope I have the courage to be more like him one day.
You can read some of Ellison’s short stories here, and I recommend that you DO. Who would you rather take reading recommendations from? Oprah Winfrey or some Canadian chick who irons her cuffs with a hair straightener most of the time?
You know who else I love? Hattie Stewart. Also new to me, but her style is 110 per cent *UMPH*. This is the shick I see in my head when I have sweet dreams:
Hattie is a young and higggghly succesful artist living in London (the real one). Her illustrated magazine covers are blowing up the web today and with good reason. They are, to paraphrase your grandmother, the bomb sheezy.
My entire blog could be about showcasing the talents of other people. Maybe one day it will be.
Here’s Eric Cartman, IRL. Now that is talent, maybe.
“If the Internet had a spirit animal, it would be a cat.” – Little Burgundy Magazine , S/S 2011
What is it about felines that makes we the Interfolk love them so damned much? Better question: Why am I blogging right now instead of actively acquiring more cats?
Perhaps I’m just too lazy to put on a pair of pants at the moment, but more likely it’s because I can get my fur fix online without physically having to hug every cat.
I wonder if crazy cat lady populations have increased or decreased since the dawn of the modern web…
Oh, who am I kidding – I’d put that sweater on my cat in a heartbeat. It’s effing awesome.
The Internet and kitties go together like peanut butter and M&M’s, in my opinion. Not the most conventional of combinations, but it’s charming as hell…
No examples are needed to illustrate this point (I give them to you all the freaking time, greedy sods) but here’s one anyway: All 7 Harry Potter films in just over a minute, as acted out by cats:
“I have boobs now!” Hahaha. SO GOOD.
Anyhoo, Last week I ducked into Little Burgundy for the purpose of lusting over some House of Harlow wedges I do not need and – LO & BEHOLD! – A SALE! A big big sale. I bought too much.
Fortunately, my little spending binge was justified because I got one thing foh free. The best thing of all things, in fact:
C’est Little Burgundy’s Spring/Summer 2011 Magazine: The Cat Issue!
I’m a big fan of these lookbook / hipsterzine hybrids. It takes a lot of creativity to make branded editorial content genuinely palatable. H&M does it well, and Little Burgundy hit out of the park with this. Big ups to their
The articles and interviews were penned (keyed, rather) almost entirely by bloggers – good ones, too – and the “hipster cats” illustrations were done by Toronto’s own Melinda Josie. I’ve never met her but I think I love her.
Please do yourself a favour and visit the Little Burgundy Cat Issue microsite for a good chunk of hot shoes and kitty-related content:
I also enjoyed the page with photos from their Future Issue party because I was on it, sort of. See that little quarter of a blonde head in the background there? 100% me. I was talking to that dude forever and was the only severely platinum girl there if I do recall.
Last night, I went to a different party at that very same gallery. The only other time I’ve been there, in fact. It was the annual VICE Photo show in Toronto and it was a hot hipsterlicious mess. Literally. Walking into Show & Tell last night, I felt like I was entering a steam room – except the air was not thick with water, it was thick with Pabst Blue Ribbon and sweat.
The photo essays I saw were incredible (Check out Brett Grundlock’s “The Movement” – powerful stuff), but I think most of these kids came for the free PBR. It was cray-cray near the bar.
I did some other fun things this week when I wasn’t busy pulling my hair out 10-6. Carly‘s sister Kristin had a launch party for her new boutique Hate & Heartbreak on Monday and Raymi danced. It was sexy and fun and great to see my blogging babes. Casie wrote all about it here.
The Blondetourage be making me happy <3
I’ve got to go now. Gunna channel this guy and make like a sick, fearless bastard right now… Going to unload my dishwasher TWO CUPS AT A TIME. I might even start a new book.
Fridays are tired days. It was a really long, hard one today.
(For the record: Little Burgundy didn’t pay me to write this or give me free crap or even knows that I’m in love with them probably. I just really like cats.)
HAY HAY HAY!
Last week I picked up a bunch of free magazines at The Drake. (And by ‘magazines’, I mean promotional rags, pamphlets, postcards, flyers, discarded cocktail napkins… anything remotely cool looking and/or colourful that fit into my purse. Yeah, I’m one of those people – and I’ve got four bulletin boards, a computer desk overflowing with bright wacky schtuff and a perpetually sextuple-booked “zawesome events!” Google calendar to show for it.)
And also, the greatest horoscopes I’ve ever read ever. I know I exaggerate like, a katrillion times a minute, but I’m being serious. In all my human life years, I have never laughed my way from Capricorn to Sagittarius straight (sans-whipits).
Mine (Scorpio) was pretty much bang-on…
You have a beer gut you didn’t have to pay for and your hearing is permanently shot from blasting illegally downloaded Diplo remixes over shitty dive-bar sound systems. If blogs could give out medals, you’d have a Purple Heart. Go get ‘em, tiger.
k, maybe not BANG on, but it was hilarious so things are gravy.
And speaking of gravy, the icing on my meaty cake of hip-to-be-hip gold was ION’s interview with Ukranian-born moustache man musician Eugene Hu?tz, front guy of uber-acclaimed gypsy-punk band Gogol Bordello.
I’d heard the good buzzzz about this band, but never really got around to checking them out as I’m not one for weird music that sounds like crap. Gogol’s music SO does not sound like crap, by the way, I just kind of assumed that it would based on all of the other highly buzzzzed about stuff I blindly download.
Then I learned that hating on gypsies is like TOTALLY RACIST.
Anyways, I’m totally going to marry a gypsy punk-rocker if he will have my hand because holysmokes do I less than three my new homeboy-in-my-head for saying this:
“… fashion is basically one of the lower forms of art. I don’t detest fashion. It’s just that the importance is blown out of proportion. Most fashion has become institutionalized elitism. Personally, I don’t give a fuck about fashion. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate if somebody whips some combination out that I’ve never seen before. Fashion is great when it is spontaneous and upbeat, or from somebody whose aesthetic about fashion is very artistic and solid…”
and also, this…
“the idea of nostalgia is very much a part of the Western condition. It’s also been employed as a big business by capitalists milking people’s weaknesses—a form of mental laziness. People are chasing the wrong things. It seems people are either constantly aiming towards some goal that they think will finally free them, or they are taking comfort in things that have already happened. It’s this doomed way of thinking that the best time in their life has either already happened, or that it never will happen, y’know? So, I’m not really a fan of that. It’s not about arriving anywhere, or dwelling on all the places you’ve been. It’s about the cruising.”
Smart and [would be] sexy [without the creepstache].
And yes, by the way, I understand the irony of me loving those statements – the hypocrisy -as I am both a hardcore clotheswhore and a girl who relies heavily on nostalgia for much of the content she produces. I’m trying to change both of those things, bear with me. We all need a little bit of a kick sometimes.
I am just loving all of this found indie and hipster media strewn around Toronto’s cool bars and java joints. Screw Nylon and Vice - I can be irreverently hip without having to spend a dime. *smug hair toss*
Wait… can I still be hip if I don’t blow my paycheque on stuff that makes me look like I’m not trying to be hip?
Meh. It’s okay… I was never hip to begin with.
PS – I also realize that by hipster-bashing I’m being as unoriginal and douchebaggy as the very scenesters I’m making fun of. The blogoverse has been jokesin‘ on those American Apparel kids since like, 2008 or something. Google “stupid hipsters” – trust.
*sigh* we’re so damn insecure, the whole lot of us, aren’t we?