Yum

This post is pure and unadulterated beefcake. Gorgeous, mature beefcake I would very much like to buy me a drink one evening when I was looking swanky and wearing fabulous heels. This is to make up for all the callow youth I paraded in front of you last week. Ready?

Thank you very much, New York Times. The rest of my day is going to be a little better now.

Photo: NYTimes.com

An Enthusiastic Soul

In order to know intense joy...one must have an enthusiastic soul...

It is an uneasy lot at best, to be what we call highly taught and yet not to enjoy: to be present at this great spectacle of life and never to be liberated from a small hungry shivering self -- never to be fully possessed by the glory we behold,

never to have our consciousness rapturously transformed into the vividness of a thought,

the ardour of a passion, the energy of an action,

but always to be scholarly and uninspired, ambitious and timid, scrupulous and dim-sighted.

The words are George Eliot, from her great novel Middlemarch, which I am currently reading and loving the hell out of. (I am a sucker for a 19th-century English novel.) The clothes are John Galliano for Christian Dior, from the F/W Haute Couture show last week.

Ya know, I yak and I yak and I yak about Galliano and why I think he's a genius, but photos of clothes like these really beggar language. It's pointless to talk about shape and line and cutting and all that other fashion-y stuff -- these clothes are quite simply imagination run rampant, and they are glorious. I don't think you need a fashion education to appreciate them, just a desire for beauty and a willingness to be amazed. An enthusiastic soul.


Photos: Style.com

A Man After My Own Heart

I heard this song on the radio yesterday and was very taken with the sentiment. This guy Paolo Nutini obviously thinks the same way I do...

Cheers!

Clothes for Boys, Men, and Puppets

Wrapping up our Week of Men, I'm going to bring you a few highlights from the Men's collections -- specifically myboyfriendAlexanderMcQueen's show. McQueen got his start working in menswear, tailoring suits on London's Savile Row, the Mecca of Menswear, and there aren't many designers working who do better tailoring. Probably none. Menswear is such a challenge for designers: the vocabulary of men's clothing is much more limited than women's, yet season after season the designers have to show something new. It takes a tremendous amount of discipline and imagination to keep coming up with interesting stuff that isn't simply showpieces for the runway.

McQueen's collection led off with this look, which gave me great cause for hope.

Excellent sweater. It's a cardigan but not a cardigan, with just enough slouch.

And here's a great example of that tailoring. Holy moly, would you look at that jacket? That is so sharp.

What a great, fun, sometimes-I-pretend-I'm-in-the-Rat-Pack cardigan. I just love this, although our model does not appear to.

(And a word about the models... What is UP with the models they're using in men's these days? Are ANY of them over the age of fifteen? Good googly-moogly, what a passel of fey, wan, wispy elves they are. They seriously almost all look as though they were plucked from the sidelines of a high school phys ed class -- no one wants them for dodgeball, let's put 'em in some fancy clothes! The most substantial thing about most of these kids are the hollows under their cheekbones -- they're looking as emaciated as the female models. I don't know about you, but I find these boys terribly tiresome to look at, and not even remotely attractive. Where are the MEN??? Gimme some stubble, gimme a little silver hair!)

And what I'd also like to know is, do men (the ones who like women, anyway) feel the same way when they look at the girls coming down the runway? Do they think, "Where are the WOMEN?" Are they as put off by those insubstantial high-heeled wraiths as I am by these refugees from "High School Musical"?)

According to reportage on Men.Style.com, McQueen spent a month this year traveling around the Indian subcontinent, evidenced by some of the detailing on these clothes. I think this coat is mind-blowingly beautiful. Yes, it's very adorned for a men's garment, but the shape of it is classically masculine. I just think it's hopelessly lovely, and I'm crazy about the idea of a big strong (adult) man wearing it.

If the embroidery on the coat is too much, here's that motif beautifully translated into intarsia work on the sleeves of a sweater. Really gorgeous. Even your little cousin Scooter here looks great in this.

Of course, this being a fashion show, there was some silliness...

Looks like this poor shmo showed up late for his call and was thrown down the runway before he had a chance to finish dressing...

The Bumble appears to have found a second career in modeling. Good for him!

I, too, am wondering what happened to this young man's pants. (But that is a spectacular coat, isn't it?)

(I also have to say, I'm a little skeeved by the hair on these models. They all look like newborns with cradle cap.)

Here's this one-sleeved shawl thingie again. I don't get that. If you're going to do a wrap, do a wrap. If you're going to do a jacket, do a jacket. I feel that outerwear is no place for this sort of asymmetry! That being said, the shearling coat with the embroidered details is fan-freaking-tastic.

A side trip to Peru, for some reason. Seriously, Lee, if you're going to make clothes out of the curtains, make an effort and at least put in a dart here & there.

Very intrigued by this. If I'm getting the information right, it's made of that Indian embroidered fabric with the tiny mirrors all over it. That could be a bit much, of course, but I'm so taken with the shape of this jacket. It's so neat and trim and beautifully constructed. I'd really love to see this piece up close.

Looks like Animal also found a second career in modeling. Good for him!

(It does my heart good to know these guys aren't just languishing away in some Old Puppets' Home.)

But you have to forgive the silliness when you see the suits.

Good heavens, I'll bet you could cut your hand on that lapel. That, my friends, is the way a suit should look. If I ever get married, the groom and I will both be wearing Alexander McQueen. And we'll be gorgeous.

The couture shows (including the final runway presentation ever by Maestro Valentino) have been going on this week, so it hasn't been easy to stick to my Week of Men theme. Looking forward to bringing you some outlandishly fabulous stuff next week. Have a great weekend!

Photos: Men.Style.com

Biker Boy

The neighborhood where I most often stay in Paris is a wonderful little area near Les Halles called Montorgueil. My friend Dominique lives there, and I've really fallen in love with the whole area -- it's become my home base in the middle of Paris. It's primarily pedestrian, utterly convenient due to being smack in the middle of the city, and basically a tiny little city in microcosm itself, with great grocery stores and jewelry shops and markets.




(Here. Watch this.)

One of my favorite bars in Paris is there on the corner of rue Montorgueil and rue Marie Stuart. It's called Au Compas d'Or, and it's not one of my favorites because it's anything earth-shattering or unusual as bars go. Just the opposite, in fact. It's a classic Parisian neighborhood bar with some tables scattered around the outside of it and warm, friendly young people working there. It's a great hangout. A terrific place to kill some time, or meet up with someone before you go to dinner. The kind of place that by the time I've been there for a week, the waiter knows me and chats with me and brings me the wine I've been drinking without asking me what I'd like. I love it there.

(Not the Compas d'Or, but you get the idea.)

So my last trip to Paris, I went straight to the Compas d'Or from Gare du Nord, where I'd arrived on the Eurostar, to have a glass (ou deux) and relax and wait for Dominique to come home from work. It was shockingly cold in Paris (I believe I have mentioned that once or twice now), but they had little heaters over the outside tables and there were a lot of smokers inside, so I scooted my massive suitcase (a.k.a. The Beast) as close to the building as I could and settled in.

Not long after my verre du vin arrived, so did a motorcycle, roaring up rue Marie Stuart and coming to a stop about 10 feet from me. It was one of those shiny red & black Japanese motorcycles that my friends & I call a "crotch rocket," the kind where the rider is crouched on top of the thing like a jockey on a racehorse. And off the motorcycle got... a man.

Raf Simons F/W 2007

At least, I was pretty sure he was a man. He moved like a man, but I couldn't see him well enough to tell for sure, because he was bundled up like crazy. (Again, it was coooooooold in Paris.) He was wearing biker leathers -- not the "Easy Rider, " fringed-vest, Hell's Angels kind of leathers, but the high-tech, form-fitting motocross kind, with channel quilting on the knees & elbows. Black. All black, with a little red here & there. The windscreen was down on his helmet and so his face was unavailable, and every inch of him was covered in protective gear.

Raf Simons F/W 2007

The first thing he took off were his gloves. Or rather, one pair of gloves, because underneath the heavy padded gloves he had on some thinner glove liners. After he stowed the gloves away in some compartment that magically appeared on the back of the bike, he fished his cell phone out of a pocket somewhere (Mind you, I'm right there, so I couldn't exactly stare at him. I had to take furtive peeps over my copy of "No Country for Old Men.") and began texting and reading messages. This went on for a while, and I became impatient. Dangit, what was going on underneath that helmet?

Alexander McQueen F/W 2007

Finally, he removed the helmet and stowed it somewhere. Which didn't help any, because he was wearing a knitted black balaclava underneath it.

Suddenly, and for the first time in my life, burlesque made sense to me.

This guy was the Gypsy Rose Lee of motopunks. I was completely in a lather to see who he was & what he looked like, and he was taking his good sweet time about showing me.

Dior Homme F/W 2008

Eventually (because there was a lot more texting), the glove liners came off, revealing several silver rings on some decidedly masculine hands, and some tattoos creeping down onto the hand from underneath his sleeves. There was really about five more minutes of fussing & fidgeting with bits & pieces of his gear until finally the balaclava came off and revealed him. Probably mid-thirties, ashy dark blond hair cut very short and kind of spiky, narrow dark eyes, a pierced eyebrow, and the grin of a kid who was usually in trouble with the teacher. He had that classic French effortless punk thing, there was real style and absolutely no posing in the way he wore his jewelry (I think one of the rings was a wedding ring) and his ink. He wasn't gorgeous, but he was cool. Very, very cool.

Nothing much passed between us besides the sort of non-committal wow-it's-cold, really-glad-these heaters-are-on thing any strangers would exchange in the circumstances, but that was fine. I went back to my book, a little smile on my face, confident that once again Paris was going to take care of me and send me little treats and experiences and thrills I never seem to have anywhere else.

Roberto Cavalli F/W 2006

The Biker Boy look has never really been my thing, but something tells me I'm going to be a little more open to it from here on in...

Potos: about.com, ladauphine.com, men.style.com

Let's Hear It For the Boy

Well, color me tickled.

Last week I received an e-mail from a reader who enclosed a link to a garment he'd run across that made him "think immediately" of me. It was this gorgeousness:

It's Valentino. They call it a trench, but if it were lightweight enough, I'd wear it as a dress.

First of all, may I just express my delight in being associated with a garment this beautiful, fun, finely-made, unexpected and just all-around wonderful. So yes, friend Billy, I would wear that in a heartbeat, and I would look great in it, if I do say so myself. Now let's see, what shoes to pair with this delightful item?

I could play it safe and go with these:


These are such great shoes -- they go with nearly everything, which is why I bought them. (How clever of me, hmmmm?) Okay, no, I bought them because they left me stunned and stuttering with delight the moment I laid eyes on them and right then & there I wouldn't have cared if I had to walk around naked for the rest of my life in order to possess them.

These would be a little more fun & unexpected, certainly:



But, at the risk of falling prey to the Matchy-Matchy Monster, there would be the issue of whether or not the reds clashed. I think what I'd go with are these:


which are delightful if slightly ridiculous shoes, and have a winsome chunkiness that helps to balance the delicacy of the dress. But, what I'm really envisioning with it are these:

which would be faaaaaabulous. I love the strictness of the boot contrasted with the frilliness of the dress, and the echo of the cutouts. Of course, wearing these boots would entail owning these boots, and Style Spy is Not Shopping at present, even though said boots are on sale at her local Neiman Marcus. (There is also the small matter of not owning the dress, either, but we'll skip over that for the nonce.)

But back to my point. (I had one when I started, I swear...) I must say, I find it a uniquely gratifying experience when someone who is not me hits the nail on the head so completely when making a recommendation. When someone you know suggests or gives you the very perfect thing, it's an affirmation of your relationship: that person really knows you, really gets you. If it's someone you don't know, all the more credit goes to them for their perceptiveness and your ineffable, recognizable style. And (at the risk of perpetuating hurtful stereotypes), it's even more unexpected & delightful when said recommendation comes from an XY chromosome. Because I love the mens, I really do, but the shopping? Pretty hit-or-miss, in my experience. (And, in argument with yet another stereotype, which "team" said XY is batting for doesn't necessarily make a difference. Boys is boys.)

So three cheers for my new friend Billy, who honestly made my day with his e-mail. Thanks, Billy!

How about you guys? Has anyone ever given you a gift or made you a suggestion of clothing or accessories that was absolutely spot-on? Are any of you lucky enough to have a partner who is a talented gifter? Let me know!

Photos: bergdorfgoodman.com, Style Spy, neimanmarcus.com

PS... An hour post-post, I'm just dropping back in to say that while I enjoyed bringing this to you, I have given myself the King Hell earworm of the past month with the title. Here. Share my pain.

Not the Intended Effect

Hello, and welcome to the working week! This is going to be a Week of Men here at Style Spy, and to kick it off I'm presenting you with this little... nugget.

Ummm... What exactly are they trying to sell us here?

I'm sorry, this totally does not do it for me. Honestly, how am I supposed to do anything but snort with laughter when I look at this photo? It's ridiculous. Oh sure, nice six-pack, excellent thighs (Although seriously -- is he waxing every square inch of his body??), he's a great-looking guy, but... Utterly ridiculous. I don't know how much that soccer team in Los Angeles is paying him (Has he played a single soccer game since he got here? Or does he just spend his days escorting his tragifyingly tasteless wife from one cocktail party to another?), but something tells me that "athlete" is no longer first on Becks' List of Things I Want to Be When I Grow Up.

It's the squinting that really kills me. It looks like he's working out a particularly difficult math problem -- the Goldbach conjecture, say, or the Riemann hypothesis. (Unlikely, methinks.) And he's awfully shiny, isn't he? What is that, Hawaiian Tropic? I think I'd ask him to take a quick shower before I let him loll around all over my Egyptian cottons.

So, no, not sexy. Just the opposite of sexy, if you ask me. You wanna see sexy? Here's sexy:

Yeah, buddy, now that's what I'm talkin' about. Fully clothed (I do believe that man is wearing a forest green velvet jacket. That fits him to a trice. ::gulp:: Pardon me, I need a moment...), no sign of abdominals anywhere (Does he have a six-pack? Would I care????), barely even shaven, let alone waxed, and would you please look at that grin? This is not a man who lolls in bed gazing into middle-distance. This is a man who... well let's just say that my guess is that once he's reached the stage of dishevelment shown above, you're getting aaaaaaaaall of his attention.

Oh, my. Someone pass me my salts.

Photos: Emporio Armani, Starpulse.com

More Fluttering, Now In Technocolor

So. What do we think about this stuff?

It's a new mascara from Max Factor that comes with two different colors, one a darker basecoat and one a bright highlight color.



This one's called Blushing Blue -- blue base, magenta tips. Hmmmm...



This one seems a little more... practical, for lack of a better word. Moonlit Black, with silver.


I'm torn.

The devil-may-care fashionista part of me who supports all things fabulous and experimental thinks, "Nifty! What a fun way to play with makeup!" The real-life part of me thinks, "Well, that's just ridiculous."

For starters, who knows what it actually looks like, despite the very lovely publicity photos of Carmen Electra (a woman whose name I still cannot say with a straight face -- references to Bizet and Sophocles are just not what one expects from a Baywatch actress who was once married to a Red Hot Chili Pepper). As big a fan as I am of Max Factor mascaras (and I am -- I really do wear them), no actual living person has ever gotten their eyelashes that long with merely the aid of a wand full of goop. And those photos of the actual eyes are pretty obviously photoshopped (it's the same photo of the same eye, with the colors changed), so what's a bi-color-curious gal to believe?

The color combo I'd be most interested in would be this one:




24 Karat Brown, which is a nice brown topped with gold. I think redheaded me would be best in these colors. I am also intrigued by this one:



Blazing Black. Although typically I think it best to avoid anything in the red family around the eyes to avoid the bunny-eyes effect, this is so wonderfully dramatic. And you know I love the drama.

On the other hand, I also keep flashing back to this nightmare

from Erin Fetherston's last runway show, and that? Is not exactly what I'm after. Oh-so-creepy.

If I run across this product during my weekend perambulations I may pick some up. What do you folks think? Has anyone tried this stuff yet?

On a completely different note, Style Spy is hitting the Bridal Trail again this weekend with her Newly Engaged Friend Ms. A. Any & all Austin-area readers (and I'm including San Antonio & Dallas in that category) are most welcome to write with their advice on shopping for fabulous-but-not-bank-breaking wedding attire. We will be especially interested in information on folks who provide service in the customizing and alterations arena, so if you have recommendations on who to use and who to avoid I'd love to hear them!

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Photos: MaxFactor.com, Style.com

I Never Was Very Good At Math

Ya know, I really love Yoox.com. They have a lot of amazing clothes by a lot of fantastic designers. However, their organizing principles elude me a bit. For example, these:

are "long" dresses. These:

are "3/4 length" dresses, and this:

is a "short" dress (okay, well, no argument there).

This might explain why I was always so bad at fractions...

Photos: Yoox.com