Friday, 28 August 2009

Got money to buy the Bunny?

Selling at a whopping price of £ 1,000, this is the most expensive bunny ears that I have seen in my life. (I got my five year old niece a bunny ear headband last year for her Halloween party and I thought I got ripped for 25 euros! ) Why? Because it was used by Lanvin's Alber Elbaz in a photoshoot for The New Yorker, entitled "Ladies Man".

This and other beautiful items are now for sale in's website.

"SHOWstudio SHOP offers rare and bespoke Artefacts, hand-picked from iconic fashion shoots and catwalk shows. These rare artefacts are sold alongside provenance images and selected original prints from contemporary fashion photographers in whose work these items featured. Alongside Artefacts and Prints, SHOWstudio SHOP will also offer Original pieces handcrafted by a wealth of fashion luminaries in a purpose-designed live space. Offered for sale exclusively by SHOWstudio SHOP, the provenance of these exceptional items will be the entire creative process behind them, recorded live on SHOWstudio’s webcams."

This is a new shopping experience for the real fashionistas with the moolah. Hey, If I've got the cash, I would spend it into something like this too. Something exclusive, one of a kind ; something that my nieces and nephews can auction one hundred years after I disappear on the face of this earth. On the other hand, I think it's a better idea to start saving up for that beautiful massive Marie Antoinette ring by Miss Wendy Brandes.

Investment wise, you can never go wrong with a fine piece of jewelry such as this one.
I must save up.


To shop for the bunny ears, click here
To shop for the ring, click here

Move while you're watching me...

Dubbed by the Guardian as the "New Kylie", I really don't think that Little Boots is as the same league as Ms. Minogue. The only common factor between them is that they are both small in height though big in talent. Little Boots I think can be Lady Gaga's little sister only that the girl goes to church and Sunday school while The Gaga goes.... everywhere really. Don't get me wrong, jádore these girls to the bone, bitches.

After getting addicted to La Roux's music (I can even sing "Bulletproof" backwards now) , I opted for a detox and went for a milder (though considerably potent) dosage of corrosive synthesizer pumped tunes which was Little Boots'. Her "Remedy" is so filled with saccharine goodnes, it gives me a kind of "high" that I can never get from a three liter bottle of Diet Coke and I love it.

Aside from the music, there's the outfit! I love her glitzy glamorous cosmic theme dresses which is a modern take on the studio 54 era and David Bowie. And the girl speaks Prada too! You can read her list of favorite designers here. She's a Mcqueen girl, this petite British singer.

Little Boots' songs are still growing on me (like molds) but I'm sure a couple more rewinds, I'm gonna be hook on it.

Check out this lovely little number:

Besos and I'm outta here. I'm still gonna download her stuff in Itunes. Ciao!

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

Tales from the Desperate

I know age is but a number but whenever I come across young achievers, I feel like I must have been doing something wrong , partied way too much and drank too much in my youth that until now, I still haven't got anything brilliant to add in my CV. Except maybe for the exponential number of men I slept with from around the world---something that only Samantha Jones and porn stars can brag about and unfortunately, I am either any of those.

I digress.

Anyway, I felt a hundred years old lately when I came across little boys and girls who have been making fame in blogging--Fashion blogging specifically. Of course everyone knows now about Tavi of the blog
Style Rookie who started blogging last year at the age of 12. Imagine a kid blogging about Balmain, Margiela , Thakoon and Nicolas Ghesquière? Amazing isn't it? A fashion whiz kid! Other children might want to be scientists, moviestars or doctors when they grow up but I bet you my beautiful red pouting lips, she would be the next generation's Anna Wintour.

In Spain, 17 year old Frederic writes his fashion diary
, tales from Frederic  And boy, has this boy got an eye for fashion! Very European in his taste, Frederic has a natural flair for mixing and matching vintage with high street pieces. He can even wear his pajama in style! At 17, he has already attended fashion week in Madrid last year, something that I want to covet this year so I have to keep this blog pure, safe and wholesome; away from Samantha Jones and porn star topics and make it family, art and fashion oriented only so that the people from IFEMA (fashion week organizers in Spain) would think that I am nice and immaculate and would give me ticket to fashion la la land in September.

So, I really shouldn't say that the 17 year old blogger is quite hot too and probably likes hot Asian princesses like me.

I really should shut up now.


pics from www.talesfrom

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Monday, 24 August 2009

Lady Gaga wears Amaya

Lady Gaga wears Amaya Arzuaga in the September Cover of Spanish Magazine, NEO2. She loved the outift so much she wanted to buy it. The staff arranged with the designer if The Lady could have it as a gift instead. Did she get it for free or not? You have to grab a copy to find out.

I blogged about Amaya a few weeks ago and I wasn't surprised if the Gaga loved her pieces so much. NEO2's September Issue also features Beth Ditto, Gossip and Florence and the machine.

I'm not really sure about the bunny ear, very Madonna. They should have put a giant peineta on her head instead. Lady Gaga looked so wrapped up in this cover photo but I'm sure what she was wearing below the waist is another story...


Sunday, 23 August 2009

Last Tango in La Reserva

“Where’s the child?” The receptionist was puzzled with the absence of a toddler tugging on my shorts or running around the hotel lounge like a headless chicken. Instead what she were my two my carrier bags filled with alcohol, packets of cigarettes and an assortment of junk food.

“No child”.

“Your reservation is for two adults and a child”

“No, the reservation says the room can fit two adults and a child”.

“Ahhh, yes, we have big rooms you see”.

“Okay, may we have the key now please!”

“ Claro, que si.”

I gasped; it was going to be a long day.

Determined to stay away to the horde of tourists flocking the beach like birds on migration, a friend and I decided to spend the weekend somewhere where we can actually hear ourselves talk. Little did we know that we will end up in a hotel albeit fabulous, is a haven for vacationing families—nuclear and extended families that is.

VIME hotel in La Reserva de Marbella is like an oasis in the lonely n340 Cadiz highway. The resort is fantastic with its gigantic pool, towering trees, green lawns and duplex apartments painted in white and blue which reminded me of houses in some idyllic Greek islands. Our room, despite what the receptionist said, was good for two adults only. There was a giant closet though, a spacious bathroom and two single beds.

Where did she expect us to put the child anyway? Chuck it in the closet or make it a bed in the bath? And oh, there was no bath either, Just shower. So definitely, it was not suited for a child, thank you very much.

Soon enough, we were faced with the crowd of happy families: screaming kids and parents desperate to shut them out, in vain. Some adults were in a bar celebrating parenthood (or lost of freedom?) with cocktails while the kids run around like little animals freed from their cages.

We sought salvation from the television but even that was cursed. There was a smorgasbord of French, Dutch and German programs so CNN was the best bet. A beam of hope in the form of Dolly Parton appeared followed by a mini documentary on British designer, Ozwald Boateng (this man is smoking hot, I would love to get in his suit anytime! Lol) but that didn’t last long either. Soon enough, it was time to join the crowd (and the babies) again in a buffet dinner. The food was passable although you have to be quick as the food vanishes in a heartbeat. I saw the blackberry fruitcake disappeared before my very eyes as I was just about to fork it out of its tray.

Like clockwork, everyone gathered around the mini stage at 10:30 pm. The hotel provided an afterhours entertainment for the guests. A one-man-band called his minions of children to dance on stage and the next two hours was the longest I had in my life. He treated everyone with sugary melodies, lollipop tunes and Latin pop remixed in caramelized fashion. If I were diabetic I would have been stretchered out to the emergency room by then. He tried some flamenco number but even that would summon the Tellytubbies or Barney on stage. A Spanish family requested for a Tango. “Tango it is then” said the presenter with his thick accent, from where, only the angels in heaven know. He then filled the air with his most emotional rendition of Tom Jones’s “It’s not Unusual”. The crowd went silent. You could almost read WTF! written all over their faces—in any the language you can imagine.

There was no other way but to get more intoxicated, I thought. After four glasses of Rioja, I was in a frenzy mood and ready for a good old Macarena.


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