Dear Fans,
Ever since the whirlwind that we call Fashion Week, I was just so exhausted. It may not look like it, but sitting front row in all those runway shows is hard work. Marc Jacobs, Prada, Dior, but no Gucci. I couldn't stand Tom Ford (aka the real life Brian Kenny) before and I can't stand whatever asshole they hired to replace him. Gucci has even further been reduced to clothes for the brain-dead daughters of wealthy business men. Barf.
But Alexander McQueen, however. Now there is a man that can dress an aristocrat. Amen.
After Fashion Week adn an ocean of champagne, I needed to purge all the giltz and awful celebrity ego parties so I jet-setted off to Vienna for a much needed vacation with my good friends Wendy Carlos and Brian Eno. We've been staying in the most beautiful 18th century hotel lapping up the subtle luxury. Girl, my ass is getting big off of all those Austrian pastries.
I miss Sissyboy, but I can't say I miss Portland.
You know the most beautiful part about Vienna?
No hipsters. No greasy headed, identical hair-do, over-denimed, conversed, confusing irony with art, mediocer, pile of shit emo cry-ass I'm going to slit my wirsts but not really I'm just going to write an album about it and whine then do a whole bunch of coke and ask you if you think my nike white label shoes are cool and when you say that nike is cruel to the environment and is abusing third world countries I'll just tell you they're ironic and it will be all ok asshole hipsters.
I say we put an oven in the back of Red Light Clothing and start incinerating them.
I've had it with this excuse for a culture that seems to thrive in this half-assed town. We're one step up on the food chain from Olympia for Chirst's sake.
I'll eventually drag my self back from Europe on a jet plane, but don't hold your breath. Unless, of course, you're one of the aforementioned asshole hipsters, then please, by all means, hold your breath until you pass asfixiate, Then dump your body into the Willamette, ok?
Go fuck yourselves and buy a Brian Eno album and get with the goddamn program.
Love,
Linah
Ever since the whirlwind that we call Fashion Week, I was just so exhausted. It may not look like it, but sitting front row in all those runway shows is hard work. Marc Jacobs, Prada, Dior, but no Gucci. I couldn't stand Tom Ford (aka the real life Brian Kenny) before and I can't stand whatever asshole they hired to replace him. Gucci has even further been reduced to clothes for the brain-dead daughters of wealthy business men. Barf.
But Alexander McQueen, however. Now there is a man that can dress an aristocrat. Amen.
After Fashion Week adn an ocean of champagne, I needed to purge all the giltz and awful celebrity ego parties so I jet-setted off to Vienna for a much needed vacation with my good friends Wendy Carlos and Brian Eno. We've been staying in the most beautiful 18th century hotel lapping up the subtle luxury. Girl, my ass is getting big off of all those Austrian pastries.
I miss Sissyboy, but I can't say I miss Portland.
You know the most beautiful part about Vienna?
No hipsters. No greasy headed, identical hair-do, over-denimed, conversed, confusing irony with art, mediocer, pile of shit emo cry-ass I'm going to slit my wirsts but not really I'm just going to write an album about it and whine then do a whole bunch of coke and ask you if you think my nike white label shoes are cool and when you say that nike is cruel to the environment and is abusing third world countries I'll just tell you they're ironic and it will be all ok asshole hipsters.
I say we put an oven in the back of Red Light Clothing and start incinerating them.
I've had it with this excuse for a culture that seems to thrive in this half-assed town. We're one step up on the food chain from Olympia for Chirst's sake.
I'll eventually drag my self back from Europe on a jet plane, but don't hold your breath. Unless, of course, you're one of the aforementioned asshole hipsters, then please, by all means, hold your breath until you pass asfixiate, Then dump your body into the Willamette, ok?
Go fuck yourselves and buy a Brian Eno album and get with the goddamn program.
Love,
Linah
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Portland
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