Goodbye, 2022; and goodbye Tony Vaccaro

2022 started with — well, I don’t really remember, but it ended with getting COVID, canceling Christmas travel plans, and then breaking my foot (from jumping around a bit too enthusiastically around the apartment with my 4-year-old). Happy new year to us …

Before all that happened, I got the immense pleasure of writing about the great photographer Tony Vaccaro ahead of his 100th birthday. I have long admired his work, particularly his fashion photos which just radiate life and energy. Like his contemporaries Gordon Parks (a good friend) and Richard Avedon, Vaccaro honed his photography skills as an enlisted solider during World War II and brought that sort of documentarian’s eye and penchant for photographing action to the then-staid practice of fashion photography, injecting it with verve and pizazz. Plus, after witnessing the brutality of war he vowed to devote himself to showing “the beauty of life.” He did this in every single image he produced — from pictures of everyday Europeans rebuilding their communities after the war, to whimsical, joyous fashion shoots, to portraits of great artists and entertainers like Georgia O’Keeffe, Frank Lloyd Wright, Willem de Kooning, Sophia Loren, Leonard Bernstein, and Hubert de Givenchy. (The ultimate mensch, he befriended many of his subjects — and even taught his one-time neighbor Marcello Mastroianni how to grow tomatoes.)

When I spoke with Tony, he was in the hospital, recovering from surgery from a burst stomach ulcer, but he was hopeful that he would get out in time to attend his centennial pop-up exhibition in NYC and make it to his 100th birthday. I was so happy when I saw pictures of him on his Instagram — lovingly maintained by his daughter-in-law Maria — at the show, smiling, and drinking his daily glass of red wine (the secret, he said, to his longevity). He turned 100 a few days later, on Dec. 20.

On Dec. 29, I received a note from his gallery, Monroe Gallery of Photography, that Tony had passed away the night before. He died peacefully at home in Long Island City, Queens, surrounded by his family. He had retired officially in the 1980s, but till the very end he continued to try to “capture the beauty of life,” documenting the lives of his two 8-year-old grandchildren who lived across the hall in the same apartment building and even taking pictures at the New York City Marathon this past November.

Tony’s family had a public memorial for him this week, and I went and sat in the back and listened to so many friends and loved ones talk about the profound impact this man had on their lives, about how much his pictures meant, and how much joy he gave to the world.

Tony had told himself, early on in his career, that he “must photograph those people who give mankind something.” He added, “In the process of doing that, I hope I gave mankind something back.” You did, Tony. You did.

You can read the story I did about him ahead of his centennial show here. (It’s closed in NYC, but it’s currently at Monroe Gallery in Santa Fe through Jan. 29.)

Here are some other things I wrote and published this year that I enjoyed doing.

‘Bionic’ gloves allow piano prodigy to play again — decades after losing control of hand - It was a thrill meeting the ebullient pianist-conductor João Carlos Martins, who thought he would never be able to play piano again after a neurological condition made it impossible. But after a 20 year hiatus, he was back tickling the ivories at Carnegie Hall, thanks to a pair of bionic gloves. He told me his incredible life story and gave me a mini-concert in the process — he simultaneously had me in stitches and in tears!

I wrote about several biographies of fascinating (and problematic) figures! My fave: England’s “most notorious lady” Elizabeth Chudleigh — a “former courtier, extravagant hostess, flamboyant fashion plate, enterprising vodka distiller, shameless self-promoter and the first woman to be tried and convicted of bigamy in Great Britain,” as well as the inspiration for Vanity Fair’s social-climbing anti-heroine Becky Sharp.

I also enjoyed covering books on: playboy wildlife photographer Peter Beard, “Flowers in the Attic” author VC Andrews, media titan and Gilded Age #girlboss “Mrs. Frank Leslie”, mafia “godmother” Assunta “Pupetta” Maresca, and — of course my lifelong obsession — Edie Sedgwick.

I did some interviews with amazingly talented artists and entertainers, including ballerina and Sugar Plum Fairy par excellence Tiler Peck (this was really special), double amputee Broadway star and Paralympian Katy Sullivan (her performance in “Cost of Living” FLOORED me), rock ’n’ roll photographer Lynn Goldsmith (on her new book Music in the ‘80s), and actress Molly Ephraim (just unbelievably cool and fun).

Plus a few more features:

Woman who won back family painting stolen by Nazis auctions it for $1.23M - In 2014, Pauline Baer de Perignon went on a quest to find out what happened to her great-grandfather’s art collection. Her memoir, The Vanished Collection, documented her astonishing discoveries, including finding one of his missing paintings in a Dresden museum that had been taken by the Nazis.

‘The Andy Warhol Diaries’ reveals artist’s secret love life after being shot - I really liked the docu-series The Andy Warhol Diaries, which really dug beneath the bitchy, flat surface of the artist’s diaries to reveal a more vulnerable portrait of the artist. I particularly found the sections involving Warhol’s late romance with a young Paramount exec who died of AIDS particularly revelatory and moving.

Insiders gripe that Met Gala fashions are no longer chic: ‘Very Halloween’ - I wrote about the Met Gala’s increasingly outlandish themes.

Inside the fabulous Dior couture world of ‘Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris’ - This was just the most delightful story to report, and I got to speak with costume legend Jenny Beavan … plus, it gave me a reason to spend hours looking at photos of Dior’s beautiful clothes.

Meet the British socialite who was ‘Hitler’s girl’ — and made Eva Braun jealous - Wrote about another obsession of mine: THE MITFORDS! This time looking at the “Nazi Mitford” Unity.

My interview with 'House of Gucci' designer Janty Yates!

The first thing that struck me when watching the “House of Gucci” trailer when it first dropped — back in the spring — was Jeremy Irons, sitting alone in the dark, smoking a cigarette, looking elegantly decadent in a silk robe and scarf. Then, of course, there was Adam Driver, in a BIG cable-knit turtleneck sweater, and Gaga in a form-fitting red ski suit, her face framed in fur.

The real-life Guccis dressed with the same kind of exuberance as their on-screen counterparts — like fabulous rich bad-guys, each with his or her own distinct flair. And it was such a blast writing about their flamboyant fashions for The New York Post. I not only spoke with Sara Gay Forden — who spent many years covering the Guccis and whose (excellent) book inspired the film — but also the movie’s costume designer, Janty Yates, who did such a marvelous job capturing these characters’ personalities and styles.

There was quite a bit I couldn’t include, so I’m publishing an edited (annotated!) version of our conversation here. Read on to find out about Jeremy Irons’ pashminas, Gaga’s crazy all-over Gucci-print pants ensemble, and recreating that iconic 1995 Tom Ford collection for Gucci.

Raquel: I loved how each of the main characters in the Gucci family, they all have this Gucci aesthetic, but they all have their own singular style and personality that shines through their clothes.

Janty Yates: Well, that's very kind of you to say so. In fact, we took [their looks] fairly directly from photographic reference. Aldo [played by Al Pacino]* was very sartorially elegant. He was six-foot-two. He was a ladies man. He always had a buttonhole and a boofy silk pocket handkerchief, and non-matching waistcoat and a big tie.

Adam [Driver] — Maurizio, I should say — was always Saville Row, dressed beautifully.

And Patrizia very rarely wore Gucci. She wore Saint Laurent, she wore Dior; she basically just Christmas tree-ed herself up with her jewelry.

Raquel: I was wondering about that! She does wear Gucci a couple times, like that matching Gucci-print tunic and pants set. Did you find that in the brand’s archive?

©MGM/Courtesy Everett Collection

Janty: Exactly. It was an archival Gucci. We had gone to Florence to see the archives in October, and there were about 18 or 20 outfits. We then had to wait until we could get them sent to LA. And we tried them all on her, and they fit her like a glove. It was fantastic. So we used that one, which is obviously vintage Gucci, and and then we use the Double-G silk print blouse and the leather skirt that she wears to her daughter's sports day when [Gucci lawyer] Domenico de Sole comes with the divorce papers.

Raquel: Her wearing that in that scene has a lot of meaning.

Janty: Exactly. And the whole reason we dressed her in that trouser suit was because she had become a Gucci, and so was horrified when she saw that her maid had this [fake Gucci bag] for $100**. You know, she was just seething! So it was a bit symbolic.

Raquel: When you were in the Gucci archive, did you notice how the brand evolved through the decades?

Janty: No! They had been moving the archive, and we kept ringing up saying, ‘Can we see it?’ No, no, no. And then suddenly there was a room at the museum — which is in Florence, the Gucci Museum — and they basically had 18 to 20 outfits, probably 15 to 20 bags, a couple pieces of luggage, a few scarves, all from the late ‘70s, early ‘80s. I mean, it looked marvelous on LG [Lady Gaga] — she just wears things so well. But we only actually ended up being two lots. It was very valuable to us, but there was no travel through time. There was nothing from Tom Ford — nothing.

Raquel: Wow! OK, I have to ask you then, because [in the film] you show his second collection [for Gucci] — the one that made him a star. … Did you recreate all of that?***

Janty: I didn't — my associate designer, Stefano de Nardis, he created the Versace 1984 from scratch.**** And he created the Tom Ford from scratch.  And they found models that look like Amber Valetta. …  It really worked. It was a shame that Ridley didn't include the whole show of both of them — it was just the end of Versace [that is seen in the movie].

And also Stefano created a show for Paolo [played by Jared Leto], it was Stefano's own designs, because [Paolo] never really had a show. I think he's quoted as saying, “pastels and browns.” I think what Stefano did was a much more beautiful than, you know, we should have done for Paolo. We should have made them look like, I don't know, potato sacks!*****

Gaga in vintage YSL and a Gucci belt and Jared Leto in a loud custom suit ©MGM/Courtesy Everett Collection

Raquel: Paolo wears these loud corduroy suits — were these things that you imagined him designing?

Janty: Oh absolutely. The main body of his costume was made by the Attolini Brothers — their factory in Naples is superb. Everything is hand-built. It's quite fantastic. The buttonholes are made by hand. They go to Scotland to choose their cashmere and then they have it woven in particular tweets that they choose the colors for.

They called [Paolo] the dandies’ dandy. We did Aldo tastefully dandy, and we did Paolo tastelessly dandy with clashing waistcoats and big windowpane checks and big billowing ties. It was a shame that you couldn't see — you could only see I think three outfits, and they made at least 12.

And the corduroy — the elephant cord was mine. I went to Costumi d’Arte [the famed costume house in Rome]. They have great tailors there. And I said we need to wait for the Attolinis, could we just run up a couple of corduroy suits? I never thought that I'd have to be talking about them, ever.

Raquel: Well, he’s wearing one in one of the posters!

Janty:  I know! It's terrible. I thought, what could be the ugliest [thing]? A Norfolk jacket in elephant cord in pink. And it's become — not quite an overnight sensation, but it's crazy how people mention it.

Raquel: I have to ask about my personal favorite Jeremy Irons. He just looks so amazing with these scarves and cravats — tell me about dressing him.

Janty: Jeremy, I have to tell you, loves a scarf. [During fittings, he would always pick out a scarf] and say ‘Well, what about this, darling?’ ‘Why don't I do that?’ And I went, okay, if you want [to wear a scarf], let's ask Ridley. And Ridley said yes.

And then this cashmere pashmina that he wears in the garden when he's having dialogue with Al Pacino ... Basically, he was in this glorious dressing gown. I was so thrilled that we actually got him into it and it was on the screen. It was a Double-G green silk, and we made two of them for him. And he said, 'Oh, I think it's a bit cold, isn't it?' You know, he wasn't actually playing ill. But it was a very, very crisp spring day —so we just wrapped this [pashmina] around him, and that's had a lot of press and interest as well.

Raquel: He just looked so elegantly swaddled.

Janty: You know, with Jeremy, you're halfway there, because he's a clotheshorse, an absolute clotheshorse. So he looks brilliant in anything that's well-cut and you know with the swag of the cashmere around him — it worked, didn't it?

Raquel: I’m curious about Lady Gaga’s style evolution — what story did you want to tell through her clothes?

Janty: Well, it was very important that she have this huge arc. She had to start off innocent. She was not really innocent — she knew what her body could do, because you have that [scene] of her walking across that tarmac or car park, and [the male workers] are all ogling her. But she's sexy in an innocent way. And then, when she's courting with Maurizio, she's in little cashmere twin sets and little spring dresses, the old Burberry mac — that was her idea, because I said, I thought you might be in a Burberry when you stalk Maurizio. And she said, ‘Oh yeah, why don’t we get one with a check on the outside?’ I went, ‘I don't think that exists.’ And I week later my buyer came up with it, and it fit and it was wonderful. So the costume fairies were with me on that one!

And then of course she marries him and it gets much more complicated. She's wearing four necklaces or two necklaces, four bracelets and you know, she just is egging the pudding, as it were — which Patrizia did.

And then it was again it was LG's idea to wear a leather jacket on the way down because she's fed up. She's been with [her psychic friend] Pina for long enough and she's been away from her ex-husband for long enough. She just doesn't care anymore, so she's wearing her vintage leather jacket and jeans. I was a bit shocked at that, but you know that's fine. I said, ‘What about these nice blouses? I made you hundreds of silk blouses!’ My wonderful cutter made so many garments for her. But she said no.

Raquel: I loved the ‘mourning’ look she wears when she goes to take Maurizio’s apartment from his lover after his death.

Janty: That was a shocking scene. That was Alaia — it was a vintage Alaia shearling coat, and a vintage Alaia dress. It was so ‘80s — it was off the wall, really. And Gaga had rung — or her manager had rung — a few of her favorite designers to see if they got anything in their archives, and it came in very late in the shoot. In the last week or so. But we had some things from some of the designers who hadn't really understood the assignment.

Raquel: Were there any iconic Gucci pieces that you felt you needed to use — the floral scarf that Rodolfo designed, or the loafers?

Al Pacino, power-clashing as Aldo Gucci ©MGM/Courtesy Everett Collection

Janty:  Well, every single member of the family wore Gucci belts, Gucci loafers, Gucci ties, ad infinitum, and Gucci cufflinks. In fact Paolo's [loafers] I had made in electric blue suede. I had pale green and beige suede. I had some beautiful black snakeskin ones made for Aldo. But [Pacino] has some problem with his toes, so he only stuck to one pair of shoes that were comfortable, so we never got to see the black snakeskin. And Maurizio had one brown suede, one black suede, one brown leather, one black leather, we just alternated more or less.

We completely [pillaged] eBay daily of anything with a Gucci logo. We had about 60 ties, as many cufflinks, and watches. We had about 15 to 20 watches. [Gaga] doesn't wear a watch that often. But Maurizio wears about three different watches. Aldo wore a Gucci watch, Paolo wore a Gucci watch. We just got it all off eBay.

Raquel: I loved Maurizio’s look. That first scene, where he’s sitting drinking a coffee and he stands up to get on a bicycle and everything just looks so beautiful on him …

Janty: [Adam Driver] is a clotheshorse like Jeremy. He’s 6-foot-4 — he’s a 46” chest believe it or not, and a 32” waist. So he’s fabulous to dress. He has no interest in clothes at all! It was great because he and I worked on ‘The Last Duel’ [before this], so we had an easy relationship. But he’d always go, ‘Hi, Janty’ [Janty puts up her middle finger] on Zoom from New Orleans or wherever he was shooting whenever my tailor would plop down there to try another cashmere coat on him. I think he had about 40 suits in the end.

Raquel: Did you have a favorite Gucci item that you came across?

Janty: Well, there were a lot, but now I can’t really look at Gucci. I can’t! I did buy a couple pairs of loafers. Oh God, I would never wear anything else, even though they’re so expensive. They’re like gloves — so do invest one day.

*Primer on characters: Aldo Gucci: the gregarious, larger-than-life leader with a penchant for women and tax evasion. Aldo’s son, Paolo (Jared Leto): the wayward heir who betrays his 81-year-old dad and put him in prison in 1986. Tragic matinee idol Rodolfo (Jeremy Irons), who would disown his only son, Maurizio (Adam Driver), when he decided to marry beneath his station. And Patrizia Reggiani (Gaga): the nouveau riche villainess who captured Maurizio’s heart, drove him to take over Gucci and had him killed in cold blood when he had no use for her anymore.

**Aldo had made deals with manufacturers to make Gucci knock-offs, which cheapened the brand in the 1980s.

***The movie actually depicts a mashup of Ford’s second womenswear show for Gucci and his men’s show, which debuted the now-infamous Gucci thong.

****Versace was part of a new wave of Italian designers, including Armani, reinvigorating the Italian fashion scene in the 1980s — and making Gucci look passé.

*****Though he’s treated like a joke in the movie — and by all accounts really was a weird, eccentric dude — Paolo was Gucci’s first ready-to-wear designer and created several of the house’s hottest items in the 1970s, like its leather mini skirts and scarf dresses (made by sewing the house’s scarves together).

Shawna Kay Rodenberg on Appalachia, growing up in an end-times community & her memoir 'Kin'

Growing up in an end-times religious community, Shawna Kay Rodenberg renounced her earthly possessions and spoke in tongues. She dressed modestly, in long skirts and scratchy sweaters and could not wear pants. She was whipped for the smallest infraction, such as using a marker to underline passages in her Bible.

Rodenberg details her life in her new memoir “Kin,” starting in Seco, Kentucky, the region in Appalachia where her family has roots dating back 300 years. She narrates how the coal mines wreaked havoc on the community, how her father — restless, searching, and “red-eyed and mad with fear, following his tour of duty in Vietnam” — tried to escape through religion only to be pulled back again and again, how the tragedies and heartbreaks and the sins of previous generations seemed to repeat over and over.

“Kin” is an exquisite book. It’s not just another memoir of escape from religious fanaticism or poverty, like “Educated” or, God forbid, “Hillbilly Elegy.” It’s about learning to love, understand, and accept where you come from and all its complexities. Though toward the end of the book Rodenberg — a scared 20-year-old pregnant bride — does head East, she never really leaves those Kentucky mountains, to which she will return again and again. She never abandons her faith or her family, either.

I spoke with Rodenberg — who now lives in Indiana — for an article I did for the NY Post (it’s not as sensational as the headline makes it out to be). I initially planned the story to be about her relationship with Appalachia, but it ended up focussing on her experiences as a kid in The Body, the end-times Christian community her family belonged to when she was a child. Our conversation touched on so much more, however, so I’m sharing some of it here — edited for length and clarity.

Raquel Laneri: Your book was very different than what I expected. A lot of times you read these memoirs, and they're about escape — escape from Appalachia, or escape from a religious group. And your book is not really that. 

Shawna Kay Rodenberg: Thank you, first of all, for noticing that. I think one of my greatest fears in writing [“Kin”] is that people would misunderstand what I was getting at by saying that I had left — that they would take that to mean that I was trying to talk about some kind of escape. But ultimately, I love the mountains. … It's a complicated place. It's not an easy place. But, you know, it's home, and it's still my identity. Obviously, with the pandemic, and quarantine, I wasn't able to travel much, but normally, I'm there every couple of months, and when my mom was ill, I was there every other week. So I feel very loyal to the place, and I don't think that will ever change.

It's an extraordinary place to grow up. … The degree of freedom that I had was, when we were living there to be outside and be feral. For example, I never really thought about what I looked like until I was almost in middle school — we were very much removed from social constructs of beauty. So I feel very fortunate in that way, to have grown up with those traditions and with that kind of freedom to just be outside in a very beautiful place. I mean, the mountains are incomparable.

Your book is not a straightforward memoir of your experiences: there are chapters that are from your mother's point of view, and your father’s, and you go into the history of your family and the history of Seco, Kentucky. I was wondering about your decision to do that.

It kind of started with this TED Talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie called “The Single Story.” And in it, she talks about the danger of starting in the middle of the story, and how when you remove sort of the history of a place, especially when that history is exploitative, that you do a disservice to the story itself. That really got me thinking about how so many Appalachia narratives start in the middle — with, for example, addiction to opiates — but with very little talk about all of the various factors, and not just pharma, that have like brought the place to that sort of crisis.

I had written in circles kind of around my stories for about a year and a half. … It just felt like I was starting in the middle. It felt like I couldn't really do my family justice by talking about how we lived on this end-times community without talking about all of the different moments that kind of led to that time, to that place. And so I started, of course, with the stories that my mom had told me the most frequently that seemed kind of like her origin story. And I felt like, those stories worked for the first half of my story until we got back to Kentucky, where it seemed, almost uncannily, like my father’s story kind of took over and mirrored my own.

It was my me trying to be fair, because parts of my story are a little fantastical, and they don't make a lot of sense unless you understand where everybody's coming from.

Your family went in and out of The Body [though the family left the group when Rodenberg was 10, they had periods where they were drawn to the religion again, dressing modestly and even going to conferences]. What was the most difficult thing about that? And why did they keep leaving and joining again?

I think, removing religion from the equation — because it's not all about religion — The Body offered us a way to connect to the world beyond the mountains. I don't want to be melodramatic, but in some ways, [Appalachia] feels like a country within our country, and when I encountered culture outside of it, I felt a little foreign and like I didn't know how to belong. … So that network of churches provides a sort of a structure for leaving your comfort zone. And it feels familiar because you are part of a church.

Yeah, you wrote in the book that it was nice going to these conventions as an adolescent because there was no pressure to have a boyfriend or dress cool.

Exactly. We all kind of had to live by the same rules. You didn’t have to explain to the other girls why you were wearing long dresses [instead of pants]. And we all were trying to navigate growing up and balancing being good with being free.

And so there was an immediate camaraderie, and in that way, I think my parents had a similar experience.

What was it about the church that kept making them leave?

I don't really know. If I just base it on my own experience, it has something to do with this trying to navigate faith [with] personal freedom and expression, which often feel like they are not not simpatico.

It’s that push and pull [between] tradition and freedom. It's a tight rope all the time, whether you're talking work, life, art — that balance of trying not to be swallowed up by tradition and losing your own personal freedom and expression, but then at the same time wanting to stay connected to it.

In the book you write about being sexually abused by an adult — an elder in The Body — when you were a kid. Did that make being in that community harder for you? Or were you able to compartmentalize the abuse from the religion?

I don't think I ever associated it necessarily with The Body, because as a young woman, that wasn't an isolated incident: that wasn't the only time that I encountered a [sexually] abusive adult. And I don't think that's a unique experience for a girl growing up in America. But I will say that my sexuality was complicated by my experiences with religion and my understanding of it.

How so?

I think that it had to do with being aware of the ways that I met a Christian ideal [of a woman] and the ways that I did not. The Proverbs 31 woman, who rises early: she's selfless, works all day, and she’s classy. She's what every man wants — she takes care of the home, and she raises the kids, and she still somehow manages to make money and make him look good. I definitely grew up with that ideal. And I think that complicated, the way that I thought about myself, because I was mouthy. I was distracted, self-involved. I was creative, but not in a way that served anybody.

I think so many girls grow up with those same expectations — whether it’s from the Bible or pop culture. I have a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, and I think about this all the time. Trying to raise someone without any sort of gendered expectations is really hard.

It's so, so hard. It's such a challenge to try to raise healthy girls. And I think it’s true everywhere, but I know it's true in America.

Earlier we were talking about Appalachia and all the incomplete narratives that come out of there. What is it that most people outside the region misunderstand or assume?

Well, for starters, the thing that bothers me the most is the way that people in the region are always underestimated. And there are lots of ways that you can underestimate people: you can underestimate them by not allowing them to make decisions for themselves or policies for themselves; you can underestimate them by convincing yourself they're quaint and one-dimensional.

The people I grew up with are some of the more complicated people that I've met in all the places that I've lived since, because they have such such a difficult road to toe between the past and a future that is so uncertain — economically and industrially so uncertain. They're dealing with a century of exploitation, capitalist exploitation in the extreme. Yet so many representations of Appalachians in the media underestimate them. Even some of my more progressive liberal friends still feel very comfortable making jokes about about hillbillies — even in my presence. They think they're being clever and cosmopolitan, and it really just shows a real lack of understanding.

Is there anything else you want to add about your book?

In some ways, my story is unique. But in in other ways, it's not. More than anything, I hope people will see it as an American story.

What Made Halston Great

“Halston” — the new five-part Netflix series from “American Horror Story” producer Ryan Murphy — charts the spectacular rise and fall of the disco-era designer, born Roy Halston Frowick. There’s plenty of sex and drugs and fashion, yet the most electrifying sequence in the show (out Friday) comes when Halston (Ewan McGregor) offers to dress his new acquaintance, Liza Minnelli (Krysta Rodriguez).

“Halston and Liza meet each other, and he just starts draping fabric on her body,” Rodriguez told Vogue about the scene. With a few elegant movements, Halston — who hasn’t yet established his own label or even style signature at this point — transforms from society hat maker to creative fashion genius, and Liza from a still-scrappy Broadway singer to bona fide star.

“Ewan went through intense training to figure out how the draping process works, and it resulted in the best dress that I’ve ever seen on my body,” Rodriguez said. “And it just came out of a single bolt of fabric and a couple pins!”

In real life, Minnelli’s godmother, Kay Thompson (author of the “Eloise” books), introduced the Broadway singer to Halston — who was already an established couturier — at his boutique in the early 1970s. But the designer really did coax sinuous, glamorous gowns out of a piece of cloth, like magic. And he really did have an intense creative connection with his friends and muses, particularly with Minnelli.

You can see the rest of my piece, about how Halston’s friendships with women (famously dubbed the Halstonettes) shaped his life and designs, for the New York Post here. This aspect of Halston — as well as his celebrity and glamour — remind me of Yves Saint Laurent, whose muses (Loulou de la Falaise, Betty Catroux) exuded a similar kind of confident, sexy energy as Halston’s. So, I reached out to the Museum at FIT’s Patricia Mears, who co-curated an excellent exhibit about Halston and YSL some years back. We had a great conversation, and I wanted to share some of the insights she had that didn’t make it into the piece. Here’s a bit here.

Raquel Laneri: Tell me about the Halstonettes.

Patricia Mears: The Halstonettes were just a remarkable phenomenon. It was not the first time that a major designer had this sort of cabine of models following him around. Paul Poiret was very famous for this, he would go to the races and this sort of phalanx of women following him in his latest designs. 

But I think Halston did something more interesting; [the Halstonettes] were really integrated into his life. … And they were moving around as a group. 

It was a very smart business decision — I mean, what’s better than having a gaggle of glamorous women around you, showing off your  greatest designs?  And I also think it helped the process, there was a lot of direct communication between him and these models, especially in the earlier years. It was not like working with a client, who leads a very different and separate life. They were really friends. Being a curator I really wonder whether being around these women did help influence how Halston approached design.

It does seem so, even from just hearing how he worked, how he would drape directly on the woman in this intimate way.

It's the part of Halston's life that people don't really concentrate on, and it's really for me the most interesting thing. Because he started off as a hat maker and a very good one. And building a hat is a very physically demanding process. It's also an intimate process because you're so physically close to the client. But you're basically making dimensional sculptures. Yeah, some hats had a little bit of flexibility or movement in them, but by and large you're talking about creating a skull cap of some sort that will sit and meant to be immobile and really be sort of a frame for the women’s face. 

Halston made this quantum leap from milliner to dressmaker — and not just making women's clothes but soft, diaphanous, body-caressing, kinetic clothing. [It was] very different from the way that somebody like Charles James made them. Charles James went from hat maker to couturier, and his clothes were constructed like a hat, sometimes torturously so: very heavy, rigid and completely inflexible. I remember one of James's clients telling me that she went to a party and she couldn’t sit down the whole evening. And that was completely the opposite [of what Halston did].

For him to take this artisanal leap I think really demonstrates that he was really a coutuerier in the traditional and best sense of the word. And I don't think we focus on that. He had this magic in his hands — I have heard that he could just drape and pin a couple of things and he knew how to control the fabric.

But Ralph Rucci told me something else that I had never heard: that Halston would unfurl fabric on the ground and would cut into it. So it's like a sculpture but he's doing it very softly. So the only connection between the milliner vs the couturier is the fact that he worked with  his hands. And this is something that we do not want to concentrate on. You know he’s so glamorous, the rise and fall the great American story — or the great American tragedy depending on how you look at it. I think [his skill] gets lost in this. 

His runways were very diverse, too.

It's such an irony, you know, we're seeing things like Black lives Matter today — finally! — but this period of the ‘60s into ‘70s was remarkably open [in terms of diversity]. This is the first time we really have a generation of Black designers whose names we recognize: Willie Smith, Stephen Burrows. And at the same time the Dance Theatre of Harlem comes along. We now see an entire company of Black women dancing, and at the same time [these] women are breaking into the modeling industry. And it was very fortuitous because some of Halston's early shows were done with music: the models were not just stiff walking up and down with a little card in their hand the way they traditionally did in couture shows, they now became real shows, and if you're gonna do that you need people who can move. So it was the right time … and Halston benefitted from this.

Bye bye, 2017

While I'm happy for this year to be over, I did get to work on some really fun, really rewarding stories. Here are some of my favorites. 

Why Daniel Day-Lewis Had to Go to Fashion Bootcamp I investigated how the Oscar-winning actor learned to cut, drape and sew for his role as a 1950s couturier in the new film "Phantom Thread." 

How Claire Foy Perfected the Queen's English for 'The Crown' Interviewed the on-set historian and dialect coach about how the Netflix show gets all the details about Elizabeth II's life right.

A Mystery Woman Is Leaving Little Works of Art Around NYC My husband and I have been fans of the street artist See Me Tell Me, who leaves little "presents" around our neighborhood for people to pick up. I finally found out her identity and her story for the New York Post!

'That's Not French, That's Just Dirty'  I asked French women what they think about the French-girl myth. I got some pretty funny answers!

How New York Fashion Week Became the Spectacle It Is Today New Yorkers have complained about fashion shows since time immemorial — or since 1903, when Sixth Avenue dry-goods emporium Ehrich Brothers hosted the first one in the US. In the intervening years, police have tried to stop them; editors have tried to tame them; the industry, and the designers themselves, continue to try to improve or disrupt them.

Jeremy Scott Is the Man Fashion Loves to Hate He's also probably the most influential designer working today. My profile.

How a Struggling Photographer Became the Duchess of Carnegie Hall Editta Sherman was far more than an eccentric extraordinaire with a bouffant hairdo and twinkling tiaras who danced the "Dying Swan" for Warhol and posed for shutterbug Bill Cunningham. She was also a great photographer.

These Pampered Pets Have Wardrobes Full of Designer Clothes I met pet designer Ada Nieves at the Algonquin Cat Fashion Show, where I found out she had sewn all the ornate cat clothes herself! I interviewed her and met a few of her colorful clients, including a pet chicken named Lady Gaga.

How New Yorkers' Obsession With Cuba Gave Rise to Salsa It's the rare story that combines my music training, my heritage and my city!

Brides Are Making Their Guests Dress Up in Costumes Back in the old days, weddings came in two flavors: black tie or cocktail. Now, brides and grooms are asking guests to wear all-white, put on a fancy costume or evoke some kind of theme such as “rustic casual.”

This Will Soon Be the Most Famous Cat in NYC My first scoop! Got to meet the legendary Algonquin Hotel's new cat, Hamlet. (I also profiled an Upper West Side cat who is the city's most successful foster dad and wrote a eulogy for the Algonquin's former feline ambassador, Matilda III.)

Forget Mani-Pedis — Now Moms and Daughters Bond Over Botox A heartwarming Mother's Day story ;)

The World's First Supermodel Was More Than Just a Clotheshanger Lisa Fonssagrives was not just famed fashion fotog Irving Penn's muse, she was an artist herself. 

Break Out the Shoulder Pads! Dynasty Style Is Happening The return of 1980s glamour.

Quad Cinema Is Back! "The city’s first-ever multiplex, with four screens showing everything from second-run features to arty foreign films to even (rumor has it) porn, opened in 1972, and its gritty charm and resilience made it a neighborhood institution. It was the kind of place where you could rub shoulders with glitterati such as Mick Jagger and David Bowie, and then moments later run into a guy pleasuring himself with a blowup doll in the men’s room." I wrote about the colorful, sometimes X-rated history of the Quad, which reopened this year after closing in 2014.

How Movies Changed the Way We Dress A look into how certain trends go from silver screen to the street.

Princess Di Was the Queen of Revenge Dressing Parsing the princess' post-divorce style

'La La Land' Is Inspiring People to Take Up Tap This was just a fun, feel-good story to report.

Manse built by America’s first self-made millionairess seeks new life "Madam C.J. Walker was America’s first female self-made millionaire, a former washwoman born from slaves who had made her fortune launching a line of hair-care products. Villa Lewaro, was the pinnacle of her achievements: a 34-room Italianate manse in a neighborhood that was also home to Rockefellers and Astors."

She Changed the Way America Saw Black People How Ming Smith became one of the foremost chroniclers of black life in the U.S. and beyond. (Also, she is a truly amazing, inspirational, kind human being.)

ALSO

Some of my favorite art and museum shows (besides Ming Smith, linked above) I covered included: Aliza Nisenbaum's portraits of undocumented immigrants, Native American Fashion Now, Georgia O’Keeffe: Living Modern, the secret life of textiles, Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garcons at the Met, the history of the 7 Train at the Transit Museum, Never Built NYC, Rebecca Leveille's portraits in Gowanus, the Frieze Art Fair, the Whitney Biennial and an art show just for dogs.

Some of the coolest people I got to interview included actress/artist/farmer Isabella Rossellini, photographer Baron Claiborne (famous for his portrait of Biggie wearing a crown), Elsa Dorfman and Errol Morris, the guy who makes footballer Cam Newton's hats, and this couple who got married on a city bus.

Some of the weirdest things I did for my job included posing with a bunch of chard, getting thrown out at Tiffany's, and learning how to boob-contour.

And finally, my favorite lede: "Amazon may have finally killed the bookstore once and for all — by opening one."

January Links

A selection of stuff I wrote this month ...

Met and fell in love with the photographer Ming Smith, who talked to me about modeling with Grace Jones, shooting Muhammad Ali when she was in college, and how she worked to change how black people were represented in American media. She is also the most wonderful, most intelligent, thoughtful, generous, sweet person ever. As I said, I'm in love.

Also here is a photo of us at her show at the Steven Kasher Gallery --- she (on the right) is ridiculously chic.

I got interview fashion-blogging heroes Tom + Lorenzo AND the Fug Girls about the first-time Golden Globe nominees. Highlight was when GFY's Jessica Morgan said that English Rose Claire Foy, of "The Crown," should hit the red carpet in PVC.

Talked to hat-maker Alberto Hernandez and Cam Newton about all the crazy headgear Hernandez makes for the flamboyant footballer.

I wrote about where you can get your hygge on in NYC.

And finally I went deep on the trend for boob-contouring.

Bye bye, 2016

I wrote a lot of articles in 2016. Some of them I liked, and some even helped restore my sanity and and faith in humanity during a hell of a year. Here are a few of my favorites:

Why Jackie Kennedy's Wedding Dress Designer Was Society's "Best-Kept Secret" Ann Lowe, who was the first black high-fashion designer in the U.S., with her own boutique on Madison Avenue and a clientele that included Rockefellers, DuPonts and, yes, the Bouviers — she made Jackie's debutante and wedding dresses. Yet, she ended up dying broke and forgotten at the age of 82. The Smithsonian's new African-American Museum, as well as FIT and some amazing costume historians, are working to change that.

Grandmas From Around the World Cook at this Local Eatery I traveled to Staten Island to interview some of the nonnas who cook at beloved neighborhood establishment Enoteca Maria. And boy, were these ladies not only a total delight but also totally inspiring. One had come from war-torn Syria three years ago, knowing no English; her daughter-in-law translated for her, and by the end of our chat all three of us were crying and hugging one another. It reminded me of why I so love New York City.

America's First Methodist Church More Than a Historical Landmark Back in January (of 2016), I went to a service at John Street Methodist Church, after hearing the pastor was working on a Bowie sermon. He told me that this year the church, the first Methodist one in the country, was celebrating its 250th anniversary, and I thought "Hmm... that might be a good story for the Post!" It only took 10 months to do it! This was a fun story to write (this place has had its share of entertaining factoids), but on a personal note, I found it helpful after the election to take a look at a place that has been a beacon of light and hope for the Manhattan community for such a long time. It's important to remember that these social community centers can be agents of change and places for healing and processing. And it's inspiring to see those that have managed to survive tumultuous times.

How Butter Became a Villain — and Why It's Actually Good for You Just in time for the holidays, I wrote about America's love-hate relationship with butter, the butter vs. margarine wars, and why fat actually isn't bad for you. Most surprising fact I learned: margarine was actually invented IN FRANCE. Sacre bleu!

'Miracle on the Hudson' Pilot Landed Us Our Children My first (and probably only) New York Post cover! And a rare uplifting, heart-warming one too, about a couple who re-found love after going through the crash on the Hudson River.

The Man Who Changed the Red Carpet Forever Just because I love the Oscars and Hollywood and fashion and history, and this has all of those things. 

The other night, I had a dream that my grandfather was alive. Not only that he was alive, but that he wanted to go ice skating with me. I was thrilled: I had never seen my grandfather ice skate before (he lived in Cuba, after all!), and I had the distinct feeling that he suggested the activity to please me, partly because he knew I was worried about him, because he had seemed to old and frail lately, but partly because he still kind of regarded me as a little girl, though I was already married and 30 and had a nephew and niece and all these grown-up things. "You will always be my bebita," he would tell me, "even when you are an old lady." I would laugh.

In my dream, my father drove us from my grandparents' Long Island ranch to Central Park, where my grandfather and I would spend the day skating. I kept squeezing his hand and holding him tight, like I knew he would disappear any second.  Like I knew I was going to wake up and have to deal with him being gone all over again.  But we made it to the rink, and though he rented a pair of skates and managed to strap them on, he mainly smiled as I tried to remember how to do figure eights and glide with one foot in the air. He bought me a hot chocolate. I had a wool skirt and bare legs. I wasn't cold at all.

When my dad picked us up, my grandfather was very tired. I felt bad, like I had worn him out. My father told me: you have given him a great gift. When we got back to Long Island, I held my grandfather, and held him and held him and held him. I didn't ever want to wake up. But I did. My eyes were swollen; my cheeks wet. I cried and cried and cried. I tried to go back to sleep to see my grandfather again. "Tito, vamos patinando hoy?" I asked him over the phone in my next dream. "Mi nina, estoy tan cansado." I went to Long Island anyway. When I arrived my family members were all in my grandparents' living room sobbing. I hugged my grandmother. "Did you forget already: he's gone."

Is Louis Vuitton ruining the red carpet?

A shorter version of this article ran in the New York Post, which you can read here.

When Hollywood It Girl Alicia Vikander stepped onto the Met Gala red carpet last Monday evening, Twitter went crazy --- and not in a good way. Catty parody account @ChoupetteLagerfeld --- named after Chanel designer Karl Lagerfeld’s famous kitten --- commented, “I don't like mullets on hair or dresses..even if it's @LouisVuitton!”

Hers was not the only Vuitton look that caused major side-eye. From Michelle William’s plain-Jane mini, to Selena Gomez’s ‘90s-era-Express maxi, to the chunky hiking boots seen on indie singer Grimes and Oscar winner Jennifer Connelly, the stars who wore Vuitton looked underdressed for fashion’s biggest night. Especially compared with Claire Danes’ light-up Cinderella gown or Katy Perry’s show-stopping embroidered Prada.

“When you think of the Met Gala, you expect elaborate gowns,” says Lorenzo Marquez, co-founder of the style website Tom + Lorenzo. “The Vuitton looks were too short, too many cut-outs, too cutesy.”

Michelle Williams' sad-sack Vuitton dress and combat boots caused a stir at the Met Gala. Via Getty.

Since former Balenciaga director Nicolas Ghesquiere took over 2.5 years ago, Vuitton has upped its red-carpet presence — and created some polarizing celebrity looks. These include spokeswoman Vikander's ruffled pinafore at 2015 Golden Globes, as well as a see-through black macrame fringe top worn by Selena Gomez to the most recent InStyle Awards.

“I don’t think anyone expected to see aggressive ’90s boots at the Met Gala,” says Jessica Morgan, of the celeb-style site Go Fug Yourself, who personally thought the boots were fresh. “But if you don’t go a little off the beaten path there, where else can you?”

“I think it’s fresh and modern,” says Aliza Licht, a fashion industry veteran and author of branding tome “Leave Your Mark,” saying that she liked the short Vuitton frocks worn at the Met Gala. “Part of being an artistic director, especially for a major luxury brand, is to rethink our relationship to fashion, rethink what’s considered evening or what’s appropriate to wear. People who love fashion, that’s what they love about fashion, that it’s always evolving.”

And by thumbing its nose at high-impact glamour — and rankling traditionalists — Vuitton may be making itself more relevant to the masses.

As it turns out, most women don’t have much use for outsize gowns requiring entourages for unfettered movement.

The same thing, however, can’t be said for Vuitton’s quirky, accessible looks. Case in point: The shopping site Polyvore had a 70 percent increase in searches for heeled combat boots after the Met Gala.

“People want to dress like Selena Gomez and Michelle Williams,” says Yahoo Style news editor Lauren Tuck. “This is one of the biggest fashion stages in the world, so if brands have the opportunity to dress the biggest influencers out there, they’d be crazy not to dress them in clothes consumers really want — and can get.”

The Oscars, Red Carpet Fashion and Armani

I love the Oscars. Actually, I hate the ceremony itself, but I love the pomp and circumstance and promise of glamour surrounding it. That's what I really watch it for: the glamour. Dashing men in tuxes, women in sparking sequined columns, lacquered hair and oodles of jewels. Which is why I loved writing about Armani, and his role in creating the modern red carpet, for The New York Post. Armani was the first fashion designer to really view Hollywood as a powerful publicity tool for his designs. And, while his designs are no longer as radical as they used to be — his minimal slip dresses and chic pant suits really did shock the establishment after the froufrou of the '80s — they still carry with them symbolic weight on the red carpet. And, as Naomi Watts, in a shimmering sapphire column Sunday night, demonstrated, they still look freaking fabulous.

But I also just really like being surprised by someone's outfit. There were a few that particularly stuck out in that front. The first was Saoirse Ronan's fierce, sexy emerald Calvin Klein look, easily the hottest thing the Irish actress, who usually prefers the more twee and bohemian, has ever worn, while still looking true to her personality. The second was Charlize Theron's deep-plunging flaming-red Dior gown, which, I don't even know if it was really that great a dress, but boy did she look like a movie star in it. And the last was a bit of a controversial one: "Mad Max" costume designer Jenny Beavan's biker jacket and jeans, which stood out for being so different and outsider and so confident and brazen and full of attitude that I couldn't help but fall in love with her as she strutted down the aisle to pick up her statuette. The Hollywood Reporter had a great interview with Beavan about her outfit, and what's great about it is that it was actually well thought-out and meaningful, not something she just threw on because she was lazy:

I am a real jeans person. I have clothes to dress up in, but [the Oscars] was a really conscious thing of not just doing the plain black suit. I am British with a slightly rebellious character; I always have been. But, actually, in truth, you’ve seen me. I’m short, I’m fat. I really would look ridiculous in a gown. What I was actually wearing at the Oscars was sort of an homage to "Mad Max" — a kind of biker outfit. I thought, “If I can’t beat them, or if I can’t sort of join them, then why not try doing something a little bit fun?” And George [Miller] loved it. The [vegan] leather jacket had the Immorten Joe symbol on the back and I was just giving a little wink to "Mad Max."

I love it because the red carpet isn't real life — it is costume in a way. (In the olden days, as I wrote in my article, the stars were dressed by their studio's costume department for the Academy Awards.) Red-carpet outfits should be more than pretty dresses, they should be statements, even if it's just a statement about the kind of person or star or character they want to be at that moment.

Oh, P.S., I also went on an Oscars cleanse and LIVED TO TELL THE TALE.

Mi favorito

My grandfather always called me his "favorita," his favorite, and I believed him for a long time. For the almost-three years I lived with him, when I was a little girl, my "tito" and I were inseparable. He was — he bragged, I actually have no idea if it's true — the only one who could calm me during one of my crying fits as a baby. He taught me sad Spanish songs, about cursed black eyes and lovesick nights, that I would sing in my angelic, clear 2-year-old voice to my stunned mother and aunt. He took me on my first trip to Montauk, dipped me — gently — into the freezing Atlantic Ocean, took me to his favorite bar, Gosman's, where he would order a gin and tonic and I would wear an enormous lobster bib and eat corn-on-the-cob. Apparently, my parents were on that vacation, too, but I don't remember them at all, and they aren't in any photos. I just remember Tito, making me laugh, making me happy, making me feel like the center of the universe.

But Tito did that with everyone. I later learned that he told my cousin Margaret, too, that she was his favorite grandchild — and once he got wind of that would say it to one of us in front of the other, and then act all embarrassed, like he had been caught in the act. But, you couldn't be mad at him. Because that was Tito's gift: he made everyone feel like his favorite. It's why his five grandchildren adored him. It's why his two daughters adored him. It's why every person who ever worked with him or who ever served him at a restaurant (believe me, the waiters and busboys would fight over who would serve him that day) or ever saw him dance to their music adored him. In his presence, and in his apparent delight in your presence, you felt suddenly that you were special. Actually, that's not it. He made you realize that you were special.

Ma (my grandmother) and Tito, in Cuba.

My Tito died a week ago, last Tuesday. I knew he was going to die. When I asked my father, a doctor, how long he had to live, he said maybe a week. My mother told me over the phone, as I was walking to a Lebanese place in the West Village. Later, my husband and I went to a concert at the Village Vanguard. The group performing — the Donny McCaslin Quartet — was also processing a kind of grief over the death of a loved one: their latest collaborator, the brilliant pop star David Bowie. There were times that the band leader couldn't speak, couldn't articulate his feelings about a certain song because of that loss. I felt that. And when his group played Bowie's beautiful, haunting "Warszawa," tears streamed slowly down my face, and I was thankful that it was sort of dim and that no one was looking at me anyway. Tito probably didn't know who David Bowie was, but he loved music, and he loved jazz — talking the ears off of the Afro-Cuban musicians who played at Victor's Midtown during a Father's Day brunch, requesting tunes, singing along, transported to some faraway place, some mythical, lost Cuba that no longer exists. I needed to listen to music that night — and it made me feel better. 

***

I remember when my sister, Becky, got married. I was, with my other sister, Natalie, supposed to give a speech. And the best man said he was intimidated to talk after me because I was "a writer." But I gave a terrible half-of-a-speech. In fact, I barely said anything, and I rambled, and I felt terrible. Because how are you supposed to encapsulate everything that this person — whom you have known almost your whole life, since before you were 2, who is your best friend/kindred spirit/bosom buddy and who knows all those embarrassing, humiliating, shameful versions of you you try to exhume/suppress/forget — means to you. You can't. It's impossible. It's easy to write (or speak) about ... I don't know ... what a Bjork song means to you or the profundity of lingerie. I can pinpoint the moment I fell in love with David Bowie and how he changed my life, which I just wrote about after his death, a week before my grandfather's. But I can't do that with my sister, or with Tito, because they've always been there. How can I write about these people I don't know at all, or these inconsequential, removed things, with such passion and lucidity, yet can't adequately convey how much my family members, or my friends, mean to me. 

I thought for a second, after that concert, that maybe these things can't be expressed in words, but only in the wailing of a saxophone, or the sad, dulcet tones of Bach Cello Suite. And I thought, then, after hearing this music I would maybe be OK, that after this little burst of sadness I could selflessly just celebrate the long life my grandfather had, be grateful that he didn't have to suffer too long, remember those good times. But, I would be alone in the bathroom and start sobbing, or hear a favorite funereal hymn and lose it. Or, my father would ask me if I wanted to say a eulogy at the funeral and I would panic or draw a blank or just be overwhelmed by the awesomeness of the task. My cousin and my uncle and my father ended up giving beautiful speeches. Yet, I want to try, too, because my grandfather meant so much to me, so here goes:

My cousin Billy (eight days my junior!), my grandfather, and me.

• His name was Camilo Arias.
• He had 11 brothers and sisters.
• He told me once that during the Spanish Civil War his father was in Cuba and he and his siblings lived practically like orphans back home, hungry, killing whatever animals in the farm or woods they could for food (this may be my own imagination's, or my grandfather's, exaggeration, but it seems fitting with his character).
• He could speak Spanish, French, Portuguese, and even a little Chinese, the latter of which fascinated us grandchildren, and he loved to show off the phrases he knew. He barely, however, spoke English.
• He worked until he was 80 years old. 
• The love of his life, I think, was Cuba, where he lived intermittently during his youth and where he met my grandmother, a 17-year-old trouble-maker who looked like Elizabeth Taylor and gave him two beautiful little girls. (She's still alive.) He longed to go back before he died, but wouldn't do so until it became a democracy.
• He made the best cafe con leche — which he prepared very methodically and with great care — and on my wedding day, he woke up early to whip me up a cup, which he served along with my favorite challah bread that he and my grandmother had transported from New York to Pittsburgh for the occasion. 
• He loved the ocean.
• He was a great dancer.
• He would take me on drives, when I was little, along the coast, to see the docked, covered boats bobbing up and down in the water, which was my favorite thing in the world, and we even made up a song about it, which went like this: "Vamos a ver/ los botes tapeditos/ trim bi li dim trim trim."
• He was a bit of a trickster, and would sit at player pianos pretending to play Chopin and make faces in pictures with my grandmother and do anything to make me and my sisters and cousins laugh hysterically. He also let us ride rolling around in the back of his station wagon, which my mother hated but we found thrilling.
• He was extraordinarily kind and generous and spoiled us rotten.
• I miss him so, so much. 

There's a starman waiting in the sky ...

"This was not supposed to happen. Ever."

That was my reaction, too, when I heard the news today, that David Bowie — that beautiful, elastic, shape-shifting mad musical genius — had died, this morning, of cancer. The man had, just days ago, dropped his latest album, "Blackstar," as searching and radical and inquisitive and forward-looking as anything Bowie has ever done. He had a new musical, "Lazarus," playing Off Broadway. He starred in a bracing video (below), a parting gift of sorts, where he writhes blindfolded on what looks like a hospital bed, and even does a kind of robot dance. Who knew he was battling cancer the whole time? Bowie's relentless pursuit of art, the breakneck speed with which he ran toward everything new and exciting, made illness seem inconceivable, and his death like a vanishing or disappearing act. Surely, he had just shed one exterior for another. Surely, Ziggy Stardust/Aladdin Sane/The Thin White Duke could not really be mortal. But, he hadn't. He was. And, it's so, so weird.

I came to Bowie rather late. I was in high school, and my best friend had rented "Velvet Goldmine," Todd Haynes' high-octane surrealist tribute to glam rock. (Fictionalized, but the lead character is an obvious Bowie stand-in.) I had never seen anything so strange and beautiful and sexy. It felt dangerous and reckless and freeing watching men kiss one another and transform into glittery beings and perform this shiny, electric, perfect music in platform shoes and eye makeup. I was never the same.

In college, Bowie's music followed me everywhere. At a coffee shop, studying to the crunchy riff of "Rebel, Rebel"; in a movie theater, as the plastic-soul incantations of "Young Americans" played over the closing credits of "Dogville"; in a friend's room, listening to her favorite song in the whole universe, "Starman," which I assumed was about the slightly unreal Bowie himself ("there's a starman waiting in the sky/He'd like to come and meet us, but he think he'd blow our minds"). I encountered photos of him with long hair and flowing folkie dresses; with a rust-colored mullet and face paint and metallic silver jumpsuit; in a dapper vest and crisp collared shirt and jaunty fedora. And each time I couldn't believe this was the same artist, that one man could have so many lives, could have such a prodigious capacity for imagination, could conjure so many worlds and personae.

I haven't even mentioned Bowie's acting career, but it makes sense that someone so fluid could morph so seamlessly into Andy Warhol (in "Basquiat"), or a romantic cello-playing vampire ("The Hunger"), or a spandex-clad goblin king ("Labyrinth"), or even Nikola Tesla ("The Prestige"). And there's, of course, his eerie, other worldly creature flung from space in "The Man Who Fell to Earth," a film that used his extraterrestrial beauty and hauteur and intoxicating impenetrability to wondrous, heartbreaking effect.

That slipperiness could make Bowie seem cold and alien, plastic and fantastic, even distrustful. But it always conveyed freedom to me: the freedom to be weird, to become whoever or whatever you want, to slip in and out of various guises and identities, unbound by age or gender or place or time or labels. That openness has to be why his music is so challenging and surprising and wonderful — why he continued pushing and experimenting till the very end. But it's also why it will live forever: because it gives us more ordinary dreamers and weirdos the permission to go in search of, or build our own, more adventurous, fabulous, and expansive worlds. RIP David Bowie.

Truly outrageous: the appeal of grrrl-rock movies

I was not a very rebellious kid; I think because my parents so sheltered my sisters and me that I didn't really know what rebellion was. I don't even remember hearing a rock song, or a pop-rock song — folk, opera, classical is what was played in our house — before I turned, I don't know, 8 or 9. That is, with the exception of the '80s musical-video numbers featured on the cartoon "Jem," which my parents, for some reason, allowed us to watch on TV, or at least rent on VHS. I was 5 or 6, so I actually remember very little about the show — besides the New Wave makeup and neon hair and T-shirt dresses and striped berets something about secret identities and rival rock bands and lots of keyboard-playing. But I do remember that it felt ... I don't know, like by watching it we were pulling a fast one on Mom. That there was something about this kind of music, this kind of performance and flamboyance I was witnessing on screen, that she would not approve of, and it was thrilling.

There is, indeed, something subversive about a girl with a guitar (or a drum kit, or an electric bass), which is why I think I love girl rocks bands so much (from The Crystals and The Ronettes to Hole and Sleater Kinney to Veruca Salt and The Savages and even The Spice Girls). And why I particularly love movies about girl rock bands, or girl rockers. I got to write about these movies for Metro, on the occasion of a new one based on my once-beloved "Jem and the Holograms," which apparently is terrible and totally bombed, which is a bummer. Because any movie that shows girls — grrrls — rocking out is still, sadly, kinda radical. And young girls nowadays maybe could see some more portrayals of women forming bands and female bonds and defying stereotypes and just kicking butt in general. 

"We Are the Best"

Actualy, I think it's the bonding that, in the end, makes these movies so special and so alive. In the sweet, giddy, and infectious "We Are the Best," which I think is the best film on this list, the three misfit friends who form a punk band to essentially to gripe about how much they hate gym class don't need fame or fortune or even boys (despite a brief flirtation with some teen male punks), all they need is each other to give them the courage and permission to be utterly totally themselves, and to fight the system in any, even the smallest, way they can.

Anyway, read my story, at Metro, for a history of girl-rock films. And, if you want to learn about badass rocker ladies, I suggest you check out Viv Albertine's memoir Clothes Clothes Clothes. Music Music Music. Boys Boys Boys. She was the guitarist for feminist punk band The Slits and is an icon and her book is fabulous, so get it on it!

Get Schooled by France's Most Famous Dominatrix

Catherine Robbe-Grillet doesn’t look like a dominatrix, let alone the most notorious one in all of France. She’s 85 years old. She stands at a hardly-threatening 4’11″. And, with her prim black suits and pristine white-ribbon hairband, she resembles not so much a sadist but a sweet, benevolent and uncommonly smiley nun whose hobbies include — I kid you not — making jam.

As the widow of author, screenwriter and accomplished sadist Alain Robbe-Grillet, who opened her eyes to the joys of S&M, Catherine is now the master. She commands a small coterie of dominatrixes and “endless” submissives, male and female, who conduct her elaborately staged fantasias in her enormous 17th-century chateau, where she lives with her much-younger partner, Beverly Charpentier. “There’s not age limit to the kind of thing I do,” she says coyly during a discussion at the French Institute Alliance Française. “The very well-known film director Manoel Oliveira made his last film at the age of 100, so I’ve still got many years ahead of me!”

Read the rest of my article, "S&M 101: Get Schooled by France's Most Famous Dominatrix," over at The Frisky. If you're interested in more about Robbe-Grillet, who is truly a very fascinating lady, I highly recommend Toni Bentley's excellent profile on her for Vanity Fair, "The Thin End of the Whip."

American Horror Story's costume designer on dressing Lady Gaga

When it comes to creating iconic looks, Lou Eyrich knows a thing or two. The award-winning costume designer got her start dressing rock stars like fellow Minneapolis homeboy Prince and then went on to create Lea Michele’s good-girl short-skirt-and-animal-sweater uniform for Glee. She eventually made her way to American Horror Story where she worked with such divas as Stevie Nicks and Jessica Lange. But, this season she's upped the ante.

For its fifth season, American Horror Story: Hotel (which premieres October 7 at 10 p.m. on FX), Eyrich is transforming Lady Gaga into the part of a couture-addicted, blood-sucking countess who runs a haunted hotel in which all sorts of murder and depravity go down. And given AHS's history of cult-making, show-stealing fashion — think Lange’s satin blue “Life on Mars” pantsuit in season 4’s Freak Show or the glamorous gang of witches in season 3’s Coven — we expect things to be epic.

I talked with Eyrich, who has collaborated with AHS and Glee creator Ryan Murphy continuously since 1999, about what we can expect from the new season and what it was like working with Gaga. You can read my story on Refinery29, but there's a more complete version below, for you costume history nerds.

Sarah Paulson, playing conjoined twins on last season's "Freak Show."

First of all, what’s it like working on a show that has a totally different story and different characters every season?

“It’s challenging, but that’s what makes it so fun. It takes weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks to start a new season. ... I meet with Ryan in the beginning, we go over the whole tone of the season, and then I start doing my research, working closely with the set designer and the actors, and I’ll make concept boards for every character. I’ll meet with Ryan again, and he’ll offer feedback — I want her softer, I want him in less black — and then I start shopping and talking with the actors and doing fittings and I’ll take photos and create boards of all those fittings, and he’ll offer more feedback.”

How is Hotel different from previous seasons?

“Coven was very modern and stylized. And Freak Show, even though it was faded and worn, it was very colorful. This season, the setting is a hotel, and it’s all burgundies and golds. It’s more high-fashion, but there’s a kind of timelessness — you can’t quite tell if it is modern or period. We mix a lot of old — ‘30s, ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s — with different characters wearing clothes from different era, so it feels like you’re stuck in time inside this hotel.”

The owner of the hotel is this couture-loving blood-sucking countess played by Lady Gaga — who is a sort of larger than life character herself. Was it tricky separating the character from the icon?

“It wasn’t hard at all: Lady Gaga was so into her character — she’d really done her homework — and so it was really fun to collaborate with her. And this was a big opportunity for her to get to show herself as somebody other than Lady Gaga. So I think it was exciting for both of us to discover who the countess was.”

What did you guys come up with?

“We wanted her to be very elegant, sexy, seductive, mysterious, and unexpected as well. Since she’s so fashion-forward, the first thing I did was look at the most recent runway shows to see what’s currently happening in fashion. Then, to give her that aura of timelessness, I went through archives of my favorite designers — a lot of Thierry Mugler and Yves Saint Laurent, Vivienne Westwood — and Old Hollywood costumes, like Adrian from the ‘40s. A lot of web surfing, a lot of vintage couture shopping. I didn't do a lot of researching of other vampire movies, because I didn't want to be influenced by them.”

I think high fashion works for vampires, since they’re often supposed to be seductive and sort of cosmopolitan. I definitely get that vibe from Gaga’s costumes, especially this one shocking-pink 1940s-style dress …

“Oh yes, Ryan wanted this dramatic gown with either a big, long train or a lot of extra fabric that would billow in the wind, because in that scene she was going to be moving through this series of lampposts outside the [Los Angeles County Museum of Art], and he wanted a fan so this fabric would be flowing behind her as she walked. The designer Michael Costello made the dress in a day, maybe two. Ryan wanted it in a brilliant color, like red, but we had just shot a scene in a red dress, so I had Michael came up with some sketches, and Ryan loved the fuschia, so that’s what we ended up with.”

What about the silver glove she wears?

“That’s her weapon — her character doesn’t have fangs, so the glove have these little knives that pop from the fingers, and that’s how she gets the blood. It’s a leather glove covered with 1,000 Swarovski crystals designed by Michael Schmidt, who is a jeweler in Los Angeles. Ryan wanted it to be like armor, but it also had to be fashionable enough to wear with her outfits.”

You got to work with another fashion icon this season, Naomi Campbell ...

“Oh, Naomi was such a pro. She was able to connect us with a lot of designers that we never could have afforded to loan clothes to us. She plays a Vogue editor, so she got some Zac Posen, Marc Jacobs, a gorgeous Saint Laurent, Celine, Dolce & Gabbana, these beautiful fur vests — everything every girl would want to wear. It was definitely a highlight in my career.”

Do you have any other favorite characters?

“Sarah Paulson’s character, Sally, who is this grungy, punky, heroine addict, has been so much fun to create. We scoured the Internet and the town and all the vintage stores and found these old Betsy Johnsons from the ‘90s — everything she wears is from the ‘20s, ‘30s, ‘40s and ‘90s — and it’s all overdyed and torn and ripped fishnets but then we pair it with shoes from the ‘40s, or that look old. Totally different from last season.

“The other one is Evan Peters — he’s also unrecognizable this season, he plays a 1930s tycoon who owns the Hotel Cortez. Very Clark Gable.”

What is your ultimate goal when creating a costume?

“If you look at it and it defines who the character is, that is a good costume. Like Indiana Jones — that’s the best example of a costume that defines the character. So, if an actor says this is great, it helps them find the character, they’re comfortable in it, but then people want to dress like that character too — that's the ultimate compliment.”

You've done so many different genres of stuff, is there any genre or period you haven't done that you want to try?

"I've never done futuristic, but I have no desire to. I've never done any theater — I've only done film and television — so that would be fun. I love the '20s, '30s, '40s, but anything before the '20s I'm really not interested. It's really beautiful, but it's just a lot of work — all those underpinnings, and none of the actors want to wear it because it's so uncomfortable: all the corsets and the petticoats and the wool. But, I think fantasy, you know, I've never done a fantasy."

Can you give us any other secrets about the new season?

“Well, Gaga was so generous and offered to bring pieces in from her own personal archive. So, let’s just say that her fans are going to get a big treat when they see something that I'm not going to give away!”
 

New York Fashion Week Stories

Hi! I’ve written so many fashion week things. Do you want to read them? Here they are.

Features

Runway diversity, Givenchy in the Big Apple, Caitlyn Jenner: What everyone’s going to be talking about during NYFW (Metro)

The driver, the caterer, the Project Runway intern: I interviewed 6 unsung heroes who make Fashion Week run (Yahoo Style)

So, where exactly is Fashion Week again? aka, maybe Lincoln Center wasn’t THAT BAD (Metro)

Is this gender-fluid model fashion's new superstar? Seth Atwell models men's and women's clothes, and he's making a splash (Metro)

How to experience Fashion Week without an invite: where to gawk at the fashion flock (Metro)

Dispatches for Metro

Yeezy's long con

Rodarte's cheap chic

Zac Posen's surprising Brooks Brothers debut

Why Kanye dropped by this shoe label's NYFW debut

Givenchy's ode to New York City

Someone wore teddy bear slippers to the Herve Leger show