The instinct and the hand drawing shadows on the page.
Karl Lagerfeld se dessine
TOKYO FASHION WEEK FRW 2013
Carine Roitfeld Hosts Ball in Paris
Kate Moss rocked the dance floor on Tuesday in a jaw-dropping sheer jumpsuit from Saint Laurent, freshly picked from the runway. Karl Lagerfeld, Riccardo Tisci and Jessica Chastain were also swinging it at the Shangri-La Hotel in Paris to celebrate the second issue of Carine Roitfeld’s magazine CR Fashion Book, which has a dance theme.
FALL 2013 MENSWEAR
MONCLER GAMME ROUGE
Tokyo Fashion Week FRW 2013
London Fashion Week Fall 2013
Jeremy Scott NYC Fall 2013
Alexander Wang Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Saint Laurent Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Comme des Garçons Homme Plus Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Ann Demeulemeester Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Valentino Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Thom Browne Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Yohji Yamamoto Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Raf Simons Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Hermès Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Jean Paul Gaultier Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Juun.J Men’s RTW Fall 2013
Givenchy Men’s RTW Fall 2013
She says to me:
My Daddy had multiple personality disorder…
He was born when “Volare” came out.
Do you remember that song?…Volare
From Flatbush to Paris and at home
It seemed like everyone was singing Volare.
In the big Apple all the Degos,
They were going:
“Volare oh oh
Cantare oh oh oh oh”.
In Queens all the pizzerias
Had that song playing on the jukebox…
Even this widow I knew from Long Island
Would be singing Volare. Volare. Volare…
Before she got on all four.
Back on a stage in Las Vegas Dino did his version of Volare
Drink in one hand a cigarette in the other….man what a scene,
The ladies with their beehive hairdo swooned to the music
As their dates in black jackets and skinny ties drank bourbon over ice.
They drove cars made of shiny steel with radios…
That could take them all the way to the moon,
Silver swirl sticks and embroidered cocktail napkins,
The scent of top shelf liquor and cherry wood
Floating through the room,
The time of conspicuous consumption…
Angry Russians, stereophonic sound and bad shoes.
Forty-five years have gone by, she says:
We went to the moon, looked at the World
From up there and came back with a pocket full of sand,
Now … We have jetliners flying into buildings,
Setting the place on fire…
We used to dress up in our father hand me downs
Turned it inside out so the cloth would look like new.
Sometimes the jackets
Had two breast pockets….
That’s how we set trends back then…who knew?
…And here I am now, she says,
I am living on the other side of this wall,
Another of those walls built to separate
A mother from her child,
The guardian from the guarded,
The right from the wrong,
The black from the white,
The piss from the food…
Volare, Volare, Volare.
Today I move from room to room
Looking for a new plan of action
Hoping to throw a switch and shed some light on
This black hole with no end in sight.
Long before the day blows through the windows,
In the land of frozen entrees and fair politics
There is a meeting taking place
For the just assessment of empty promises.
Pockets full of coins,
Pebbles washed to shore by the tides of a sea
That bubbles over with rage
Wanting to swallow this land,
(Wanting still to sing) Volare…Volare, Volare.
To die on a long and narrow beach…
She looks at me with sadness in her eyes…
She is boiling water;
She has some pasta left in her cupboard
She wants to cook.
This new Century: is it the end of time?
I can’t do this anymore…
I don’t want another tollbooth in the middle
Of my living room
I am going down this road for free.
I want to eat what’s mine,
I am taking back the trees and the sun
I am going down to the river
…whispering secrets about the sea.
Let the World be peaceful and free.
Let the World be young once again,
Damn this preoccupation with borders and settlements.
Let everyone come to the banquet under the jasmine tree.
Leave God in peace.
Forget about the Pope…
Let the Queen Ride bare assed across the pavement
Let her crawl down from her throne.
Let her explain to us what it is to die.
Volare, oh oh, Cantare oh oh oh…
Can you smell your own death as it comes in the night?
Do you know how to close your eyes and say goodbye?
I am a prisoner looking to escape from this hell, that’s who I am.
Will you let me go? Do you remember Rome?
The snow falling soft and gray over the balconies and Churches
While the bag pipers played their Christmas songs.
Rome giving life to the dieing.
I am getting my tattoo and I’ll soon be gone.
She drops the pasta in the boiling water.
We were Animals from the West destined to live in the East.
She says to me…
Having drinks with the locals,
Coming out of our skins, like snakes in the sun,
Seawater in our hair.
That early summer afternoon after the cockfight,
With my tongue in your mouth. I repeated those words to myself
Over and over again louder and louder each time.
Volare, Volare, Volare.
I remember she says: that Mexican Joint on Rose Avenue
Where we discussed the Ancient Greeks and their inventions.
Heroin on the streets of Florence and some third rate play you had seen.
Do you remember wanting to kiss in the car
In the parking lot of K-mart?
While the junkies and the homeless
Ate the remains of fast food flesh off the bone.
The outside? Not much different from the inside…
Gunpowder smell in my hand. Salt and honey your skin.
Kissing with tongues swelled up by the Tequila.
When I was a child sucking on sugar cane in the jungle,
Bathing down in the billabong, sleeping under the stars.
Throwing cares to the wind. I remember singing sometimes:
Volare nel blue dipinto di blue.