the magazine for some people
issue 2
i s s u e 2 Editors-in-Chief / Creative Directors Whitney Mercurio & Mitja Bokun Managing Editor Jim Downey Fashion Editor Jules Wood Photo Director Hugo Arturi Director of Production Marina Gharabegian Creative Assistant Giselle Veronique
contributing staff Art Director Noah Dirsa Marketing & Communications Robert Thompson Art Director Brad Holroyd for inqueries, please contact: we@reservedmagazine.com
A special thank you to Helena Christensen who is as lovely in person as she is in pictures. Thank you to MetaStudio, Michael & Irina Somoroff, Michael Thom and Myrtille Beauvert for their support. Thank you to Forevermark and De Beers Diamond Jewelers... to Jules Wood for her enthusiasm and talent, to my dear friend Richard Du Pont and to the many people who made this edition possible! You know who you are! xo
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Romaine Brau, Paris 2013 photographer Jaka Vinsek
photography by Stuart McConaghy
by Whitney Mercurio
Sometimes things strike a visceral chord in me. It’s my own personal litmus test of whether or not I really like something. I feel it with people, art, things I read, objects, conversations, music, scents, nature, concepts, moments in time, you name it. If I’m lucky, it’s a combination of a few of these things at once. I met Cal Lane when she invited me to her studio / home in Putnam Valley, New York last May. I was so excited to meet this woman and artist. I had fallen in love with her work. “Found” metal objects made of steel that once had big jobs--shovels, car doors, oil drums and I-beams. She transforms them into visually delicate filigree and lace with an industrial-grade plasma cutter. This is a complete and beautiful paradox. In a world where it is generaly expected of women to be delicate and to work with and create equally as delicate objects, it makes me happy to see Cal working against these gender stereotypes using high powered electrical arcs and inert gas to create plasma which bites through steel like a hot knife through butter and in complete contrast to the process, creating these seemingly delicate but strong pieces of art. Cal Lane is as brilliant and welcoming as she is talented and not to be missed.
“I like to work as a visual devil’s advocate, using contradiction as a vehicle for finding my way to an empathetic image, an image of opposition that creates a balance - as well as a clash - by comparing and contrasting ideas and materials. This manifested in a series of “Industrial Doilies”, pulling together industrial and domestic life as well as relationships of strong and delicate, masculine and feminine, practical and frivolity, ornament and function. There is also a secondary relationship being explored here, of lace used in religious ceremonies as in weddings, christenings and funerals, With this notion of desirable oppositions I created the structure “fabricate”. In this Structure I hand cut lace trimming patterns into 9 I-beams, then constructed a tower, simultaneously macho, and of delicate finery. The metaphor of lace further intrigued me by its associations of hiding and exposing at the same time; like a veil to cover, or lingerie to reveal. It also introduces a kind of humor through the form of unexpected relationships. Like a Wrestler in a tutu, the absurdity of having opposing extremist stances is there for reaction and not rational understanding; the rational discussion arises in the search for how one thing defines the other by its proximity.
My new work has become more political, the consequence of living in a time of war and feeling the guilt of a bystander. With the first political piece titled “Filigree Car Bombing” I focused on creating a tasteless relationship of images. Images of flowers and “prettiness” in the form of a violent and sensitive situation. The crushed steel of the car is cut into fine lace creating a drapery of disruption and sadness, a conflict of attraction to fancy work and the attraction to a horrific image. In my most recent exhibition entitled “Crude”, pulled together the relationship of God and Oil. Though the images are dealing with overt political topics the images do not point to anything specific they merely coexist - and what it says really depends on the viewer’s history. This work consists of a series of oil cans that have been flayed open in the form of a cross shape or a gothic cathedral floor plan. The cans are then cut into Christian or Medieval like Icons. Fine, like tattered paper, the jagged edge of the thin metal becomes both an ancient and contemporary image, thereby appealing to both those who cling to history, and those who ignore it. Along side of the cans are three 45 gallon oil drums. The drums are skinned and unrolled to create a surface. The surface is then pulled up the wall and
cut into a multiple of images from tattoo patterns to fabric patterns to religious and hazard symbols. The collage of images create a war of symbols which become a medieval-like tapestry. I have always been interested in embracing the very thing that repels me in order to understand it: I prefer to make sense of things or in order to suspend (or pass) judgment.” Cal Lane Extremes, though contrary, have the like effects. Extreme heat kills, and so extreme cold: extreme love breeds satiety, and so extreme hatred; and too violent rigor tempts chastity, as does too much license. -George Chapman
“wheelbarrow” plasma cut steel. 2007
THIS PRECIOUS STONE
SET IN THE SILVER SEA photography by Somoroff
Fo r e v e r m a r k .
A brand from the De Beers Group of Companies w i t h 1 25 ye ar s o f d i amo n d exp e r t i se. E ach Forevermark diamond is inscribed with a promise that it is beautiful, rare, and responsibly sourced. Forevermark diamonds are selected for their exceptional qualities as less than 1% of all diamonds are eligible to be inscribed as Forevermark. Fo r e v e r m a r k diamonds only come from a small number of carefully selected mines that are committed to high business, social, and environmental standards. forevermarkdiamond.com
STANDING BEFORE THE SUN OF BOLINGBROKE, TO MELT MYSELF AWAY IN WATER-DROPS
AND WASH HIM FRESH AGA
AIN WITH TRUE-LOVE TEARS
model Helena Christensen
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photographer Wally Shaykhoun
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fashion editor Jules Wood
photographer Stephanie Dinkel
photographer Conor Doherty
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stylist Liz Teich
PAT
LOUD
America’s Matriarch of Reality TV
Before there was reality TV as we know it, before the Kardashians, the Osbournes and the heinous Housewives from Hell syndicate there was the Loud Family. It was 1971 and they had no idea what they were getting into because they were about to become the first family of reality TV and create the genre that would begin the love/ hate feeding frenzy of everyday americans becoming celebrities. They made it up as they went along. It was not scripted. It was not bread and circus. It was the beginning of americans living their lives as voyeuristic spectators in lieu of a real life.We became fascinated by The American Family. On or off camera the Loud family was known to be open, friendly and entertaining. They simply allowed the cameras into their home and became famous for being themselves. Over the course of the documentary/television show we watched as Pat lived her life out loud in front of America. As human nature would have it, the family only became really interesting not for Pat and Bill’s spirited camaraderie and closeness but for the painful camera break-up of their marriage and its effect on the their children, and the coming out of their eldest son, the notoriously cool, Lance Loud. This took the family down many roads less taken.They became the darlings of the media and the bullseye for criticism and judgment. In was the early 1970s and Andy Warhol’s invitation took Pat and Lance on a walk on the wild side on a journey through the Factory. Naturally, they stayed at the legendary Chelsea Hotel where they filmed with Warhol superstars. Lance became a reluctant hero for the gay movement. He was always honest, and hated titles of any kind. Pat, always Proud Mary, disliked the histrionics surrounding Lance’s “bravery”. She simply said ‘it was just Lance being Lance. Period’. Lance was my closest friend from the moment we met in 1977 until the day he died.When you were friends with any of the Louds you were friends with the entire family, especially Pat. Pat and Lance were joined at the hip -- and heart. Victoria- I have noticed through the years how much you and Lance had in common. For example, I was always heartened by the range of characters that you would both effortlessly saunter through from English aristocrats, Hollywood royalty to outrageous misfits like Warhol superstars and obnoxious world class punks all at the same dinner table.You not only held court but cooked the entire delicious homemade meal (at Lance’s hound dog howling request!) fueled with the specially prepared Loud trademark cocktails, killer Tom and Jerrys (guaranteed to bring out the best and more frequently the worst in your dinner guests, who cared? It was all in good fun.) Pat- (laughing) Always a good thing! Victoria- Pat, You always knew the proper protocol yet also had street credibility, what do you owe this talent for socializing and accommodating the wide range of character’s always vying for your attention and wanting to be a part of your life? Pat- I didn’t know I could do all that! My parents were very, very social people and maybe I picked up some of that from them. Lance just had a natural grace about him. As for me, I am not afraid of people. I have never been intimidated by them. I think I was always very curious about people and when you are curious about people I think they appreciate your interest.You ask questions about them and you listen and it’s easy after that. My kids were definitely products of their time and this allowed me to become interested in a variety of topics that I would have not otherwise been exposed to. I was interested in my kids and what they were interested in so it was natural for me to be able to speak on several subjects. Victoria- Spending so much time around Lance I was always witness to his infamous charm. I saw many people try to compete with him, to outwit him, to outsmart him, to catch him not being Lance. I realized time and time again that his charm was not about impressing people with wit or dazzle them with bravado, although he certainly did that! Lance’s particular brand of charm was his ability to make you feel good about who you are and people gravitated to that. He already knew who he was! Lance always
top image: From Lance Out Loud by Pat Loud, published by Glitterati Incorporated, www.glitteratiincorporated.com bottom image: From Playground: Growing Up in the New York Underground by Paul Zone, published by Glitterati Incorporated, www.glitteratiincorporated.com
interviewed by Victoria Galves
went straight for the cool in people and focused on that. In that way he got the most out of life and the best out of people. OK, Lance was no saint and maybe he did use smoke and mirrors at times, but in my eyes that only made him a magician with a twist of snake oil thrown in. You both shared such a hearty lack of snobbery. I do think if you and Lance were ever intolerant of anything it was pretentious, pompous bores! Pat- Oh no, that would never do! Lance and I had that in common. Victoria- Another thing you and Lance had in common as I saw it was a love for family and truly romantic ideals. I know you both detested cheap sentiments and gushy sentimentalities. I am talking about the kind of ideals that made you a great mother and friend. It was Lance’s dying wish for you and Bill after all these years to get back together and share the rest of your life. He had the wherewithal to be a good son and family member and he never missed a beat to muscle in and make that request. I believe he knew in his heart that it would be a good thing for you both and for the entire family for that matter. He had the ability to see what really mattered in life. Pat- When Bill and I split up we went our own ways. I, as you know went to New York and had a fabulous life and Bill got married to a lovely woman.They divorced eventually.When Lance was in hospice he became concerned with my well-being after he was gone and also his father was in Houston and I think he wasn’t sure that Bill was happy there and he wanted the family to be united. He loved Bill and he loved me and he wanted to make sure that we would be OK.With him gone (this is hard to talk about) he wanted us to go on helping one another and with Bill and I together this would be possible.There was a friend of mine from New York, Edith La Shawn, and she told me once that during her lifetime she had many marriages within the one marriage to the same man. I kind of feel like that about Bill and I. So Bill and I did get back together again. I was quite leery at first. However, it has worked out very well. We are happy and we respect and love one another. We have been through a lot and remain a very strong family. The only reason we got divorced was due to his lack of monogamy and you know we are old now. That doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing you have to remember is not to talk about it. Do not bring it up and you do not live in the past, you live in the present. Victoria- To live in the present by virtue of your mutual love and respect. It doesn’t get more romantic or relevant than that. That is my idea of true love because it is real. Now enough of high ideals and meaningful conversation, let’s talk about what really matters in life-style and fashion. Pat, you were always known for your identifiable Pat Loud look. You made your own personal statement without resorting to a lot of the silly confections many women still feel compelled to make. You were always in fashion, feminine and attractive without looking trendy. Do you think the Pat Loud look was well represented in the recent HBO movie CINEMA VERITE? Pat- No, I don’t, but I love Diane Lane and I think she did a great job in the film and I think she is a marvelous person. For instance, I did not wear a lot of patterned clothes. I like the monochromatic look. I was never a fashonista. I was a person who kind of knew what looked good on me and what didn’t. I liked to feel comfortable in my clothes. Also, I had a limited budget for myself, so it had to last, be comfortable and I had to be able to put it on and forget about it. I didn’t want to be bothered with all that. Victoria- Your fab look never looked like you were on a budget. Pat, you are being humble, I can honestly say that many people on a budget will opt for a gold lamé bow to jazz things up. I think you cut a very clean silhouette, like early Prada meets Halston. Also, accessorized with big sunglasses, pulled back hair, cool medallions and impeccable grooming completed the Pat Loud look. Pat-Another thing was that I never tried to dress younger than I am. In England they have a saying, “That is mutton dressed up as lamb.”You always want to avoid that look. Victoria- Painful scathing indictment! You escaped the horror and every fabulous queen can attest to that! I am sure today if the American Family had just recently made its appearance, there would be Pat loud sunglasses, home shopping networks would have the Pat Loud medallions and you would see in Target and Wal-Mart versions of the Pat Loud monochromatic pantsuit. Today you can “brand” yourself. I hate the loathsome concept. Worse than that, it is glorified. Today’s successful woman turns herself into a commodity and markets herself as if it were a virtue. I hate hearing, “I know she is not really talented, but she is a great business person.” What do you think of that? Pat- I am in such a different place. I am off on a by way off the mainstream. But what I can see at my age is all those so-called reality shows, The Real Housewives of Orange County, The Housewives of New York on and on, The
Kardashians, Duck Dynasty! I look at those people (none of them I have watched, but all of them I have seen bits and pieces of) and I think to myself, ”What are these women and what has happened to the heroes, where are the Gloria Steinems of today?”Women are just as capable as men or moreso. I mean we are first, individuals; you just don’t mass people together and judge them.Women have been set up since the get-go with Eve when she took the fruit from the tree of good and evil.We were set up to be perceived as evil or to be a seductress. These are the myths that the world has grown up with. Since the beginning of time women have been blamed for destroying men’s virtue. Victoria- Yeah, what about their own accountability for their own choices? The poor helpless men victimized by the sirens luring men off course to crash into the rocks. What about their own free will and strength? If we are so powerful to cause all that and to be blamed for their downfall why don’t we get the credit for being powerful! Why are we held accountable for their lack of virtue and ability to resist the objects of their own fantasies and desires? What do you think of the rise in plastic surgery in men as well as women? Are men finally having to deal with the issues that women have had to deal with all along like no longer feeling relevant, competent and or even attractive after a certain age? Do you see this as a sexist issue or do you think the whole world has just been consumed with the fear of aging? Pat- Yes, to begin with I think it is particularly true in the United States. I don’t know how it got that way but aging is a very bad thing here, it is a real no-no. There is no respect for age. I can understand how an actor might need to do that for his work, but not for mere vanity’s sake. You earn the wrinkles for a life doing whatever it is you did. You just have to own it. You know, it is sad that people can’t feel like they can enjoy every stage of their life. It is too bad that they have to feel diminished by it. They should feel more comfortable in their skin and take some comfort in being wiser. That is what you should feel. We are very hard on ourselves. I also feel that electronics have really changed the world and the way people interact with one another. Facebook and tweeting, you can’t even go to the supermarket without hearing a cacophony of people talking loudly about themselves on their phones while they are shopping. There’s very little self-reflection in that. Victoria- Maybe that’s the point. Well, it has certainly changed the petri-dish effect of New York. The interactive creative quality that comes with being exposed to millions of people’s lives through their actions and not their profiles. Everyone says how much New York has changed and let’s face it, New York is always changing. I mean it does not look like it did in the 70’s, for example. However, this time it is different, it is a fundamental change uncharacteristic to what it means to be a New Yorker. Everyone is down on New York, how do you feel? Pat- People with millions and millions of dollars are flooding into that poor little island and they have taken away the diversity. There was such a great diversity when we were there in the art world, there was the punk rock, great book stores- all of that is gone now.There are no real differences in class, artists can’t afford to live there anymore, basically most of the people, except for the older ones are nouveau riche and they have got tons of money to throw around. It is such a shame what has happened to New York. Victoria- What is the most annoying misconception about you and what do you think fanned that flame? Pat- I think it was that the family was destroyed by American Family. In the end our family photo would come up and they would have this lilting little tune and then they would have it crackle like a mirror shattered. They set the stage for people to think of us as a broken family. What I must say, to this very day, if America had families as close and tightly knit as my family is, it would be a better place. This family is very close and fond of one another and spends a great deal of time together. Victoria-Yes, I always felt so lucky to share so much time with your family. You were always so welcoming and accommodating to so many of us orphans of the storm. You adopted many wayward children and always made so many of us feel great taking us into the coveted inner circle. Pat- I was always flattered to be surrounded by you all and felt very fortunate that all of you wanted to be around me. Victoria- Actually the whole country wanted to spend time with the Louds. Pat Loud has officially became part of American Pop Culture.Yale University has recently acquired her archives and the rest is History and HerStory.
Victoria Galves is a writer and journalist and lives in New York City. Recently, she has co-written a script with Lydia Lunch. She is currently finishing a book of short stories. Victoria and Lance, 1977
photographer Jaka Vinšek
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stylist Don West
by Jim Downey
CHAPTER ONE THE SUMMONS NEW YORK, 1961
P.S. 6 is located between 81st and 82nd Streets on the east side of Madison Avenue directly across from the Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home, mortuary to New York’s blue money crowd. I may have started at the school in fifth grade, or maybe it was sixth, I don’t know. I can’t remember years at a time of my early childhood. The school sits square, brick, and bunker like, cupping a central yard, which I do remember as the exact spot Artie Cano knocked the wind out of me with one punch to the stomach after I said something he didn’t like. This, right in front of the willowy Michelle Jones, who from that moment on saw through me like I was a soap bubble. Some days after school let out, I’d hustle to get invited to someone’s house close by so I could burn up some daylight before I had to head back to the tiny studio apartment I lived in with my nanny, Betsy. These little sojourns were made all the more fun if the friend’s Mom was home! By that age, out of necessity, I had honed my people pleasing skills to a fine point and rare was the Mom I couldn’t beguile with some cute jokes or flattering banter. I was usually perceived as being charming and mature beyond my tender years. Every once in a while, I’d hit the trifecta. This would comprise an invitation to a pretty girl’s house with a good Mom who would leave us alone for a while so I could try for a kiss or a feel, and then, on my way out the door, give me a big mushy hug and tell me photo: James and Betty Downey by Irving Penn
what a nice boy I was. Rare, but when all the components lined up, the ultimate. This afternoon had been spent at the beautiful Robin White’s house just up the block from school. No Mom, in fact, a rather vigilant housekeeper on duty. But there were cookies, a little kissy face, a slapped away hand, then home. On the short walk, I mentally ticked off a wish list for the evening. Betsy would be in a good mood, dinner would actually happen, maybe there’d be a visit from my mother with a gift or a book, then a little reading, then bed. But when I opened the front door into a dark, still room, I knew the evening wasn’t going to play out as hoped for. Right away that old familiar dread welled up in my stomach and I could feel my heart beating. No lights on in the afternoon almost always meant that Betsy was drunk and that meant the next few hours would require careful attention on my part to avoid calamity. There was still a little light coming in from the street windows. Just enough to silhouette Betsy’s figure on the bed. I needed a little time to figure out what to do, so I quietly padded by her, pulled the dividing curtain closed behind me and sat down on the edge of my bed to think. There were options. I could do absolutely nothing, stay quiet behind the curtain and read until I was tired enough to go to sleep. Most likely, Betsy would wake up some hours later, look in on me and just go back to bed. That was the simplest plan, but it would mean I wouldn’t get any supper. A second scenario was to try and wake her up gently. This entailed some risk because there were critical variables involved. The main problem was that I didn’t know how much she had drunk or how long she had been asleep. If she’d drunk a lot and had only been asleep for an hour or two, waking her up could be all kinds of dangerous. The third option was to try to heat up a can of something for myself without waking her up at all. I had tried this once and she arose almost immediately with unpleasant results. I decided to take my chances on a gentle nudge to test the waters. I stood over her. In the dim light I could see her smudged lipstick and a flaccid exposed breast. This disturbing image, along with her intensely fetid smell nearly made me gag. I turned my head for a clear breath, turned back then gave her arm a firm push as I said, “Betsy.” Nothing. Snoring. Again, a harder push this time, “Betsy.” Nothing. I leaned close over her ear. “Betsy, wake up, it’s me!” Without any forewarning, her left arm swung up in an arc and caught me between my shoulder and neck startling me upright and reeling backwards. That was when the phone rang. Though still in shock from Betsy’s sudden wallop, my first thought was to pick up the phone as fast as I could so she wouldn’t come to. “Hello?” I whispered quickly. “Jimmy, It’s your mother.” Trying now to control my breath. “Oh, hi.” “Come over here when you finish your dinner, OK?” “OK,” I wheezed. “Are you all right?” she asked, using the interrogatory tone she used when she was suspicious, or beginning to be. “I’m good,”
“Put Betsy on.” Careful. “She’s in the bathroom.” I lied, “She said she had a tummy ache, so she’s in the bathroom.” Oh oh, that didn’t sound right. But it got by her. “All right, I’ll see you in a few.” She was onto another thought and hung up. Betsy was still down as I hustled past her to the door. I said loudly, ”I’m going to Mom’s!” A groan from her as the door closed, a few quick steps and I was out and walking briskly towards 5th Avenue. My shoulder smarted a bit, but not badly. I had escaped relatively unscathed. This could have gone another way. On the short walk, I tucked in my shirt and smoothed my hair in the window reflection of a parked car. Ready for presentation now, I buzzed the intercom at their building. “Who is it?” inquired my mother in her extra special high-pitched singsong voice designed to sound capricious and whimsical. “It’s James.” “James who?” teasingly. Come on, I thought. “It’s James, your son,” I said, I didn’t want to play. “I don’t know anyone named James.” There might be some drinking going on here. She usually didn’t play more than one round of this game. My next gambit was silence. She wouldn’t know what to do with that. “James?” Wait a beat, then...“I’m here,” in a bored monotone. The buzzer buzzed. The elevator was tiny and slow. It opened directly in front of their door. A red lacquer half moon table against the wall presented silk roses in a sterling bowl underneath a big mirror in an ornate gold-leaf frame. A quick check of my hair and shirt, followed by the slightly harrowing thought that my pants had no hint of a crease, and I rapped the brass knocker twice, careful not to rap too loudly. A moment and the door opened. She wore a white terry robe with navy piping. Her makeup had been applied. Signature bright red lipstick on that famous mouth, matte porcelain skin, foot long eyelashes and hair smoothed back. At once casual and absolutely perfect. She was, after all, a professional. “What’s with that shirt?” she said, turning away and walking toward the back of the apartment. Here we go, I thought. I let her take a few steps ahead so I wouldn’t have to respond, then followed her down the hall to their bedroom where she disappeared into her dressing room. I was trying to figure out where to sit when the bathroom door opened and my stepfather emerged and strode past me and uttered, ”James.” in a somber baritone. “Hi,” I said, while mentally casting about for a spot in which to stay out of his way. He was a handsome man in a slim, close-cropped Perry Como sort of way. But his currency was his athletic build. Six feet tall with a thirtyinch waist, taut and wiry from near daily tennis, a can of Metrical for lunch and a sparrow-sized dinner, he had the perfect body for clothes. And he was well aware of it. “What’s new James?” he asked the mirror while micro-coaxing a pewter colored, Meledandri silk tie into a perfectly sculpted Windsor knot centered between the collar points of a cream
south sea island cotton shirt made just for him by Sulka. “Nothing.” “Nothing, sir.” “Yes sir.” Crap. I couldn’t ever get the “sir” thing. The TV was on in the corner of the room. Davy Crockett with Fess Parker. No sound. I could turn my attention in that direction and maybe he would leave me alone. But a problem arose immediately. On the show, Indians were attacking. There were close-ups of howling war-painted savages, and tomahawks and carnage on horseback. For some reason, and out of nowhere, this scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know what was happening. I’d seen westerns before, but now I was almost in tears. I turned away from the TV and tried to breathe. My stepfather, now dressed and looking far more fashionable than any Esquire magazine cover, called out to my mother, “Beau, are we ready? The car will be here in a minute.” He shot the cuffs of his shirt while looking critically at his three quarter reflection in the mirror. His bespoke suit, custom-stitched by a semi-retired Savile Row tailor using the absolute finest Super 120 worsted wool from Holland & Sherry in Scotland, purveyors to the Crown, was so perfectly cut that although it followed his form to the millimeter, it appeared as though the only place it actually touched his body was the top of his shoulders. Of course, the navy blue color of the fabric, so often misinterpreted, was spot on. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to presume that the Duke of Windsor wore a garment cut from the very same bolt of cloth. My mother stepped out of her dressing room, all five foot ten of her, in a slinky, multi-colored Emilio Pucci dress that had the same effect as a cherry bomb going off in the room. She didn’t look to him – at least this time – for approval. She knew she had it right. A quick dip into her jewelry case to accessorize and she was set. I was still trying to avoid looking at the Indians on TV when my stepfather said. “All right, were off, let’s go James.” The charged closeness of the three of us in that tiny elevator was, for me, and I imagine for them, almost unbearable. I scrambled out on the first floor and held the door open. As they passed me by, I misspoke tragically saying, “You look dignant.” “That’s not a word,” he said, walking by me. But I knew it. Embarrassing. A gleaming black Rolls-Royce Ghost idled quietly in front. Their chauffeur, Rosie, band box sharp in uniform, held the door. “Good night James, be good,” said my mother as she ducked her head into the Connolly leather and Wilton wool interior of the limousine. He said nothing. I said nothing. I stood there as the car motored away, listening to the deep muffled thrum of its powerful engine and watching the twin jewels of its taillights as it rounded the corner and turned down 5th Avenue. Then I walked back up the block hoping Betsy was still asleep.
photographer Conor Doherty
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stylist Timothy Kuzmeski
EVAN HOLM
I create artifacts from a world where humans have long since disappeared and new forms of life have gained foothold upon the discarded architecture of our present civilization. Materials for these works begin as present day discards, leftovers, and forgotten flotsam. I gather at salvage yards, roadside waste piles, garages and other crevices where today’s material culture quietly collects. In this discordant utopia only traces of the human race remain, and the detritus merges into new life forms. Transistor tubes create a bustling hive within an ancient bureau. A turntable is brought back to life nestled into a woven nest. The humble umbrella, the modest stapler, the iconic vinyl record, and the crushed carcass of a Chevy Impala are engraved into rusting fossils that lovingly display the crumpled inventiveness of human ingenuity. As a whole, my sculptures and flat work generate glimpses of a future where the boundary between man-made and nature-made has dissolved into a family of hybrid organisms and abandoned relics.
Record Fossil | Moon Calendar #1
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2013
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plaster, concrete and pigment
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82� x 82�
photographer Hugo Arturi
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fashion editor Jules Wood
TIM
OT HY K.
by Madison Bloom
by Madison Bloom
There’s a running joke among my friends who can sew: everything you make for clients is impeccable, and everything you wear is hanging by a thread. No one embodies this pun more than fashion designer Timothy Kuzmeski, a very dear friend of mine. You would never guess it from seeing this shot, but Tim leads a disparate life from the one suggested by his designs.
Tim and I met over five years ago when I first moved to New York. I was checking out an apartment and he was just hanging out: a silent fixture in the living room. He was this scrawny, smelly kid who kind of mumbled at me when I introduced myself to him. Covered in facial piercings, had mid-length stringy hair and black makeup around his eyes. His face was so obscured by shit that I couldn’t really tell what he looked like. He certainly left an impression, but nothing close to the one I’m left with today. In those five years, my friends and I helped Tim move not a few, but several times, while watching him navigate a minefield of calamities ridiculous enough to rechristen him Murphy. He graduated in 2010 from Pratt Institute with a BFA in fashion design, earning the Renee Hunter Eveningwear award along with his degree. I couldn’t make it to his thesis show but I remember seeing a picture of Tim walking down the runway with his collection. Here were these beautiful, imposing gowns that had been imbued with so much passion and craftsmanship. They were massive; created from yards of silk gazar, tulle, and hand-dyed lace. And there was Tim. That same dirty punk boy with gauged ears and ripped pants, wearing a shirt scrawled upon with sharpie: “Thanks Mom and Dad!” After Tim graduated I was certain he’d launch into Alexander McQueen-grade success, but instead he underwent a series of misadventures. There was the time Tim moved in with us for an entire summer, rent-free and with his pet rats. Oh, and his dresses, which are so immense they should have to pay rent. It was around the time of the last world cup, and on days off we would pop PBRs at 10 am and suffer through the vuvuzelas to watch match after match. During the day Tim was working as a bike messenger making 200 bucks a week and
eating 3000 calories a day. He’d lug two gallons of Gatorade in his messenger bag along with half a loaf of bread for on-the-fly PB&Js. It wasn’t that Tim had to work as a messenger. He could have worked several entry-level design jobs within New York, but he was concerned about being pigeonholed and distracted from his ultimate goal-a place in the word of couture. At night he’d ride to Bushwick to work on his dresses. Another good friend of mine was so inspired by Tim’s work that she’d found him a studio space under the JMZ called Party Expo. We shared the space with friends of ours who had an online magazine, as well as some crack heads who rented the first floor and ran it as an underground venue. The place was enormous, three floors in total with enough room for a small fleet of busses. Walking in I remember feeling as if we’d found some sliver of Utopia. Within Party Expo was a theater-scale screen and projector that the boys would flock to once a week to play video games. There was a half-pipe, musical instruments, graffiti, and an old stage Tim mended his dresses on. It was a place of few amenities. I remember one day mid-summer when we did a photo shoot with our magazine buddies. We were about 20 in total, 10-15 of us being models. At the start of the day we all entered through the first floor, but by sunset our downstairs adversaries had denied our exit through the front door. The lot of us had to teeter down a precarious fire ladder, sloppy from PBR. This wouldn’t have been so awful, only one of the models had brought her dog with her. With a bit of hesitation, we put Dumpling in a bag, and lowered her down with a rope. Another convenience we were robbed of that day was the bathroom. Our sub-sane neighbors had claimed ownership of the lavatory, so we had to sneak downstairs with a flashlight and crouch over a mid-sized plastic receptacle. 20 people and one bucket to piss in. I think it was orange. Eventually Party Expo fell to pieces. The first floor deviants used our share of rent money for-you guessed it-drugs, and everything had to be moved. Tim went through a series of studios, apartments, and mishaps. He got into a serious bike accident, being hit by a car photographer Conor Doherty
head on at full speed. This resulted in a year of physical therapy to get him back into a comfortable condition. He was working nonstop and sleeping minute amounts. All this stress accrued and manifested in a severe case of shingles. As if this cosmic irony wasn’t enough, the universe peppered Tim’s life with something local. I remember my roommate getting home from Tim’s place one day. She stripped down to her underwear in the hallway, left her clothes by the front door, and rushed inside the apartment, wild-eyed: “Tim has bedbugs!” He spent the next few weeks sleeping in his living room and freezing his belongings. The little bastards had breached his gowns and he had to steam them, picking through yards of tulle and silk to remove the carcasses. Fashion can be so glamorous. To wrap it all up with a wicked bow, Tim’s bike got stolen, and he got rejected from the Graduate program at Central Saint Martins due to a series of miscommunications between him and the school... namely that they couldn’t open his digital portfolio. In turn CSM thought Tim’s rough sketches were his finished ones. That was how one of the most talented illustrators I know got rejected for his “inability to draw.” Eventually things began to turn around. Tim’s stolen bike was miraculously returned and he was offered a chance to intern at the Viktor and Rolf atelier in Amsterdam. He moved home to Connecticut and saved money for months, working as a machinist and pocketing the cash before he left for Europe. Even while in Holland, honing the craft of couture dressmaking, he never stopped working on his own collection during his down time, which there was little of. He hoped for a job offer, though it was regrettably not in the budget of V&R to hire him at the time. Since his return from Holland, Tim has worked a series of odd jobs-from freelance designer and illustrator, to teacher, and barista. He’s currently collaborating on a film with Ethan Spigland exhibiting his forthcoming collection in a series of vignettes. The film will explore the movement of his imposing gowns within the urban structure of New York.
TH E QU E EN of CON TRO VER SY interview by Michael Bingham illustration by Mitja Bokun
Three years ago ’Tiger Mother’ Amy Chua roiled the U.S. parent population by extolling strict ‘Asian’ parenting. Now she’s back in the public eye writing about what makes some ethnic groups more successful than others. Amy Chua of New Haven is the John M. Duff Jr. Professor of Law at Yale Law School, where she has been a member of the faculty since 2001. The 51-year-old graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Law School began her legal career as a corporate law associate with the powerhouse NYC law firm Cleary Gottlieb Steen & Hamilton before leaving to teach law at Duke Law School for seven years before coming to New Haven. Notwithstanding that formidable C.V., Chua is best known as an author, and not of legal textbooks. In 2010 she penned a parenting memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother (Penguin Books), a New York Times bestseller that extolled the superstrict parenting of Chinese immigrants (Chua herself is a U.S. native; her parents were ethnic Chinese who emigrated to the U.S. from the Philippines). The book, which Chua describes as a ‘memoir’ but which many reviews characterized as a parenting how-to, ignited a firestorm of debate over the relative efficacy of strict Asian parenting vs. the lassitude of 21st-century American parenting. Earlier this year Chua teamed up with her husband, fellow Yale Law School professor Jed Rubenfeld, to write the provocative The Triple Package: How Three Unlikely Traits Explain the Rise & Fall of Cultural Groups in America (Penguin Books). The three ‘unlikely’ traits: a cultural superiority complex, insecurity, and impulse control. Among the successful ethnic/cultural groups that exhibit those traits: American Jews, East and South Asians, Cuban emigrés, Nigerians and (bet you didn’t see this one coming) Mormons. New Haven Magazine Editor Michael C. Bingham interviewed Chua for ONE2ONE. I understand that the motivation to write Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother came from a particular episode of adolescent rebellion. I was raised by super-strict but also extremely loving Chinese immigrant parents. Although it’s hard for people outside the culture to understand, I had an incredibly fun childhood with my three younger sisters. And their strategy basically worked with me: My parents’ high expectations, coupled with unconditional love, is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love my job; I love having choices. So I decided to raise my own two daughters, Sophia and Lulu, the same way.
How did it work? With my first daughter [Sophia, now a junior at Harvard], everything went smoothly — she was an easy kid. But my second daughter came along, and we locked horns from day one. Battle Hymn is actually supposed to be a funny memoir, [albeit] poignant at times. It’s filled with these zany showdowns in which my daughters always win — they have all the best lines. But everything changed when Lulu turned 13 and suddenly became very angry and alienated and rude. And suddenly things were not funny. Now, she seemed to turn against everything I’d ever stood for. The culminating point in the book was a scene in [Moscow’s] Red Square when we had a huge, humiliating public fight in which she said some of the most painful things anyone has ever said to me.
How did you react? I decided to pull back, cold turkey. So the book is actually about my own journey as a mother. It is not intended as a parenting guide or manifesto. In some ways it’s about my own struggle to find the right balance between Eastern and Western parenting.
Much of the media coverage of the book portrayed it not as a memoir, which is how you describe it, but as a manifesto. The trouble really started with the [January 7, 2011] Wall Street Journal headline, “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior.” I was horrified when I opened the newspaper and saw it. That just cast the entire debate. I’ve had so many people over the last three years write to me to say, ‘I’m so sorry — I was one of the haters. But I read the book and it was nothing like what I imagined.’ This is just about mothers and daughters, and mothers trying to get it right.
On the other hand, that mischaracterization, if you will, is part of what generated so much publicity and controversy over the book — and no doubt sold a lot of books. I think that’s probably right. Just before the book was published, my daughters said to me, ‘You know, Mommy, no one is going to read this book. You’re not a Democracy Prep — have said that what [they] are trying to do is to instill the Triple Package [in their students]. These schools are all about longer hours, discipline, more respect for teachers, they have Saturday school. Insecurity — they don’t call it that, but the idea is higher expectations — ‘No, you are not good enough yet. We know you can do better. You have to keep striving — no excuses.’
What are the core elements of The Triple Package? First is a sense of exceptionality. Secondly, a sense of insecurity — paradoxically — and third, impulse control. What these inner-city charter schools are trying to do is to instill in these underprivileged children a sense of exceptionality that is not based on group membership or religious membership, but an exceptionality based on the pride one can take in overcoming adversity.
As a word person, I wonder what is the difference between ‘impulse control’ and ‘self-discipline.’ Are they the same thing? It often comes under the name ‘grit’ or perseverance. We use impulse control as an umbrella term that covers self-discipline, but also the ability to resist temptation. When we looked at the groups that are most disproportionately successful in America today, all of these groups have a very different view of childhood than the rest of the country. Instead of viewing childhood as just fun and carefree, they see it more as a training period — preparation for the future. And they all instill practices of self-discipline and focus at a much earlier age than the rest of the population.
You have used the word ‘progressive’ several times. Do you consider yourself a progressive politically? I’m an independent. I’m an immigrant’s daughter, and I’m very progressive on social issues — I support same-sex marriage, women’s rights. But I think it’s ridiculous that certain attributes are [associated] with either Republicans or Democrats. Why should ‘family values’ belong to one party and not another? And strict parenting – that doesn’t have any inherent political ramifications.
You wrote that the Triple Package characteristics are most manifest among immigrants and their offspring, but that by the third generation it begins to become diluted. What happens then? [Ethnic/cultural] groups rise and fall over time in a very predictable arc. Groups that are successful today are different from the ones that were successful 20 years ago or that will be successful 30 years from now. Often you get this first-generation phenomenon where they have come from frequently terrible
famous person, and no one is going to care about it.’ Also, the PISA international tests had come out just before my book was published. Shanghai kids tested No. 1 in math, science and reading, while the U.S. came in 28th and 35th. So I think I tapped into two of America’s greatest anxieties — fear of parenting, and fear of China — simultaneously.
Did you ever come home from school with a B? I remember getting a B-plus on an algebra test. You can’t believe how strict my parents were. My father just took away all privileges. There were very high expectations, and we were expected to meet them.
What attracted you to the law? In my parents’ generation, Chinese immigrant parents tended to have very narrow hopes for their kids. Almost stereotypically, my parents wanted me to be an MD, Ph.D., to major in math or physics and to go to medical school. I started off majoring in applied math at Harvard, going pre-med. I was horrible; I almost [flunked] out. I switched to economics hoping that I could persuade my dad that it was actually a science. I went to law school purely by default because I didn’t want to go to medical school. So it was a long journey for my trying to find what I really wanted to do in my life. I got incredibly lucky. I somehow found my way into writing about law and development, law and globalization, law and culture — things that naturally interest me. Law school was just an incredibly generous and stimulating place for me, and I feel very lucky to have found a niche in the law where I can use a little bit of my comparative advantage.
After law school you entered the corporate world in New York, and then switched gears to enter academia. Why? My father’s an academic, so I always wanted to be a professor. But it was the judge [Chief Judge Patricia M. Wald of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit] I clerked for who said, ‘Amy, how can you possibly go into academics immediately? You need to go out and do something.’ So I went and did international privatization [legal] work. It was that experience that got me thinking about markets and democracy in the developing world.
That’s one of the lessons of the book is that, at the end, Lulu said, ‘I don’t want to play the violin; I want to do tennis instead.’ And I did let her. Actually, Asian and immigrant parents are very different today, and sports is a very competitive arena. But whatever my children’s passions are — even if it’s to be a photographer or a writer — I would support it — but on the condition that they give it 100 percent. There’s a sense of joy and fulfillment that comes with doing something extremely well.
Why do you suppose that American parenting has become so much more lenient in just two or three generations? In the last scene of Battle Hymn I am ranting and raving, saying, ‘I think America’s Founding Fathers had Tiger Parent values. These values of high expectations, respect, no excuses, grit and determination and work ethic — these are nothing but traditional American values!’ America is an immigrant country, and if you look at the first generation of any immigrant group, you find a strong work ethic, high expectations for their children, real emphasis on education.
But does this ethic become diluted over generations? Success contains the seeds of its own destruction. In the 1960s, ‘80s and ‘90s, you see a lot of people getting wealthier — you can see a lot of people losing that hunger. When you’re not insecure, or afraid for your survival, then you can see why parenting is becoming more indulgent. I think we should go back to the traditional American view of parenting as about building character in children — not just being your children’s service-providers.
Where did the idea for The Triple Package come from? Back in 2008 I taught a seminar on why some [cultural] groups and nations prospered disproportionately. I have been writing about successful minorities in developing countries for almost 20 years. My husband is a constitutional law professor, and much of his work is focused on this concept of living in the present and also the fear that modern society is moving toward an immediategratification mentality.
That collides head-on with one of three core principles of the Triple Package: Tiger Mother made not just you a public figure, but also your entire family. impulse control. How did your daughters feel about their newfound fame? My daughters were amazing. I did clear every single page with them before [publication], and my husband, too. So this wasn’t an exposé by one member of the family. It was more of a joint effort. Nevertheless, when the firestorm broke out, there were moments when I was sitting alone in a hotel room [on the book publicity tour] wondering, ‘Oh, my God — is my family going to fall apart because of my hubris?’ Because we were so exposed, and they were hearing terrible things about their mother on the Internet. But I was just so lucky: Sophia wrote the piece in the New York Post defending me, and Lulu — always my rebel — in an NBC Today Show interview, they took her into a room without us and asked her, ‘You’ve had troubles with your mother — what kind of a parent do you think you are going to be?’ To my surprise, she said, ‘My mother and I don’t always agree, but if she hadn’t raised me the way she did, I wouldn’t be who I am. And I wouldn’t like that. So I think I’m probably going to be a strict parent, too.’ So the girls were very lucky: the schools, their friends, my students, my colleagues — everybody was very supportive, and we somehow made it through that period.
Do you think it’s true that by overprotecting — coddling, if you will — their children, many 21st century American parents are cheating their children of opportunities to learn how to overcome adversity? I do. True self-esteem and true confidence and inner strength has to be earned. It’s very hard — we all want to protect our children. But at some point your children will have to go out into the real world. You can tell them, ‘You’re amazing, you’re perfect’ all you want, but when they [confront adversity], that’s when they really start to feel bad. I think we should assume strength rather than weakness in our children. There is nothing better for building confidence than persevering and discovering that, with hard work, you were able to do something that you were sure you couldn’t.
Your daughters were channeled into piano and violin, which you wrote are the only two ‘acceptable’ instruments Chinese parents allow their children to study. But what if one of them had some uncanny athletic gift? Would you have allowed her to pursue that sport, or is athletics a waste of time? One of my regrets — and I think this is a shortcoming of strict immigrant parenting — is that there is a very narrow view of what counts as success and achievement. One of my regrets is that I didn’t give my daughters more choices. I tend to think that mainstream parenting gives children too many choices.
Why just piano and violin? Why not French horn, or flute?
In the book we describe the U.S. Constitution as an [exemplar] of national impulse control. We talk about the tension between America’s two founding documents: The Declaration of Independence is an act of rebellion. It represents living in the moment. By contrast, the Constitution is about reining in the passions of the majority — law, in effect, is impulse control writ large. So America is a hybrid of these two documents but also these two impulses.
In The Triple Package, you and your husband write about the three characteristics shared by the most successful ethnic/cultural groups. But how did you define ‘success’? In The Triple Package we looked at groups that are successful by very conventional metrics — per-capita income, educational attainment, professional advancement.These measurements cannot be equated with leading a meaningful life or a happy life. But we used these metrics because they’re measurable. Also, some people do care about income and educational attainment.
Did you anticipate the controversy the book would generate? We knew it would be provocative. Any time you talk about groups and culture, it’s a sensitive topic. But I think it’s really unfortunate that these issues are so difficult to talk about. We are very clear that The Triple Package is not about ‘explaining’ the achievement gap or the poverty of our very poorest groups. Of course the answer is history and slavery and systematic discrimination and exclusion. But we also shouldn’t be afraid to say there are certain kinds of behaviors and attitudes and skills that help some groups achieve more academically and professionally. To take this entire subject of culture and say you cannot talk about it — everything is discrimination, and to make it taboo — is to lose an incredibly important opportunity. Cultural advantages are definitely contributing to inequality in this country. And if we are really serious about trying to address inequality, trying to fix poverty, trying to improve our education systems — we can’t be afraid to look at these cultural questions and to debate them publicly.
Many of the negative reviews seemed to be coming from a place of political correctness, where attributing characteristics to ethnic or cultural groups rather than individuals simply can’t be tolerated. That’s definitely part of it. But things are starting to change. One really exciting thing is that educators have been reaching out to us from charter schools, innercity public schools, because they all realize that certain groups have cultural advantages. Two of the largest inner-city charter-school networks — KIPP and
’I THINK I TAPPED INTO TWO OFAMERICA’S GREATESTANXIETIES — FEAR OF PARENTING, AND FEAR OF CHINA .
institutions — countries that are corrupt or poor or [affording] very little opportunity. They believe in the American system — sometimes more than the system deserves. That generation tends to work very hard, they have very high expectations for their children, tend to be very strict with their children and demand a lot from them. As a result, the second generation tends to prosper disproportionately. So of the groups that are far outperforming the national median, the vast majority are recent immigrant groups. [But] when you finally achieve success, that undermines two elements of the Triple Package: Success undermines insecurity — you don’t need to be afraid [as though] you don’t know where your next meal is coming from. And it also erodes impulse control: Once you start to feel a little comfortable — you have a decent-sized house, you have two comfortable cars — why should you get up at six in the morning? Why should you drill homework for the extra two hours?
You also wrote that groups that have been in America for a long time — WASPs, for instance — can grow complacent and stop striving. Does that mean it’s too easy to live comfortably here without working very hard? The first immigrant group tends to be incredibly hard-working, but they have very narrow views about what success is. They want their kids to go into very safe and respectable careers — ‘Be a doctor; get a Ph.D.’ Their children are a little less afraid — they’re less insecure, so maybe they don’t work quite as hard. But that frees them up to say, ‘I want to be a jazz musician,’ or ‘I want to
be a writer.’ And then their children can afford to be even more creative. So the success of America is the result of these changing generational dynamics and the conflict between generations that can generate enormous amounts of creativity and dynamism.
What’s your next book? I was joking with some friends that I could probably write a cookbook and it would be enormously controversial — ‘She said to use sugar!’ So for the moment I’m just going around, giving talks and trying to clarify misunderstandings about The Triple Package. At the end of the day, the book is about individuals, not groups. [Supreme Court Associate Justice] Sonia Sotomayor, who did not come from a Triple Package culture — she came from a struggling Puerto Rican background, she was the daughter of an alcoholic father — she is very much a Triple Package person. It was her grandmother who instilled in her that she was destined for great things. In any culture a particularly strong parent or grandparent can instill all three of these qualities in children. She writes in her memoir that she wasn’t always a good student. ‘But then in fifth grade I went up to the best student in the class, and I said, ‘How are you a good student? How do you study?’ And she basically just followed that formula. And ended up going to Princeton, and the rest is history. That shows that we shouldn’t be afraid to talk about these cultural issues.
photographer Hugo Arturi
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fashion editor Jules Wood
M ICH IE LS AND ER S
Haarlem, The Netherlands 1962
Michiel Sanders arrived in New York in 1985 after spending two years in Paris working as a hair and makeup artist. While pursuing his career in fashion and collaborating with the great Richard Avedon, Scavullo and Mary-Ellen Mark, Michiel discovered his passion for painting and drawing. He is a Ramapo Scholarship recipient and also a graduate of the prestigious New York Studio School. While still currently working as a hair and make-up a r t i s t , M i c h i e l l i v e s a n d p a i n t s i n h i s s t u d i o i n Williamsburg. He works with various mediums and as a true colorist, his ultimate quest is to make his colors sing...
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“Why do I paint? I paint because in many ways words are so limited to me, and while my paintings reflect my daily life experiences, thoughts and observations, the content of my paintings are open to the interpretations of each individual’s looking at them with his/her own eyes and emotions”. “Color is a key element in my personal quest; colors are playfully fluid in coming together in harmony. They evoke a memory, a feeling, like a great music composition or poetry can do”.
photographer Filippo DelVita
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fashion editor Jules Wood
THE U N WA N T E D GUESTS
from the short film The Unwanted Guests, written and directed by Michael Donnelly & inspired by Edward Gorey illustrations by Mitja Bokun // see the film at michaeldonnelly.com
Every morning in the grounds of Great Elbow, Edmund took his beloved codrill with him.
The unwanted guests arrived, leaving Edmund and Isobel holding a black dog.
That night, young Clarissa defiantly ate her dinner plate.
Isobel, enchanted, watched Lavina dance, seductively. Edmund was exceedingly jealous.
Upon waking the next morning, Edmund found his codrill missing. They searched the house frantically..
An awkward tea ensued.
From nowhere, a violent storm blew through the trees. After it had passed, Clarissa was found crushed beneath a column.
Lavinia had a premonition whilst humming an aria from Der Kleine Puppe.
It is hard to end one’s life with nothing but a butter knife.
An angry Marsh was told to go.
From the seawall they surveyed Great Elbow.
That night, Isobel laughed savagely....
m o r o c c o, p a r i s by alexis steinman
Paris. Few cities conjure up such classic tropes as the City of Lights. The striped marinière shirt, the Eiffel Tower, or the zinc bar, chalkboard menu, and steak frites at the quintessential bistro. The typical, tourist itinerary consists of checking off these stereotypes, like I did on my first visit to Paris. As a 15-year old exchange student, I came with a checklist formed in French class. Louvre: check. Pain au chocolat: double check. Blinded by this branded image of Paris, I stuck to the well-trodden paths. I was both uninterested and unaware that Paris was more than this cliché. Until I went to Morocco. After three months in Marrakech--where I witnessed France’s impact on its former colony--I returned to Paris curious to see how Moroccans had transformed the cosmopolitan city. The writer Marcel Proust proclaims “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” To truly see Paris, one must venture past the storied landmarks. Like Indian curry joints in London and Italian street festivals in New York, it is the immigrant communities that imbue cities with multi-cultural flavor. Marrakech is a moveable feast; throughout Paris, savor her delights. The Maghrebis--immigrants from Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia--comprise 15% of Paris’ population. Arriving in France in the mid-1950s at the end of the colonial era, the Maghrebis--whose name stems from “occident”--have infused France’s capital with exoticism . In the ‘60s,Yves Saint Laurent made Morocco a hip escape for the creative crowd. Now, with increased globalization and immigration, Parisians are enjoying the Maghreb without leaving town. Here’s where to take a walk on the Arabian side. To truly immerse yourself in Moroccan tradition, the hammam is de rigueur. The most authentic bathhouse this side of the Mediterranean is housed at the Great Mosque of Paris in the 5th arrondisement. Inside, join groups of gossiping, Arabic women in dark, cavernous rooms that range from warm to scalding hot. Opt for a gommage, a vigorous, full-body scrub, for baby-soft skin, and savon noir, emollient, Moroccan black soap. Be sure to bring a towel, toiletries for the post-hammam shower, and a bikini bottom (no tops needed--c’est la France). A little Arabic goes a long way, so be sure to say “Shukran Bessef”. At the cafe, a lovely, tiled patio beckons with mint tea and a tantalizing, pastry selection like harsha (cornmeal cake). Stock up on tea glasses and tagines at the small souk. If you prefer your hammam upscale, Les Bains du Marais is a better bet. Tucked away in the hip Marais neighborhood, this posh spa blends Western and Moroccan tradition into one pampering package. The luxurious hammam, made from cream marble, is soothing on both the eyes and body. Lounge in your plush, white robe at the cafe; this may be the only spot in town with a relaxed dress code. For a hair-raising experience, try the cire orientale, an Arabic hair removal technique where balls of wax are massaged into the skin to extract unwanted hair. Remarkably painless compared to our Western methods, try it while you can. his technique isn’t available in the States. Once you’ve worked up an appetite, head to Le P’tit Souk. Though on an unassuming street in the 13th, this small shop brims with North African delicacies. Fragrant bins of spices, olives, and dates line the walls. Pick up prepared foods for an ethnic picnic. Over in the 15th, La Gazelle D’Or, specializes in Moroccan pastries. In order to please the Parisian palate, the confections--cornes de gazelles, sesame chebakias--aren’t as cloyingly sweet as at home. If you’re invited to dinner, dazzle your hosts with one of the pâtisseries’ beautiful, gift boxes. Most traditional Moroccan restaurants focus on food over ambiance. Not so at 404, the trendy eatery run by Mourad Mazouz, a restauranteur with outposts in London, Dubai, and Paris. Using Moroccan lamps, sumptuous fabrics, and flickering candles, Marouz revamped a 16th Century townhouse into a sexy kasbah, With a menu that encourages sharing, be sure to try the preserved lemon, chicken, olive tagine and the roasted lamb couscous. Grab a nightcap at adjacent Andy Waloo, a happening, 70s-style cocktail bar.
address book: La Mosquée de Paris 39 rue Geoffrey Saint Hilaire 5th Arr. 01.43.31.38.20 www.la-mosquee.com/htmlfr/hammamfr.htm Entrance: 18 euros Package (massage, gommage, tea, savon noir): 43 euros Separate days for men & women Les Bains du Marais 31-33 rue des Blancs Manteaux 01.44.61.02.02 www.lesbainsdumarais.fr Entrance: 35 euros. Scrub: 70 euros. Separate days men & women or unisex (swimsuit required) Le P’tit Souk 84, rue de Patay 01.53.79.15.46 www.leptitsouk.com
On your Arabian stroll, don’t miss the stunning Institut du Monde Arabe. Designed in 1987 by French architect Jean Nouvel, this institution along the Seine is one of Paris’ most spectacular, yet overlooked, structures. The building’s facade is composed of an intricate, stainless steel ornamentation that evokes the geometric patterns of the Arab world. Even more impressive, the metallic framework opens and closes with the sun, so that the building magically metamorphoses throughout the day.
La Gazelle D’Or 44, rue Olivier de Serres 01.40.45.02.07 www.lagazelledor-patisserie.com 404 69 rue des Gravilliers 01.42.74.57.81 www.404-resto.com
Like the changing facade of the IMA, Paris is constantly in flux. The ethnic habitants, like the Maghrebis, are transforming the city from historical stalwart to multicultural metropolis. Whether it’s your first or fifth time visiting, take the time to explore beyond the bistros. After all that walking, you’ll be thankful you had the skinny on hammams.
L’Institut du Monde Arabe 1, rue des Fossés St-Bernard 01.40.51.38.38 www.imarabe.org
photographer Heather McGrath
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stylist Joji Goto
Truman Capote to our friend Richard DuPont illustration by Marc-Antoine Coulon
A NATIONAL HISTORIC LANDMARK SINCE 1971, THE LOCKWOOD-MATHEWS MANSION MUSEUM WAS DESIGNED BY EUROPEAN TRAINED ARCHITECT DETLEF LIENAU AND BUILT FROM 1864 TO 1868. IT IS REGARDED AS ONE OF THE EARLIEST AND MOST SIGNIFICANT SECOND EMPIRE STYLE COUNTRY HOUSES EVER BUILT IN THE UNITED STATES AND INTRODUCED THE CHATEAUESQUE STYLE DURING THE VICTORIAN ERA. VIEWED BY MILLIONS AS THE MAGNIFICENT BACKDROP OF MOVIES, DOCUMENTARIES, AND VIDEOS PRODUCED NATIONALLY AND INTERNATIONALLY, THE LOCKWOOD-MATHEWS MANSION MUSEUM IS ALSO A WELL-KNOWN ARTS CENTER FEATURING EXHIBITS, LECTURES, AND A VARIETY OF CULTURAL AND EDUCATIONAL PROGRAMS.
Please visit us at www.lockwoodmathewsmansion.com info@lockwoodmathewsmansion.com 295 West Avenue, Norwalk, CT.
203-838-9799
credits cover story: photographer Wally Shaykhoun // fashion editor Jules Wood // model Helena Christensen // hair Damian Monzillo // makeup Cheyenne Timperio // photo assistants Ziga Mihelčič, Al Habjan // styilist asistants Karolina Borchert-Hunter, Ivan Leon, Samantha Granados // bts coverage Jen Collins location The Chatwal Hotel, NYC. Huge thank you to everyone at The Chatwal, especially Pamel Feick for accomodating us! Special thank you to Derick Arjune for retouching our cover art and of course thank you, again, Helena Christensen for making this day possible! the magazine for some people
photographer Hugo Arturi // fashion editor Jules Wood // model Noel for Ford Models // hair Matthew Green // makeup Cheyenne Timperio for Artmix Beauty location Bellefour Farm. Horse “trained” by Jane Wiley Big thank you to the Wiley family! //dress by SWASH London //gloves by SWASH London //hat by Robert Geller
//dress by Audra
photographer Hugo Arturi
model Helena Christensen
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photographer Wally Shaykhoun
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fashion editor Jules Wood
//dress by Rubin & Chapelle //necklace by Aleix Bittar //belt by Jankele //hat by Heidi337
l.&r. //dress by SWASH London //gloves by SWASH London //hat by Robert Geller
//hooded coat by Alon Livn //necklace by Aleix Bittar //silver and diamond ring (r.) by Marc-Antoine Barrois
l. (top) //dress by Valery Kovalska //jacket by Margaux Lonnberg (bottom)Tolstoy jacket & petr riding pants by Valentina Kova //embroidered organza button up shirt by Koonhor //boots by A.F. Vandevorst //earrings by Dalila Pasotti r. //grisha wool cape by Valentina Kova //dress by SWASH London
l. //dress by Audra r. //dress by Alon Livn
l. //Tolstoy jacket & petr riding pants by Valentina Kova //embroidered organza button-up shirt by Koonhor //boots by A.F. Vandevorst //earrings by Dalila Pasotti r. //short sleeved shift dress in wool crepe and tawny trees print by SWASH London
l. //dress by Alon Livn //bracelet and ring by Aleix Bittar //shoes by Christian Louboutin r. //1920’s silver dress from Southpaw Vintage NYC //necklaces by Aleix Bittar
//shirt by Dominic Louis //jacket by Margaux Lonnberg //trousers by Charlotte Ronson
fashion editor Jules Wood
photographer Hugo Arturi // fashion editor Jules Wood // model Iggy for Q Model Management // hair Damian Monzillo // makeup Cheyenne Timperio
photographer Filippo DelVita // fashion editor Jules Wood // model Samantha Surma // hair Eric Jameson // makeup Martin Schmid location: The Richard Rodgers Estate, Rock Meadow in Fairfield, CT Special thank you to Patty Eilenberg
l. //dress by Issey Miyake //shoes by Carlo Pazolini //blue & yellow bauble bracelet by Circa Sixty Three r. //dress by Issey Miyake//shoes by Christian Louboutin //hadbag by SWASH London //bracelet by Laruicci
l. //dress by Saunder //headpiece by Jankele //bracelet by Brash Cat r. //leather dress by Cres E Dim //shoulder holster by Jankele
//dress by Issey Miyake //necklace by Peppercotten
l. //dress by Alon Livn r. //dress by Marchesa Notte //necklace by Erickson Beamon //body chain by Lariucci
l1. //top & skirt by Issey Miyake //belt by Valentina Kova//shoes by SWASH London l2. //dress by Issey Miyake //necklace by Peppercotten r. //top & trousers by Issey Miyake //clutch by Issey Miyake //shoes by audra
l. //jacket by Victor De Souza //dress by Trk//gloves by Jankele r. //top and skirt by Big Park //necklaces by Betsey Johnson //boots by Carlo Pazolini //bracelet by Brash Cat
//dress by Issey Miyake //ring by Circa Sixty Three
credits photographer Conor Doherty // stylist Timothy Kuzmeski // models Barbara Tatalovic at ONE Management & Jess Clements // hair Courtney Nischan // makeup Mariko Arai // location Rock Meadow, Fairfield, CT // styilist asistant Madeline Gruen
photographer Michael Somoroff // written words “Richard II”, Wm. Shakespeare l. //Forevermark by House of Waris 12.06 ct Round Brilliant Forevermark Exceptional Diamond Pave Pendant set in 18k Yellow Gold r. //Forevermark by Rahaminov Bean Medallion Pendant set in 18k Yellow Gold
THIS PRECIOUS STONE SET IN THE SILVER SEA FOREVERMARK by Michael Somoroff / MetaStudio
Fo r e v e r m a r k .
A brand from the De Beers Group of Companies with 125 years of diamond expertise. UNIQUELY INSCRIBED… Each Forevermark diamond is inscribed with a promise that it is beautiful, rare, and responsibly sourced. BEAUTIFUL & RARE. Forevermark diamonds are selected for their exceptional qualities. Less than 1% of all diamonds are eligible to be inscribed as Forevermark. R E S P O N S I B LY S O U R C E D. Fo r e v e r m a r k diamonds only come from a small number of carefully selected mines that are committed to high business, social, and environmental standards.
STANDING BEFORE THE SUN OF BOLINGBROKE, TO MELT MYSELF AWAY IN WATER-DROPS
l. //Forevermark by Rahaminov 55.29 ctw Forevermark Diamond Rivera Necklace set in Platinum r. // Forevermark Diamond Brooch set in 18k White Gold //Forevermark by Leo Schachter 3 Row Round Diamond Bracelet set in 18k White Gold
THE BLUSHING DISCONTENTED SUN
l. // Forevermark by Stephen Webster Diamond Bracelet set in Platinum //Forevermark by A. Link Bubble Collection™ Cuff set in 18k White Gold r. AND WASH HIM FRESH AGAIN WITH TRUE-LOVE TEARS //Forevermark by A. Link Lattice Ring set in Platinum //Forevermark Round Diamond Ring set in Platinum //Forevermark by Norman Silverman Eternity Band set in Platinum //Forevermark 12.36 ct Cushion Exceptional Forevermark Diamond Ring set in Platinum //Forevermark by Norman Silverman 3 Row Band set in 18k White Gold
photographer Conor Doherty // stylist Liz Teich // model Charo for Ford Models // makeup Mariolga Pantazopolous // hair Stacey Kuehn
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THE UNWANTED GUESTS (film)
writer & director Michael Donnelly // video editor Giacomo Francia // actors Stuart Williams, Donna Hemmingsen Chernow, Pooya Mohseni, Michiel Sanders, Caterina Reichenbach & Madge The Dog // illustration Mitja Bokun // set & wardrobe design Patricia Romero // asst. set & wardrobe design Julie Gregg // grip Matt Coch // line producer Catherine Mulcahy // on-set producer Georgea Snyder // asst. on-set producer William Donnelly // narration consultant Christopher Connelly // gowns Timothy K. // hair Angela Kaeser // makeup Lindsey Williams // vintage clothing Nomad Vintage // milliner Arturo Rios Designs // executive producer Robert Baigrie shot on location at The Lockwood-Mathews Mansion of Norwalk, CT & The Stately Hubbel Mansion of Milford, CT.
l. //dress by Electric Feathers //bracelet by Lauren Manoogian r. //dress and top by Lauren Moffat
photographer Conor Doherty
gowns by Timothy K.
Special thanks to Audrey King-Rubie of Little Miss Harlem and Susan Gilgore. to view the film and a full list of credits, visit www.michaeldonnelly.com
stylist Liz Teich
Every morning in the grounds of Great Elbow, Edmund took his beloved codrill with him.
l. //dress: Lela Rose // bracelet: K/ller Collection
THE U N WA N T E D G U ES T S
r. // dress: She and Reverie // earrings: K/ller Collection
The unwanted guests arrived, leaving Edmund and Isobel holding a black dog.
from the short film The Unwanted Guests, written and directed by Michael Donnelly & inspired by Edward Gorey illustrations by Mitja Bokun // see the film at michaeldonnelly.com
That night, young Clarissa defiantly ate her dinner plate.
Isobel, enchanted, watched Lavina dance, seductively. Edmund was exceedingly jealous.
l. //jumpsuit by Son Jung Wang //shoes by United Nude r. //pants (as dress) by Tilly and William //ring by K/ller Collection
Upon waking the next morning, Edmund found his codrill missing. They searched the house frantically..
An awkward tea ensued.
From nowhere, a violent storm blew through the trees. After it had passed, Clarissa was found crushed beneath a column.
Lavinia had a premonition whilst humming an aria from Der Kleine Puppe.
It is hard to end one’s life with nothing but a butter knife.
An angry Marsh was told to go.
photographer Jaka Vinšek // model Romaine Brau, owner RA Boutique location Paris, France
From the seawall they surveyed Great Elbow.
That night, Isobel laughed savagely....
photographer Heather McGrath // stylist Joji Goto // model Anna Boulais // hair & makeup Manda Carco of Anchor Artists // Dress by Silas Finch inside front cover of Twiggy illustrator Mitja Bokun // design Whitney Mercurio volume 2 Editors-in-Chief / Creative Directors Whitney Mercurio & Mitja Bokun Managing Editor Jim Downey Fashion Editor Jules Wood Director of Production Marina Gharabegian
photographer Jaka Vinšek // stylist Don West // model Youri Dedeurwaerder for elite Paris // hair Mary Irwin // makeup Jessica Seguine location Île Saint-Louis, Paris, France
Creative Assistant Giselle Veronique
contributing staff Art Director Noah Dirsa Director of Marketing & Communications Robert Thompson Art Director Brad Holroyd
//wardrobe by Marc-Antoine Barrois and Yuri Smirnov A VERY special thank you to Helena Christensen who is as lovely in person as she is in pictures and also to the hundreds of people who made this edition possible! Without all of you there is no us!
back cover illustrator Mitja Bokun // model Betty Downey