Diane, A Shaded View on Fashion

Love & Deth by Michael James O'Brien

Michael James O'Brien

Surrender to the Spectacle!

Join Bruce Benderson &
the University of Wisconsin Press at the official book launch for

Sex & ISolatIon
and other essays

Reading/Booksigning/Reception

thursday, november 15 at 6:00 PM

at the Fales library of new York University
elmer Holmes Bobst library, third Floor
70 Washington Square South, nY, nY
tel: 212-998-2596

novelist, cultural critic, and memoirist Bruce Benderson is the author of nine books, including the Romanian: Story of an obsession, User, James Bidgood, and Pretending to Say no.

Sex and
Isolation is the first american volume of Benderson’s collected essays,
featuring both new work and some of his best-known writings,
including his famous essay “toward the new Degeneracy.”


the University of Wisconsin Press
1930 Monroe Street, 3rd Floor
Madison, WI 53711-2059
www.wisc.edu/wisconsinpress

Beautiful Fall - book review by Beniamino Marini

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Beniamino just finished reading “The Beautiful Fall: fashion, genius and glorious excess in 1970s Paris” by Alicia Drake (Bloomsbury, 2006), below is his review.

"I read it - of course - because I heard of the big quarrel between Karl Lagerfeld and the author: next january (the15th) they will have their first meeting at the tribunal because Karl has sued her. He says that what she writes about Karl’s german past is not true.

But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about the book.
It tells the parallel story of two fashion icons: Yves Saint Laurent and Karl Lagerfeld, re-constructing facts, encounters, situations, parties and fashion moments through interviews (around 100 people were interviewed over the last 5 years), research in past articles and press reviews, books, aoutobiographies of people that were surrounding the two fashion designers and so on. It’s a huge work of research, aimed to “demonstrate” a few ideas that the author has concerning the two guys.

The first and strongest “idea” is that YSL and KL, almost the same age, never loved each other and that Paris’ Fashion was ruled by their two forces for at least twenty years (mainly in the 70s). What she also makes clear throughout the long book is that YSL was never “beaten” by KL in this harsh competition (in design, social relationships, fame, “aura”), but he was only beaten by himself retiring before his competitor. And only after the definitive retirement of the Divine Yves in 2002 (with a huge defilé and a press conference that made many people cry), the down-to-earth Karl was finally able to become the star he is now. (She says that in her research, the press reviews of KL in the last five years are more than all that he had aquired over the former 30 years of work, and becoming an international celebrity and icon even outside of the fashion world).

To support this hypotesis the author brings up a subject that is very very delicate, which concerns love, betrayal and death: the young and beautiful Jacques de Bascher. He, who at age 24 became a “male muse” to Lagerfeld, he died young at age 38 of HIV/AIDS. During his short lifetime he dedicated himself to beauty, elegance and social life, he was always with Karl. The author insists on the fact that Jacques became, for a short period of time, the lover of Yves Saint Laurent, creating a big drama between the two “fashion families”.

Like all big celebrities, tales of their past are always welcomed by the audience: that’s probably why, apart this type of love and fashion gossip, the author insists on many aspects of Yves’ and Karl’s lives back home. The first in Oran, Algeria, with his problems at school where his strangeness wasn’t accepted. The latter in the Hamburg bourgeois suburbs.

These last inquiries (the author went back several times to Hamburg interviewing relatives and neighbours of Karl), created a big scandal, because what she wrote is totally different from what Lagerfeld himself has always declared to the press.

I think that in history every person who became really important – it’s gone on forever – tries to “rewrite” his or her own personal history. Like in wars, the winner or the “conquistador” writes his own side of the story for the future readers. The history we read in textbooks has been rewritten several times always following the winners point of view. Think of native americans: only today some books have begun to reveal what actually happened to them. I equally find it pretty normal that a celebrity like Karl Lagerfeld, who definitely created himself, as a designer, but mainly as a fashion character, one that can loose 40 kg in one year to fit in Dior Homme’s trousers, one that is able to sell in a few years all his houses (including a castle and all the furniture inside) just to change, for love of change, could make up his past.

I don’t know where the truth lies and of course nobody really cares. Only thing that I can say is that I found a few mistakes in the book, and those are only the ones I was able to notice, knowing very little about all of those people during those years. For instance, the mispelled last name of Valentino’s partner (she wrote Giacometti instead of Giammetti), or other “italian” un-precisions (Prato near Florence is the home of leather makers, not textile. The main textile areas are in the north of Italy, near Milan, expecially back then, when the first fashion shows were taking place, think of Como silk and Biella wool). This is not very “scientific”. When you write a book which is not a novel, be aware of mistakes, mrs Drake, especially when you take the risk of being sued..."

Ciao,

Beniamino Marini

The Beautiful Fall - news from Beniamino Marini in Milan

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Today in the Corrriere della Sera there was a big article about this book ("the beautiful fall") by alicia drake on karl lagerfeld, saying that karl was not from a rich family and he apparently was going around parisian english bookshops screaming and forcing booksellers to take the book away from the shelves. of course it's not been translated into french yet and it probably never will be.

the article said also that one bookshop in paris in the 6th arrondissement had the last copy in town, and it was not for sale.

guess what?

My friend Max was in paris for a one day trip and he convinced the salesman to sell him that copy.
which now is on my milano desk, as in the picture.

Later,

Beniamino

Uovo session 13 and the "insane" party

Dear Shaded Viewers,

I was invited to the 'insane' party to present the 13th edition of Uovo.

The straight-jacket shirt,

.

with doctors, nurses, pills, vodka drips, drinks and guests (on a crazy evening, of course).
It was called Session 13..

I wanted to go but while they were being 'insane' I was being HAPPY at the Arnhem Fashion Biennale.

Later,

Diane

COLOPHON 2007 - INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE SYMPOSIUM

Illustration by Mio Matsumoto

COLOPHON 2007 - INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE SYMPOSIUM
March 9th-11th 2007 – Luxembourg
Casino Luxembourg – forum d’art contemporain
www.colophon2007.com
Curators: Jeremy Leslie, Andrew Losowsky & Mike Koedinger.
"We Love Magazines" book out soon: www.colophon2007.com/book

This project is labelled «Luxembourg and Greater Region, European Capital of Culture 2007», placed under the High Patronage of their Royal Highnesses the Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess of Luxembourg.
www.luxembourg2007.org

A 400 pages book, We Love Magazines, will be published for and released at the symposium: http://www.colophon2007.com/book/

Lunch with Thierry Cosson and my personal copy of Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui with Justin Morin - Pelerinage sur soi by Justin Morin

Dear Shaded Viewers,

I had lunch to day with Thierry Kalimane and Justin Morin was there for a second, long enough to present me with a copy of his book.

Thierry Cosson

Justin's book Pelerinage sur soi

I had it in my hand on my way home and I was stopped by a very elegant man that immediately wanted to talk about this book. It feels good in my hands, I briefly met Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui on a subway platform on route to the Dior Homme show with Justin a year ago when they were still working on this book. Now I wait for him to perform in Paris so I can be transported by his dance.

Later,

Diane

Renata Molho photo by Fabio Mantovan

Fri 15/12/2006 17:01 15122006020

Renata on the inside cover of her book. Portrait by Fabio Mantovan

Teeth by David Bartel

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Earlier in the day I was cyber talking to David Bartel, he is in Sweden. David just wrote a book on Zlatan and I've read him several times in Dutch and now Zoo. We met several years ago in Stockholm at the Royal Palace. I was video interviewing him when a big guard took my cassette away. It was all very severe I thought. When I was in Stockholm more recently for +46 I ran into David at a party. I thought that you might enjoy reading him. Did I mention that my first husband was a dentist?

Later,

Diane

Erotic dreams of teeth

I have become divorced from my dental technician. No, we weren’t a conventional married couple, but we nevertheless enjoyed a stable and pleasant relationship for several years. This relationship was one-sided since she – lets call her Inga ----was the one who always took contact with me.
Some perhaps feel that this sort of relationship is odd or even perverse. After all, you sit passively in a padded chair with your mouth wide open, while the dental technician leans against you in her starched paper gown and probes and plagues you with sharp instruments. If you close your eyes, it is easy to imagine that the dental technician is a sadist, with a whole ensemble of black latex rubber-wear, spiked heels and whips in the closet. Inga’s services hurt me, but at the same time it felt so good to know that she was scrapping away ounces of plaque, and freshening up my smile.
I was always in a good mood when I left Inga because my teeth felt perfect and polished when I touched them carefully with my tongue. Once again I had survived the pain and improved myself as a result. At the end of each session, I promised her like a good little boy to floss and brush with religious fervor in the future, in the exact manner she had demonstrated to me with a handy mirror on a flexible plastic stick.
This pleasant and beneficial romance is now unfortunately a memory. Why, you ask. I ask myself the same question when I recall the feeling of her soft breasts crushing into my shoulder as she leaned passionatly towards my open mouth with her various spinning and polishing tools.
The relationship ended, as so many do, because of petty quarrels and tawdry issues of commerce. She kept sending me these love notes by snail mail. Of course, it is always pleasant to hear from friends and lovers, and most of Inga’s notes were about future meetings and reunions. Each note smelled vaguely of mint but was written with military precision in a similar style. They might sound like this: “Dental technician Inga has booked a time for you at 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday, September 17. If this date is inconvenient, please inform us in good time beforehand. Otherwise, we will bill you 200 crowns for failure to keep the appointment.”
These notes were assuredly well-intentioned, but they sparked mixed emotions in my love-torn heart. I understood that it was certainly in my interest to appear at the appointed hour to allow Inga to scrape and polish with her sharp instruments, and I would usually fasten her notes to my refrigerator with small magnets so that I would not forget.
But the idea of love-on-command, with financial penalties for failure to comply, had somehow awakened the anarchist and rebel in my soul. Sometimes I simply forgot to come to her appointments, and was annoyed to receive bills a few days later that I regarded as malicious and petty. I eventually refused to appear at any future meetings with Inga, despite attempts by a common friend, a dentist, to act as a mediator.
Consequently the plaque grows grey and ominously in all the hidden places on my teeth, a melancholy reminder of a delightful romance gone sour. I floss, brush and gargle regularly and hope for better fortune in the future. DAVID BARTAL

LIZ Goldwyn book signing at Colette

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Liz Goldwyn was in Paris for a book signing of Pretty Things. Here are a few pics from Colette's Linlee.

Later,

Diane

Pretty Things book signing at Colette today

Ami Sioux and her new book REYKJAVIK 64°08N 21°54W

Dear Shaded Viewers,

It's been a while since Ami Sioux spoke to me about her charming idea for making a series of personalized city guides. The idea was to ask different people that she liked to hand draw a walking map to their favorite, usually hidden, spot in their city and then she would take the photograph of the location and place the map side by side. The intention is to continue these intimate city guides until she has covered the globe or at least covered the cities where you might want to be. Her book comes out next week and you will be able to find it at Colette. I ran into her at the book fair the other weeks and requested this image. For more....buy the book.
http://www.amisioux.com http://www.scintillalimited.com

Later,

Diane

Thomas Beckner reports from NYC on their Book Fair

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Thomas worked with Antoine and I on the Making of documentary of the 06 Hyeres festival. He moved to NYC to work on documentaries and will report back from time to time on what is happening over there.

all photos by Thomas Beckner.

Later,

Diane

Liz Goldwyn will be in Paris for the reading and signing of her book Pretty THings - December 2 at Colette

LIZ Goldwyn's party in LA sponsored by Dior beauty

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Beautiful Liz Goldwyn at her party in LA sponsored by Dior beauty.

Photo by: Donato Sardella

Later,

Diane

Salon Light - Magazine Salon 11-12th November in Paris

Liz Goldwyn in NYC Book Signings

Later,

Diane

Liz Goldwyn Pretty Things book signing

Pretty Things Los Angeles

Aidsafari: The book

Dear Shaded Viewers,

As I told you earlier in the week, I met Adam Levin at Fashion Fringe in London. I asked him to send me his book and the cover to post it for you.

The author in his beautiful kitchen.

Later,

Diane

Aidsafari: The movie

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Please visit this site: aidsafari.com. I met Adam Levin briefly at the Fashion Fringe last week in London. We talked about bringing You Wear it Well to South Africa. I had no idea who he was or what he'd done with his life. He sent me an e mail this morning directing me to his site. I am waiting to read the book now and down the line, to see the film.

Visit the site, maybe you will want to take part in his creative family of producers, researchers, scriptwriters, cameramen and a starry cast who will join him on his Aidsafari. At the very least, go out and buy the book.

Later, Diane

David Bartal and his book on ZLATAN

Dear Shaded Viewers,

When I was in Stockholm I ran into David Bartal, a fellow contributor to ZOO, among other things. He just finished writing the unauthorized book on Swedish's beloved football hero, ZLATAN.

The book will be published in a few weeks: Zlatan: en svensk saga. "The forward is titled "A non-interview with Zlatan Ibrahimovic" and tells the story of how the Swedish football star, who now plays for Italy's Inter, refused to cooperate with me on the book. After I visited his sister's barber shop in a final attempt to contact him, he phoned to complain about my efforts to reach him via his family, ending the conversation: "And this is not an interview."

David Bartal, wearing the blue shirt, at an art/fashion event is standing with the main designer of Finland's Ivana Helsinki brand, and the artist Jani.

Later,

Diane

How Not to Look Fat by Danica Lo

Dear Shaded Viewers,


Paris is burning and as you can imagine people have been ripping off their clothes and the end result is not a very pretty sight. Maybe if the masses had picked up a copy of the book with the catchy title 'How Not to Look Fat', the streets would look a bit better. I remember from my days as Dr. Diane on Elle.com that women appreciate some timeless, useful rules and author Danica Lo not only gives them what they need but she also supplies them with sweet illustrations and snappy bullet comments like 'smell thin'.

Although the book talks more about clothes than fashion per se it does educate the reader about edgy brands like Bless, Ann Demeulemeester and Philip Treacy. Lo also offers some other very entertaining but truthful advice.

I especially related to some astute commentary like: "Variety's not all it's chalked up to be. "Ever notice how fashion-industry icons like Giorgio Armani, Donna Karan and Karl Lagerfeld always look basically the same? It doesn't matter what's in style and what season it is. They don't give a flying hoot ….."

Lo must not have been thinking about me when she said, "Don't get big hair, you'll wind up looking like Dolly Parton." We couldn’t be more different! I loved the quip, "Just because I'm wearing sunglasses doesn't mean I can't see you." This was referring to a camera happy tourist that snapped her picture on the metro.

My favorite tip from one of Lo’s contributing experts for how not to look fat is: "My number one piece of advice is this: Wear wide shoes and get a fat boyfriend. Everything is relative."
http://www.hownottolookfat.com

Later,

Diane

VIP dinner party for the launch of Confessions from the Velvet Ropes by Glenn Belverio

Dear Shaded Viewers,

The VIP dinner party for the launch of my book, Confessions from the Velvet Ropes, was a smash success. For a full report and photos, you can log onto my book's website: confessionsfromthevelvetropes.com

Much love,

Glenn Belverio

Other Opportunities by Ranko Bon

OTHER OPPORTUNITIES (May 28, 2006)

A young male cat wanders down the street. An old male cat chases him away. The old female cats wander up the street, sniffing for food. And other opportunities.
http://www.residua.org

Miquel Barcelo's La Catedral Bajo El Mar and Athens correspondent with Matthew Barney in London

Dear Shaded Viewers,

LIBRAIRIE YVON LAMBERT
108 rue Vieille du Temple 75003 Paris
Tél 01 42 71 09 33 - Fax 01 42 71 87 47

MIQUEL BARCELÓ SIGNERA : “LA CATEDRAL BAJO EL MAR”
LE MARDI 23 MAI DE 18H À 20H À LA LIBRAIRIE DE LA GALERIE

“La catedral bajo el mar” retrace, à travers les
photographies d'Augusti Torres, la réalisation du projet de
Miquel Barceló dans la cathédrale de Majorque.

Contact : Bruno Mayrargue
librairie@yvon-lambert.com

Shaded's Athens correspondent, Filep Motwary, has some fun pics on his blog from the Kokon to Zai party. Here is one with him and Matthew Barney, he will tell you himself, but he did not have much luck with Bjork, Matthew's wife.

Later,

Diane

Confessions from the Velvet Ropes: The Glamorous, Grueling Life of Thomas Onorato, New York's Top Club Doorman

www.glennbelverio.com

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Here is the Publisher's Weekly Review of Glenn Belverio's book:

Confessions from the Velvet Ropes: The Glamorous, Grueling Life of Thomas Onorato, New York's Top Club Doorman
Glenn Belverio. St. Martin's/Griffin, $14.95 (288p) ISBN 0-312-35459-2
Belverio follows Thomas Onorato, a Manhattan club doorman, night after night, event after event, punctuated only here and there with glimpses of his personal life. Journalist Belverio put in considerable time gathering his material, interviewing and apparently hanging out with his subject because the narrative has an immediate vividness. The deluge of up-to-the-minute detail (in this context meaning proper names, from designers to mashup bands to celebrities whom most haven't yet heard of) matches the gossip-column commotion a doorman is trying to create, or avoid. The focus occasionally shifts to other doormen around New York, and the book includes sidebars on subjects like "Bad Party People" (the promoter and the disgruntled reject) and "Myths of Studio 54" ("Marc Benecke didn't let Cher into Studio") The result is the literary equivalent of a Bravo reality show or a dinner composed entirely of chocolate: gimmicky yet entertaining; irresistible yet containing little nutritional value. Though this chronicle becomes tiresome at points, it could become a quirky hit, along the lines of The Original Preppy Handbook. (July)

In addition to this, he got the following comment from the esteemed writer Mark Simpson:

‘The literary equivalent of a Bravo reality show or a dinner composed entirely of chocolate.’

I didn’t know that books could offer so much guilty pleasure.  I’m jealous.

M

Glenn, that should be the sound byte on the next reprint. xxx and congratulations.

Robb Young interviews DP for UOVO

Dear Shaded Viewers,

Patience has never been one of my virtues so I could no longer wait for the post to deliver the new edition of Uovo, the independent voice for contemporary art.

http://www.boletsfernando.org/uovo/content/about.html

I did not feel like ripping the book apart to scan it so excuse the pages that are not quite net.

This morning I went to Colette to pick up a copy. It's funny the last time that I saw the team from Uovo it was at their Paris launch party for the previous issue which happened to be the same day as my birthday.   Mark Eley and his team from Eley Kishimoto shared my birthday with me . I got the hours wrong so Mark's team and I were the only ones in the club long before the magazine team arrived.  We all had fun in a table set on a stage.

Have you ever heard the saying that on your birthday you are supposed to give presents to your friends? Today is the day before Robb Young's birthday and I consider this interview by one of my dearest friends to be an ideal gift. Thank you Robb and thank you Uovo.

Issue ll is full of great reading like Matthieu Lurette by Jerome Sans, Miranda July by Valentina Fanelli, Liquid Architecture, Daria Martin by Silvia Sgualdini.....and all of this for only l0 euros plus you have a Uovo Pink music cd.

Later, Diane

P.S. Sorry Wiglius de Bie, they forgot to put the photo credit for your beautiful image.  The opening shot of Robb and  I was on our first trip to Iceland and the 2nd one of the two of us was last October in New Zealand. The little insert is from the Deux Hommes show in Athens and the man with me under Mario Salvucci's lamp is You Wear it Well co-curator, Dino Dinco standing in for me at Anina's blogging conference in Paris last fall. At the top of page 290 is Oriol Caba, Transportsciberians and the art director of the upcoming exhibit at BB Barcelona and Berlin.

Jack's Beat, the trials and tribulations of a freelance journalist

Dear Shaded Viewers,

I found myself in another episode of Jack's Beat, don't know who is writing this but it absolutely makes me laugh.

Today's episode can be found on: http://theunderwearlowdown.typepad.com/jacks_beat/2006/05/may_8_2006_dian.html#comment-17028668

May 8, 2006 - Diane Pernet and I in Rome for a men's underwear event in faded, fascist EUR...

Later,

Diane

Required reading for Underwear blogs

Dear Shaded Readers,

The other night when I googled my name I discovered these hysterical underwear blogs where I found myself as one of the characters  in the storyline. I have no idea who writes these but whoever it is, they had me in stitches laughing.

Lilypad and Jack's Beat the trials and tribulations of a fashion journalist. Far beyond the Devil Wears Prada.

I found myself in Jack's Beat.

http://theunderwearlowdown.typepad.com/lily_pad/

http://theunderwearlowdown.typepad.com/jacks_beat/

Confessions from the Velvet Ropes by Glenn Belverio

Dear Shaded Viewers,

The long awaited Confessions from the Velvet Ropes by Glenn Belverio comes out in June, you can pre-order it on Amazon.com. Hey, Glenn am I going to have to pre-order it or will I receive an autographed copy in the post? I love reading your e mails so I can imagine how much fun I'm going to have reading your book. Is there going to be a book tour? Will you document it for us?

Kisses,

Diane

No, I don't think that I'll be in NYC for the book launch but blog it for us. xxx

DINO DINCO : MY FINAL STOP WITH BB

I suppose it's fitting that I finished reading "The Romanian" while sitting next to Bruce Benderson on a too-small and typically-late Amtrak train from Portland to Seattle.  As I read the last page, I closed it and as I typically do when finishing a book, I let the whole experience of reading the work kind of wash through me.  (Does anyone else do this?  I mean...you've been carrying around and fingering this  object for X number of hours and days...it's nothing if not an intimate experience just to turn the pages. This is why I could never read a book online or on some digital portable whatever.  It just seems, well, vulgar. And although I appreciate many things that most deem "vulgar," this isn't one of them.  Call me old fashioned, but I like my books bound and fingerable.) 

While the 400+ pages of "The Romanian" washed through me (and not on the delicate cycle, either, this was full and intense agitation), I looked over at Bruce, who had nodded off and was softly snoring.  Without giving away the ending of the book, the memoir made me think about some of my own relationships, some more successful than others, some much longer then others ("uh, thanks, man...err, sorry...didn't get your name...") and how powerful desire can be.  That even now and then when the odds have been stacked against me (and I mean STACKED), I've optimisically barrelled into a relationship in light of those odds...like a total idiot...but full steam ahead, desire smearing all over the place.  But, nonetheless, I wouldnt have it any other way and I think "The Romanian" is a universal testament to that.

I also thought about the life of a book writer, working on one project for years, then traveling to 30 some cities in just the U.S. alone, reading passages to audiences of an unpredictable number of people.  It's a lot of travel and a lot of signing of your name and is definitely something romantic in nature, connecting with people on the level of language.   Not to mention....the book groupies.

Book groupies are an odd bunch and I've seen quite a few on this tour.  Music groupies are such obvious, whorish messes (in that gross and fun way that whorish messes are), but book groupies think they're being sly, like no one was supposed to notice their raging book-boners as they tried to line up a "private reading" with Bruce.  (I suppose there's less vomiting backstage with book groupies than the musical equivalent.)  In the middle of the night, one of Bruce's groupies got the hotel room numbers wrong and showed up at MY room wearing nothing but boxers and flip flops, a sticky copy of "The Romanian" in hand.  Since I had insomnia, I was wide awake. He wasn't bad looking and I tried to detain him, asking him if he was curious as to what MY favorite passages of the book were, but Anonymous Book Groupie simply gave me, "Oh, you're not Bruce" and flip flopped himself down the hall to Bruce's room.  Just in case anyone might have heard me getting dismissed, I absently yelled out, "And don't come back!" 

The train car itself felt smaller than normal, more like the interior of a commuter jet.  As we were traveling during the dinner hour, nearly everyone in our car had either brought food or bought some in the cafe car and brought it back to their seat.  The collective smell was akin to sitting in the middle of a shopping mall food court, at the intersection of Burrito Bonanza and We Wok 4 U.  I had a flashback of flying back to LA from Paris on Air France.  Dinner, of course, included a single serving of room temperature Camembert cheese, which when multiplied by 252 people opening up their cheese container at about the same time in the recycled plane air, was nothing short of nauseating. The train rattled hard from side to side, waking up Bruce, who first looked at me.  "Oh, I feel asleep," he said, followed by, "God, it smells in here.."  The first thing he did was reach into one of 8,000 organizing devices he travels with and spray his beloved CDG #2 scent, first on the back of his neck, then on both sides of his neck, then into the palms of his hands which he then slicked though his hair.  "Oh, yeah," I told him, as my eyes started watering, "much better." The blast of exotic essence and spice was quite sharp so I shrunk down in my seat a bit and pretended like we weren't together, like when you're a kid and you think your parents are hideous and you run really far ahead of them in a public place so no one would ever suspect that you came from "them."  I realized then that his hourly squirts of #2 DID in fact mask the smell emanating from the 1/2 eaten warm tuna plate sitting across the aisle from me, in front of the woman eating it, now asleep. 

We didn't spend much time in Seattle.  Our train arrived hours later than expected and...oh yeah...I want to give a big "fuck you" to the cab driver who told us that we didn't need a cab to get to our hotel, as it was "just around the corner."  Clearly looking for a fatter fare, he gave us directions that ended up being nearly 1/2 a mile out of the way, the later half all up hill, made worse with lots of luggage.  Buddy, I hope you get 4 flat tires, every day, all day, and a really painful zit on your ass.

We stayed in this interesting place called The Panama Hotel, bought and restored by Jan Johnson in the mid-80s, situated in the "International District."

Jan's maintained a very rustic and authentic sense of the place and it's probably not the kind of place for someone who only likes modernity - cuz there ain't none here -- but the place is super charming.  The furniture is all dark and antique, the light switches pre-historic, the toilet and shower rooms are down the hall.... but when you get all cozy in your room, you start noticing the details.  A long Japanese robe (for you to act out your favorite "Kill Bill" sword fight scenes), ample towledge, and definitely one of the most comfortable hotel beds I've ever slept in with fine Italian linens.  I don't know if I have its history totally accurate, but I believe the hotel is on the site of one of 2 existing (but non-functioning) Japanese bath houses in Seattle.  Up to the very start of Japanese-American Internment,  workers lived in the hotel and used the below-ground communal baths. 

Jan also opened up a handsome coffee and tea house on the ground floor, with strong coffee, superb snacks and lots of historical information and artifacts of not only the Hotel's history, but the surrounding neighborhood as well.

This is a panel of glass in the cafe's floor through which you can see steamer trunks filled with the belongings of the former Japanese residents, abandoned when the Internment began. 

Lunch.  A grilled vegetable and tuna panini on excellent, locally-made bread. Jan told me that she goes to the farmers market herself to select the organic produce and roasts the vegetables in house.  I'd believe it...

Instead of wandering around Seattle, I pretty much stayed in my room all day, reading and running up and down to the cafe for coffee and grub.  I was just happy to kick it in such a nice bed and quiet room.  Walking around the creaky halls of the hotel, you really do feel a sense of another time and world.  When I got tired of reading, I put on the long Japanese robe and had an imaginary sword fight with Uma Thurman in the full-length mirror.  Apparently, Jan busted Bruce for smoking in his room. 

Before Bruce's reading at the Elliot Bay Book Co. I wanted to check out the Rem Koolhaus-designed Public Library.  I was glad that it was closed, as it was empty inside, except for the security guard, who was playing a game of checkers on his computer. I'll be curious to see how the library ages and how the design resonates in 10 years...

I arrived early to the bookstore, wanting to do some shopping there to increase the weight of my luggage by 40 lbs.  When browsing the magazines, I heard a rap at the window.  I looked up to see Bruce, standing outside smiling and gesturing to his watch (the international sign for "how many minutes do I have left to smoke before I have to go read??")  I held up 3 fingers, meaning 3 minutes, however I think he was grateful to interpret it as "3 cigarettes," all of which he smoked simultaneously.

While I was looking at the new fiction, this young guy walked in, rocking a suit, a boutonniere and these  Adam and the Ants / New Romantic lines painted across his face.  The American Northwest is populated with thousands of Native American / tribe types, but I never imagined them to be so stylish.  I thought, "Wow, I hope we're under seige!"  I approached slowly, holding out an outstretched hand, and started to apologize for everything this country has done wrong, everywhere, to everyone.

Morgan, however, explained that he was a performer in this modern circus group called  "Pure Cirkus"  (www.pureCirkus.com) and that they were doing a show down the street. 

Bruce had already started reading by the time I lumbered down the stairs with my new books in what might have been the noisest shopping bag in the history of shopping bags.  Noisily, I naturally took a seat next to this cute, young goth couple.  While Bruce read, the cute goth girl started drawing on a piece of paper in pink ink.  Faces. Words.  I waited for her to draw some bats or a skull or at least the words, "Bela Lugosi is my Lover." During the question and answer part of the reading, the cute goth girl asked "Why do you mention Blade Runner twice in the book?" I, too, had briefly wondered the same thing while I was reading "The Romanian," as well as really liking Bruce's multiple uses of the word "gelatin."  All my life, I've loved words, and Bruce uses them in beautiful, unexpected ways.

But maybe Ridley Scott (and no, not everyone knows that he directed Blade Runner) SHOULD adapt "The Romanian" for the big screen.  I can see it now.  Set in a futuristic, utopian Budapest, cannibalisitc Bruce amuses himself by paying young male hustlers to wrestle one another, gladiator style, in vats of milky Eastern European gelatin, devouring both the winner and the loser.  On his return to New York, he and John Waters slather one another in Gerovital face cream, securing a pact for eternal youth and beauty.  With Tom Cruise securely in the trunk, they drive over a tall cliff in a large convertible vintage Cadillac, wearing nothing but polka-dotted handkerchiefs, sunglasses and CDG #2.

As it turned out, the cute goth girl was the girlfriend of the cute goth-ish guy, who was once a student of Bruce's when he taught a seminar at Evergreen College.  (They all have names but I can't remember them.  Jayson?  Katrina?  They sure were nice people.) We all went for sushi afterwards, along with another easy going former student of Bruce's when he taught a semester at the radical Deep Springs College (for Boys2Men) where I hear "skinnydipping" is an accredited course of study.  The younger former student had just had all of his widsom teeth out and couldn't eat a bite of anything he ordered. I felt bad for him so I ate all of it to make him feel better.  I asked the cute goth girl for the drawing that she had made while Bruce was reading, so you could see it.  She generously handed it over. 

I think Diane and I travel pretty well together.  I just pull her out of my duffel bag...(Thanks again to Jon / Dead.)

Bruce and I parted ways shortly after this murky photo was taken; he to Chicago to continue his tour and I back to San Francisco.  Disco balls are a common occurrence in Bruce's life, but the light they reflect pales in comparison to his own natural radiance, energy and spirit.  I want to publicly thank him for letting me tag along on his West Coast tour and to you for reading about it.   

DINO DINCO
BOOK GROUPIE

Stella Starsky of Starsky + Cox at the Colette Water Bar

Fri 03/03/2006 17:11 DianePERNET(1968)
Dear Shaded Viewers,

Sex is becoming quite trendy in Paris these days what with the boutique sex shops popping up around town. Today until the 4th Colette has a visit from the writers of the book Sextrology who are giving mini readings in their Water Bar.

Starsky + Cox met 23 years ago when they were students. I found this quite interesting as I'd always heard that Capricorn and Libra was not a great combination.  Ten years ago  the two of them were doing readings for a Teen Magazine when they were discovered by Rob Weisbach of William Morrow. He proposed that they do a book. They worked on it for four years, it came out in 2004, was a huge success  and now they are busy with their second book and at the same time they are developing themselves as a brand. A year and a half ago the BBC proposed that they do a TV show which should be aired in the next year.  In dealing with Sextrology they base their findings  on pop culture, literature, myths, archetypes and even biblical references and they say that they are the first book of it's kind that deals with gay couple relationships as well as straight ones.

In addition to the readings they offer leather bound hand crafted sextrology charts. Perhaps they will become the Hermes of the Astrology world.

Later, Diane

DINO DINCO : PORTLAND, Part 2

.....on the road, with Bruce Benderson....

While Bruce was being interviewed by the local press about "The Romanian," I walked around downtown Portland a bit, as I had never spent any time there.  Let's just say that it felt very grey and very white, with a "village" sensibility about it. On the same day, you might bump into the guy that robbed your house at the espresso bar, the thrift store and waiting on line at the post office. 

This woman is definitely one of the hightlights of my journey.  I was a bit nervous asking to take a picture of her, but glad that I mustered the courage. Like a seasoned Hollywood actress, she replied, "Oh, all right, but as long as it doesn't take too long.  My legs hurt."

I'm still looking for the bottle of beer this public sculpture could open.

The Roxy, one of the few all-night diners in downtown Portland, feeding a hodgepodge of youth subcultures. 

The Roxy's jukebox.  W.W.J.P.?  (What Would Jesus Play?) 

Nothing is worse than being nailed to a cross when your toes can't stretch out just a little bit further to hit number "3502" -- "Vacation" by The Go-Go's.

Tragedy in front of the fountain...

All the best Portland private schools couldn't save Mr. Whiskers from his internal demons.

Later on that night, I went to pick up Broothey-Brooth from his hotel room to head out for some dinner. (I insisted that we have separate rooms, as after doing some internet research, I learned that he is an aggressive bed hog.)  While marching around his room trying to figure out which Nice Collective shirt made him look...err... skinnier (and less "busty"), he told me that he had just been on the phone, laughing with a friend about this largely negative review of "The Romanian" that had just come out in a small, free press called The Willamette Weekly.  Seems that the reviewer was more intent on judging Broothy-Brooth as a person and his behavoirs rather than the book itself.  (http://www.wweek.com/editorial/3216/7274/)  There's a reason that I even mention this...

We meet up with Bruce's longtime friend, Walt Curtis, at a trendy hotel / restaurant / bar / performance space called "The Jupiter / Doug Fir" on Portland's Eastside.  Think of a sanitized Disney version of a sprawling log cabin complex, dubbed "One of the 116 best new hotels in the world" by Conde Nast Traveler Magazine.  The food is good but I wonder how long this Dwell Magazine / theme park outcropping will last.  Walt is probably most known for authoring the book "Mala Noche" and for 35 years, has co-hosted a poetry radio show in Portland called "The Talking Earth."  (http://www.kboo.fm/programs/25.php) As I had written earlier, Gus Van Sant had adapted "Mala Noche" for his directorial debut and although the film is difficult to find, it's worth tracking down for the striking, contrasty black and white photography alone.  There is a fairly recent French translation of "Mala Noche" (Hachette Litteratures / Le Livre de Poche) available, with a cover image by Miguel Rio Branco. 

Walt loves his poetry and he loves his Merlot.  He's feisty and warm and loud and sweet. And he seems to keep things pretty simple.  When Bruce chides him for not having email to that they can stay in closer contact, Walt replies, "Ahh, Bruce...you know.... with email....you get all these emails and then ...well, then you have to write back!"

Bruce dips outside to smoke with a young friend of Walt's, an up-and-coming writer who plays violin in the band performing at The Jupiter that night.  Walt and I talk shit about the whole JT Leroy / bad literature hoax.  A few minutes later, Bruce returns to the restaurant, eyes like saucers.  "Do you know what just happened out there?" Walt and I both chime, "No, what?"  Bruce continues, "I went out to smoke and this young woman walks up looking like a mess.  Her hair is all in her eyes, she's drunk and she's whining about this guy leaving her.  She seems to know your friend, Walt (referring to the violin player), and she asks if I'm from Portland.  I say that 'No, I'm just traveling and that I'm a writer on a book tour, blah blah blah.' So she says, 'Oh, what book?'  And I tell her and she says, 'Wait, I reviewed that book for the Willamette Weekly!  I looked her in the eye and told her, 'That was a horribly written review.' Well, she then says, 'But I really liked the book!...wait...I don't believe you. You're not Bruce Benderson....' Because you know, she added nearly a decade to my age in her review which shows you how good her research is.  Then I just walked away."  Check, please!

So, ya see?  If you don't bump into your house burgler at the espresso bar, you WILL bump into your 20-something book reviewer bemoaning getting dumped by some guy at the trendy log cabin restarant.

Walt invited us back to his place, a basement apartment directly under a nearby restaurant / bar where an afro-brazilian / house club happens 3 nights a week.  That night was one of those nights. "Yeah, it's loud," Walt explained, yelling at us while the walls and ceiling reverberated, "but it's cheap."  While Bruce and Walt talked about old times, I wandered around, discovering that Walt and I both have the vinyl copy of "Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House."  I played the "Chinese Water Torture" track and Walt and I cracked up. 

Bruce only asked, "What the hell is this?"

I instantly loved Walt's place, mostly in that it speaks of someone who has sacrificed a lot for what he's passionate about.  And for three nights a week, you get a free vibrating bed.

Walt and Bruce cruising the pages of the Abercrombie and Fitch "magalogue."  They're unanimous in deeming it "horrible."

Just as I'm about to crawl into bed in the hotel, my phone rings.  It's Broothy-Brooth wanting to know if I had seen the No Smoking signs in the elevators, detailing the minimum $ 200 fine if a guest was caught smoking in the rooms, among other penalties.  "Yeah, I saw it, why?"  He whispered, "Well, you know I bought that can of spray that masks the scent of cigarette smoke?" "Yeah, you told me," I replied, looking at the clock that now said 3:47. "Well, do you think I could smoke in that little middle room between the bathroom and the bedroom and just spray the whole can in there?  It's raining on the roof." I pictured Bruce getting shoved into the back of a Portland police car, cigarette in mouth while wearing only a pair of leopard print bikini briefs and too much Comme des Garcons #2, so much that it made the policeman sneeze uncontrollably.  Under no means was MY road trip going to end short.... I warned him of a possible smoke detector in that little room and recommended that he stand in front of the kitchette's stove, exhaling very carefully into the overhead oven vent while also frying up a small pan of onions in butter.

DINO DINCO

Mario Canal: Fashion kills (but doesn't fatten)

Dear Diane, dear shaded viewers,
Ramon Fano is the fashion editor of Neo2 magazine and long time friend. Is not for this that I consider him the best and most creative spanish journalist of our generation. He is. I tell you.
Now he has just published a book, "La moda mata (pero no engorda)": "Fashion kills (but doesn't fatten)". The book is a funny and acid view on spain's fashion world. It's written as a diary and the alter ego of Ramon is Mongomeri, an addict to fashion, work and coke. Once you start it you can't stop reading and laughing -you should see the faces of people on me, at the subway: they thought I was crazy-.
It's probably going to be a bestseller here as long as he speaks about everybody -sorry, not published abroad yet, and only available on spanish-. I bet you that spaniard fashionistas are looking for their names like crazy to see how they look on words.