Fashion Your Seat Belt

Made in Hawaii. Educated in Los Angeles. Thriving in New York. My life and inspirations on a platter. Bon Appetit.
Bill Me Later.

Bill Me Later.

Open Wide.

Open Wide.

Dirty Little Secret.

Dirty Little Secret.

Phoenix Reborn.

Late last night, Britney Spears unleashed her latest music video for the official Gay Anthem of 2013: “Work Bitch”.  The video is ridiculous, weird, sexy, campy — and the best thing Britney’s done in nearly a decade.

**I use the term ‘best video’ since “Till the World Ends” is obviously the finest dance single of the new millennium**

The song itself is classic Britney:  random lyrics, infectious hook, light on the vocals and heavy on the synthesized moans. Welcome back, girl.

image

Shot in a litany of random settings, the video is as equally insatiable: CGI sharks, leather bullwhips, exploding mannequins, a nod to her upcoming Vegas venue - the eye candy never pauses.  Sure, there’s every blatant product placement included in a Target catalog – her perfume, a Beats Pill speaker, said Vegas venue – and look, there’s a Bugatti cruising by! (or maybe it’s a Maserati… or a Lamborghini?) I’m too dizzy to discern.

Above all, the real reason why this video works is clearly the main attraction herself – the body, the dancing, the hair, the makeup — it’s as if her publicists planets finally decided to align. Flanked by an army of Betty Page-looking hookers writhing in the Nevada desert holding an extra-long leash, Britney has returned. Gone are the days of a troubled 20-something yr. old star, painted with a perma-vapid gaze dancing to clunky choreography mumbling “It’s Britney, bitch”.  No this time, she’s directing: winking at the world while rolling the word “governor” around her tongue like it’s a chocolate-covered raspberry.  

Now get to work, Bitch.”

image

Power Puff.

Power Puff.

Color at Celine.

NEWSFLASH: Minimalism is out and Pop Art is in. Fashion’s preeminent Queen of Clean took a titillating turn for the flaunt yesterday, showing saturated strokes of pattern, paint and pop art potpourri. 

It was like Lichtenstein, Haring and Banksy all met for cocktails and had a gas. Naturally, I was a fan.

Thelma & Louise. 

Thelma & Louise. 

Power Couple.

Power Couple.

No Soliciting.

No Soliciting.

#YES

#YES

Make it Reign.

If the Oscars mark Fashion Homecoming in the Fall (the Met clearly being Prom), then the annual CFDA Fashion Awards, held last night in NY, are most certainly the graduating procession.  No circus of avant-garde themes, no failed Best Actress attempts (cough, Hathaway), just an illustrious council of fashion designers and their honors.

From Erin Wasson in Alexander Wang to Vera Wang in Vera Wang, Jourdan Dunn in that charming Calvin Klein number and Karlie in that fresh-from-the-shower patent leather look à la Cushnie et Ochs – these students come in at the head of their class.

Top honors, however, clearly go to Ms. Richie. That gold statuesque Marc Jacobs ensemble recalls the minimalist days of 90210 yore. Little Richie Rich was the Prom Queen, Valedictorian, Head Cheerleader and Student Body President all wrapped into one. Emphasis, of course, on the body.

Maaranen Madness.

Maaranen Madness.

Pretty in Punk.

Last night’s Met Gala, honoring “Punk: Chaos to Couture”, should have been an open invitation for bawdy behavior.  It was exciting, if not shocking, for Anna Wintour to throw a Punk Party on the fashion fete of the year – giving Hollywood and Fashion luminaries full carte blanche to strap on a safety pin mohawk and ascend the world’s most formidable red carpet. Yet clearly, only a handful of women read the fine print…

After being internationally scathed at this year’s Oscars, little Anne Hathaway somehow managed to emerge on top - giving us full femme fatale in vintage Valentino and a new Blondie-inspired weave to boot. I’ll probably dunk my head in a public toilet for saying this in a month, but she may have been the evening’s best dressed. Lionel Richie’s adopted daughter also attempted a fearless hair revival, but sadly came across looking more like a cig that needed to be ashed. Good thing her bejeweled Topshop gown Shine Bright Like a Diamond.

Metal spikes were also trending last night (shocker). Sienna in spiked Burberry, Cameron in spiked Stella McCartney, Coco in spiked Ungaro – it’s a wonder Andre Leon Talley didn’t pick one of the girls up to pop Kim Kardashian. 

I mean… Anna Wintour finally lets Kimmy K onto the coveted Met Gala red carpet, and this is what happens.

image

Thankfully, not everyone was grotesque in Givenchy. From “Girl with the Dragon Tatoo” to “Girl who can do no wrong on the Red Carpet,” Rooney Mara soared. Plunging neckline, plunging backline, ox blood lips and channeling Punk by way of ethereal white — girl is the preeminent Givenchy Goddess… 

image

I Want In.

I Want In.