Dita Von Teese: Gallery of the Unexpected

See also the behind-the-scenes gallery and diary from this shoot.

Burlesque icon Dita Von Teese — who we’ve had the pleasure of speaking with once or twice — is one of the most fascinating, stylish, and original performers on the world stage. We’re pleased to bring you a vivacious fashion gallery of Dita at her most splendid, tricked out in the hautest of haute couture from the likes of Jean Paul Gaultier, Christian Dior, and many more. See full gallery, but today’s treat is just the beginning.

For this shoot, Dita was photographed by the celebrated magical realists at MoDa’s Touch, who dolled her up in a 60s sci-fi fantasy. Stay tuned for a full shooter’s diary, plus more behind-the-scenes pics and video. Meanwhile, you can catch Dita Von Teese in the flesh by visiting Paris — she starts with all-new shows at the Crazy Horse on February 1.

Vintage Von Teese

The world’s most famous burlesque queen. Marilyn Manson’s embittered ex. Stripper. However one chooses to describe Dita Von Teese, the labels are certain to fall short. One thing that cannot be denied, however, is her allure, which isn’t at all the sum of her fleshy parts, her sparkly stage gear or even her affinity for public sponge baths. There’s a mystery that surrounds the Michigan native. One finds, when speaking with her, innocence mixed with irony, self-confidence muddled in with a knee-buckling hint of self-deprecation. This reporter, obviously smitten, stutters and stumbles his way through an interview with the smoldering brunette — knowing full well that the voice on the other line is lying in bed, wearing a vintage slip. Gulp.

Is your show more about style or sex? If it’s one or the other, then it’s not really interesting. The fact that I’m doing a striptease is obvious, so for that, I have to think more about the sexual side of things, the sensual side. But when sexuality, style, humor and playfulness all come together, along with a bit of innocence, well, that’s when a burlesque show becomes great.

I saw you perform a few months ago in New York. I was so flustered I spilled my drink all over my shirt. How much of you, the real you, comes across on stage? My show is the real me. I never ever do a show and think about what character I’m going to create, who I’m going to be. I figured out a long time ago that I’m at my best when I’m comfortable and confident, rather than pretending to be sexy or trying to vamp it up for the audience. I’m just out there having a good time, and it’s all kind of a big joke.

I read an interview in which you said you’re not the blonde girl-next-door. But you were until you dyed your hair. Everyone hears my Michigan accent, coming out of this girl who looks like she’s from Germany. It was really confusing for people, and I certainly could have faked it all the way, but what I’m getting at is the way that I dance, the way that I move, and my personality — it’s not just a look. If it were just about looks, I probably wouldn’t be the most famous burlesque star in the world, because I’m sure that I’m not the most beautiful one.

When you’re at home, alone, are you a total mess? People always think I just hang around in jeans or a tracksuit, and I’m like, Well, no. I’m sitting here right now, having just rolled out of bed, wearing a vintage slip. I don’t have any makeup on, my hair is probably a disaster, but that doesn’t mean I’ll put on jeans and a T-shirt because no one’s looking. I mean, I don’t put on a full face of makeup, heels and a little black dress every time I walk out the door — I’m not an alien from another planet who doesn’t like to be comfortable — it’s just that, for me, the natural version of me, is only for people who are close to me. I don’t know why everyone wants me to wear jeans so badly.

Is burlesque still exciting the way it was when you first started? There are upsides and downsides. I sort of miss the old days when I walked on stage and there were no journalists, there were no cameras, CNN wasn’t there.

When you were in New York last, reporters were jotting everything down, and I remember thinking, Um, what exactly are they writing? I remember that day! When I walked out, there were three people with pads of paper writing down everything I was doing when I was onstage. I was like, Really, are you kidding me right now? You can’t just watch and remember what you saw without jotting down notes? That part sucks. I sometimes think, Wouldn’t it be great if I could go back to those moments when I could walk out on the strip-club stage and just let it all go.

When you were working at those strip clubs, were you satisfied? I had little ambitious moments where I thought, Okay, so now I’m this famous fetish model, I’m going to be the best fetish model I can be. And when I was working in the strip clubs I thought, I’m going to be the best headlining stripper that I can be. I didn’t ever think, Oh, I would really love to dance at a Louis Vuitton opening.

Is it difficult to negotiate the glamour and empowerment you feel during performances, with the suspicion that you’re being objectified? You always have that double-edged sword. You’re like, Well, I feel empowered because I’m independent and no men in my personal life can tell me what to do. I’m paying my own rent, and no one can tell me where to be. But then there’s the other side of things: Am I using my body? I’ve had a lot of arguments with myself over this, but I think that if I were Nicole Kidman, and I were in a movie, and they were negotiating over my body parts — what my tits are worth, what my ass is worth, how much extra money that’s going to get me — how is that any different?

You were married to Marilyn Manson at the Helnwein family mansion in Ireland. It was officiated by Alejandro Jodorowsky. Weirdest day ever? No, because you have two people who are very theatrical and are both from unglamorous places. So, it made sense that when we got married, it became a kind of performance.

You wore a stunning purple Vivienne Westwood. Is that your favorite gown? No. I mean, I enjoyed it, but I have lots of really great dresses. I still have it, of course. It takes up a lot of space in my storage.

Must be a big storage room. I go shopping in my own storage unit. And I have another room in my house that’s been converted into a walk-in closet and another one where I keep all of my big hats. I have a really big hat collection.

How do you feel about the burlesque revival? I think it’s great. I’m never threatened because I definitely have a specific brand of burlesque. How should I put this? I’m not really concerned by the competition, because I’ve already moved on to the next thing by the time they think they’ve caught up to me. I used to be the only one who did the fan dancing and now it’s like, Okay, that was a long time ago and I’ve already moved on. Then I made a martini glass. And now other people are making martini glasses, so now I’m making other things or making bigger martini glasses.

You must get really sick of that huge glass routine. Yeah, totally. Every once in a while, I tell people that the glass is broken. I have this big, beautiful birdcage, I have this opium den set, I have a big swan fountain — I have all these cool things. But it seems like no matter what I do, I’m the girl in the glass.

Let’s go back to before when you said that you’re a stripper, plain and simple. That seems a touch reductive. Yeah, it is. But it’s like, if I say it first, what are people going to say? It’s one thing I learned a long time ago: if you just agree with people then there’s nothing they can say. Everyone has the right to define talent and beauty. I’m not against the word “stripper.”

But critics use it to be hurtful. I guess I don’t want to be a holier-than-thou stripper, because I worked at a strip club and, 10 years ago, you could have paid $20 for me to sit on your lap any night of the week. It would be rude of me to say, I’m not a stripper, I’m a burlesque queen. I don’t think I’m better than the pole dancers.

Are you at all interested in contemporary fashion? Everything you wear seems to reference the past. Since I was 16 years old, everything I’ve done has been a little retro. I’ve gone through my phases where I’ve thought, I’m going to be really modern today. For years, I had this Diane Von Furstenberg black wrap dress, just sitting in my closet. I recently gave it to my mother. When I put on a really modern dress or jeans, it looks like a Halloween costume. Actually, every year I say I’m going to dress up as a normal girl for Halloween. I haven’t done it yet. One of these days, though, I’m totally going to get a bunch of spray tans and put on some jeans and get some high-heel sandals and see what happens. There’s something deeper in me that makes me like things from the past. I never ever wanted to be a little girl, ever. When a lot of friends were into the whole schoolgirl fantasy, I was always like, I wouldn’t be caught dead. I’m 35 years old. I’m not 19 years old anymore, playing around with different looks. I know who I am and I’ve known for a long time.

(See our full Style Gallery.)

BlackBook’s 2008 Style Gallery

Designer Jean Paul Gaultier once said, rather famously, “It’s always the badly dressed people who are the most interesting.” Here, a style gallery that begs to differ, filled with artists, eccentrics, beatniks, showgirls, gypsies, hipsters — and one very dapper man of the cloth.

DITA VON TEESE, actress, model, burlesque queen, photographed at The Way We Wore vintage store in Los Angeles. (See our extended interview with Dita.) Dita Von Teese speaks with a blue-collar lilt, which does little to suggest the curvy, reigning empress of burlesque who controls gaggles of fans while splashing around in Brobdingnagian champagne glasses, sponge in hand. But then she says, revealing her circean charm, “I’m sitting here, having just rolled out of bed, wearing a vintage slip. I don’t have any makeup on, my hair is probably a disaster, but that doesn’t mean I’ll put on a tracksuit simply because no one’s looking. I don’t know why everyone wants me to wear jeans so badly.” Born Heather Renée Sweet in Rochester, Michigan, Teese trained to become a professional ballet dancer before landing her first strip-club gig. “Ten years ago,” she says, “you could have paid $20 for me to sit on your lap any night of the week. So it would be rude of me to say, I’m not a stripper, I’m a burlesque queen.” Today, however, the self-styled, 35-year-old star is more likely to be found working the red carpet than a greasy pole. “I never wanted to be a little girl, ever,” says Teese, of her Old Hollywood look. “A lot of my friends were into the whole schoolgirl fantasy — ponytails and the whole thing. I wouldn’t be caught dead! I’m a grown woman. I know who I am and I’ve known for a long time.”

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SARAH SOPHIE FLICKER, trapeze artist, filmmaker, founding member of the Citizens Band, photographed in her Canal Street office, New York City.

Deep within Sarah Sophie Flicker’s palatial apartment in downtown Manhattan, amidst the hoards of rare showgirl costumes and shimmering accessories, hangs a trapeze. Its owner, a trapeze artist and founder of New York’s burlesque troupe the Citizens Band (supermodel Karen Elson is a member; actress Zooey Deschanel has performed with them), often dons a sequined cat mask that sits cocked atop her head — it’s one of her many extravagant headpieces. “I have this really amazing showgirl costume with a matching star headband,“ she says. “I found it on eBay when I was pregnant, like, outrageously gigantic. And it just happened to come in the mail right when my daughter was born. So I connect the two. It’s stupid, but I do.” Overrun with vintage pieces — chorus girl bloomers from the 1920s and suffragette costumes — the storage space that houses Flicker’s theatrical wardrobe reflects her fertile imagination. “I’ve always had a really rich fantasy life,” she says, “and I only like wearing things that make me feel like I’m in another time, from another place — the star of my own fairy tale. I’ll wake up and think, I want to be a farm girl from the 1930s.”

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REVEREND AL SHARPTON, TV personality, radio host, social justice activist, photographed in his office at the National Action Network in Harlem, New York City. (See our extended interview with the Rev.)

Reverend Al Sharpton seems an unlikely style icon, to be sure. In his youth, the Brooklyn native was often photographed in tracksuits, heavy medallions dangling from his substantial neck. Today, the 53-year-old civil rights activist and Democratic candidate for the 2004 presidential election has embraced a more subtle, distinguished look. And he’ll be the first to admit that clothes, even if they don’t quite make the man, can leave lasting impressions. “I try to wear outfits that make the statement I’m looking to make,” he says. “If I’m going on Larry King Live to make a point about Obama, I might wear a very plain suit and tie — best not to get in the way of your message. At a march, however, I might wear a flashy walking suit because people are going to see me leading the way. I may want to give a statement of anger, so I’m going to dress in a safari-like number. I sometimes want to appeal to mercy, in which case I’ll dress more ministerial. Anyone in the public eye who doesn’t think about their physical presence is inept.” Despite changes to his look, one constant remains: that lush, iconic head of hair, an homage to his mentor, the late James Brown. “I kept my hair like Brown’s when a lot of my Black Nationalist friends felt that was inappropriate,” says Sharpton, who stars in this month’s HBO documentary, The Black List. “I’ve always defined myself.”

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TERENCE KOH, artist, photographed at his studio in Chinatown, New York City.

Manhattan galleries brim with characters, none of whom come close to capturing the eccentric magic (and sartorial insanity) of Canadian artist Terence Koh. Formerly known as “asianpunkboy,” Koh has exhibited his work — everyday objects covered in his bodily fluids; a neon rooster titled “Big White Cock” — throughout the world’s most hallowed art halls. And while his controversial creations have won praise from critics, it’s his inimitable personal style — improbable costumes made from human hair, Cossack fur hats and iMac cable cord scarves — that sets him apart from the black smock set. When asked about the relationship between high art and high fashion, he says, “The sun lights the moon as the moon lights the sun.” Okay, but how does the 28-year-old provocateur express himself through the clothes he wears? “I repeat, when you clap your hands, they make an impact.”

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LOU DOILLON, model, actor, designer, musician, photographed at her apartment in Paris, France.

Lou Doillon’s corporeal list of role models includes empowered icons like Queen Elizabeth I, Dorothy Parker and Mary Queen of Scots. (“Mary had a crimson petticoat made for her execution, so that it would match her blood,” she says. “I live for those kind of anecdotes.”) The 26-year-old daughter of Jane Birkin and French film director Jacques Doillon, who became famous at the age of 15 for her piercings, dreadlocks and petulance, has recently retired from the spotlight to indulge her creativity. “I have a strict policy in my home — no television and no press. I’d rather stay isolated and dream away the next collection.” Having recently wrapped Lettres Intimes, her one-woman theatrical show throughout France and readying herself to start filming a movie in September, the former face of Givenchy and Miu Miu has also begun designing her own clothes, the Lee Cooper by Lou Doillon collection. Inspired by tomboys, train tracks and Jeanne Moreau in Jules et Jim, her pieces range from cheeky high-waisted shorts to long T-shirts fitted with thumbholes. “I never wanted to create clothes just for skinny girls with no boobs,” she says of the line, adding, “I always have a hard time keeping a style once it’s become ‘trendy.’ I feel like all the personality slips away when everyone is doing it. But that’s because I’m egotistical and I always like to be somewhat off.”

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THE WATSON TWINS, musicians, photographed in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. When Chandra and Leigh Watson (known professionally as the Watson Twins) were asked to dress alike for their BlackBook photo shoot because, well, symmetry seemed cute, they balked at the idea. Chandra, describing their stint as back-up singers for Rilo Kiley songbird Jenny Lewis, says, shuddering, “When Jenny told us that we were going to be wearing the same costumes, we were mortified. We were like, You can’t do this to us!” But as they quit Los Angeles this past summer for a brief American tour in support of their latest album, Fire Songs, focus shifted toward having to reinvent their look. On their first tour they dressed in white, exclusively, but this time around, Leigh asks, “How can you wear the same three items of clothing every single day and still look fresh?” Their aesthetic, inspired by singer-songwriters like Stevie Nicks, Carly Simon and Belinda Carlisle, stems from a mix-and-match indifference about wearing “a really high-end designer or something we found in a store for five dollars,” says Chandra. How best, then, to move past their obvious similarities? “It’s a fine line,” she says. “We want people to recognize us as individuals, but also as a duo.” Might they avoid the whole twin thing by parting ways and going solo? After a few seconds of silence, Leigh says, near whisper, “Never say never.”

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SIGUR ROS, musicians, photographed in Reykjavík, Iceland.

They cut dashing figures as a kind of gonzo marching band, but such was not always the case for Sigur Rós. The minimalist Icelandic quartet was once, in fact, pure grunge. “We used to wander on stage in whatever we’d been wearing for the previous day or two… and not just from one day to the next, but from one year to the next,” says Georg Holm (top left), the band’s bass guitarist, now revamped into a foppish 19th-century milliner. Tired of the routine — and suspect hygiene, perhaps — they began retooling their live show from the ground up, which meant taking a critical look at their collective style. They even chose to trade in their ratty T-shirts for flamboyant costumes created by Icelandic designer Hrafnhildur Arnardóttir. When asked to describe the new aesthetic, a rather perfect if unexpected reflection of their ghostly sound, Holm stops to think. “Let’s see,” he says. “Jónsi [Birgisson, guitarist and vocalist] looks like a Victorian chimney sweep, Kjartan [Sveinsson, keyboardist] adopted a kind of classical composer garb (or sometimes a super sleek Helmut Lang skintight affair) and Orri [Páll Dýrason, drummer] has a variety of outfits stretching from The Karate Kid to The Lost Boys.”

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RITA ACKERMANN, artist, photographed at her studio in Chinatown, New York City.

“I’m an exquisite walking corpse drawing,” says Rita Ackermann. The Hungarian-born, New York-based artist, who was featured at this year’s Whitney Biennal, has created buzz for her idiosyncratic renderings of pubescent girls, her audacious ensembles and, of course, the red ballpoint pen she’s applied to runway models’ faces (“I’m still surprised that I don’t see more people wearing ballpoint pen makeup,” she shrugs). Known for her singular, rococo brand of style, she says, “There are no clothes that I consider outrageous. My favorite page in tabloids is ‘When Bad Clothes Happen to Good People.’ I have a funny bikini that I wear all summer with popsicles on it saying ‘Lick Me.’ Is that outrageous?” Her most prized possession is a custom-made, pink couture suit she bought for $30. The two-piece costume once belonged, appropriately, to Ilona Staller (stage name Cicciolina), a Hungarian porn star turned democratic politician who was once married to artist Jeff Koons. Ackermann says, “She had put it up for auction to bail out her pop singer girlfriend from jail.”

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JACKSON POLLIS, musician, model, deejay, photographed at his apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

Jackson Pollis, 18, has a thick nest of blond hair. He often wears clunky, black glasses. These two facts, more than anything, have come to define the Brooklyn-based drummer for rock quartet Frankpollis, once known as “Action Jackson,” an honorary member of New York’s raven-topped deejay trio the MisShapes. And despite close friendships with fashion types — “Ag [supermodel Agyness Deyn] is probably the sole reason I know anything about what is happening in the fashion world” — Pollis pays little attention to what transpires under the tents at Bryant Park. Of his look, and the inexorable comparisons to late pop art icon Andy Warhol, he shrugs, “Warhol’s cool, but I like Keith Haring more. I also like simple, early ’90s stuff, the style of Pavement or Sonic Youth.” When asked to predict the evolution of his own aesthetic, he says, “Maybe I’ll start wearing JNCO jeans again, or UFO pants. At some point in the future, I’ll be wearing white cargo shorts, sandals with white socks and a golf visor. That’s inevitable.”

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RINKO KIKUCHI, actor, photographed in Nakano, Tokyo, Japan.

Rinko Kikuchi is a woman of few words. But, as the 26-year-old Japanese actress proved in her Academy Award-nominated turn as a deaf-mute in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s sprawling 2006 epic, Babel, reticence is a virtue. Kikuchi conveys more unfettered emotion with her haunting, deep-set brown eyes, framed by that angular black mane, than any inflected, histrionic actress of her generation. In next month’s rollicking crime caper, The Brothers Bloom, starring Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffalo and Rachel Weisz, the seasoned motorcyclist and sword-fighter again minces few words as Bang Bang, a feisty con artist who, appropriately, loves to blow things up. Taking a break from filming her next movie in Bangkok, Thailand, the face of Chanel’s 2008 Cruise collection says of her style, “I wear what I want to wear depending on how I’m feeling. I love YSL, Alexander McQueen and Martin Margiela.” And despite wholly embracing vintage outfits from the 1960s and 1970s, she looks equally stunning in more quirky fare. Of her most outrageous ensemble, she says, smiling, “That would have to be my red and white bodysuit.”

The Stripper Next Door

There she is, lounging on a bed in plain sight. The sight of her, however, is anything but. Burlesque brunette Dita Von Teese started out as a ballerina. She then ditched the pirouettes, sort of, to undress alongside her best friend and a room of bottle-blonde strippers at a local club. Somehow, Teese’s tenacity has seen her through her Bettie Page beginnings all the way past her failed marriage to Marilyn Manson. Below, we sidle up next to Teese to talk corsets, cheetahs, and tabloid piranhas.

BLACKBOOK: You are such a far cry from the conventional stripper, and yet you stay true to the roots of vintage burlesque. How did it all start?

DITA VON TEESE: When I was younger, I worked at a lingerie store. I was heavily influenced by ballet, which I had studied for many years. I was obsessed with vintage lingerie, dresses, and makeup, and I wanted to be photographed wearing these things, like a pin-up girl.

BB: It’s corset over teddy for you, I suppose?

DVT: Yes, definitely. My best girlfriend and I quit our jobs and started working at a strip club, which was such a surprise because all the girls who worked there were blonde, rock ‘n’ roll chicks with tans. And there I was, ivory skin, my jet-black Louise Brooks bob, dressed in a corset, ready with a classic routine.

BB: The notion of vulgarity has certainly changed over time. Today’s strippers seem to rely more heavily on S&M tricks.

DVT: Oh, totally. I mean, look at the Marchesa Luisa Casati [Italian heiress and art patron]. She walked down the street naked, her pet cheetahs on leashes, and look at how classy and flamboyant she was.

BB: What movies inspire you?

DVT: I’m a huge fan of Technicolor and post-war films, the kinds that were all about fun and didn’t have some deep message. I also love Betty Grable and musicals with huge show-stopping song-and-dance numbers, where at the end, all that’s left is love.

BB: What cosmetics can you not live without?

DVT: I’m kind of a basic girl, but if I had to say, I guess red lipstick, hot rollers, face powder, and false eyelashes.

BB: I read somewhere once that you never shower, that you only bathe.

DVT: [Laughs.] No! I love a good shower!

BB: See that? Never trust what you read! I’d love to hear what inspires your fashion sense.

DVT: I’m inspired by so many designers. I love going to shows—seeing all the beautiful clothes, the lights, the colors. I’m more amazed by one 15-minute fashion show than I am by a huge Broadway production.

BB: Who are some of your favorite designers?

DVT: I love Dior, John Galliano, Jean Paul Gaultier, Moschino, and Marc Jacobs—I just love what he’s doing for Louis Vuitton!

BB: Are Dita the performer and Dita the person quite different?

DVT: If people would only get to know me, they’d see I’m completely human and down to earth.

BB: Luckily, gossip columns have been consistently kind to you.

DVT: You know what? They can say whatever they want to about me. They can call me ugly, say I’m not talented, that they don’t like my act, whatever, but they can never say that I didn’t pay my dues.

Photos courtesy Patrick McMullan Company

What A Cointreauversial Teese!

Dita Von Teese stares through the crowd into the spotlight as she gyrates slowly in front of a giant martini glass filled with what looks like antifreeze. She is weighed down by jewels that shimmer over her curves, of which there are many. She slowly removes her corset-like torso clamp to reveal the skin underneath. It’s perfect, the skin, save for a few telling marks left behind by the clothes she is no longer wearing. Ogling, despite myself, I spill the remaining Cointreau Teese I’ve been sipping-guzzling on my shirt. The performance continues, and soon, Teese is giving herself a spongebath. I’ve never in my life seen an audience so rapt. Under lascivious lighting at the Angel Orensanz Foundation—a former synagogue equal parts neo-gothic and “Friederichwerdeschekirche”—Teese wriggles and writhes, her smile forced but warm. Anachronisms are at play, and yet, somehow not. Nobody pays much heed, however, because the drinks are delicious (click the jump for Teese’s recipe), the performer sublime. And, apparently the martini glass was filled with neither antifreeze nor Cointreau. It was Mr. Bubbles.

1 ½ oz. Cointreau ¾ oz. apple juice ½ oz. Monin violet syrup ½ oz. fresh lemon juice

Shake, strain, and garnish with sequins, feathers, or pasties.

‘Nip/Tuck’ Gets Ugly

pf_main_kimber.jpg Kelly Carlson, right, before the drugs.

Nip/Tuck” won’t be back until October��������and we may not sleep until then, because FX is playing marathons of the oldies in the middle of the night��������but we do know this: Kelly Carlson, who plays Kimber, the ex of Christian Troy (Julian McMahon), and last we saw her, a Scientologist who had Christian’s son��������is going to get down and dirty this coming season��������well, even more so.

“All I can tell you,” said Carlson at an L.A. party, “is that I have to not color my hair because Kimber has to have roots. She becomes a horrible drug addict and really goes to the dregs.” Meanwhile, the good docs of McNamara/Troy, in this fourth season, have now relocated to where they should have been all along: Beverly Hills. ��������M.G.

Image courtesy of Patrick McMullan Company.

Lost 80’s Live Feat. Dramarama with A Flock Of Seagulls and When In Rome, Gene Loves Jezebel and Rea

Finally, the chance to dust off the Miami Vice white suit-and-pastel-T combo and Ray Bans �������� and it��������s not even Halloween! Relive those glory days, when the hair was big, the colors were loud and the music was rock. Had enough of hipsters and pop stars? The 80��������s returns to reclaim its former glory. One night only. Then you have to go back to pretending that you��������re cool.

Make Air, Not War

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The air was thick last night at The Fillmore as hardcore fans crowned their new U.S. air guitar champion. Hometown hero, New York’s William Ocean, did his best Guitar Hero, triumphing over fellow contestants Shred Nugent, Rockness Monster, and 2006 champ Hot Lixx Hulahan.

Opening act Satanicide set the evening’s cock-rock tone, with member Peg Romijn-Stamos��������a pigtailed, rouged, bra-clad, pot-bellied man��������working the crowd by gyrating across the stage and touching his privacy. (His official title: lead dancer.)

The performances were heavy on theatrics. Spraying beer was a popular trick, as was tossing beer cans from the crowd, most of which were aimed at judge Jason Jones of “The Daily Show” (Malcolm Gladwell and Rachel Dratch also lent their expertise). Ocean will go on to represent the U.S. at the World Air Guitar Championships in Oulu, Finland. As they say, to err is human, to air guitar, divine. ��������Ariel Vered More, er, musicianship after the jump!

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