Patricia Field’s Bowery Store Closing is a Game-Changer

The closing of Patricia Field’s store on the Bowery is a game-changer. The store—part retail, part salon, part glamour, part acid trip—was where the day met the night. A gazillion sequins and false eyelashes altered personal states, blurred lines and ultimately defined cool. Pat (I always called her Pat) and her minions have dressed generations of club goers, turning peasant girls into Cinderellas and frogs into Prince Charmings. The fashion forward flock flocked to her store, wherever it was, piecing together fabulousness from thousands of inspired pieces.

A rotating gang of stylists, including hair and make-up svengali’s steered the cognizant to perfect finds and the less sure into confidence. They always threw in-store parties or at clubs and everyone showed to flash their style. Trends were always there before magazines declared it, before big designers knocked it off, before the pundits pushed it. Pat was always way before the pack. Her flare, vision and push for really good style broke down gender, political and genre barriers.  Her eye and courage earned her two Emmy wins and a host of award nominations, including an Oscar nod for The Devil Wears Prada. Sex and the City defined Manhattan’s new dating scene, while Pat defined every single look on the iconic show.

Pat was everything everyone called her and she carried it proudly. An uncompromising truth was always her curse and her greatest asset. When you were it, you were it; when you were over, it was simply so. Like some majestic bird, she knew when a fledging needed to leave the nest to soar on its own. Some soared, some not so much. The new was always most important—the new was what was being sold.


Sex and the City

Yesterday, I congratulated Pat on a life well-lived and a continuing life of wonder. She was on set when I called her, working her film and television career. She will focus on that world and the other projects that retail took too much time from. Her “children” will thrive, becoming superstars and leaders, taking what they learned from the legend to grow. At the store’s holiday party Thursday, I asked her fashion superstars what they had planned for the future. Most had only heard the news a few days before, but everyone was confident that Pat had properly prepared them for the world. Pat herself will not easily be replaced, as someone so out of this world yet so down to earth is rare.

I asked Pat when the era will end: “I will be closing the store this spring, approximately March [or] April,” she said. “I do not have an exact date, as the closing of the store will coincide with the closing of the real estate sale.”

During the party, talk was of all Pat’s superstars from eras back. Some names fell through the cracks, but others were mentioned with the reverence of legends: Veronique, Don Patrone, Mark Hudson, Sarah Hudson, Scooter LaForge, Lonnie Barnes, Paul Alexander, JoJo Americo, Steven Kirkham A.K.A. “Profidia,” Barbie, Kozue, Myra and Richard Alvarez.

I asked Pat’s assistant Rosey Vaughn about the designer’s impact: “It is an honor to give you a quote about the woman who taught me everything,” she said. “Without Patricia Field coming into my life I would still be a lost flower child from California looking for my voice, confidence and family in NYC. She taught me how to write emails, market products and how to handle myself as a strong, professional business-minded woman. Having spent 3 1/2 wonderful years as her assistant, I know how very special of a person she is and how she always takes care of her business, friends and family. It is her love for her own independence that has always encouraged me to get mine. Also most importantly she taught me the phrase, ‘Time is money.’”

Vaughn has already landed a big job. They all will. Pat was, above all else an inspiration. I hope to keep in touch. My decades-long friendship with Pat has inspired me to reach for the stars and wear who I am well.

Armen Ra On His Shocking Documentary, Favorite Nightlife Stories, & Theremin

In this holiday-shortened week, with the spring pushing and pushing and pushing its way to free us from this winter of discontent, I am writing about the unusual suspects who toil or play in the clubs as they define their crafts. Yesterday it was FLXX. Today it’s Armen Ra, the master of the theremin. The theremin is a rare, eerie-sounding musical instrument, with its foremost astonishing trait explained by Armen in our interview below. Right now, Aremn is raising loot on Indiegogo for a theremin-infused feature documentary about his life: one of growing up in Iranian aristocracy and, after going on vacation in the United States, being forced to stay there due to the Iranian Revolution. A man from wealth and in exile, his story takes flight when he discovers the magic of the theremin and its effect on people. The fundraiser has six days left, and $4,000 to go to get the feature released.

Armen Ra is a well-known face and figure in the posh NY nightclub scene. His story is of ups and downs and all-arounds. It will shock and awe you. I asked him to tell me all about it
It’s been a long road. You are an exile,  being forced to leave Iran and live in a foreign land. Tell me about that transition.
That transition was a complete nightmare. I literally thought it was a nightmare for years. Coming from a sheltered aristocratic background, growing up in the opera, traveling the world yearly, submerged in music and art and literature. Being stuck here was like Gilligan’s Island from Hell. I started making jewelry, doing puppet shows with sets and costumes, learning about the power of beauty. We had been to the US several times already, but I didn’t speak any English. My mother and sister were fluent though, so they helped. I adapted quite fast in every way possible. I had to. It was a sudden survival, and I was unprepared at that age, but you figure things out when you have to.

Drugs, prostitution, alcohol, a zillion demons – not exactly the American dream. How’d you get out of that?
Divine intervention, self discipline, and believing in my own intelligence to eventually conquer the demons that were in reach. The light is always there. We are all light. The substance abuse was knocking holes in my aura, diminishing the light. It was not easy to get a regular job for someone like me at the time, especially when the club scene collapsed. Sometimes I had nowhere to sleep and was living in my friend’s multi-million dollar mansion. I worked at Patricia Field doing make-up, did reception at hair salons, drag shows, and whatever else I had to do to survive. I even worked at Show World in the old Times Square! Until I found a voice through the theremin, I was spiraling downward. I wanted to be great at something, and drag and clubs and doing make-up did not satisfy that urge, that quiet knowing that something else is in store, but what? A gift from the gods…waiting for me to open my eyes, to look up.

Tim Burton, Andy Warhol, Vali Myers, Salvador Dali met you, checked you out… you guys rubbed shoulders.
Being in NYC at that time and living in the East Village, it was inevitable really. I’ve always been lucky in attracting interesting people, and I was just amazed that such incredible people and artists wanted me around. It wasn’t that I had low self-esteem; I was just coming out of years of school and abuse, so it was a fabulous shock. I tell the stories in the film. It really is like mythology, and thankfully its all documented and witnessed. Being 16 and spending hours a day with Vali Myers in her room at Hotel Chelsea with people like Ira Cohen,  Andy Warhol, and Debbie Harry coming and going was insane. Vali would constantly take Polaroids of me and send them to Dali. Befriending Leigh Bowery and Thierry Mugler, dancing with Grace Jones in the Limelight DJ booth,s itting on the floor of Frankie Knuckles’ DJ booth at the World… going to a tranny hooker club with Tim Burton and Francis Ford Copolla. Yes, really. Doing the 1999 MTV VMAs in the Madonna Drag Queens segment; I represented the frozen video, that’s a story! I COULD go on! 

The theremin. You have mastered it, and yet I’ve never heard of it.
The theremin is the first electronic instrument ever. Invented by Russian Physicist Leon Theremin around 1920, it is the only instrument that is played without touching, and one of the most difficult to play. Many people use it as a sound effect. I play it as a classical instrument and a voice. My theremin has an eight-octave range, so she is like the ultimate opera singer. She sounds like Maris Callas from beyond. The theremin was used in many sci-fi and horror movies in the background. I think it fell into obscurity because it was difficult to play properly and was not easily accessible. My intention is to bring this instrument to the foreground where it belongs. It has taken me all over the world and onto some of the greatest stages. The sound affects people, it brings out emotion, and touches the heart like a beautiful voice does.

What is the film about?
The film is channeling sadness and horror into beauty, and music is the alchemy. It’s about being clear enough to receive. We are in THE LAST WEEK of our Indigogo crowd-funding campaign. We’re asking anyone who is interested in seeing this fabulous film made properly to please help support us by making donations and/or especially spreading the word about the film and the campaign. We are working very hard to create a meaningful, beautiful, high-quality work of art. Any and all support is welcomed and much appreciated.

And thank you, Steve. You helped me when I first started working in clubs by believing in me and giving me work of all kinds, and you continue to support what I am doing. I really appreciate it. You’re a real gentleman.

The Greatest Keith Haring Fashion Collaborations, Ever

Keith Haring would have been 54 years old today. Although the legendary ’80s street artist and social activist is no longer with us (he died at 31 on February 16, 1990) there’s no doubt that his iconic graffiti art lives on. His influence hasn’t only touched the street art world; a handful of fashion designers have also worked with the Keith Haring Foundation to salute Haring by turning his signatures symbols like "The Radiant Baby" into wearable art. From Jeremy Scott to Nicholas Kirkwood, here’s a roundup of some of our favorites.

1. Schott x Jeremy Scott "Perfecto" Jacket: Back in 2009, outre designer Jeremy Scott teamed up with motorcycle jacket master Irving Schott to reimagine his classic moto leather by gracing it with one of Haring’s timeless all-over prints. The now sold-out jacket (sorry guys) has been rocked by Rihanna, Lil’ Wayne and Kanye West, among many others.


2. Joyrich x Keith Haring Capsule Collection: For summer 2011, the cult streetwear label and boutique teamed up with the Keith Haring Foundation to release a tote bag, backpack and sunglasses that featured Haring’s eye-catching prints in red, white, blue and yellow. Lil’ Wayne also donned pieces from this collab on stage. See more here.

3. Keith Haring by Patricia Field: This might be one of the most globally-recognized designer/Haring collaborations. In 2010, the iconic Field partnered with the Foundation to produce a crazy-amazing selection of Haring-centric apparel, accessories and jewelry. The coolest part, all pieces are still up for purchase (at practical price points, no less) right this way! We dig the Three-Eyed Face silk scarf, above.

4. Nicholas Kirkwood x Keith Haring Footwear: Like we said back in 2011, this collab was a match made in pop art heaven. The British footwear architect’s inventive shapes complemented Haring’s bold motifs perfectly. See more from this exciting collection here

Honorable mention: We couldn’t complete this list without applauding Levi’s tribute last year with the limited-edition release of their Haring-ified trucker jacket at LA’s MOCA. The jacket, which features Haring’s all-over print in red, was produced in conjunction with the museum’s massively popular Art In the Streets exhibit.

Photos via Jeremy Scott, Joyrich, Black Frame, Patricia Field.

A Nightclub In A Water Tower? Underground Clubland Alive & Well

Somewhere along the line, people forgot that Memorial Day was a day of rememberance. It is a pause before summer fun, when we need to remember those who gave their lives so that we could enjoy ourselves. The world seems to be getting worse with only a bad end in sight, and as we cling to the things that distract us from certain realities, we must honor those who gave up so much and who are in harm’s way as we sip expensive swill. If you see a uniform this weekend, club people, push him to the front of the line; somebody buy the man or woman a drink or at least hold open a door for them. Respect is in order. 

I’m not sure where I will spend my weekend. I like it like that. I may have a DJ gig out East, but if not, it will be spent walking dogs around my beloved Williamsburg. I’ll try to take advantage of the great escape and attempt to get into St. Anselm again as the last few attempts have proven futile. Two-hour waits are the norm and I don’t do that. Unless my girlfriend is shopping for shoes.

I am constantly bombarded with talk of "the good old days." People often want to reminisce about a time more wonderful. I remember having fun and all that, but refuse to agree with the assertion that life in clubland was better back in the day. I think the perception of clubs is a perception of how you were at that time.

To a certain generation, there was nothing like the disco era. To others, the 80s were the end all. Many without knowledge of those eras or the roaring 20s for that matter loved the good ol’ days of the 90s and 2000s. 

I think there is always a scene. My memories take me back to Danceteria and Save the Robots, The World and Area, and the Paradise Garage. But today, I love The Box and the underground Brooklyn stuff and Frankie’s Westgay at Westway, and Patricia Fields’ crew and their Chicken and Diamonds party, and anything Susanne Bartsch does, and a zillion other soirees. These are the good ol’ days and dont let anyone talk you out of it.

I read in the NY Times about a water tower in Chelsea that some genius built out and made into a small illegal joint. It was up a dozen flights of stairs and a scary ladder through a small hole etc. This shit is happening, but in an age where everyone knows everything in a second, it’s harder to keep "underground."

I gotta go, but before I do, I’d like to honor my dad who at 90 and a veteran of World War 2 is still  making memories.

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Photo: NYT.

Did Madonna Rip Off Patricia Field’s Vogue Hat?

Patricia Field is not happy with Madonna. The legendary stylist and costume designer behind Sex and the City‘s covetable wardrobe furiously Tumbl’d about the $35 VOGUE hats that are part of the pop star’s 2012 MDNA tour merchandise. Blogs the brand: "Our own Patricia Field stylist, Hiraku, designed the snap back and we sell it as a t-shirt, headband and a beanie as well […] Madonna is a thief! Do you really need an extra few thousand dollars? Shame, shame for stealing from those that inspire you!" But is Madge really a thief?

According to a few readers’ comments, the original VOGUE hat was allegedly produced by Madonna’s camp during her Blond Ambition Tour in 1990, which is apparently here. BUT, this may not be the case since a reader called Spinster808 fired back with: "First of all Madonna never had a Vogue hat sold as merchandise during her Blond Ambition tour back in 1990. Second of all I actually bought the Vogue hat from Patricia Field’s and wore it to the Madonna concert @ Yankee Stadium. I won pit tickets via the fan club. Everyone kept asking me where I got my hat. Madonna’s manager asked about he hat and I told him Patricia Field’s and Madonna herself was eyeing the hat I was wearing." 

What do you think? Is Madonna really a copy cat or can she do whatever she wants since "Vogue" is her song? 

How I Got Into Nightlife

I think our next president should be a Morman. Not the Mitt Romney variety—heavens no. I’m thinking more along the lines of a Big Love type, with 47 wives and a zillion kids. A man who can handle that can handle anything. Club relationships are also very “special,” as the industry comes with many distractions, confusions, and temptations—similar to a whole lot of “sister-wives” drama. When you see a relationship working in this industry, it should be celebrated, maybe even studied. I enjoyed watching Snap/Bloc Group honcho Mathew Isaacs interact with his lovely Danielle DeGregory last night as she celebrated her birthday at his venue.

It was cuddly, cute and wonderful. The weekly karaoke night was going on, which was adding to the fun. On another note, the much-anticipated basement addition to the venue has a name, a design, and a due date. I’ll talk about that when I am unleashed—I’m really not supposed to say anything so I won’t.

With great admiration I note the opening of Natasha, the queen of Spandex and everything related, of her niche at Patricia Fields, her inclusion to come the end of the month. If anyone wants to point a finger at someone for getting me into the club world, Natasha and my friend Debi Marino must be accused. I was a corporate-type during the day who wallowed in severe punk clubs at night. More often than not, I would go from an obscure place with dim lights and sticky floors packed with girls with hair that could hurt you, to a desk in the financial district. I soon chose the insanity of the former over the boredom of the latter. It was a single sad incident that pushed me over the edge. My roommate and best friend the beautiful and talented “it” girl Jillian Black died suddenly of a heroin overdose. She had done it the night before for the first time, and wanted to try it again. We chatted at 7PM on a subway platform, and I told her of the dangers—pleading with her to avoid that drug and that crowd, the crowd that was enlisting her into their cult. She agreed. She was dead by dawn.

I sought out her new friends with mad intent, but was convinced she only had herself to blame. She was used to getting her way and they couldn’t stop her. She was always unstoppable. Of course now she’s as dead as Julius Caesar. I spun around and decided to do a fashion, art event which would help push the rapidly gentrifying East Village chic/punk scene along. The way I figured it the more successful boutiques filling vacant storefronts, the more interested the cops would be to push the pushers to another hood.

The East Village Look was my big break. The almost 2-hour show had thousands of people attending and 20 boutiques involved. It catapulted me into a new career. Debi Marino partnered with me on the mega show. Natasha was the first person who said yes. She then helped me land Trash and Vaudeville, and soon everyone was involved. Astor place barbers and some other salons sent waves of hairstylists to the gala. Everyone left the club that night with a new—free—’do. I looked at the video of the event last night and it was amazing to see this time capsule of ‘80’s club life. All the players were there modeling and galavanting around. Some of them are long gone as victims of the age of consent—to every vice imaginable. AIDS was there, all around us, but we didn’t understand that, or see it in our brilliant darkness. So a tip of the hat and a wham-bam-thank-you-Mam to Natasha, returning to her roots. Great success, darling, at Patricia Fields!

On a sad, but similar note, I mark the passing of Lita Hessen. Known for her loud voice, big heart, and big binging, Lita was a joy to the world—even though she often seemed deeply sad. I met her a few years back while lounging at the Mercer Hotel with the generous (to a fault) millionaire Linda Rawlings and my friend Marcus Antebi. Linda was wearing—no exaggeration— 10 million dollars worth of jewelry, including a yellow diamond ring the size of Vermont, 5 watches (one worth, like, a million bucks—all diamonds upon diamonds) and a tiara with more diamonds. She was buying Crystal, and offering it to an increasingly larger crowd. Like Lita, Linda made many friends by lavishing them with stuff. The waitress was tasked to wear the tiara while she was serving. Lita and a friend came to meet us. Linda proceeded to give Lita’s pal a check for over $30,000 on the spot to help her with her failing business. It was like that. Lita and I would see each other from time to time, out and about, and then became friends. She was so much fun, but she was everywhere and nowhere. She was lucid, then suddenly nuts: happy then tragic: aloof then clingy. Her inner beasts tore at her ,and no amount of extravagance, tall tales, or ambitions could hide her pain. Everybody knew Lita. She bought everyone dinner, drinks, little gifts. When you could calm her down and get past the fluff she was sweet and smart, and very enjoyable. But there was a lot of fluff. I met my great friend DJ Jennifly through her. It was Jennifly who told me of her demise. A memorial service will be held this Sunday, May 15th 7:30PM on Christopher Street Pier.

Partying for the Fabulous Larissa @ The Big Top

Tomorrow night, Patricia Field, Mao PR, Roxanne Lowit, Susanne Bartsch, Kenny Kenny, and Joey Israel will host a benefit at Amanda Lapore’s Big Top for Larissa. Joey Arias and Amanda will perform. I am leaning heavily on Patricia Field’s website for my background, as Larissa, although very familiar to me, always remained a mysterious denizen of so many fashionable days and clamorous nights. I never asked questions about her, I just accepted her rank as one of the most important people in downtown culture. I would book her birthday at a club back in the day, or she might grace an invite, but as was my way, I kept my distance. It’s a combination of my skewed sense of chivalry and a shyness that most, except those who know me well, don’t believe exists.

Michael Alig would always drag me from whatever I was doing to chat with her. I was to reward him with a handful of drink tickets for the introduction. I was always shocked she knew my name. She was glamorous, bitingly witty, and catty as well. She was always a lady, except sometimes, maybe when she drank, and that was, well, often. Even then in a pickled state she was charming and mannered. She was easily recognizable to the hoi polloi with her trademark eyebrows, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut through bread, and a coif of the darkest, manicured black hair. She was impeccably dressed at first, with her own creations, and then with Mugler. She was known as his muse. She could size up a person, and discount them, or elevate them with a breath. She was always surrounded by the bestest of the best, the most down of any of the downtown set. At Max’s Kansas City she might be at a table with Nico, or Andy Warhol, or any of the bold faced names of that era—or of any era. Once, when I was clamoring with the masses to get into Thierry Muglers Fashion Show in Paris, she grabbed me from the crowd and walked me in. Doors parted like the Red Sea from Moses, as Larissa defined chic and everybody needed her around. When we were doing Club USA, it was Larissa who captured Thierry’s talents for the design of the Mugler Room. To say she was the candle of the aspirations of so many moths, and other creatures of the night, would be an understatement.

She was part of the Andy Warhol Factory crowd. She once said, “I studied Salvador Dali in art school, and there I found myself standing in a room with him while he paid me compliments. It was something.” According to the Patricia Fields website, her customers included “Miles Davis, Margot Fontaine, Egon Von Furstenberg, Jimi Hendrix, Gloria Steinham, Lauren Bacall, Dustin Hoffman, Betsy Johnson, Cicely Tyson, Lina Wertmuller, and Giancarlo Giannini, just to name a few. Her coats were sold at top stores like Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, and Ultimo in Chicago. They will be feting Larissa at a benefit tomorrow night at 13th and University. Those who never pay will gladly contribute 10 bucks for a lady who gave us all so much.

On another note that so often wanted and discarded space on the corner of Essex and Houston may be changing hands once again. According to my source, a deal has been made and is pending community board approval. It has been home to the seminal club Chaos, a strip joint, a goth club, and so many other things. It has never really been on my radar of fabulousness but has always been around surviving, mostly I feel, because of it’s location, rather than good programming. I read that it was, at one time the studio and home belonging to Jasper Johns. Now it will be something else.

True Lies: What I Learned on the Set of ‘Sex and the City 2’

Yesterday, I fulfilled a goal of performing as an extra in a movie filmed in New York. The only way I was getting out of bed at 5am for a 6:30am call time was the idea that I was going to be a part of one of the most popular empires of my generation: the Sex and the City dynasty. Consequently, I was also ready to look like someone straight from the cast of Dynasty because I was scheduled to be ‘background’ in the 80s flashback scenes for the SATC sequel. When I arrived to the set at 6:30am bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I was met with a group of disgruntled extras who had been dealing with the busy set, and long hours for a few days. I hit up wardrobe for my colorful costume: a calf-length ruffled dress in a bright pattern, finished with huge gold bracelets and big square earrings, an Hermes clutch, and an authentic reproduction of an Yves Saint Laurent shopping bag (I was listed as a ‘Wealthy Shopper’).

My makeup was atrocious, but it all came together on set as a thing of kitschy 80s beauty. What do extras do? They sit around for a long time waiting for their scene to be filmed. They read magazines, they freeze on early morning sets, they walk repetitively in the background of scenes trying to think of a different way to make the walking look better each time, they hobble around in uncomfortable shoes — and if they’re like me, they listen like a fly on the wall. Here are some of the tidbits I learned about everyone’s favorite sequel, all pretty much hearsay, but interesting notions nonetheless.

● It was a rockstar experience. As we walked out of the “Extra Holding Pen” onto set, it was astounding to see thousands of fans crammed behind barricades down 5th Avenue at 9am. It was utter hysteria in some aspects … bystanders pulled my clothes as I walked onto set, begging for photos, asking us, merely extras dolled up in 80s gear, if we were famous. I must have taken 20 pictures with crazed fans. ● The Sex and the City crew really does try to respect the habitat; midway through filming a scene where a bookish Miranda struggles in a careless crowd in front of Bergdorf’s, a confused elderly shopper was escorted through the scene to the front doors. Unfortunately, it seems as though rude pedestrians are at fault for clogging up the walkways. I saw a number of people stopping to make rude comments to people on set, purposefully walking slowly to keep others making through makeshift walkways with ease. ● Most of the extras on set weren’t there for their love of SATC; they just want to get through the day and get their paycheck. Many of the extras were annoyed with the huge crowds. “These bitches must be doing something right,” a veteran extra said, “but the crowds make a long day even longer.” ● SPOILER: Someone on set told me the reason they filmed all around Bergdorf’s was because this is ground zero for where Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda all met. Whether or not this is true is questionable, I’m not sure if on-set gossip can be trusted. ● Even former Governor Spitzer likes SATC. As the crew shooed away gawkers and pedestrians, they were confused as to how to ask the scandalous politician to walk away. “Keep it movin’ Mr. Governor,” was how they went about it. ● Craft services: Chickpea salad, loaves of bread, granola bars, chicken wings, fruit, Asian trail mix, and a lot of candy. ● Steve Sands seems to have the run over the entire production. One of the assistants on set was telling me the reason why he so freely skulked around was because he has so much dirt on the cast and crew that it would be a dumb move not to let him in — and everyone on set knows it. They all know him and seemed to make sure they spoke to him in a respectful way. “He has photos of actors partying with directors, some of them doing drugs — apparently Sharon Stone has the worst of it. He has a lot of information on her … if it were to get out, it would be a huge scandal.” So, naturally the pap has free reign over film sets and access to “exclusive parties.” When the crew was screaming at photographers brandishing official press passes to get out of the way, they asked Sands nicely to stop shooting, though he basically wandered around the set as he pleased. “Come on, Steve,” a NYPD officer said, “let’s get out of the way now.” ● Sarah Jessica Parker is basically a Beatle. When she first walked out from her trailer to film part of the 80s flashback, hysterical screams and cries emerged from the masses behind the barricades, moving in a wave that started from the side of the plaza and washed over the thousands of fans along 5th Avenue. It echoed all the way to Central Park. It was one of the most amazing things to see, this tiny superstar in cheesy 80’s garb elicit such a dramatic response. ● I think the actresses really do get along. As Cynthia Nixon was filming her scene with braces and books, SJP pulled up to the set in a black SUV, rolled down the window, and shouted: “Hey Cynthia!” It was a good show, and almost funny, as if she was playing a joke on Nixon. ● Being an extra is not the easiest thing. With a 6:30am call time, freezing morning temperatures in thin costumes, and repetitive movements in heels that barely fit, I was beginning to get worn down. That is, until SJP rolled onto set. Seeing the crowds respond to her as she bounced along in 6-inch heels served as a reminder of what a historical production this was. ● The girls care about their fans. As soon as Kim Cattrall wrapped her scene, she rushed over to a mob of fans and signed autographs, posed for pictures, and just chatted them up. ● Kristin Davis wears a wig in the sequel. Between bites at the craft table, I overheard one of the hair dressers talk about how he makes the best wigs (he said he was responsible for Michelle Pfeiffer’s rug in a film). ● Bette Midler is in the 80s flashback. ● There will be a Sex and the City 3. They are currently filming both SATC 2 and SATC 3, as told to me by a few other extras who overheard it from crew members. ● The people in that crew are geniuses. Not knowing what we look like on film, nor if we could be trusted with walking with a normal gait, they pointed to random bodies, yelled cues to us, and when the cameras rolled, it turned into cinematic magic. ● Patricia Field is a genius. I was wearing authentic 80s gear down to my buttons. I have no idea how they were able to know what kinds of characters they would need, but they had the most beautiful wardrobe details; “wealthy 80s shoppers,” “gay rights campaigners,” even schoolgirls and hot dog stand hawkers. ● Extras don’t have much interaction with the talent. Kim Cattrall said she liked my dance to keep warm. She apologized to us for ruining a scene by dropping her Walkman (though she didn’t see me trip and fall in the background minutes earlier). I commented on Pat Field’s busted iPhone at the craft table, and she sighed at her misfortune. Cynthia Nixon asked an extra to run into her a little bit harder. Yeah, that’s about it. But it was totally worth it.

See also: 5 Rules for 80s Makeup from ‘Sex and the City 2’

Correct Culture: Fearsome Hats Pose, Kenny Scharf Glows

Shop Till You Drop – Patricia Field has been ground zero for forward fashion seemingly forever, but her new featured hat collection by Trivia’l raises the bar. Designed by Neon Music, the hats are fiercely futuristic, severely surreal, and at times tastelessly tongue in chic. Upside-down black crucifixes are given a couture edge, while the skull is reinvigorated by a fresh sprinkling of black plumes. There’s a showgirl on acid feeling throughout, but the novelty is tempered by a polished perfection and carefully crafted finish. Beyonce is a fan and picked up a not so subtle style to wear on her current tour. These creations are for the un-faint of heart who like to make a major entrance worthy of the most dedicated diva.


The Stuff You Need Right Now – Two things a correct modern girl simply can’t wouldn’t and should never go without: fabulous ink and even more gorgeous lip gloss. She already has the tats, but singer/actress Theo Kogan wanted to fulfill one of her biggest dreams — to be a beauty mogul. Her line of luscious lip glosses, Armour Beauty, features shades like Gazarri’s (inspired by an 80s hair meta club in Los Angeles) and Cat Club and are impossibly glossy and super ultra bright. Theo can currently be found performing with her band Theo & The Skyscrapers and starring in short films like Rob Roth’s beyond brilliant “Screen Test.” Theo, as usual, continues to inspire on so many fronts, and her first foray into the world of beauty is literally flawless.

Blog or Die – Most gay blogs are either complete porn or completely boring. Not so Beachcruiser BlackBook (no relation), a rare mix of subversive gay pop culture, random horny dudes, and up- to-the minute homo-centricities. This blog provides a correct preview of its soon-to-be-published companion zine, Beachcruiser, which oddly enough is based in Asbury Park, NJ, proving that you don’t have to be in Chelsea to be at the center of the gay universe.


Tag You’re It – The three completely random examples of street art pictured here were all found within a two-block stretch of Williamsburg, proving that when it visually rains, it fucking pours. I love the simplicity of the Preston tag with its cursive font lazily scrawled across a makeshift skateboard.


The Japanimae bug-eyed character of the second one keeps it tight and correct …


… while the makeshift cut, color, and collage style of the last is (literally) off the pages of Juxtapozed, proving that some of the best art in trendy magazines is better seen smack dab in the street and not some pretentious gallery.


Party Like It’s 1985 – Kenny Scharf had the craziest blacklight party in the basement of his Willburg studio this week and not only treated each guest to an original neon face painting, but rocked a correct undies-over-gun print tights look that had the kids gagging. Scott Ewalt spun a monster mash of boogie-down classics while $1 Buds kept the crowd from getting thirsty. By 1am it was a steam den of fluorescent freaks, frugging the fierce away and oblivious to the sudden streaks of their melting make-up. The magic brownie hit just as Stephen Saban, Michael Schmidt, and Lisa Edelstein all magically appeared as if we were back in 1985 and the Palladium’s Mike Todd Room had suddenly come back to life. Trip me the Fu*k out. BTW: Check out his new book, Kenny Scharf, out now from Rizzoli and featuring an awesome array of his favorite work from the past 25 years.

All photos by Walt Cessna.

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