exit does not exist

NBC nightly news reports that one of the only consumables that has had positive sales is, lottery tickets (followed closely by alcohol). Their rez expert lady likens the scratch-off spike is more like when movie ticket sales increased in the 30s, saying that people want a bit of escapism in tough times. The fantasy that their life could change over-night. What else might also be on the upswing? I am calling for sex and hallucinogens. I am crossing my beer chilled fingers for the day when someone makes a valentines day gift basket of all four vices; guaranteed sell out. Retailers peep that.

pre-teen schadenfreude

Tiiiiight! NyMag informs that, oh noes, nearly all of the Kira Plastinina stores in the US are closing! I am not usually one to tease, mock, or cackle at the barely legal- that is my younger sister's department- but when you are the bored youth of a Russian orange juice jillionaire and decide you need to bring even more unskilled z-list celebrity trashion to the U.S. it's fair game. This predicament is not surprising when you are trying to push off forever21 style at an Urban Outfitters price point. Scoping out the Kira Plastinina website shows that the clothing isn't really too far off trend for the age group, but it's marked way up for what it is. Let's nerd out on the below dress: -Wool fabric of indeterminable quality: given country of origin (the site does not list fiber contents or country of origin of it's wares. tsk tskkkk) probs $2-5$/yd -Indeterminate strap quality: Let's say its a knit trim as it appears to be 1-ply and has no construction stitching: $.30-$.90/yd -Likely pleather applique: $1.50-$3/yd -3 metal zippers- $1/each -4 serged seams, no apparent darting or fit attention, so a sack with straps- this would take a skilled worker maybe MAYBE 5min to construct since there is no need to change stitch or thread (applique stitching withstanding, that would be maybe another 10min), so 15min construction at a pay rate of, let's be generous and kind, 10$/hr, $2.50 So, entire garment cost, at the high end 10$. However, the dress, which originally retailed at $118 is now on sale for $29.50. That, is still $19.50 in profit, but given modern factory sewing and pricing scales, the probably real cost of the garment would hover around the 5$ mark. All of this would be well and good for the Plastinin's, IF PEOPLE BOUGHT IT. America is already hyper-saturated with fast fashion and trend driven teen apparel and really, another brand pushing the exact same merch at a higher price point is not exactly take the U.S by storm. Apparently, the 70 Russian outlets of the store are doing well, not surprisingly as it is their local fashion and Russia is the New Jersey/Vegas of Eurasia. Hopefully, this will serve as a warning for those with the means, but not the skills to decide that design is the new easy, fast, fun career outlet; looking at you Katy Perry, Sheree from RHoA, random celeb's A-Z.

plastic surgery on the decline; much like patient's neck skin

Both NYT and W have pinned plastic surgery as their page turning fodder for the present. One, NYT, about the horrific decline in such luxxxuries as getting to have your face poked at every week and W covering the decline in patient's desire for carnal pleasures after getting their face poked at. I am, gleefully, more interested in the NYT article, but I'll get to that. W is pushing the thought path that today's patients don't have much time outside of their micromanaged eating plans and board meeting plans for freaking plans. Noting, that patients rank sex below work, diet, and excercise on a scale of importance and instead gauge internal hotness on how many people are leering at their deform-o body slinking down 5th ave. Firstly, what sane, non-serial killer man likes a woman who's face, and likely body, is taped and pinned together? Maybe ones that enjoy their sig.other as a vanity piece more than an agent of love. The bright spot, comes at the end of the piece where doctors note that some patients cannot wait to get back into the sack after surgery and end up causing themselves some serious harm. The patients are older men with much younger girlfriends. Maybe you don't find it funny, but the idea of a mummy wrapped old dude and a idiotic gold digger-who is likely enhanced herself- kind of tickles my funny bone.
NYT, slightly more scholarly in their prose, brings in a little logic starting off with bringing a little reality to a highly fanciful lifestyle; "On television, reality shows like “Extreme Makeover” and “Dr. 90210” normalized vanity medicine, making cosmetic operations seem cuddly and carefree. Meanwhile, lenders rushed in to offer specialized lines of credit for cosmetic procedures."
Though, the article is not without some quotes that may as well be pointed jokes at the target viewer. Pls see; “Let’s face it, if you don’t look great, you are not going to your reunion and you are not going on Facebook,”. The individual then describes that she now takes gym classes instead of using a personal trainer, but anti-wrinkle injections are a MUST. Another woman, (no men were quoted on the cutting back on their botox and boob jobs) proudly states that she got a haircut that includes BANGS(revolutionary!) to conceal the botox evaporating from her furrowed brow leaving her with what likely looks like a quick sand pit under some highlighted fringe. Also, I would like to note that she mentions reunion and facebook as a hand in hand activity; If you are old enough to have a class reunion, have botox, you need a life, not facebook status.
The luxury beauty business, proceedures included, started out in this friviolty decline sitting pretty, reasoning that while a client may not be able to afford an 800K watch or 150K organza top, they will never forsake their face and will make room for little cosmetic luxuries to pad their safe room that sits below their penthouse suite. But, not so, every luxury avenue in the U.S is hurting; people are buying cheaper cosmetics, mixing and matching nail color, using at home acne remedies as opposed to laser treatments. The beauty bubble, along with the luxury bubble, have burst. Mainly, I am psyched for the day when covens of augmented powerhouses's faces appear to melt off with small Nelly band-aids holding their noses in place and breasts erect in last season's frock. Aren't you excited that these events are how a reality clip show will classify our current time period? It'll make for exciting tv atleast.

conglomerate cop-out

Looks like with Conde Nast folding some of its papers and consolidating others, W -the magazine I formerly loved in the flush of youth, now I'm getting annoyed with it's bad habits in old age- is fast becoming a catchall for all the offal the other doomed diaries leave behind. To back track to the upsets at the Conde Bldg. here is a run down of their current troubles: Portfolio has less issues a year, Men's Vogue is being folded into Reg. Vogue (take that Sean Avery!), Rumors of Anna Wintour leaving as EIC of Vogue only to be succeeded by none other than CARINE ROITFELD (I fucking hope!) AND! NO HOLIDAY PARTY!
Back to W, seriously, it's getting old. It's no better than American Vogue anymore. Celebrities on every cover for at least the past 6 months, my hands down favorite being Angelina Jolie on the cover of the ART ISSUE. Even my brainy, art imbibed, sig other-who is usually impervious to women's magazines-scoffed and sighed when he saw the nonsense they were peddling in that particular issue.
This issue, December, which I have yet to even get all the way through because, at my age, I am NOT interested in some tv-drama character-ess pouting through the pages because she, apparently, with being conventionally pretty and fairly tall, is a model now, but you know, she has a career too, like, doing stuff.
Not to be out-shone by the clever cover lines and cover choice, you also get what seems like A MILLION FUCKING PAGES OF WATCHES. Ranging from a modest $84,000 (Chanel) to an aspirational-or asphyxiational depending on who you ask- $800,000 (De Beers). Seriously, watches, as an item, are for the poor; for people who need to know what time it is. To have a watch that costs more than a NYC condo is ludicrous. If you are that rich you have no use for the construct of time; you can pay someone to wear your bedazzled time piece(as fancy watches are called) and tell you the time in the native tongue of whichever far flung locale you are currently detoxing in. To top it off, the watches themselves aren't even all that great to look at! They are so adorned that even a rapping guest on Cribs would find the piece a little outre.
Oh, but it's not over, you then are treated to a food article that I can sum up in 10 words: Who is a thin, pretentious, glutton? So sorry, not you.
A stimulating two pages of "Celebrities are rich, thin, eat astronomically expensive and rare food, but not pedestrian items like spinach-artichoke dip. I would rather die, or give up the treat that is cold bone marrow, than eat that slop. Though, ramen noodles are cool because they are kitschy. Oh, exercise 2 hour a day and maybe you wouldn't be such a poor, fat-ass, dear reader. P.s. you're POOOORRRRRRRRRR and uncultured! lol"
W is becoming that girl in middle school that thinks she is so cool because she has her mom's hand-me-down Coach bag and is totally getting a Beemer for her 15th birthday even though she doesn't get her license for another year (yeah, she failed 1st grade, but that's because the teacher didn't see her true genius). She is the leader of the popular girls despite the fact she has a dog-face and frizzy hair; the other kids probably only like her because she has a trampoline and her parent's let her read Cosmo and watch Cinemax.
In a nutshell, or a $3000 Tumi hat box, W, you've got to go. We really can't do this anymore, pack your monogrammed luggage, take those Cheetos you are hiding behind the water heater and get out of my house. I don't want to see you anymore, you need an intervention, you're out of control, and I just don't love you enough anymore to call and get you on the show. Sorry, it's not me, it's you.

i want this dog

This is Martha Stewarts new pupppppyyyyy, (lookathimm!), GENGHIS KHAN!!!!! Is there nothing that woman cannot make covetable? Kmart? Luxury jail time? Mongolian raiders?! I would hate her if I didn't slavishly envy her table-scapes and drapery/upholstery combos. See you on the morrow!Don't booze too hard.

i wanna be your dog

Iggy Pop has the right idea; regarding his move to Miami; "I was fed up after 25 years in huge, dark, media-centric cities. I decided to find a house and move here. I was looking for something in a kind of elegant coma with a lot of peace and convenience," (via jezebel via cnn) Even though I dog on Art Basel, is Miami becoming the new New York? Celebs and Icons, young and old, are scoping sunny properties in the penis shaped state and the paparazzi are not nearly as plague-like which I'm sure is a selling point. Though I love pastel stucco and vitamin D, I would rather follow suite with how Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon live in a beyond enviable house in the middle of the woods. Forest creatures and the like are more up my alley than leather skin 30yr old grandma's and JLO jeans. Contemplate, if New York and LA didn't exist, where would the new apex of culture and scene be? While you're at it, look at the google LIFE archives from the 1880's that depict Wallance Levinson's Brooklyn hood as little more than a trees and tall grass.

hand in hand; arm in arm

Hot on the heels of the news that Louis Vuitton is lowering the cost of its luxury wares, by 7%, in Japan due to the country's 'economic problems' and LV's policy to 'offer its products at appropriate prices' (say whaaaaaaa) is the news that condom sales are on the rise (say yehhhhhhh). Which would you choose, a Richard Prince edition LV for several thou or a roll (or several rolls) in the hay? I guess this goes with the current mantra of staying in and making do with what you've got, you know, instead of going out and dropping cash on a fancy dinner, eat in; instead of buying the latest 'it' bag/shoe; eat out.