I’m super excited to announce that as an online component of the Museum of Contemporary Craft’s upcoming Fashioning Cascadia exhibition I will be contributing an illustrated vintage fashion blog. The blog will showcase garments included in a live runway show hosted by the fabulous AlexSandra of AlexSandra’s Vintage Emporium and explore the vital role of vintage clothing in the Pacific Northwest. The illustrations will be displayed at the runway show and we would love to see you there May 30th! More details on the flyer!
6:39 pm • 18 April 2014 • 3 notes
My boyfriend walt Whitman walks out of his book signing in st. marks’s place
and I’m drunk and waiting outside
leaning on a lamp-post and all like,
WAAALLLLTTTTTT, didjuknow my boyoffrend Schmitt schmittmann is a writerer??? And he’s like ,’Michael u r so drunk’
and I fall into his shoulder because he is taller than me, I pull him into me, I play with his coat collar and I’m like, do u want to come home with me???
And he’s like, u mean back to the hotel? And I’m like, no silly, back home with me,
to my apartment? I don’t have roommates.
And before he can say anything I drag him the 15 blocks from the bookstore to my old apartment building in gramercy
and the same doorman is there and he’s like ‘MICHAEL!!!!’ and I’m like, Fredo’, I left my key at the bar, can I borrow the spare, and he’s like, ‘u don’t live here anymore’, and I’m like ‘ok be like that,
but I have a hard time getting out of the front door, because it’s really heavy and I have no muscle definition
and walt is standing on the curb and looking at me weird. And I’m like walt , I want u to take me home.
He’s like ‘I don’t see any cabs, Michael,’ and I’m like, no walt, home, home why aren’t we home? U know, on venus?
And he’s like Michael, ‘u r’nt making sense, not even poetic sense.’ And I’m like,
walt, I had this dream that we were actually beamed down from venus and that we were put here to spread love or or happiness or sparkles, something. And we can’t leave until we spread sparkles. Help me spread sparkles, Walt.
And Walt, on venus, we live in this place that looks like epcot center on the outside, but the inside is all robots, but happy robots, like jude law in Artificial Intelligence. It’s so pretty there, there’s perfume being pumped out that makes us all kiss, and koalas fall from the ceiling
but they’re like cat koalas so they land without getting hurt. But before I can tell walt anything else, we’re in the cab and he’s angry, so I’m like, fine, no more about venus for u, ass holeeeeee.
Then we go to bed angry,
but I wake him up in the middle of the night, all desperate and like,
walt ,walt whatever u do, please don’t go into politics,
and he’s like super sleepy but all, Michael, what if my country needs me???
And I’m like, it won’t need u like I need u walt,
and then we both pass out for good as the world countdown clock shines brightly on us.
6:43 pm • 8 March 2014 • 8 notes
people are always like, ‘michael, ur boyfriend walt whitman did not give you a tiny-but-not-miniature pony who is also a trained bodyguard’ and i’m like, oh yeah, what about this irrefutable photographic evidence??? and then they are silent.
12:04 am • 5 March 2014 • 17 notes
my boyfriend walt whitman is a method poet. in order to write about something he has to be it. i made him this bonsai costume and we went to the park. i was all like, where’s my boyfriend walt whitman???? and he was all holding his breath, blending into nature.
7:50 pm • 2 March 2014 • 16 notes