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Category Archives: Fashion

Another Look at Madonna at the Met

As predicted, my originally-unimpressed stance toward Madonna’s sartorial choices has softened and refined itself into one of gentle admiration. While I never hated it, I wasn’t instantly wowed, which is rare for a Madonna outfit. It’s sort of what happened last year, when it took a few viewings and a closer inspection to reveal the full glory of what was going on. In this instance, I was too quick to consider it a lesser rehash of one of her classic moments (in this case, the formidable get-up of her ‘American Life’ period). This is actually much softer than that, and her hair and makeup are flawless. I still think ill of the grill in her teeth (in certain photos this just reads as spinach), but her canteen was filled with a rosé, and that nifty fact makes up for all sorts of mis-steps in my mind. Created by Moschino, it’s better than this particular year, but in the end will likely filter down as one of the lackluster years. Still, Madonna in camouflage is better than no Madonna at all.

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Met Gala 2017

It’s an oft-made assumption that the biggest night of fashion is the Oscar Awards, but that’s simply not true. The first Monday in May, and the night of the Met Gala, actually holds that title. This is when people take risks, go completely wild, and usually make more of an impression on me than the relatively tame Oscars game. To that end, this is an evening of whimsical and daring enchantment for the fashion-lovers.

With its unexpectedly-tricky avant-garde theme (Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons) the Met Gala presented some sartorial challenges for most attendees, which is odd, because it’s such fertile ground for over-the-top architectural opportunities. Rihanna and Katy Perry came through, but everyone else fell a little flat, even Madonna. (Though hers is usually a grower, especially upon closer examination.) Anyway, here are some of the looks from the most fashionable night of the year.

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Academy Awards 2017

I’m not offering an opinion one way or another on the choice of Jimmy Kimmel as the host of the Oscars this year. It could go either way. Instead, I’ll try to keep my take on things strictly to fashion, speeches, and hopefully a couple of quirky gaffes which are usually the best parts of a live award ceremony. I’ll post some of what I’m hoping to live-Tweet here, but if you want all of them you’ll have to visit my Twitter feed. (I also have an Instagram account, which is a different kind of story altogether… one you’ll want to follow.) On with the really big show…

If the half-cape is coming back, I’m all for it.

Ooooh! Pharrell in Chanel! Finally, man jewelry lending some flash and distinction to the traditional tux. LOVE this.

Taraji Henson is classically elegant, and I want that diamond necklace.

Is it all about the dress slit this year? (Hey, how else can I work a slit into this website?)

Andrew Garfield is wearing a big-ass bow-tie and traditional tux. Handsome, yes. Boring, yes. And of course Ryan Seacrest has to ask about Andrew Garfield’s kiss with Ryan Reynolds. Why is he even pretending, Kathy Griffin?

Octavia Spencer – digging that shade of gray, and the feathers. Marchesa is elegance.

David Oyelowo – stunning tux. Always a joy to see someone move away from basic black.

Jessica Biel is resplendent in gold, trying to distract from Justin Timberlake’s questionable haircut. Thankfully, she succeeded. (He’s better nude anyway.)

Dakota Johnson – is there a ‘Camelot’ movie coming out soon?

Janelle Monae – everybody is going to hate it, but I freaking love it. This is the sort of dress one needs to see in person to truly appreciate. We must do so from a distance.

Samuel Jackson – mmm…. blue velvet tux. Normally I’m all about that step away from black, but I’m not sure about this one.

Dev Patel is making the white tux work.

Scarlett Johansson – not a fan of anything really. Not the hair, not the dress, not the belt. Not any of it.

Halle Berry said she wants short hair back now. Yeah. I would agree.

Emma Stone – fringe is not an easy thing to pull off, but she’s doing it.

Hailee Steinfeld – I think I love it.

Michelle Williams in Vuitton. Sweet. Plunging. Dull.

Nicole Kidman – bejeweled goddess in nude Armani Privé.

Ryan Gosling – frilly shirt! Yay! Still, way better shirtless.

American hero and national treasure Chris Evans is stunning in a blue tux. Truss très chic. (Almost as good as when he’s naked.)

Justin Timberlake and his ass just opened the show. I’ll update when/if someone of note happens…

Amy Adams – shining, shimmering, exquisite sculptural (and globular) beauty.

As for that twist ending… why can’t we do that with the election?!

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Leopard Classic

Certain patterns and styles are always in fashion, no matter what the year or trend. Leopard is one of them, and for quite some time I’ve been yearning for a leopard tote. To date I haven’t found one that meets all my requisites. They’re either one-sided, too expensive, or too dolled-up with unnecessary embellishments. The colors inherent to a traditional leopard pattern are warm enough that I find any sort of gold accent too much; leopard carries a richness that negates the need for any metallic luster. And so the search goes on…

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Special Guest Blog: Nick Vannello of Kilted Bros.

Any man who makes and markets kilts in this day and age is a fine and noble man for carrying out a beloved tradition. Put a racy yet artistic spin on things, add a celebration of all body types, and sprinkle in some fashion-inspired fairy dust, and you’ve got a gentleman hero who’s simply perfect as our next Special Guest Blog. My online pal Nick Vannello runs Kilted Bros., a delightful purveyor of the classic kilt. Far more than that, this Renaissance man has an artistic side that runs through his work, and an appreciation for other fashion icons that informs this amazing post.

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF CODDINGTON: Special Guest Blog by Nick Vannello 

There is a serenity and satisfaction which comes from knowing one’s place.

When I was much younger it was important for me to be front and center. As a performer and presenter, my role was to be the center of attention and to lead with force. At that time I was trying to establish my place among the other 20-somethings. Forward and fiery, I could be found performing on stage, in print ads, and presenting workshops from coast-to-coast… It was a rush knowing that I was headlining a tour and that people were coming specifically to see me and to hear what I had to say.

When I approached my mid-30’s my pace and position started to waver like a top running out of steam. Unsure of my footing and now being passed over for jobs by younger performers, it was harder to present myself with the same confidence that I did a decade earlier. Time and gravity were proving to be two foes with whom I would battle almost daily. I started finding employment behind the scenes. I choreographed for younger, more nimble dancers. Neophyte presenters would ask me to write their speeches because they did not have the experience I had. I became a copywriter instead of appearing in the local ads.

All of this work was semi-satisfying, but I felt like I was disappointing…..I don’t know….someone. I had trouble justifying working behind the scenes instead of being the style-maker.—

When “The September Issue” was released in 2009, I was introduced to Grace Coddington, Vogue Magazine’s Creative Director. Like going to an optometrist who puts your world into focus with the flip of a lens, I realized that there were not only people behind the scenes like me, but they were often the more colorful and influential characters.

Grace was a model in the 1960’s. Her firery red hair and unusual look made her stand apart from other models. Due to facial reconstruction after a car accident, her career in fashion detoured. She allied with Anna Wintour and the two drove American Vogue to what has become the pinnacle of fashion magazines.

When you watch “The September Issue” you can not take your eyes off Coddington. She brought her years of experience and her passion for art with her to her job. She didn’t need to be a model; she was much more. The models weren’t moving fashion forward, Coddington was the catalyst and her models and photographers were her tools to change the fashion world.

There have always been style-makers behind the scenes. Coddington is in good company. Edith Head. Agnes DeMille. Bob Fosse. Edna Mode.

And that’s where I am. That’s who I am.


I own a men’s kilt company and our audience is largely gay. Photos of our kilts and models showing off those kilts are a big part of our image and our marketing.

You will rarely find me in front of the camera, even when we live broadcast our fashion shoots on Periscope. My body has gone soft, my teeth are not bright, and I am awkward in front of the lens. But despite those things, I know what people find attractive.

We pride ourselves that our models range in age, color, and body size. Real men wear kilts; real men should model our kilts. I won’t hire models to showcase my kilts; I employ my friends, local guys, and customers. Men in whom I see something special. I pay them in pizza and beer.

Using lights, simple direction, experience, laughter, and the camera lens, I transform a man you would pass on the street into an object of desire. I can not seem to apply that same magic to myself, but I can transform another man into an Apollo or Hercules.

That is how I find satisfaction in my art. I don’t have to be a god myself. I create gods.

{Check out Kilted Bros. online and at their Cleveland shop.}

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When Every Day is Halloween

It’s my day off.

I dress outlandishly for most of the year, so when the day of sanctioned outlandishness rolls around I like to tone things down.

There will be more than enough time to don costumes again, especially with the coming of the holiday season.

But in honor of Halloween, here’s something to tide over anyone who wants to see my ass in nonsensical garb.

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The Most Important Outfit of 2016

There is one event around which I plan a singular costume, and planning for it happens months, sometimes years, in advance. This year’s Boo-jolais Wine Celebration by the Alliance for Positive Health came early, and in the form of a costume party, which upped the ante and gave the event a whole new feel. For this one, I sought inspiration from Marie Antoinette, in somewhat stripped down fashion, with powder blue and silver filamented brocade, lace gloves, frilled bloomers, and free-swinging garters. Strings of pearls and sparkling rings were the only accessories needed, along with a pair of lace bows for my boots. A bottle of white spray hair-color hastened the going-gray process, and the mask from a recent trip to ‘Sleep No More’ completed the look.

Though I have a fondness for all the Beaujolais outfits I’ve worn over the years – from the pink pants and red cape ensemble to the green lucky charms jacket, from the Japanese silk kimono to the red-winged/red-haired devil – this one was definitely one of my favorites. Hey, we all have our preferences. And now we begin brainstorming ideas for next year…

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A Boston Ball and Buck

It’s my brother’s favorite store, and he used it as inspiration for his own current brick-and-mortar endeavor. This is Ball and Buck Outfitters, a rustic yet charmingly elegant collection of mostly-men’s gear and accessories, and a throw-back to a by-gone era, where shaves and haircuts are given old-school style. Located on Newbury Street, it provides a badly-needed foil to all the high-end holier-than-thou fashion neighbors whose glossier goods sparkle and shine out of the average person’s reach.

Some men’s stores have fizzled and faltered in this vicinity (Jack Spade, Marc Jacobs) but others are thriving thanks to their unabashed embrace of traditionally masculine rituals with a modern-day twist. There are jackets and coats that offer both form and function, a selection of colognes and soaps and beard oils for everyday manscaping and pampering, and various goods and sundries that should fulfill the pickiest male on any wish list. (I tend to go for a gift certificate and let my brother do the work.)

Subtle earthy shades and sturdy fabrics comprise most of the pants, while softer offerings are on hand to cover what’s above. A definite dose of Americana imbues the place as well; the American flag is a recurring motif that somehow doesn’t overwhelm.

Don’t be put off by all the guns and shooting paraphernalia – the friendly staff is genuinely interested in making your shopping experience a good one, and will happily engage or disengage with customers as they read fit.

As mentioned, there is an on-site barbershop like your Dad or Grandad used to frequent, and well-worth an afternoon’s stop to go back to a time when guys indulged in taking care of themselves. (Some of us never stopped.)

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The Point of Being Pretty

Sometimes the whole point is prettiness itself. These silk slippers, backed with rich green velvet and adorned with silk flowers and tassels of ribbon, serve no other purpose than to look beautiful. They are not designed to withstand bad weather or even a bed of smooth gravel. They are not made to provide exceptional warmth or a way of warding off a winter. They are not meant to tread work-horse-like through a day at the office. Instead, their point and purpose is to look pretty – and in looking pretty, to bring about joy and happiness.

There is power in such prettiness.

Fortitude in beauty.

Currency in attractiveness.

I’m not saying it’s right, merely that it’s there.

It happens to be so.

As for these slippers, they were a gift to myself, as so many things are.

I found them in a gift shop in Ogunquit the last time we were there.

Andy has never cared a whit what I put on my feet, so the only person who has seen their glory thus far is myself. If the point is prettiness, what happens here? Or does prettiness not depend upon being seen? That is the real question at hand: can something be pretty if no one ever sees it?

I believe hearts are like that. Souls, too.

The important things.

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Flowers on My Shoes

In the end, it’s all about the shoes.

Always was, always will be.

These beauties, by Cole Haan, were additionally festooned by a pair of silk peonies, because they needed a little oomph that went beyond lime green laces. They went perfectly with my Wonderland outfit, and it lifted my spirits just to walk in them. That makes all the difference.

(Of course, the socks don’t hurt.)

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Outfitted for a Gala

Though my planned attire for the Albany Pride Festival was changed to something entirely waterproof, the outfit that really mattered this season was for the GLSEN Gala, which had a wonderful ‘Alice in Wonderland’ theme, thus not necessitating much more than a quick perusal of the “colorful” section of my closet. This was a cross between the Mad Hatter and those Tweedledum and Tweedledee twins. A little madness, a little nerdiness, and a lot of color. Just my kind of party, and a perfect escapade before darker times.

Thanks to a fortuitously-timed trip to Century 21, I found this jacket and short set by Mr. Turk, and the top hat was an online discovery. The rest, well, came straight from my closets. They go deep.

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I Learned It By Watching Her

Parents who know fashion have children who know fashion.

My Mom was the first person who taught me how to put an outfit together. Whether it was matching the shoes to the belt, or the shirt collar to a color in a sweater, she instilled a basic knowledge of what worked and what didn’t, and it was on that foundation upon which I relied until I could find my own way. (When you know the rules, you can break them.)

She took her cues from Jackie O, style pontiff of that period, and carried herself with a grace and an unintentional air of aloofness that got passed down directly to her first-born son. What I didn’t learn directly from the outfits she pre-selected for me and my brother I learned through watching her own style evolution, and the way she set about crafting an ensemble with her jewelry and accessories.

A number of years ago, I came into possession of the dress pictured here – a fancy evening gown straight out of the sixties (literally) with gold metallic threading that lent it a shimmer and glow that was a daring departure for my Mom’s usually conservative yet elegant taste. From the moment I first saw it, I was entranced by its beautiful pattern, its use of peacock-like color, and the texture and movement of its unique fabric. (I was also impressed because it was like nothing else my mother owned, and I couldn’t picture her in such a head-turner.)

For many years I’ve been wondering how to make use of it, to showcase and re-envision its purpose to impress, and I think I finally came up with something (without having to remove several ribs, a stomach, and most of a thigh in order to simply slip into it). The new version retains the integrity of the fabric without cutting it to pieces, while entirely revising its function and form. One of the most important things I learned from my Mom’s style was to embrace classic simplicity. (I may not employ it very often, but I appreciate it.) And in situations such as this, when it would be easy to take this dress and turn it into something unrecognizable, I made judicious use of restraint, keeping the fabric largely intact and whole.

The intricately excessive colors and patterns and textures are more than enough to hold visual interest, though a few golden adornments may be a possible addition. For some celebrations, more is more is more…

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The DG Tour: Cologne Glamour Fashion ~ Part 3

A crazy perfume called Lou-Lou stands in plastic turquoise salute. It reminds me of holidays and bears named Felix from Filene’s.

Folds of colorful silk lie like pools of tranquil water, in vermillion, coral, and Granny Smith green.

Fragrance, texture, color and sentiment combine in a wave of nostalgia, yet in that moment a new memory is created. The memory of a memory.

Time is marked in outfits and pieces of clothing as much as it is marked in scent.

Summer is signaled by a floral jacket as much as the sweet neroli beneath its cuff, but there are diversions from the seasonally expected too.

Who else would wear sequins and flip flops and aviators by the pool, or to a parade for that matter?

Who would wear a kimono to a black-tie affair?

You may not be remembered for what you wore, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

Tom Ford knows best.

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Dressing Gown of Many Colors

The interface of a background of black and a background of white cuts the dressing gown down the middle. An absurd impulse purchase while on the way back to the Boston condo, it was really a long dress, but with its button-up style could easily pass as a dressing gown. I couldn’t resist its playful pattern and striking color composition. Somewhere between Iris Apfel and Diana Vreeland, and there’s no space I’d rather occupy. It needs some big-ass costume jewelry and then it will be completely ready for its close-up.

Impulse buy or not, it’s been on my bed taking up space but making me smile whenever my eye finds it. Even if it never touches my body (and of course it already has) it would have been worth it. Happiness for some is a baseball game or pint of beer. For others it’s a stroll in the garden or a ride in an antique car. For me, it’s a colorful dressing gown laid out on the bed, ready for preparation and anticipation of some special evening. Or some average evening. Any evening will do when you have a gown like this.

A hostess is a dowager for a night.

The ensemble sets the tone.

There is a wink inherent in this one.

If you laugh at yourself, the world laughs with you.

If you don’t, it laughs at you.

Only one is really shameful.

And we have no shame in our game here.

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The Missing Jewel

If you think that bargain bin basement shopping is at odds with the hoighty-toighty label-whoring that goes on in these parts, you don’t know me very well. I’m more likely to be found prowling the clearance racks at Marshall’s or Nordstrom Rack than perusing the full (over) priced items at Barneys or Neiman Marcus. (There’s only one area in which I insist on going high-end: fragrance. You just can’t go the bargain fragrance route or you’ll end up smelling like a college disaster. Cool Water? Fool Water. Curve? Swerve. One? Done.) As for the rest, all of it is up for grabs, including – and especially – jewelry. I can’t justify investing any serious money into something I’ll wear once or twice to a party or special occasion. And so we end up with a missing jewel.

When seen from afar, it may not be seen at all. And for specific tattered looks of bohemian ruggedness, such incidentals might as well be intentional. Besides, I like the idea of something flashy being somewhat tarnished. We could all use a little polish on the crown now and then, and there are worse things than missing jewels.

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