And in Toronto

I got lucky last Friday. Not what you think. Keep your mind clean.
I got a ticket to see a beautiful dance show, part of the Luminato festival. It was The Netherlands Dance Theater, in a 3 piece show that took my breath away.
Here is an excerpt of one, made by a duo of choreographers - lightfoot/Leon, and danced impeccably (the first piece):



Those who know my historical love affair with dance might understand what seeing a good dance performance does to me. It is inspiring and uplifting, but at the same time I'm infuriated for not being serious enough about my own aspiration in the field.

Speaking of historical love affairs, while searching youtube for the previous video, I stumbled upon this one, probably one of the very best dance theater pieces ever made, and a particular favourite of mine, which I haven't seen in so long I don't even want to remember. It was a nostalgic moment.
Here is a short but effective piece from "Cafe Muller" by the legendary Pina Bausch:

Living it up (briefly) in NYC

Big city, bright lights and all that. It's all that it's cracked up to be. So goood to be away for just a little bit, not too much at a time, this city is just too full of excitements, too much of everything. Makes one feel a bit inadequate, and quite poor.
Still, can't complain - consumed a bit of culture, a lot of food, walk the paths of central park, meet good old friends, listen to some good jazz - it's all great.

Here's little pieces of what I saw.


Robert Longo at a show in the Metropolitan Museum. Here's a link from The New Yorker about this interesting time in the art world in America: click on this post title to get there.

You Who Never Arrived - a poem

By Rainer Maria Rilke

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...


--Translated by Stephen Mitchell

Another Kind Model

He tried on some of my suggestions, then rejected them thinking the combination was too good for the office and got some other items more suitable (only to come back a few days later to say he's rethinking).
I took his picture, he looked too good in there not to.

RM in Fab

Click on the post title and check out this Fab magazine cover and the credits for the clothes. The fact is they didn't credit RM for all the stuff I gave them - neglected to mention the belts, bag, and mostly the fab boots, but that's ok, I'm very forgiving.

Lhasa

To read translation of this next song you can click on the post title.

Not Here

Not Here by Rumi

There's courage involved if you want
to become truth. There is a broken-

open place in a lover. Where are
those qualities of bravery and sharp

compassion in this group? What's the
use of old and frozen thought? I want

a howling hurt. This is not a treasury
where gold is stored; this is for copper.

We alchemists look for talent that
can heat up and change. Lukewarm

won't do. Halfhearted holding back,
well-enough getting by? Not here.

Check This out

Thank you Douglas for sending the link to this blog. It's fabulous!
Click on the title to get there. You'll like it I'm sure.

http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com

JPG - A Master of Design

This fine young and lovely man marveled at the price of the sweater he is modeling for me here.
It's a Jean Paul Goultier polo sweater with silver (as in real silver) threads all over. No one tried it on yet, so I asked him to, and then he realized why the price was $200 (retail price $800). It's a fantastically sexy sweater on the right body.
How did I manage to convince him to try it on? I simply said it's probably the only time he'll be able to have a JPG garment against his skin.
You have to agree this is not just a regular polo sweater, it is special.

A Poem

Underground by Seamus Heaney

There we were in the vaulted tunnel running,
You in your going-away coat speeding ahead
And me, me then like a fleet god gaining
Upon you before you turned to a reed

Or some new white flower japped with crimson
As the coat flapped wild and button after button
Sprang off and fell in a trail
Between the Underground and the Albert Hall.

Honeymooning, moonlighting, late for the Proms,
Our echoes die in that corridor and now
I come as Hansel came on the moonlit stones
Retracing the path back, lifting the buttons

To end up in a draughty lamplit station
After the trains have gone, the wet track
Bared and tensed as I am, all attention
For your step following and damned if I look back.

The Official Dresser for the Zen Buddhist Temple

At some point in time both gentlemen lived there. They gave me this title.
One is a writer, the other a painter.
The painter said: " If you find something you love at RM, it's not worth going without it. You must buy it"
The writer said: " I'm flirting with my mind/body unity".
Here they are modeling their new wardrobe. Top to bottom all bought here.
One is wearing an Armani Emporium Ramie summer jacket over Paul Smith shirt and Italian designer shoes.
The other wears a Hugo Boss summer jacket of a cotton/silk mix over Zegna shirt, jeans and shoes.

The Sock Police

A couple of days ago, two nice young men who work in the government building around the corner walked in to browse. One of them, who said he's from a small Ontario town, said he was not worthy of being at my styled shop today, because he was told by a colleague who has all his shirts custom made, that he's wearing the wrong socks. The sock-cop told him socks should always match the pants, so they would not show when the pants are pulled up.

Well, I gave him a piece of my mind, as I'm known to do - basically told him no one (including me) has any right to tell him what to wear, no matter how much they spend on their clothes of think they know everything, and if he's comfortable wearing white socks with his Doc Martin shoes and green jeans, it's his right to do so. I also said that with all due respect to Ontario civil servants, most of them can hardly be considered the best authority on fashion. He liked that.

He loved the python boots I currently have in the window, tried to put them on but couldn't get his foot half way down. His friend had to use brute force to pry the boot off, I couldn't. That tells you how hard he tried to make it fit.
He was sad they were too small, but not sad enough to take my advice and cut his toes, Cinderella's sister's style... He did say however, that had they fit he's wear them to work every day. That he would make each day a 'Runway Day'.

A bit later that day, one of my new 'followers', a lovely opera singer named Rufus Muller (you can read about him in Toronto Star's March 12 Entertainment section), came in to chat and I told him about it. He said in a most charming British accent: "I make a special effort to make my socks match my shirt, no matter how outrageous they are, and they can be quite outrageous indeed".
Now if a stylish opera singer can't make you feel validated, fashion wise, I don't know what can.
I should put a disclaimer here and tell you that personally, I have a sock fetish.

I have a confession to make

I read my horoscope. There, I've said it. Think of me what you will.

I read this one today and it made me laugh out loud, so I'm sharing it with you, whoever you may be. See why I do it?


Libra Horoscope for week of March 5, 2009


Cartoonist Gary Larson defines luposlipaphobia as the fear of being pursued by timber wolves around a kitchen table while wearing socks on a newly-waxed floor. According to my reading of the astrological omens, there is a real danger you could fall victim to that deluded phobia. And it is definitely a delusion. No timber wolves will be in your immediate future. If you hope to avoid this mistaken anxiety, as well as other equally irrelevant and unproductive superstitions, you should have a nice long talk with yourself as soon as you finish reading this. Be very clear and strict and rational as you explain how important it is to be very clear and strict and rational right now.



Courtesy of http://www.freewillastrology.com/

Guest Post: A Woman's Renaissance

So, I (a woman) always think of and frequently go to, Renaissance Man when shopping for the men in my life. And they do appreciate it! But for me, the fun of RM doesn't stop there. I have benefited from checking out the shelves and racks not only for those guys, but for my very own wardrobe. Saturday I went in just to visit. Hah! While I was there, I spied the cosiest and most terrific fleece-lined hooded jacket I could hope for, in a perfect-for-me colour and size. Now, you gotta know this isn't the first time this has happened to me at RM. Last summer there was a certain lightweight, hooded yellow rainjacket, great little pockets all over the place (are we sensing a theme here?), that folded up into a hiking belt. Let's just say I own two great jackets from RM and I plan to check in regular-like...

RM, keep doing what you do!

lnxne

New Qoute

There is more to life than increasing its speed.
Mohandas Gandhi