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Swashbuckling photographer Peter Beard’s work isn’t getting any cheaper—quite the opposite in fact—but we consider it fairly recession proof as these things go. We recently told you about the re-release of his classic 1965 book on Africa, The End of the Game. Then we reported on his shoot in Botswana for the 2009 Pirelli Calendar featuring naked supermodels and an elephant named Cathy.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve expounded before on the extreme appeal of La Perla lingerie, which while eschewing the erotic theatrics of Agent Provocateur nonetheless manages to push all the right buttons. Their underthings, such as the flapper-esque concoction shown here snapped by our fearless lensman at a recent display of La Perla wares in NYC, seem calculated to appeal to sex-starved socialites and other such admirable creatures.
We were not aware however that the company also made the alarmingly snug swim trunks Daniel Craig sported in his debut as James Bond. Apparently he has refused to ever put them on again. Wise choice, old boy; some things are just not meant to have crossover appeal.
Brit music and style icon Bryan Ferry, one of the world’s best-dressed men, wants to try his hand at designing clothes—and why the hell not? Surely being such a lifelong sartorial savant qualifies him more than most. As the man himself tells the London Times, “If P. Diddy can do it, why can’t I?” A private label is “something I would really like to do,” Ferry says, noting, “I should have done it years ago.”
After all, last year’s Burberry men’s collection was basically an homage to the Roxy Music frontman’s signature haute-lounge lizard look, and he did once collaborate on a collection for Brit retailer Topman. So what would a Bryan Ferry collection look like? Well, he’s partial to bespoke dress shirts from Dunhill these days and suits from Richard Anderson of Savile Row, so that might give you an idea.
We say one can never get enough of Czech supermodel and card-carrying Kemptress Eva Herzigova, so we welcome the latest installment in Karl Lagerfeld’s episodic ad campaign for Dom Pérignon’s 1996 Rosé Vintage champagne.
Especially as it requires Eva to lounge around in a luxury hotel room in her lingerie, getting soused on pink bubbly. In the Kaiser’s scenario, she check’s into the hotel and finds a handsome fellow rooming down the hall who apparently shares her obsession with Dom. A few establishing shots later, they’re getting it on but manage to never spill a drop. Trust us, that isn’t how it happened in real life.
Here we have the latest convert to the cult of Tom Ford, - the fellow affectionately known the world over as “Becks”. Mr. Beckham obviously did some research into what the well-dressed MOTH is wearing, and wisely opted to adorn himself likewise. At a fragrance launch the other day he sported a three-piece, single-breasted, peak lapel sand and ochre stripe, silk and wool homespun check “Buckingham” model suit with a ticket pocket, white shirt, brown silk tie and brown calfskin wingtips all from Mr. Ford’s atelier.
Judging by the response to our Mod World post the other day, a lot of you are ready to re-immerse yourselves in a simpler time of army parkas, Pete Townshend riffs and the occasional rumble. Starting with a scooter, as we suggested, is a good idea for absolute beginners, but of course not just any old moped will do.
Enter Royal College of Art grad Grahame Fowler and his firm GGF Restoration, which repurposes the best classic scooters of yore for road-readiness in this post-Mod world. Haute catalog co. Vivre is now stocking a selection of Fowler’s limited edition 1966 - 1968 Lambrettas, restored from the ground up, in a choice of two-tones. Of course at $25,000 a pop, you’re paying a premium for perfection, but then again that’s usually the case.
When we first heard that Harry Potter menace Daniel Radcliffe was appearing in a new Broadway play which required him to get naked and fondle horses, we resolved to steer clear of the Theater District for the duration—that is, after the box office corrected our misapprehension that Radcliffe girls were getting naked. Apparently however it appears that a D. Radcliffe au naturel is infinitely preferable to one allowed to dress himself, as he showed at the Equus premiere the other night with this regrettable blue tuxedo.
Last year we told you about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to acquire a world-class collection of rare Scotch whiskies at a landmark Christie’s sale. Now you can get the whole shebang in one bottle. It’s no ordinary fifth of hooch however; called The Last Drop, it carries a $2,000 pricetag and there’s an extremely limited supply.
70 different malt whiskies and 12 different grain whiskies, most from distilleries no longer extant and all at least 48 years old (i.e. pre-1960), go into this uber-blend bottled at cask strength. Of course with something like this you may want to lock it away in the cellar for some extremely important occasion, so the makers have thoughtfully included a miniature bottle gratis so you can sample the goods without breaking into the principal. And if you can stop there you’re a better man than I.
A while back we told you about Mick Jagger’s daughter Georgia, the latest in a line of rock star offspring to try her hand at modeling. Now comes news from across the pond that rock’n’roll prince of darkness Nick Cave’s son Jethro is following suit.
Young Jethro, 18, who lives in his dad’s native Australia and bears a striking similarity to the Bad Seed, has apparently ditched his legal (and perfectly fine last name of Lazenby in favor of Cave. He has so far appeared in UK hipster rags i-D and Dazed & Confused, and was recently flown to Paris to meet with French fashion house Balenciaga. Of course, what he really wants to do is produce (music).
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Manolo Blahnik’s name is of course familiar to shoe fetishists and Sex & the City slatterns. Quite apart from that however he is also one of the world’s best-dressed men. The dapper designer has both the panache and gravitas to pull off the old school double-breasted suit and bowtie look in a way that few men really can. Note that he does not look remotely silly even when clutching a satin stiletto (he’s about to sign it for some Bergdorf Blondes, not try it on).
Note also the ticket pocket and turned-back cuffs on the jacket which fairly shout “bespoke”; the jacquard bowtie of perfect proportion, disheveled just enough so that there can be no question of its being one of those horrific pre-tied affairs; the natty tortoiseshell specs; and the bodacious boutonniere, a nice Wildean touch. Whether he chose the suit to match the shoe we wouldn’t venture to say.
Back by popular demand—the latest installment in our series of pulchritudinous pairings, because two is sometimes so much better than one. This snap comes to us all the way from Moscow and a private dinner following megabucks gallerist Larry Gagosian’s new contemporary art show in a former chocolate factory.
Our delectable duo is of course Russian. On the left is supermodel Natalia Vodianova best known for her Calvin Klein campaigns and countless others; on the right, Dasha Zhukova, girlfriend of free-spending billionaire oligarch Roman Abramovich who’s launching her own well-financed foray into the art world. No doubt she was just there to pick up a little something by Jeff Koons or Takashi Murakami.
With a $500 price tag, its own velvet-lined suitcase and more melons than the fruit aisle at Whole Foods, Playboy’s limited edition The Complete Centerfolds book we told you about last November was one of those overly-ambitious ventures - much like the seven girlfriends - that seem to characterize Hef’s evening years.
Now however, perhaps responding to market pressures, they’ve released a more recession-friendly edition without all the bells and whistles, but still including every single strumpet to grace the famed gatefold since 1953 - over 600 of them to be exact. Presented chronologically in large format, it’s remarkable to chart the progression of soft porn aesthetics over the decades, changing with tastes and times. One thing’s for certain, however: melons have been in season for 50 years.
We don’t want to be unkind - oh, fuck it, why not? - but doesn’t this snap of weather-beaten couture king Valentino clutching a radiant and youthful Keira Knightley have more than touch of the Nosferatu about it? The knockout Knightley bore up well we have to say, at a screening of her new flick The Duchess hosted by Vogue and Chanel the other night.
In the flick she plays the randy snob Georgina Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, the latest in what seems an unending streak of period roles. After yet another version of King Lear, she’s set to star in an adaptation of one of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s worst books, The Beautiful and Damned - which come to think of it makes a pretty good caption for this photo.
A lot of things are pointing to an imminent scooter revival; the price of gas and that business about carbon footprints, of course, but also the fact that folk like Rag & Bone keep basing collections on Mods and Rockers That makes Mick Walker’s zippy new book, Classic Scooters: 1945 - 1970 all the more timely. The Italian Piaggo company’s iconic Vespa and the equally alluring Lambretta are the famous ones, of course, but there are many others whose names may be unfamiliar but embody just as much great vintage verve. Snap up a copy, pop Quadrophenia on the stereo and be transported to a simpler, much more stylish era. We’ll meet you there.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Back before he became a big time music producer and multi-Grammy winner, Mark Ronson used to DJ all the hottest parties in town—and some out of town as well (ask him about the time he flew to Milan to DJ at a Gucci soirée and got in a shouting match with Charlize Theron.) His sartorial acumen has increased appreciably since those days behind the decks; onstage these days he affects a sort of dapper nouveau-rockabilly vibe, necktie always knotted just so.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Good old Julian Schnabel. The minute everyone started copying his signature pajama look, the larger-than-life art world provocateur shelved ‘em in favor of something even shabbier.
The other night at a screening of nouveau western Appaloosa hosted by the Cinema Society and Vanity Fair, Schnabel showed up to rub elbows and such with Jessica Lange in a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of board shorts.
We’re sure this is just a temporary measure until the p.j. trend cools off a bit. Of course, since flannel workwear shows signs of a flare-up as well this season, he may be out of the frying pan and into the fire, sartorially speaking.
In 1972, while filming Pocket Money with Paul Newman in Tucson, Arizona, tough guy actor Lee Marvin happened upon an artful adobe-style house designed in the Santa Catalina Foothills by Swiss architect Josias Joesler in 1936 and decided to call it home.
Marvin set about improving the property, designed around a Spanish-style courtyard with a massive fountain, putting in a pool, tennis court and screening room. Best of all, Marvin himself designed some wrought iron hardware and fixtures for the house which he commissioned from local blacksmiths. Now 20 years after the immortal actor has gone to the great MGM commissary in the sky, his widow is looking to sell the place to someone who’s willing to carry on Lee’s legacy. Yours for a mere $6 million.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
As a counterpoint to the toothsome model duo we presented you with the other day, here’s a well-tailored pair of gentlemen who provided a rare moment of sartorial splendor during a mostly humdrum Fashion Week.
On the left, former MOTH Zac Posen, the social butterfly fashion designer; on the right, a certain rich clown with an oversized ego and an identity crisis to match (what’s is it this week? Puffy? Diddy? Poncey?) The two met up at Mr. Posen’s runway show, where the designer sported an elegant ticket-pocketed tropical weight woolen number complete with boutonnière.
As the hype crescendos around Quantum of Solace’s impending release—new Bond Girls!—it’s a good time to consider the flick in its historical context. Especially as a smashing collection of classic 007 placards are hitting the block at Christie’s in London tomorrow. The prized Bond lot in the auction house’s Vintage Film Posters sale is a mint condition 1964 Goldfinger sheet in the rare British quad style B format, estimated at $7,00 - $10,000.
We’re partial however to this quirky and equally scarce Aston Martin promo piece produced for Thunderball in 1965, which is a much better deal at est. $3,000 - $3,500. Also included are classics from Dr. No (1962, est. $2,700 - $4,500), From Russia With Love (1963, est. $2,700 - $4,500) and the rest of the pantheon, with several variations of each. Mr. Craig would do well to study these masterpieces if he hopes to err on the side of Connery.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
As part of our continuing series of pulchritudinous pairings we bring you this snap from frenetic Fashion Week.
On the right is Belgian beauty Anouck Lepere, who last graced these pages when she posed for French Playboy, leading us to consider moving to France. On the left is Brit model Jacquetta Wheeler, who’s raked in a fortune posing from everyone from Prada to The Gap.
The pair were partying at an event for Another magazine, the so-hip-it-hurts publication founded by Kate Moss’ former paramour Jefferson Hack, hosted by our favorite new import, Bamford & Sons. It seems Hack has gotten over Ms. Moss and is now hitting the sheets with Anouck, the lucky bastard. He’s certainly no matinee idol, but if he could bottle whatever he’s got the guy would make a fucking fortune.
The venerable Van Hoo distillery in the village of Eeklo, Belgium has been churning out premium spirits for over 250 years, but their assault on America’s top shelves is just getting off the ground.
They recently gave their single estate, quadruple-distilled, charcoal filtered vodka a much-needed facelift, and it’s one of the best-looking and tasting examples we’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking way too much of. Packaged in a dashing Art Deco-style octagonal cobalt blue bottle, the yeasty, potent, and somewhat thick, syrupy spirit manages to mix mineral and citrus notes without stirring up a coup d’état; quite the opposite, in fact, a match made in some souse’s heaven. Not bad for a country where half the population refers to themselves as “Walloons.”
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Kempt regulars are well aware that the Style Guy sometimes goes in for curious accessories. While dressed perfectly correctly at the Standard Hotel the other night for the official relaunch of Interview—where he was recently installed as editor—our boy Glenn’s date for the evening was even curiouser.
Got an extra 25 grand, a blank wall and some friends you want to fuck with? Then head over to Sotheby’s today and snap up this eye-popping photo of Pamela Anderson by merry prankster David LaChapelle. The pic, which was taken in 2004 and measures an impressive 3-ft. tall, is a playful take on Pam’s permatan—not to mention her massive mammalian protuberances.
The pneumatic portrait is buried among a fairly ho-hum collection of contemporary art in the auction house’s New York sale today, with an estimate of $18,000 - $25,000 which we predict will end up on the high side even though most people will be bidding on paintings. Because there’s always been a heated competition for Pam’s ample charms.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve always been reasonably amused by Sean Lennon. We can’t recall actually listening to any of his music, but he managed to avoid being too overtly annoying in a way that would be all too easy for one of his parentage. And hey, having Yoko for a mom is no picnic. If anything, old Sean has erred on the side of boring, but once in a while he trots out a new female friend to spice things up a bit.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Seems we were way out ahead of the curve when we praised Julian Schnabel pajama clad magnificence back in January and handed him an unexpected MOTH. Some of you scoffed at the time, but several months later Schnabel’s signature style is all the rage in menswear circles, according to the Wall Street Journal.
The paper reports that designers including Michael Bastian, Bottega Veneta, Dolce & Gabbana, Giorgio Armani and Prada are now all flogging various versions of haute sleepwear made to worn in public. (Schnabel’s own, by the way, are made by his wife. So what does this all mean for the man on the street? Will we soon be able to go straight from bed to the office?
In the rush to give one’s champagne brand a boost in an increasingly-crowded marketplace, some firms go too far; take this womb-like contraption for chilling an otherwise blameless bottle of Veuve Clicquot, or Karl Lagerfeld’s Pepto Bismol pink Dom Pérignon carrier.
Contrast those with this elegantly understated Coffret case for Laurent-Perrier’s multi-vintage prestige cuvée Grand Siècle: a cleverly-constructed black case containing a magnum of the good stuff and six hand-blown Baccarat crystal champagne flutes in separate compartments.
No doubt some will complain that it doesn’t look expensive or flashy enough, and to them we say good night and good luck.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
The other day in St. Moritz we caught a rare glimpse of one of the silver screen’s true classics—a certain Faye Dunaway. It can sometimes be painful to look upon the faded beauty of screen sirens in later life, but Ms. Dunaway has still got a certain something, a lingering spark of the woman who wowed us in Chinatown et al.; no mean feat at age 67.
The actress was spotted at an art gala thrown by Cartier in the Swiss resort the other night, where Claudia Cardinale, who, alas, has not aged as well, also put in appearance. Meanwhile, Dunaway may be returning to the big screen soon; she’s rumored to have a starring role in twisted director Todd Solondz’s upcoming flick Life During Wartime.
If you missed your shot at the Godfather of Soul’s shades, don’t despair—there’s still time to get your paws on Tom Jones’ billiard table.
On Thursday, London’s The Fame Bureau is auctioning off the table owned and used by the Welsh pop star in the ’60s and ’70s. Made by Burroughes & Watts of London c. 1880, the mahogany masterpiece made a cameo on the record sleeve of Jones’ 1971 LP She’s A Lady and is expected to fetch $100,000 - $150,000. Also on offer: Jimi Hendrix’s first burnt guitar, a 1967 Fender Stratocaster, which could go for as much as $1 million; the Bechstein Grand piano used by the Beatles to record Hey Jude in 1968, est. $600,000 - $800,000, and a slew of other less expensive but equally entrancing lots.
Start your bidding here.
Feast your eyes on this clownish couple, but be forewarned before clicking to enlarge the picture: they’re so plastered with logos we got acute conjunctivitis just looking at ‘em. Underneath all the claptrap you might recognize NASCAR nuggins Jeff Gordon (right), and a certain Mr. Pharrell Williams, who has won the adulation of the style set despite the fact that he dresses like an 11-year-old Japanese kid with ADD and way too much disposable income.
The painful-to-look-upon pair posed the other night at a Hollywood party for the Pepsi 500, the yearly race held at the end of the NASCAR season at the Auto Club Speedway in Fontana, California. Despite the similar getups they were not in fact there as a couple; Gordon was accompanied by his hot model/actress wife Ingrid Vandebosch. At least he has good taste in something.
While some claim Sotheby’s’ upcoming Damien Hirst blowout—which is expected to bring in about $120 million—is merely an excuse to clear out a backlog of unsold work from Hirst’s London gallery, the bad boy Brit artist insists it actually marks a major turning point in his colorful career.
Titled Beautiful Inside My Head Forever and timed to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the celebrated Freeze exhibition which launched his career, Hirst says the sale represents the last of his long-running series of formaldehyde works, spin, and spot paintings, which have become a bit too predictable.
“It’s like my friend [late Clash frontman] Joe Strummer once told me about writing songs,” Hirst says. “If you can guess what the rhyme’s gonna be in the next line, then it’s shit and you’ve gotta change it.” We couldn’t agree more; Hirst’s work, turned out by his “factory,” Warhol-style, resembles nothing more then a broken, though very profitable, record at this point. Time for a new gimmick, old boy.
Photo courtesy of the Fondation Le Corbusier, Paris / Phaidon PressIf it hadn’t been for a certain dapper Swiss genius named Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris—Le Corbusier to you—the likes of Richard Meier and would still be playing with Legos. Perhaps the very first starchitect—and way cooler than Frank Lloyd Wright—the dapper fellow in the bowtie and black specs masterminded the Modern movement and laid the foundation, literally and figuratively, for all avant-garde design to come.
The Phaidon Press has just come out with a $200, 20-lb., 2,000-image tribute to this towering talent, entitled Le Courbusier: Le Grand. In it you can see how came up with groundbreaking designs for everything from chairs to skyscrapers, dressed to the nines all the way.
That eternally classic item of military-inspired menswear, the peacoat, has been interpreted in myriad different ways and fabrics over the years since it was first adopted by European navies some 250 years ago. Leave it to Hermes, however, to blow it out of the water.
For Fall, the famed house’s menswear designer Véronique Nichanian made a peacoat entirely of top-grade crocodile skin that will set you back a cool $150,000 and change, which gets our vote for the season’s most extravagant men’s item. The Hermes flagship on the Upper East Side just got in two of them, we’re told, in classic navy. You might be able to special order it another color—safety orange, say—if you’re willing to wait a few months and further decimate the crocodile population.
Frankly, we can see multiple-MOTH Cameron Silver sporting one of these for a sojourn on Valentino’s yacht or somesuch, but ordinary mortals will probably want to stick with the $120 version they sell at The Gap.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve admired British-born, Aussie-raised actor Guy Pearce ever since 1997’s brilliant L.A. Confidential, easily one of our favorite flicks of all time. An understated sort of fellow, we’ve never really paid much attention to his attire, but at the premiere of his new terrorist-CIA caper Traitor the other night, he caught our eye for pulling off the all-black look with a verve we haven’t seen since the unpredictable Mr. Cumming sported a similar set-up last March.
Photo courtesy of Steidl
A precious glimpse at one of the world’s most incredible photo collections from the golden age of Hollywood is to be found in Robert Dance’s opulent new book, Glamour of the Gods. The pix are all from the archives of John Kobal, who was one of the first to collect studio portraits of stars like Greta Garbo, Marlon Brando, Marlene Dietrich, Humphrey Bogart, Grace Kelly and Rita Hayworth, realizing they’d one day be equally important, if not more so, than the movies they made.
Above is Clarence Sinclair Bull’s incredibly elegant study of Gary Cooper, done for MGM in 1934, one of our favorite photos of all time. Further evidence, as if we required any, that they don’t make movie stars—or even photographs—like they used to.
Most of the tequilas we come across look like some kind of Tex Mex nightmare; occasionally one even resembles a good cognac. One thing we didn’t expect to see was an elixir of agave that could be a stand-in for ultra-premium vodka. In a crowded market, however, you sometimes have to think outside the box—er, bottle.
Thus we have Maestro Dobel, the “world’s first diamond tequila”, sold in numbered vessels bearing the name of the ranch the agave was harvested from. What the hell does “diamond” mean? Well, most aged tequilas of the anejo and extra-anejo variety look like they’ve been sitting around in oak for a while, which of course they have.
Maestro Dobel, a blend of the latter plus a spot of reposado, is crystal clear, however, the result of a “proprietary blending and filtration technique,” they say, that “gently expels congeners” along with color. Sounds like some kind of eel, no? Apparently it’s an impurity borne of fermentation that we consume all the time. Who knew? Who cares. But this is pretty good stuff all the same.
We’ve been under no illusions as to Mick Jagger’s impressive fecundity, but we thought we’d seen all the gorgeous children the wrinkly Rolling Stone planned to crank out in this lifetime. Turns out we overlooked Georgia May, 16, his drop-dead daughter by legendary stunner Jerry Hall.
Georgia just made her modeling debut in the UK for the Mail on Sunday’s You magazine, and we think the girl’s gonna go places. She’s got the signature lippage, for one thing, and has obviously been practicing poppa’s pout. And in case you’re wondering what it’s like having Mick as a dad, Georgie confesses to the mag, “He’s not as cool as you’d think he’d be.”
Oh well.
Kate Moss has led a colorful life, to be sure, even by supermodel standards. Once she even took time out from all the drinking and drugging to get treatment for sex addiction. But out of all the men in her life, the one snog that still gives her goosebumps just to think about came courtesy of Frank Sinatra—who was an octogenarian at the time.
Buried among the multimillion dollar Ferraris, Bugattis and Lamborghinis at this past weekend’s Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance and Gooding & Co.’s concurrent auction was a little piece of automotive history belonging to one Steve McQueen..
The King of Cool’s 1976 Porsche 930 Turbo Carrera (above), in an understated shade of slate gray, was the car the actor drove daily for the last years of his tragically short life. While nothing like his older Jaguar XK-SS and Ferrari 250 Lusso, both of which sold for millions in years past, the Porsche—which was hammered down for a measly $137,000—is somehow a more authentic, poignant relic of the once and future King.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
There are few things as entertaining down Hollywood way as Robert Downey Jr. in full wackjob mode. His cinematic comeback was that much more compelling because of all the guns, drugs and jail time he slogged through to get there. Now making waves with his blackface tour de force Tropic Thunder—and still sporting the ’70s ‘stache he grew for the role—he showed up to the flick’s LA premiere the other night looking like a cross between George Harrison and Robert Goulet.
Though we haven’t reviewed the mag in its entirety, the outlook is good for the Style Guy’s first fully revamped issue of Interview (September), which is about to hit newsstands. We should have known Ye Olde O’Brien would make things a lot more interesting.
In lieu of the endless fawning profiles of Elton John that cluttered up the pages under the previous regime, we now have full frontal nudes of Kate Moss. The snap here, by fashion photog duo Mert and Marcus, accompanies an interview penned by—you guessed it—Glenn O’Brien.
Because what’s the good of being editor if you can’t grab all the plum assignments for yourself?
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
In the course of bestowing the two MOTHs he’s pocketed so far—for an elegant all-black ensemble and the apex of equestrian chic—we issued a caveat about Alan Cumming’s occasionally overly theatrical tendencies in matters of dress. He is a quirky actor type after all, but once in a while these unfortunate propensities seem to get the better of him.
Considering how seriously nouveau 007 Daniel Craig takes his suits, we were not surprised to see that he made the grade in Vanity Fair’s 2008 International Best-Dressed List.
However, knowing how into Tom Ford Craig is—as we noted before, he refused to wear anything else for his GQ cover shoot, and went through 40+ Ford suits while filming the latest Bond flick, Quantum of Solace—we were somewhat taken aback to see him pictured in the mag wearing nothing but Dolce & Gabbana. Looks to us like someone at VF went out of their way to favor the Italian duo over the MOTH king—and it also looks like Tommy needs to buy a lot more ad space.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
We’ve had our eye on randy model/heiress Lydia Hearst for quite a while—following her progress with considerable interest, as Bertie Wooster might say.
She flaunts her charms to be sure, but somehow manages to avoid the Paris Hilton pitfall. And while not exactly a Rhodes Scholar, the provocative poppet certainly has a head on her shoulders, enough to be a good sport about it when Gawker takes the piss, as it’s wont to do. (Darn that creative underclass!)
Once upon a time, in a more graceful age, a gentleman wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without certain items, including a hat of course but also of equal importance, a walking stick. This had nothing to do with infirmity, though it wasn’t always purely ornamental either. There was a thriving trade in walking sticks of every description, some ingeniously made to conceal all manner of items a gentleman might find useful on his travels.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Publicists in these parts will do pretty much anything to garner attention for their clients; the invention of pseudo-holidays seems to be a tactic they teach in flack school for extra credit. Of course, the attempts vary in success.
The other day we were entreated to celebrate National Root Beer Float Day—despite the obvious paradox inherent in celebrating something to do with nonalcoholic drinks. Shortly after that we were informed of the imminent approach of National Underwear Day—sorry, make that the Sixth Annual National Underwear Day—presented by online unmentionables outlet FreshPair.com.
Starting this week, for the first time in 200 years whiskey is being sold at George Washington’s distillery at Mount Vernon, where the nation’s first president produced an impressive 11,000 gallons the stuff in 1799.
The move was made possible under special legislation signed by Virginia Governor Tim Kaine, whom we hereby anoint an honorary MOTH for his services to the cause. The distillery was one of the largest, most successful whiskey distilleries in early America, using corn and rye grown on Washington’s plantation until it burned down in 1814. It re-opened last year after extensive renovations and will hopefully be producing Washington’s signature sauce in saleable quantities again soon, but for starters they’re offering small bottles of a unique “vatted” American whiskey made from portions of 11 famous brands, “married” and re-aged at Mount Vernon.
The brands include Jack Daniel’s, Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Maker’s Mark, Woodford Reserve, and that Southern classic which might well have been named in honor of ol’ George himself: Virginia Gentleman.
The other day in our post about Peter Beard, we noted that the legendary lensman is still going strong while his swashbuckling contemporaries have all bitten the dust.
If anyone required further proof, Beard just finished shooting the 2009 Pirelli Calendar, the Italian tire company’s coveted and highly flammable annual promo full of naked supermodels given away to select VIPs (the kind who own fleets of Pirelli-shod Ferraris). Beard spent 10 days in the wilds of Botswana with a flock of world-class hotties including Kemptress Isabeli Fontana, The Gisele, Malgosia Bela, Daria Werbowy, Raquel Zimmermann and not a lot of clothes.
Here, the ever-adventurous photographer sets up a shot of a couple of the gals frolicking topless with Cathy the elephant.
All in a day’s work for our man Pete.
Congratulations, Rufus Wainwright—this is without a doubt the most hideous fucking outfit we’ve seen all year! We were pretty sure gossip goblin Perez Hilton was gonna waddle away with the prize, but you just left him in a pile of piggy stardust thanks to the getup you sported at the 15th Annual Watermill Summer Benefit in the Hamptons the other night.
Photographed by our fearless lensman, Patrick McMullan.
Here claim his third MOTH—only the second fellow to score a hat trick so far, the first being Hamish Bowles—is dandified Los Angeles vintage clothing kingpin Cameron Silver. We might have expected the irrepressible Mr. Silver to rescue us from the sartorial lapses of summer with something like the study in brown and cream he wore to the opening of the new Prada store in San Franciso.
There’s a major occasion to celebrate for men and drinkers everywhere coming up in December, so it only makes sense to start preparing now. December 5th marks the 75th anniversary of the Repeal of Prohibition the date that Utah finally ratified the 21st Amendment, ending a 13-year national nightmare saw an increase in crime and alcohol abuse - the very thing it was intended to counteract - while costing the Treasury’s coffers millions in lost tax revenue.
To help us get ready, drinkers’ rights group the Distilled Spirits Council has just launched an intoxicating new site, ProhibitionRepeal.com, with extensive sections on the history, cocktails, and legacy of the dark years, plus tips on throwing your own Repeal party.
It also highlights the battles still to be fought - such as the ridiculously antiquated Blue Laws that “continue to burden consumer convenience” in many states, as they so artfully put it. In other words, there’s still some mighty thirsty work to be done.
What has Leo DiCaprio got that you haven’t? Well, Bar Refaeli for one, the startlingly stacked Israeli model he’s been keeping company with for the past couple years.
Considering the stilettos she’s stepping into here - Leo’s ex is if course The Gisele - Bar looks like beating the odds. She was the first Israeli chick to be admitted into the ranks of Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit Issue sirens and was recently named Best Body of 2008 by Arena magazine. To top it off she was just picked as the new face (and such) of Hurley, the Californian surf and skate company with a cult-like following.
The ads (above) will debut in the fall, when she’ll also be appearing in Tommy Hilfiger’s Iconic America TV special.
We’ll let you make your own “Bar none” joke.
Talk about vintage champagne - some lucky bastard just found the world’s oldest bottle of Veuve Clicquot lying around his Scottish castle in a dusty cabinet that’d been locked up for the last 100 years.
Chris James, the current owner of Torosay Castle on the Isle of Mull off Scotland’s west coast told the London Telegraph he’d long been meaning to have a peek inside the cupboard, for which he had no key. After finally enlisting the help of a locksmith, James discovered the original owner’s personal booze stash, including bottles of claret and brandy, a decanter of port, and an unopened bottle of 1893 Veuve yellow label in mint condition, thanks to the cellar-like conditions that prevail in old Scottis
