Leigh Bowery
If we could stop calling this Leigh that’d be lovely.
(via polishchrist)
No one does piercing / accusing thousand yard glare quite like the late, great macabre beauty Nico (1938-1988) — “possessor of the most haunting wraith cheekbones of the 20th Century” according to Vanity Fair’s James Wolcott and perhaps my favourite artist of all time. This shot is from the same session that produced the stark, iconic cover of her masterpiece The Marble Index (1969) album.
I’ve blogged about Nico many times: her contemporary Marianne Faithfull reflects on Nico here; the historic encounter When John Waters Met Nico; Nico’s 1960s modelling days; how the old jazz standard “My Funny Valentine” connects Nico with Chet Baker; and finally, When Patti Smith Met Nico.
(Source: wrimwramwrom, via rabbitfighters)
The Wainwright Coming Out Party | May 1968By 1968, the eccentric behavior of Big and Little Edie had already begun to be the subject of gossip in East Hampton. Still, when the daughter of a childhood friend of Edie’s was to make her own debut, the Beales received an invitation to the party. Big Edie was hesitant, but Little Edie implored until she gave in. They would go to the party on one condition: Little Edie had to get someone to clean up the mess that had only just begun to accumulate in Grey Gardens. Edie hired two teenagers to help her - in her excitement, she wrote off their slightly odd behavior. She focused all of her energy into what would be her first public appearance in years.
The Beales made a grand entrance— Big Edie wore a magenta wrap and thousands of dollars worth of jewelry, though she didn’t bother brushing her hair. Little Edie, trailed black lace over a black bathing suit and black fishnet stockings. She spent the entire evening dancing:
“I do terrific dances. I did one at the Wainwright coming out party and they didn’t know whether to send me to Islip, have me arrested, or… I thought I was very ladylike. The whole thing caused a commotion in three states [laughing]. You know, if I went in and got very social with everybody, I would not have done it. So I just beat it! I heard the music and I went right in, boy! They had three musicians - a three piece bongo band. God! I never left their side for two hours. I never spoke to one person at the party. I never had a better time. It was a very polite coming out party and everybody wanted to know what cooked - was I the star entertainer, was I drunk, was I full of dope, or what? So guess what happened. The head of the orchestra left very hurriedly to immediately contact the debutantes mother. Well, she was a pal. She said, “Relax. She’s just having fun.” So he went back pounding the keys. They didn’t like it at all, but he couldn’t get rid of me! [Laughing, pleased with herself] So I had a marvelous time. Oh boy, I never heard the last of that from Old East Hampton. They didn’t want me to have a good time there. The girl with the cats.”Early the next morning, Big Edie was finally able to separate her daughter from the bandstand and drag her home - reprimanding her the whole way, “Your disgraceful behavior will release evil spirits, just you wait,” When they arrived, they discovered that $15,000 worth of heirlooms had be stolen from Grey Gardens. From that moment forward, Big Edie refused to leave her home.
(via littleediebeale)
Look, I don’t expect much from the Condé Nast hackjob that is the Costume Institute, but that PUNK show is bullshit. Beautiful clothes, but Leigh Bowery, the progenitor of most styles on view, isn’t mentioned even once. They come right down to ripping off his fucking puffy-head number on the mannequins and still he gets shafted.
You’re a fucking museum.
rabbitfighters asked: How dad you Nick!
oh james. you’re the best drunk tumblr i know.
Had an interview at this fun little yogurt shop. Management are going to call back people this evening about second interviews. I hope I get one....
Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Brad Davis and Andy Warhol on the set of Querelle in West Berlin, March 1982.
Photo by Christopher Makos.
Happy Mother’s Day! | c. 1930