What’s next for ABE NYC, INC.? New York Design ’09. For the past seven years, I have been producing off-site events during ICFF throughout NYC. It started after I was sent to Milan to cover the Salone, the world’s largest design event attended by over 200,000 people! So I came back to New York City as noticed how lame and uncool our design events really were and started doing these indie-off site events. Well, now it has grown into a much bigger groove and I’ve been working with the Meatpacking District Initiative where Annie Washburn (the E.D.) and I take over the neighborhood and feature great exhibitions, panel discussion and cocktail parties. To get an evite to MPD DESIGN 09, click here.

This year, the theme is ARCHITECTURE. Since this economy is not bringing out the shoppers, we’ve decided to feature the foundation of great design, which it what houses it. It’s a conversation about the importance of architecture, the direction it is taking and it’s future.

Since the Meatpacking District is in the wind storm of visual change, it was clear that the focus should be on Architecture. Many of the stores and restaurants get involved throughout the weekend (May 15-17), so come by and see for yourself what we’ve hooked up. Peace, love, and Woodstock. xoxoxo ABE

My dog Woodstock

Be Afraid. Be very afraid. Because these people here (I use the term loosely), these “bankers” are at the core of our country’s financial problems. But it’s not just them. They share the blame with these other friggen clowns, the Wall Street “stock brokers”. Just look at these buffoons. This is no way for a self-respecting adult to spend their day. Screaming and carrying on with no sense of decorum or sophistication. And screaming and yelling about money? I mean…what?!?  Is this how horribly they were raised, that they need to spend their waking, working hours screaming into the air, fists clenched in anger? Is this the by-product of Suburbia? It’s these putz-bags that are the ills of our society. It’s all about the blessed buck. And now, one by one, as they fall from grace from their ivory towers, they are finding out that this is not so. That the world is not about what you have but who you are and how you treat others. All others I might add, rich, poor, black, Indian. Not just the others stuck in your tiny, limited cages filled with money-grubbers and scammers.

And how’s about these animals? These are the top auto makers in all their clueless-ness. How about a round of applause for these pricks? Look at their mouths. All tight lipped like baboons. See what I mean? Anyway, rather than go on and on about how horrible all these people are, let me just step out of this Yuppie muck and lead us back to a cheerier tone.

Though there is darkness before the dawn, my message today is not about the doom and gloom of our economy. I’ll leave that up to Women’s Wear Daily. More importantly, I’d like to remind you that we’ve been here before. Just because “Yuppies” have permeated the air like in the late 70′s and 80′s, is no reason to fret. On the contrary. Anyone that lived and survived New York City during that time knows that there was no place on Earth with as much excitement. And to this day, people envy us who lived through it. There was Studio 54 and Area and the Mudd Club with an underground art movement that bustled and burgeoned like nobody’s business. It was an era that called for individuality and freedom of expression. Clubbing became a sport. The New York fashion scene erupted. There was sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll and disco. Fashion photography and sensuality became synonymous. Sex sells…remember?  Looking fierce and different became a badge of honor. I, for one, intend to live my life exactly as I did then. Not by going out every night and partying, but by maintaining my sense of individuality in spirit. And to take pride knowing that I never settled for the Yuppie life, not then and surely not now. I mean look at the people in this photo from Studio 54. This was an average night out. Who do we have now that comes close to the hipness quotient of Halston or Andy or Bianca? Who? Lauren Conrad? Ryan McGinley? Zac Posen? Please! I could vomit at the suggestion. This era spawned greatness, or shall I say fabulous-ness. It was the counter revolution of the Yuppies that gave people like me the incentive to rise up and be fierce. And I suggest to all of you to look deep into your soul and find that kernel of grooviness and pursue it. Go buy  pair of snakeskin cowboy boots, or a bolero jacket or an interesting hat. Wear it with pride. Commit to looking nothing like the Yuppies pictured above. Tear up your Barney’s Warehouse Sale suits and run to Trash and Vaudeville or Screaming Mimi’s and suit up in vintage anything. Gay men, lose the whole “bear” thing and recapture that svelte Marlboro Man look. (I really don’t know how that slipped away.) Girls, go buy some shoulder pads and stick them in your sweaters and channel Norma Kamali. And tease your hair! Kids…what are you waiting for? This is THE moment. Today is the day you can change the direction of your life. Voting for Obama was step one. Now it’s time to take your own individual stance to move in the direction that makes you happy. If not now, when? If not today, why not? This is the time to be a Master of Conviction. Embrace your inner ferociousness. The new dawn is here.

xoxo

ABE

Poor, poor New York Post. They have actually stooped low enough to trash Brad and Angie, Hollywood’s golden couple. Today’s article by Danico Lo scolds The Branges for not stopping to talk to Ryan Seacrest or Tim Gunn. I mean…what?!? Honey, just cause YOU would stop and talk to anyone who will listen, does not mean that our coolest, smartest, hippest, most rooted in fabulous Hollywood couple should stop and talk blather with the likes of Tim Gunn, who looks like he drools while gushing or Ryan, who I think is great, but let’s face it, red carpet questions are beyond inane.

Danica, admit it, you are as obsessed with them as everyone else (except Jennifer Aniston, who I am sure has a voodoo doll with long brown hair), which is why you want them to stop and talk to anyone who will ask them something riveting like, “Whose jewels did you borrow”, or “How many dresses did you have to chose from” or even “Have you thought about your acceptance speech”. (Which in the case of Brad or Angie was a waste of their time to think about.)

My point is, old glamorous Hollywood stars would NEVER, EVER stop and talk to anyone, let alone admit to borrowing clothes. The studio system was far too sophisticated for that nonsense. Bette Davis would look you square in the eye, or rather, look right through you and just keep walking. ‘Cause that is what real Hollywood stars used to do and should be again…like our Brad and Angie. Really, do you think Clark Gable and Carole Lombard would ever stop to blabber on and on about their minutia? Get with it, girl and all you you who expect talent to just chit chat about what douche they use. I don’t need to know to much information (T.M.I.) about them. Why, pray tell,  do you?

I say, let’s go back to when Hollywood offered the mystique of glamour. And anyone else can just bask in the twinkle of the stars.

To read Danica Lo’s article in the New York Post.

Poor little Loki…the sweet Chihuahua that Mickey Rourke would have definitely taken to the Oscars last night was in heaven watching from above. As someone who also lost their beloved Chihuahua Lucky to the great beyond, I feel for Mickey. His acceptance speech at the Spirit Awards was great and his moment of sadness about Loki was touching.

Now, onto the show and the blog entry at hand. I have been reading reviews of last night’s telecast and are these people kidding?

That show sucked. First of all sexiest man alive is one thing but turning the Oscars into the Tonys is not my idea of an upgrade. It’s astonishing that half the crap that filled the three hour plus evening got OK’d by the producers. Or better yet, “what a great idea”. It’s like bad Mickey Rooney.

I did like when prior Oscar winners came out and talked to the nominees about how fabulous they are. As if they don’t know it already seeing that they are at the top of their game, but still, who doesn’t want to be well-wished by the likes of Sophia Lauren or Robert De Niro?

The big musical number? I mean……….what?!? It was an abomination. And if the musical is back…please let that overblown number not set the tone for future Oscar telecasts. To quote Valerie Cherish from The Comeback, “I don’t need to see that!” or, rather, “I don’t need to see THAT!”

OK, Slumdog Millionaire was enjoyable…but enough already. That unecessary scene in the movie when the brother gets into the bathtub with all the money and dies stuck in my craw and I can’t get it out. And when a film has a lame, gratuitous scene, it’s hard for me to be all obsessed, as all of Hollywood seems to be. My gueess is that India has some serious money for financing films, hence all the sucking up to Mumbai and Bollywood.

Other odd moments were Jennifer Aniston and Jack Black bantering as the camera cut to Angelina, her thinking, “Brad, how did you do THAT for so long? Don’t touch me.” And Jerry Lewis coming out making weird faces. Yikes. I could go on and on, like the awards show did, but I will spare you.

My recommendations to producers Larry Mark and Bill Condon are:

1. Bring back either Ellen or Whoopi to host.
2. Ditch the retrospective film montages.
3. Hurry up with those technical awards.
4. Expand the red carpet stuff cause in the end, that’s what really counts.
5. And no more groveling by red carpet arrival show hosts to the talent in an effort to get them to come and say hello…that means you Tim Gunn.

My favorite dress? And the winner is…Nataline Portman in Rodarte.

Well, another fashion week has come and gone and as it goes, this one was really fun. I loved the projects I worked on (G-STAR was most groovy) and now, I get to focus on Steinunn, my wonderful Icelandic designer (www.steinunn.com) who is still reeling from the financial collapse in her country. Her stamina is inspiring. “I’m going to survive this,” she said yesterday afternoon over coffee in Soho,  her piercing blue eyes shining. And I am determined to help in any way I can.

Now back to frothy tidbits. Mishca Barton looked gorgeous at the G-STAR show, as did Shenae Grimes, Danielle Panabaker, Natasha Bedingfield, Alexandra Richards, and then some. The guys were hot starting with Benidio Del Toro, Rodrigo Santoro, Santiago Cabrera, Tyson Beckford, Demian Bichir, to name a few. It was a kick ass front row.

Yes, there were dinners, and after parties. But the most fun was hanging out at Beatrice Inn with the cast of CHE along with producer, Laura Bickford and the illustrious Amy Sacco.

Until next season…stay optimistic, shop whenever you can, and be happy. That’s what I plan to do.

XOXO
ABE

Happy Hooker

So, let me get this straight. Jason Wu, designer of the moment, yes the one that made Michelle Obama’s inaugural gown, which I thought made her look pregnant from both sides, actually had Ashley Dupre sit front row at his fashion show on Friday. I mean…whaaaaaaat?!? According to the NY Post, “While everyone was waiting with bated breath to see if First Lady Michelle Obama might show up at Jason Wu’s show, instead it was kicked off by lady of the evening Ashley Dupre.” To quote my friend Carrie Fisher here, “These are the options?” Are you trying to tell me that when Jason Wu’s PR hacks found out that Michelle was no way going to attend, that this was the next best option to get him some press? If they had NO celebrities in attendance, that would have been the smarter, cooler, more sophisticated thing to do. Whoever does Jason Wu’s publicity should be ashamed of selves. And since the buck stops with Jason…SHAME ON WU! As I mentioned earlier this week in my blog (scroll down bitch) I mention that NY is the Emperor’s-New-Clothes capitol of the world. And this Dupre maneuver proves my point. If this is considered a good press get, then  I have some sheer kelly green organza that you can have to make into a diaper for yourself.  

Oy...you tell me...

And on another note, I need to double back to the Michelle Obama white dress that Wu made. Everyone in this town knows that it made her look heavy. Heavier than she really is. I think Michelle is great. But since the fahionista society is so busy sashaying up Obama’s ass, that they can’t speak. And say how they really feel? Not doing it. God forbid they get black- listed from the next eight years of social climbing. That would be too much to bear for those people in the business that chose sucking up as their profession. OK, look here and tell me. Does this dress do her any favors? Michelle, you’re fierce. Please call me next time to stick in my two cents on what you should wear. (Let’s not forget the Election Night sunburst debacle.) I’d like to suggest the designers who dress Susan Sarandon, America Ferrara or Meryl Streep (sometimes)…women with solid bodies that make fierce red carpet appearances.

As far as I’m concerned, you should be saying Jason Who?

xoxo

ABE

This cute little Valentine’s Day card came to my inbox and I wanted to share it with you. Which one are you? Peggy the whore or Viola the sad hag who’s family member (probably) sent her the card.

I am neither, though I’d prefer to be Peggy quite honestly. Come on, she’s having all the fun. Alas, at my age that’s more than one can hope for. I mean…what?!?

Actually the two chicks that I can relate more to this Valentine’s Day are none other than…you got it…the VD girls themselves, Edina and Patsy.

Have a lovely VD just don’t get VD.

My Heros

I don’t mean to go on and on about Patsy and Edina but surely you have to agree that what the world needs now is a lot more of them than, let’s say, Michael Phelps or A-Rod. Would someone please tell me why I should call someone that spent his waking hours in the water (avoiding his overbearing mom, no doubt) or an uber-jock who shoots roids (shot, whatever) my hero? Why because sports is such a heroic fete? Captain Sully, absolutely gets my vote as hero extraordinaire along with the drew of Flight 1549. But those other two? Not doing it.

Give me these two broads any day of the week. They lived, they laughed, they knew a great batch of coke, they had it all. And they did it in style…well…with the intention of style. In this topsy-turvy world with the mighty dollar losing its charm and mightiness (I might add), give me two boozy broads who prefer an afternoon of shopping while drunk at Harvey Nicks. Rather than some guy that swims 4 million laps or a lug that runs around a grass diamond having just shtooped Madonna. I mean…what?!?

Girls…here’s to you…’cause you are my heroes. xoxo ABE

What would Edina and Patsy do?

So next up is NY Fashion Week. And an interesting one it will be. You have Marc Jacobs cutting his audience by two-thirds, Vera Wang not doing a show, Betsey Johnson fleeing the tents, independant designers bellying up. I mean…what?!?  Has the world come to a fierce end? With all the doom and gloom in the financial headlines, WWD is beginning to sound like Chicken Little. But, this is the New York Fashion Week, for Christ sakes. The smoke-and-mirrors, Emperor’s-new-clothes capital of the world. We can’t act like we’ve been licked by this stupid recession. We have to “act as if”. Isn’t that what we’ve all learned in AA?  (Or whatever 12-Step program you’ve undoubtedly gone through…at least once.) Yes, we can act like this is a blip on the screen, a run in the stocking, a lose thread in a Chanel jacket. It’s not the end of the world. It’s a new beginning. And we all get to be a touch more responsible and humble. But still fabulous.

What would Edina and Pasty do? I’ll tell you. “Let’s have another gin and tonic, Eddie” is what would happen. And I second that emotion.

Love ya, lunch.

xoxo