Alfred Cheney Johnston’s portriaits of beauties of the early 20th century are nothing short of magic. In 1917 Johnston was hired to be the photographer for the Ziegfeld Follies and remained until the Depression struck. Meanwhile, Johnston also contracted small side jobs, photographing portraits for aspiring actresses and other ladies of society. Below are some his photographs from that era.
Johnston’s photography is not all this tame, though… his behind the scenes photo shoots of Ziegfeld’s Vaudevillesque show girls went undiscovered until his death in 1971. The full-frontal but mesmerizingly artistic portraiture would have been too risque for public appreciation at that time, so the suspicion is that these nude prints were for his own private collection. Quel Scandale!
I’m (seemingly) back from the almost 9 month respite I’ve taken from serious blogging. The time has flown by with the help of nail-biting-rage-inciting stress, countless hour-long work days, juggling job titles and the like. Hostility towards summertime was punctuated with weekends on Cape Cod or in Newport, a saving grace that at times turned ugly by residual stress creeping it’s way into play time. After enduring the workforce for three years I’ve became reacquainted with back to school sensibility, only this time I’ve been stocking up on fabric and french curves, textile paint and sketchbooks. I’ve been living two nights in Boston; night class denotes spending friendless days in small cafe’s and eating Sun Chips for dinner. Although my 9-5 workload has nearly doubled, I hope to share less abbreviated accounts of what I am learning as well as to resume regularity to my postings with you in the near future. Semester 2 starts in 2 days and counting, so I’m back to beating the fashion “books” (i.e. style.com runway reports). I normally can do nothing but pine for Dior, but I’m sadly disappointed today by the Spring 2013 Couture line. I’m mad about the pre-fall rtw that debuted on 1.14 and had such high hopes for Couture. I know this may seem unsavory of me but dare I say I miss the better-to-be-seen-and-not-heard John Galliano? Bastard. Perhaps the only thing suited to please my ultra femmy-femme palet is watch last night’s ep of Downtown Abbey 48 times.
See you soon, whoever still reads this sh*t
I’ve always thought of Sally Draper as kiiiiind of a pervy little freak. I realize that I’m completely out of touch with my inner 12 year old girl, and in denial about the kind of freak I was at this age. But in real life Kiernan Shipka is a totally mature and likable tween, with totally natural non-over-plucked-eyebrows. (As most of you do not know, my largest opposition to today’s youth is their incessant over tweezing.) I want to thank God for creating such a delightful young creature, if only because it gives me hope for my own offspring. Also, where the F was this girl when I was a full-time babysitting slave. I never knew of such children existing, just those who threatened to tell mom that I hit her if I didn’t let her win “Trouble.” Or the other 7 yr old girl who straight up mast***ated the entire time I babysat her. Such emotionally & psychologically taxing experiences have troubled me that I will introduce yet another disrespectful degenerate into this world. THanks Kiernan! you ROCK, p.s. whats my size in juniors?
I must interrupt my summer-long hiatus from posting to bring you this important message. As if the sky opened up and God came down and kissed me on the lips, so I felt when happening upon this spread flipping through the pages of Elle in the line at the grocery store. Looking around for someone to share in my complete surprise and excitement, hoping by happenstance to see my college roommate (who shared in the same obsession as I,) or my cousin (who, like I, strives to achieve a certain level of Audrey Horne-ness on a daily basis,) I was quickly disappointed to find myself surrounded by old new york tourists who had sent the only clerk in the store to fetch 17 cases of iced tea Snapple from an undisclosed location. Behind me, an irresponsible mother who was, by my standard, attempting to rid the store of any item containing high levels of saturated fat by feeding them to her husband and children. Mommy had bought out BOTH Entiments & Little Debby departments of the store.
No one was interested in what magic lie in the pages of July’s Elle magazine, clutched in my little mitts. The Black Lodge- the mystical place of Agent Dale Coopers dreams, set the backdrop for Prada, Celine, Balenciaga, Giorgio Armani, Adrienne Landau and so on. I plopped the Elle into my shopping basket, checked out, ran home, pulled out my Definitive Gold Edition Twin Peaks Box set, and for about 3 hours was dead to the world.
another wildfox couture video. spring 2012. how delightful
…at the Brimfield antique show is an event I’ve been dreaming about for years now. It’s only a little over an hour away from where I live, so there’s really no excuse for why I’ve not been before. I’ve had much time to think about the things I will acquire at what has become largest & best antique/thrift show in the country. I have, furthermore, prepared a checklist for my maiden voyage on Thursday which is listed below:
Piles of antique lace
Perfume Atomizer, one or two or ten