brunchtime banter

MIRANDA: You couldn't find your dress?? Oh no! What did you do?

CARRIE: I ransacked his Christmas tree. I panicked! There was all this extra tinsel, and all these gifts wrapped in colored cellophane and bags full of that crinkly shredded filler, you know, like they put in bath set gift baskets...

CHARLOTTE: You mean sizzle?

MIRANDA: It has a name?

CHARLOTTE: Yes, I had to learn all about it in my flower arranging class. Sizzle!

CARRIE: Well I wanted the date to sizzle, not a dress made out of sizzle!

CHARLOTTE: Are you sure it's sizzle? Maybe it's just Easter basket grass. That means he likes Easter baskets! And everyone knows men who like Easter baskets make good husbands.

SAMANTHA: What you should have done is worn one of his shirts as a dress. I do it all the time if the guy is bad in bed. If I don't come, then you don't come home to a full wardrobe.

CARRIE: I couldn't do that, then he'd know I went through his closet. Plus my bra wouldn't be showing, and you know nowadays I can't wear anything that doesn't show my bra.

The girls shrug and nod in empathy.

CARRIE: It's not that bad, is it? Do you think anyone will notice that this wasn't styled by Pat Field?

After I got home I kept thinking about my makeshift gift-wrap dress. As we outgrow our party years and eating disorders and Olsen twin copycat phases, it gets harder to improvise when you can't find your clothes in the morning. There was a time when a date involving Easter grass and sizzle would have meant hot stoned sex. When did it all change? When did sizzling on a date become a bad thing? I couldn't help but wonder... When it comes to relationships, why do we keep putting ourselves under the hot glue gun?

koosh balls: a history

Developed in 1987, the prototype of the Koosh was made out of rubber bands, and named "Koosh" because that's the sound it made when it landed. The Koosh ball was developed by Scott Stillinger and Matt Button, the owners of Oddz On Products. The toys had great appeal with a surprising number of adult fans. It was estimated that 40% of the toys were purchased for adults to play with. Several million units were shipped from the next four years and were supported by an official user's guide, "The Official Koosh Ball."

During the 1988 Christmas season, the Koosh ball was the hottest toy on the shelves. The Koosh ball was a rubber ball filled with a jelly-like plasma and its outside consisted of hundreds of rubber spikes making it look like a soft and flexible porcupine that did not hurt to hold or squeeze. When someone squeezed the object, the plasma caused it to squirm around in his hand while the spikes provided something to grip in one's hand.

While the number of units sold has dropped off, they are still a holiday favorite.

"Where can I get a Koosh Ball of my very own?" you might ask...

Ebay is one place where you can still find Koosh Balls.



Here's another:

And just in time for their 20th Christmas Anniversary!






Informative history adapted from the Bad Fads Museum.
Needless to say, HF feasts on bad fads.

made from real panther

Don't let the red hair fool you, brothers. I may be whiter than the child of Michael Jackson and an albino Scottish girl, but do you see this fro? Even a beret and a denim shirt can't contain my true essence. Black power!

mummy, i'm scared!

Mummy, what's wrong with her face?





Why are they smiling, mummy?





They're coming closer! Make it stop! Make it stop!








AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

tricky tricky

Oh, how the eye plays tricks with the mind! And the mind plays tricks with the eye again! Oh, what a tricky pair. It looks like one of my pant legs is skinnier than the other, doesn't it. But is it just your eye playing tricks with your mind? Or your mind playing tricks with your eye? Or the left eye playing tricks with the right in a battle of wits to the death? And if that is the case then which side will your mind side with? Will the man in black emerge victorious with his slim right leg and iocane powder immunity? Or will it be the Sicilian's seemingly wider left leg and dizzying intellect? Oh, you tricky mind, you tricky eye. Oh Run-DMC, how well you put words to the profound trickiness of this denim dilemma!


Tricky!

Tricky!

Tricky!

Tricky!

Indeed.

seasonal whine list

I cannot believe they dressed me in sand. Did they not get the memo that I don't do drab? And what's with this vest thing--it don't show my cleavage at all. And could my hair be any flatter? It's bad enough Chad smoked my last cigarette, even though I told him I was saving it for breakfast. Yeah, I'll stand here.

My agent is so getting a phone call.





Hey how come he gets a kimono?

I miss my puppy.

feeling plucky?

Turkeys have over 5,000 feathers, and someone has to pluck 'em! Here are a few tips of the pluckery trade HF has picked up:

• It is easier to remove the feathers if the bird is dipped in hot water (between 140 degrees and boiling). Once a bird has been sufficiently dunked in hot water, not only will the feathers come off much easier, they will also be easier to handle when damp, since they won't fly around the room and land in your hair.

• A large washtub is best for dipping the bird. If you do not live on a farm or in the 18th Century and a large washtub is not available, you'll have to improvise. Bathtub perhaps? Jacuzzi? Washing machine? An afternoon in the Turkish bath house? Sure, why not. Let us know how it goes.

• The large primary wing feathers can be a problem, so it is recommended that you remove the entire wing at the first joint. Then instead of wasting valuable time plucking out those large primary feathers, you can put the wings to better use.

• After plucking, there still may be small hair-like feathers left on the bird. Burn these off with a match or, for optimal stress relief, a blowtorch.
  

• Try not to confuse your relatives with the turkey.

oh crafty fräulein

"Frau Schmidt? Do you think the Captain would get me some more material? I want to make the children some play clothes."

"The Von Trapp children don't play, they march."

"That's so sad. Are you sure I can't change his mind with a few musical numbers?"

"I'm afraid not--he runs the house like one of his ships. And no, it's not that kind of navy. But anyway Maria, how do you like your room? We'll be ordering new towels for the bathroom."

"New towels? But these are fine."

"Nevertheless, new ones have been ordered."

Hmm....

"Excuse me, Frau Schmidt? Do you think the Captain would order new drapes for the windows too?"

and for my next trick

I will orbit Uranus!

Because only in the far reaches of deep space, among the cosmos and New Black holes and hand tooled Italian leathers of Orion's belt... where feathered locks are not weighed down by gravity, and creativity is not saddened by the gravity of gravity, and there are no gravitous faces, or actual gravitousness... where free spirits can float freely, and even the frizziest of fros retains its pompadour swirls... only there are the true meanings, in secret Uranian code, of my fashion revealed.

headbangers and mash

"Forget it, Mom! I'm not going to be a stupid debutante! I hate you! And I'm not going back to school either! It's my life! I'm running away to join Shredder's Foot Clan and you can't stop me! And if I wanna listen to angsty screamo punk rock and headbang and make mashed potatoes while I headbang then that's what I'm gonna do!"

"Hey can Lisa stay for dinner?"

halloween parade!

(No, it's not the Gaultier spring runway... that would be too easy.)

Look! it's a phoenix!

Look! it's a human lego!








Look! it's the frontman from a Norwegian death metal band at Woodstock!









Look! it's a maitre d' who got lost on the way to work and now he's in our Halloween parade and he doesn't know what to do!









Look! it's John Galliano!





AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

oh joyous hallow

What a lovely day... Halloween...

A delightful autumn holiday... the sun is shining... birds are chirping... the air sparkles with thousands of pounds of felonious CFC spray glitter...

Let us all rejoice in the enchanting beauty of such a picturesque scene.



Let us dance and sing and spray more glitter. Let us---

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!


The fishing net! It's back! Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuun!

or you could go as...

K, the third Blockhead, who was ostracized from Gumby's inner circle after going to a rave with some club kids and getting addicted to ecstasy, crystal meth AND glitter just by looking at them...

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

(In case you missed that episode...)

"That's right, K! You take your drugs and your glitter and don't come back!"

After that, K was even sadder than Eeyore.

...for about 30 minutes, then the pill kicked in and she was good to go!

costume party!

Bride of Oscar the Grouch

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!

(Though with a can like that, Oscar might not be so grouchy anymore...)

behind you!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!




(You thought I was lying about the evil fishing net?? It's alive! And it eats brains!)

mwahahahahaaaa

Well, it's officially The Week Before Halloween, which means we can officially start stuffing our faces with candy, dentists everywhere can rejoice at the promise of enough cavities to pay for their daughters' nose jobs, and the rest of us can break out those costumes we put so much effort into last year we that just have to wear again. We can also start telling ghost stories. Yes... ghost stories... Gather round, children. Everything I'm about to tell you is true...


It was a dark and stormy night.


Well, it was dark. Except under the streetlights. Okay so it wasn't particularly dark. But it had rained earlier that day. There was a house up on a hill by the woods, overgrown with bushes and weeds and smelling dankly of mold and neglect. All the neighborhood children were afraid of this house. Those who dared to venture within its shadowy eaves claimed they saw ghosts of the animals who drowned in the swimming pool over the summer. But inside the house, an eight-year-old girl was getting ready to go out trick-or-treating. She was fully costumed as A Business Woman, complete with a briefcase, mascara, and a navy blue skirt suit that was actually sized to fit an eight-year-old. The costume was her own idea. She also wore matching navy pumps.

Scared yet?

Lean into the fire, kids... there's more.

The girl's older sister had agreed at the last minute to take her trick-or-treating. But there was the dilemma of finessing a costume on such short notice. So she untied the rotting hammock from its slimy tree at the edge of the woods and threw it over her parka--she would go as a B-Movie Fisherman Who Had Been Attacked By a Fishing Net. But little did she know that the evil fishing net was real, and was eagerly awaiting the right moment to attack again.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

a cry for help

Jean-Charles de Castelbajac S/S 08


Protect you from being a linebacker AND cheerleader for the St Louis Rams? While serving cocktails at Caesar's Palace?


I don't know, that's asking a lot.


How bout I just protect you from outfits that ram?

it's business time

(that's why they call 'em business socks)

slash and burn

The world has learned many a valuable lesson from Christina Aguilera. Genies must be rubbed the right way. Group showers get you dirrrty, not clean. The meaning of "under-cleavage." How much we miss Dee Snider.

And in a self sacrifice beyond measure, she also taught us why it's not a good idea to bring your evening outfit to work and change in the copy room by the paper shredder.

However, some people who shall remain nameless (ahem, Gareth Pugh!) were absent that day.

Then again, maybe the model got flustered and put the boots on first.







(On a completely unrelated topic, the NYC Halloween Fetish Ball will be Sat 10/27 at Paddles)

up with maniskirts

If I hike it up high enough, maybe no one will notice that I'm wearing a sarong.

she's mighty migh-tay

"Dude, my girl is built like a brick house."

"Brick house? Pssh. My girl's built like a skyscraper. Seriously, her rack is like a fuckin' city skyline."

"Simile...? What the hell is a simile?"

mad max II: extended version

(Where would HF be without Sci-Fi fansites?)

After Max's family is murdered in the first film, he wanders out into the wasteland. The movie opens with a chase scene. Max still possesses the V8 Interceptor and his only companion is a Blue Heeler. He is being pursued by a Smegma Crazy who's driving a modified dune buggy, a Gayboy Berserker steering the road racer, and the Mohawker - Mighty Wez, handling the Kawasaki with the Golden Youth riding pillion.

The villains are known as the Dogs of War, commanded by the Humungus.

As the Dogs of War pursue Max, they come upon a wreck on the highway. Max manages to steer his Interceptor through the chaos on the road, while Wez ramps the first cannibalized vehicle and safely guides his motorcycle through the rest of the wrecks. The Road Racer hits the first smashed up car but manages to get his vehicle under control and crests through the other stand-still wrecks. The Dune Buggy says not a chance and veers his car off the highway to the safety of the sand.

When Max realizes he's getting low on gas, he switches off the super-charger which gives Wez and the Road Racer a chance to overtake him. But Max slams on the brakes just as the Gayboy Berserker fires his porta-pack. The stray arrow catches Wez in the arm and he leaves the road. Max then fires up his super-charger and begins ramming the Road Racer. Suddenly, the Dune Buggy appears. The vehicles collide. The Road Racer flips over and over, finally coming to a rest on its roof.

Seeing his chance to get some gasoline, Max hits the brakes and backs up the Interceptor. He hurries out of the car, followed by his Dog with his gas can. Just then Wez appears on the hill, screaming in anger since he still has the arrowhead in his forearm. Max ignores the Kawasaki and chooses to siphon the Dune Buggy's fuel tank. When he hears a war cry, he glances at Wez. The evil Mohawker has dismounted from his big bike and is strutting towards Max, giving Max a clear view of his humungus.

Unable to ignore the sexual tension of such a homo-erotic motorcycle chase any longer, Max (now mad with passion) engages The Humungus, Gayboy Berserker, Mighty Wez and the Golden Youth in an orgy of post-apocalyptic proportions by the side of the road.

With his gas tank refueled, Max heads off into the wasteland, leaving his new friends chomping at the bit.

6X is the new 2

Strapped for cash after another trip to Saint Tropez but in desperate need of new formal wear, Victor decided to take his friend's advice and cut clothing costs by shopping in the little boys' department...

"I'm telling you dude, it totally makes your neck look bigger."

haute partridge

JPG Menswear S/S 08

Cravat... blazer badge... tan string-back driving gloves.... There's something strangely familiar about this ensemble...

why so glum, chum?

Well if you were given fluffy golden pancakes and forbidden to eat them you'd be down in the dumps too. Say, do you think maple syrup would do anything for that frizz?

window of opportunity

"Hey are we almost done here? I have to get these V-necks back to American Apparel by 5:00 or my shift manager gets a little twitchy."

come play with us

Forever, and ever, and ever...

wanderlusty lady

Haute Fuzz will be off the next 3 weeks whilst we travel to the fashion centers of the universe--Paris, London, Milan--to... uh... conduct research... yeah, that's it... research...

Je cherche une veste en cuir violet de vintage.

J'aime picoler. Trinquons!

J'ai mal aux cheveux.


So here's a lil' something--call it a parting gift--to keep you warm until HF returns with the *new* spring runways!

Crocheting cowboys, eat your heart out.

did you watch idol last night?

Fishlady, you know I've been such a fan of you, ever since your first audition back at Pi-hahiroth. But this competition is about finding the next Golden Idol... and frankly your Candle in the Wind just didn't hold a karat to the Calf's Lady Marmalade.