The Visa Diaries

Ah, the Oscars. The glitz, the glamor, the beautiful ladies in their beautiful dresses, and their dashing leading men. Ah, the tedious, endless lifetimes achievement awards, and the slow, chinese-water-torture drip drip drip of boring minor awards. Yes, I started watching at 9:30, what I hoped was halfway through, what I hoped was just in time for the good part. Alas, I was disappointed. I sorely underestimated the amount of swelling music, cheesy camera swooshes around the theater, and retrospective collages of films (”America,” “Foreign films of the past 50 Years”). Like, gag me with a spoon. Ellen DeGeneres was the only bright spot – my favorite was when she snapped a picture with Clint Eastwood “for her Myspace page.” Oh, and when Melissa Etheridge kissed her wife on national TV – I bet that raised some morality sirens somewhere across the country.

Despite the self-congratulatory inanity and stoniness of the presenters reading their telecasters (I thought these were supposed to be actors? professional emoters??) I suppose it is good to check in once a year, if only to see what people are wearing and how they are aging. There is definitely an awkward spot, probably more so for women than for men (of course), between 35-ish and 50-ish. That seems to be the age period when a woman has to go into hiding while she ages. Take the Best Actress category for example – both Kate Winslet and Penelope Cruz are pushing the upper limits of sexy leading babe, definitely looking more crinkly around the eyes than your average sexy leading babe is supposed to look. But then it was so nice to see that the other nominated actresses – Helen Mirren, Judy Dench, and – all must be fifty or older. They have completed the transition, and now are officially attractive older women. It is only during that metamorphosis, when women are trying to hang onto youthful beauty and haven’t learned how to accept/ work older beauty, that they are sort of awkward and pathetic. Like Meg Ryan or somebody.

So, I was trying to think what I have bought recently that bears any relation to the Oscars, and unfortunately I haven’t bought any stunning evening gowns recently (nor any un-stunning ones, as apparently that would do just fine), nor have I bought millions of dollars worth of jewels. Damn, I thought, until I realized that I have bought skin-care products recently, and that’s really all about this eternal youth beauty standard thing that celebrities, particularly, are obsessed with. I haven’t bought any Botox, mind you, so I’m definitely not in the same league as the Oscar crowd (as if i needed confirmation of that), but I did buy some nice skin lightener. Called “White Glow,” it is supposed to rid you of all pigmentation from sun exposure, acne scars, excess melanin production, whatever.

Since my close-up doesn’t appear to be coming any time soon, I guess I will be one of those older beauties for my fifteen minutes. All the more reason then, to take care of skin things now…

Hello all. I am in the midst of writing my designer’s statement that will accompany my thesis, so am feeling a bit out of words at the moment. boo! However, I think I will probably post that here when I am finished – my thesis topic is “myth-making,” which actually is quite relevant to shopping… all the myths that we buy into when envisioning who we will be when we finally own something, or who we need to be in the first place. Oh, talking about my school work reminds me that I have just put up a website with lots of my design work – check it out if you like: www.katehowemakesthings.com.

Anyway, enough of that. I did buy something this weekend: a hockey ticket. I love hockey. Arvind was incredulous when I said that – apparently I have never mentioned my love of hockey once over the last three years. But I do love it – it reminds me of high school, where hockey was the most popular sport and all the hockey players were the most popular boys. I dated the goalie for a little while – Dave Longo, I wonder what he is up to…

The game was great. We had a tailgate first outside in the frigid cold-snap we are having in the Northeast. However, the peppermint schnapps and hot cocoa went a long way to warm the chill. Then the game was at the “Yale Whale” – Yale’s hockey rink that was designed by Eero Saarinen (if you are into architecture, he was also the guy who did TWA’s iconic terminal from 1962 at JFK airport, as well as the gateway Arch in St. Louis). The Whale is a beautiful building, with a sweeping ribbed roof, but raw enough inside so you do feel like you’re at a bona fide sporting event.

Hockey is great because it is so fast and high energy, with the added grace of the skating, the guys swooping and gliding. 3 or 4 hours, far from my studio, watching the drama of a tiny puck zipping across the rink – just what I needed! Sadly, Yale lost to Dartmouth – boo! again. However it was a good game and such a great break – like a quick trip to the arctic. My $3 student ticket was worth every penny

Ok, so I went back to the gym, and there was a new issue of New York Magazine* – hallelujah, I said, because it sure beats Sports Illustrated, and all the New Yorkers and glam mags were taken. So I tucked in. This week, it was an article about how Walmart hired some people to sex up its advertising, and then immediately got cold feet when the ads actually started getting, er, sexier. Like, duu-uh! They fired everybody involved, and now its lawsuits galore, and back to their old ads from dullsville.

This article only reminded me how much Walmart sucks, and not because I am dying for “sexy” ads from them. We all know about how they strangle suppliers, strangle smaller independent shops, and censor products that don’t agree with their morals. That’s all pretty sucky.

But the number one reason they suck in my mind is because they reduce everything to a price tag, and more for less is always a good thing. The first time I went to Walmart was this December 22. Even in the midst of holiday rush and cheer, Walmart was the most depressing, drab store I have even seen. The store did not bother with ambience – a completely undecorated store could at least have been painted it nice colors, but this seemed purposefully dowdy – nor with employees who were civil and helpful. Instead of a welcoming environment and human interaction, there were piles and piles of cut-rate clothing and electronics. Everything stripped down to its most utilitarian, then made ugly. Blech – what kind of life is that?

Walmart is an extreme example of our hyper-consumerist society gone mad – more more more schlock schlock schlock sold in a depressing inhuman environment. Quantity not quality. Which apart from the sociological aspect is of course having profound environmental impact as well (as recently discussed by the NYTimes, specifically relating to fashion). Why do we always want more? Why is what we have never good enough, until somebody else has repurposed it and wants to sell it back to us at a premium?
Those questions are clearly part of a much longer discussion. But looking on the bright side, maybe Walmart is going to do what no amount of prodding from “good” or “green” sources could do – make me see the folly, and the unattractiveness, down the road of endless consumption. Maybe Walmart’s complete grossness with make consumption-till-you-drop less cool. Maybe conservation and making-do will become the new black…

* I am not affiliated or paid off by New York Magazine in any way. Though I am going to demand that I should be.

I just read a very interesting article in New York magazine. It came out a week or two ago, so forgive me if this discussion is already passe… but I have to wait until I go to the gym to get my magazine reading done, so there is a bit of a backlog. And anyway, since people like Dash Snow keep coming ’round, it seems like a topic that never gets passe.

Under a cover headline of “Warhol’s Children” the article was about that very favorite subject of urban lore, the downtown party child. The current incarnation of this archetype discussed in the article is Mr. Snow, the brilliantly named graffiti writer cum (lots of cum) art-world phenom. Dash apparently has been shoveling snow, and any other drugs he can get his hands on, nightly since he was a wee lad. Lovely quote: “I did my first line of coke when I was 13 years old and I’ve been partying every night and taking pictures ever since. Everything’s a blur and every night is New Year’s as far as I’m concerned. [When I’m at a party, I look for] a dark corner, a wallet, a bag of blow and some love to go.” (that’s from Papermag)
He also has a couple of other attributes that make him the perfect subject for the projected fantasies of middle-aged art patrons and respectable-citizenry everywhere: besides being a drug addict and a thief (his graf crew was called IRAK, meaning “I steal” which they did, daily), he is blondly and lithely beautiful, and comes from – though is supposedly estranged from – one of the most wealthy art-collecting families in America. Privileged, gorgeous self-destruction – who wouldn’t want a vicarious piece of that?

Indeed, it is a formula that has worked well before. Larry Clark and his Kids, Warhol’s Factory, its contemporaneous incarnation in Yves Saint Laurent’s Paris, earlier in the New York art world Jackson Pollack and Willem DeKooning. And even earlier still the Paris bohemians of 19th century (sorry – I seem to have this New York/ Paris axis going on. I am sure there are self-destructive beauties on other places/ times as well…) What is it about self-annihilation, about total escapism and lack of engagement, that seems so damn sexy? But at least Pollack, DeKooning, and Warhol had artistic genius – it is far from clear that Dash does. He is more Edie Sedgewick that Andy Warhol: his artistic product is much less interesting than himself as product, the glitter and doom (to borrow the title from the show, with related themes, currently on at the Met) that he symbolizes to the people who buy a piece of him through his work.

So, I said this article was interesting, and what I found interesting about it was not Snow himself, by a long shot, but rather the reaction that other people – people who by and large are following the rules of society – have to somebody like Snow, who puts his middle finger up to all the rules of society, and rather than being cut down for it, actually seems to be thriving for it (well, if you consider a full-time drug addiction and desperate paranoia “thriving.”) At least he is becoming famous and coveted, which I guess is the popular definition of thriving these days. He taps into that part of all of us that wishes we could fuck the responsibility, the rules and consequences that get us down, and not only get away with it, but miraculously become superstars for it… Its like shooting the moon in Jin Rummy: most of us don’t have the balls to try, but some part of us wishes we did.

Um, excuse me, I have to go – I have an appointment with my therapist.