Lily Rose Depp

With the pedigree of Johnny Depp and Vanessa Paradis, how could Miss Lily Rose not be beautiful? I will say that I think that she takes after her father's prettiness most. Yes, Johnny hides his beauty behind scraggly scruff and a furrowed brow most of the time, but the man is pretty. Very.

Many years ago, I saw the film, 'La Ville Sur La Pond' or 'Girl on the Bridge' with Vanessa Paradis, Lily Rose's mom. It is brilliant; although the particulars of it have faded through the years, and like many good movies, I am left only with the emotion of it, which for this is despair. The knife thrower encounters the girl on the bridge who is ready to jump, and he saves her life only to put her in harm's way, which is to throw knives at her. She becomes a sideshow attraction. But I also remember the attraction that the two had for each other, and the allure of what it meant to be a target of the daggers. I remember its eroticism.

In this scene (wonderfully accompanied by a Marianne Faithfull song) from YouTube, I argue that it is more ... dangerous ... sexual ... than any red room that has been associated with sex and danger recently even sans Jamie Dornan. With the last dagger, the pain, theirs together, is wholly penetrated, both breathless from the release of its pleasure.

I'm not sure what this young Depp-Paradis will do. She is only 16, but for her party, she did not use 'sweet' as the moniker; rather, she chose sour. Hers certainly has not been a typical coming of age, and the impact of what we know of Johnny and from I have seen of Vanessa, a dark angel she may be. I don't mean in any sort of satanic sense, but in that she will not be full of fluff. Behind her eyes, as the photo above demonstrates, is beguile.

U2's Songs of Innocence Tour

I can't wait until they come to town. I'm heavy on the U2 rotation, from A to Z-ed, getting ready. Getting? I've been.

Tattoo You, Valentino

Vogue May 2015

This freaked me out when I first saw it, but having gotten used to it, I think that it is really cool. And I love the boots.

I'm watching NBA basketball right now, so I'm seeing lots of ink. I'm not always sure that I like ALL of the ink on the big, muscly men, but tattoos are so much a part of professional sports that a dude without it is weird. While watching the Bulls-Cavaliers Game 1, I noticed that one of the players didn't have any visable tattoos. He was a European player with a long name that ran off of his jersey. Maybe that accounts for it? Perhaps, I'll keep score of the ink for Game 3.

In this photograph, I'm captivated by the vein that runs down the length of his arm. The one going into the boot on the right arm looks like it could burst and fill the boot with blood. Gruesome, right? But it's what I see every time I look at it. I have no idea what is going on with the left arm. No color. No hair. Shiny. Yeah, it's creepy. And yet ... beauty and the beast.

The boots for their stripes are what I would identify as masculine. Strong colors. Wide, distinctive stripes. What I would like to see are the same arms in a  more feminine boot. That contrast would be even more interesting. And a woman's arm with a tattoo sleeve should be the leg for the men's boot. Maybe, mirror them. Hm. I think that I would like to style it.

The Olsen Twins at the Met Gala

People.com

Who are these wobegone creatures that Morticia'd (the mermaid swirls around their feet are the give away) their way onto the red carpet at the Met Gala this week.

They look so unbecomingly somber and so very small. I wonder what their deal is ... these Olsen twins; obviously, I run across their pictures and a scattering of what they do in the magazines. Is it fashion? Is it just protecting the money they received from the child's fame that seems to have been too far after my time to fully realize?

I'm never quiet sure why they get the attention that they do. To me, it doesn't seem to be working for them with their vacant stares and how they sink into their clothes as if they were in someone else's.

Poor little rich girls.

Strongly Laced

Elle May 2015

Some looks just leap off of the page for me. When I turned this one, the strength of this look, which is Celine, captivated me. For sure, I love black, which will always get my attention. And this would be, perhaps, quite ordinary; except for the fact, that is is quite extraordinary. At first glance, I thought that the lace was quite a part of the top, but it isn't.  Apparently, it is a slip and a bra by Carine Gilson ... never heard of it. It is interesting that the top, which is jacket-like, is one-shouldered. That puts the black pantsuit on its ear, eh? The stylist for the shoot traditionally paints her nails red, and puts a pendant just in the cleavage that is as well. Beautiful.

The Beatles on Abbey Road's Curb

http://www.asksensei.com/gorindo/radio01En.html

I ran across this photograph in my GooglePlus account. It was one those random 'oh, you might be interested in this' posts, and I was interested.

"Abbey Road" is the first Beatles album that I ever bought. And if I'm honest, I committed a little larceny when I bought it at the what would now be called the dollar store in my neighborhood. I wanted "Abbey Road" first, but I wanted the poster that I knew was included in the "White Album" also. Hmmm. I probably didn't have enough money for the "White Album" either, come to think of it. It was a double-album, which would have been more expensive. Money was an issue. What I really would have liked was to have bought both albums. And I decided that I would take some from both. I was 12 or 13 years old, and I needed a Beatles album of my own. I learned to love the Beatles down the block at the neighbor's house. They were older, and they played records all of the time. Spending time with them was an initiation to all of the sounds. I was raised in a home where music was played, mostly jazz, and I love it, but moving from the tin-tin of my little radio set to an AM station to richness of music played on a turn table became my savior. It gave me an idea that life could be bigger than what I saw in front of me.

So, what did I do? I slit the plastic on the "White Album," pulled out the poster, slit the "Abby Road" record plastic, and slipped the poster in it. Hey, I'm owning up to it. I don't feel that bad about it. At the time, it didn't make it hard for me to sleep. I wonder if the customer who bought the "White Album" even knew that there was a poster in it.

And this picture delights me. I've looked at the iconic album cover more times than I can remember. But this is the picture. It is so human. They look almost - fragile. And is the woman with the band? She looks to be really checking out what Paul is up as he adjusts Ringo's jacket. Strange, isn't it, that the two that are still alive touch, and the bookends, John and George, are distant. Always, the signs; always, the signs. It appears as if Paul has his shoes on at the curb. He kicked them to the curb, and everyone thought that he was dead. But he isn't. Ringo needed him.