08.01.08 ISLAND LIFE Inside the heat, humidity, madness, and wild styles of Caribbean Fashion Week
Caribbean Fashion Week kicked off to an unbelievably late start. The first night's shows were supposed to start at 7 p.m., but didn't start until after 9:30 because the runway hadn't been put down yet. The scene was almost comical. Three barefoot Rasta men struggling to finish the project were slathering large amounts of rubber cement down, making everyone a little high and headachey. Tensions were not that high—there seemed to be no urgency in getting things rolling. Kingsley Cooper, the head of Pulse Model Agency, and co-founder of CFW, stood and watched the men working. He could have easily called for more help, but he just stood there, not lending any help to the grueling task. And anyone who considered leaving was unable to, as the shuttle service and cabs that brought us were curiously nowhere to be found outside the venue. So we waited.
Located in the National Indoor Sports Center in a strange area inside Old Kingston, the venue felt like a oversized high school gym. The space was lined with bleachers and those loud awful lights that take 45 minutes to warm up. Backstage was a zoo. I was informed around 7:30 by a stylist I met on the plane coming down that food had not been offered yet. On the second day of shows, they ran out of water at around 3 p.m. But at least with the runway was in place by now and shows were starting roughly on time. CFW might be in its eighth year, but it still felt like it was the first time.
In attendance was a diverse lot. There was the Minister of Culture Olivia Grange (who also handles education and youth and sports and I'm sure a ton of other stuff), Mexican Ambassador Her Excellency Leonora Rueda, the singer Eve, the actress Nia Long, and walking legend Lee "Scratch" Perry! I flipped out about that. In the bleachers were those who came from the country and surrounding areas to watch the spectacle from the nosebleed section. I wanted to be sitting with them, drinking rum out of flasks, and smoking Bob Marley–sized joints.
And what about the fashion? Well, I think you'd be hard-pressed to avoid seeing ethnic-patterned anything and everything. Though some lines were sleeker and simpler. Gary Codner, whose line African Connection showed more refined and obviously expensive clothes, stood out from the rest. Simple but not too understated. His line was accompanied by the best accessories of the week—a jewelry line called Tuleste Market by Celeste and Satu Greenburg, which really accented the clothes and made a fantastic visual splash. In complete contrast to African Connection was Romanian designer Catalin Botezatu, whose totally wild and absolutely stunningly colors were accompanied by larger-than-life headdresses, and topped off by the best makeup of the week. Eve's Fetish line was kind of a bummer. I totally expected the audience to go wild during the show, but because the clothes weren't really mindblowing, and the music really didn't inspire much energy in the models, the audience remained quiet. That is, except for when rising model Shevolee Bell rocked the house with the most fierce walk of the night.
Next year, there are plans to hold most of the shows on a 4,000-cabin cruise ship, which will dock at various locations around the Caribbean and attempt to foster a bond between the various islands offering their work to CFW. If they manage to pull this off, I would consider going, because I love a good cruise and also I have to know that there's more to the Caribbean than Kingston, Jamaica. A surprising new venue might just save the future of Caribbean Fashion Week. Johnny Misheff
Click here for a slideshow from Caribbean Fashion Week
07.31.08 ISLAND LIFE: SHEVOLEE & ME In the sweltering insanity of Caribbean Fashion Week, 16-year-old model Shevolee Bell was undoubtedly the standout star
In the face, Shevolee Bell looks like a 16 year old. Actually, she is 16, but lots of models her age have this quality that makes them look much older. In the face, Shevolee could actually pass for younger than her age. But then she's got this body that won't stop. Her legs are about a mile long. And her breasts, well, they're pretty out of this world.
Let's face it. Shevolee is as near to perfect as it gets. And that's all BEFORE you see her walk. When she tears out on the runway, it's like this massive energy force that just shoves you back against your seat. If she's wearing a ruffly skirt, her arms purposefully brush her sides to make that skirt come alive. The way her arms move is almost bratty. It's hard to elaborate on that, but use your imagination. It's a fitting word.
During Caribbean Fashion Week, the one thing that was right about the whole mess was the attention paid to Ms. Bell. I think she escorted more designers down the runway than any other model. But don't quote me on that. Plus she always got to wear the coolest clothes. On the second night of shows, Shevolee fell down backstage and hurt her hip pretty badly. But you would never notice. Not once did your correspondent see her complain about the pain, or the lack of water backstage, or any other of the bajillion other things going wrong throughout the week. She's a real trooper.
Shevolee Bell is from Jamaica in the garden parish of Saint Ann in Ocho Rios' Shaw Park. She recently moved to Kingston and is currently living in the Red Hill neighborhood. She has been modeling for five years now, which would make her eleven when she started. When asked who her biggest influence is, she answered, "I think of myself as being my personal role model." Okay. "But I do take people's advice when I need it...at times."
The night before I left Jamaica, I saw her at a party up in the Blue Mountains with one of the hottest male models of the week by her side. She was clearly dominating him and ready to party, practically dragging him up the hill to the hotel where singer Eve and actress Nia Long and all the most lovely people were still dancing the night away. I was leaving just as she was arriving. It was 1:30 in the morning and she was with this guy who kind of creeped me out and I almost grabbed her to take her back to her home and make sure she was safe. But she was so confidently handling the situation that I didn't see the point in meddling around in her affairs. She's clearly a woman, but with the face of a 16 year old, so you have these doubts.
I asked her where she sees herself in five years. This is her response, via e-mail: "Well if it all works out as planned, in five to ten years time I see myself in law school or in one of the major modeling agencies in New York, and my long-term goal is still to become one of the world's top models and the all-time biggest model and most fierce walker anyone have ever seen." Miss Bell, seriously, that can't honestly be your long-term goal. I give it four years MAX. So, to anyone in a position to help and lend a hand, please do so. She needs some serious representation. Thanks! Johnny Misheff
Above and below: the incredible, undeniable Shevolee Bell at Caribbean Fashion Week Photography Johnny Misheff
07.30.08 T. COLE RACHEL'S RECORD OF THE WEEK The psychedelic sounds of High Places might take you on an actual trip
I’ve never really understood music that is supposed to be “psychedelic” in nature. Few records featuring noodling guitars or weird space sound effects ever made me feel like I was tripping out or expanding my conciousness or like I’d just taken drugs. (Also, weirdly enough, “psychedelic” music is the last thing in the world I’d want to be hearing if I have taken drugs. Just saying). Still, I listen to Brooklyn’s High Places and no other word seems appropriate. The band makes a kind of organic-electronic pop music that sounds like…I don’t know, indie world music? Dance music for stoners? The songs on 03.07—09.07 are culled from a handful of early EPs and singles, but they all share the same shimmering aesthetic—a variety of indecipherable percussion instruments mixed with computerized beats and Mary Pearson’s ephemeral sing/speak vocals. It’s arguable that all of High Places’ songs kind of sound the same, but they also don’t happen to sound like anyone else. The band’s first full-length album is out a little later this year, but for now this will have to tide you over. I tried to listen to this today while I was jogging and I nearly tripped and fell because I was concentrating so hard on the sounds. I tripped out, for reals.
07.29.08 NEVER THE SAME In L.A., Justin Kern's monthly party at Not to be Reproduced packs 'em in. The crowd is right and the music is pretty perfect
West coast host with the most Justin Kern spearheaded yet another creativity-fueled evening last Sunday night at his monthly Not to be Reproduced party in the Hollywood Hills, which welcomed the likes of Mario Testino, Natalie Portman, and Devendra Banhart, the latter of whom was scheduled to perform. "Unfortunately one of the Megapuss members became mega-sick," announced Kern of the Banhart-fronted band. Never fear. Electro-duo Hecuba were the perfect last-minute alternative, attracting almost as much praise as the art works hanging on the walls (everything from Tracey Emin and Thomas Struth to Alia Raza and David LaChapelle). "These events are all about generating an incentive to shop, which subsequently funds each of the performances," says Kern, a former model whose vintage clothing emporium is steadfastly attracting an impressive clientele. "Usually people might find something and then say 'I love this, but where would I ever wear it?'" To which Kern matter-of-factly recommends the monthly event, adds them to the guest list, and discreetly drops a hint that they might even end up being photographed by Mario Testino. Fashion retail marketing grads: put that one in your pipe and smoke it.
07.28.08 HOT IN THE CITY 303 Gallery’s blowout celebration rouses Chelsea from its summer nap
“It’s
like an oven in here," said curator Shamim M. Momin as she entered the
opening celebration of 303 Gallery’s new, additional 5,000 square foot
space at 547 W. 21st Street. It was more like a melting pot, where
A-listers ranging from Dan Graham to Jessica Stam sweltered and suffocated
to the sound of the Virgins, while munching on “fairy food” by artist Karen
Kilimnik in front of a selection of films by the gallery’s doyenne Mary Heilmann. Anticipation was in the steamy air as 303’s 25th
Anniversary is around the corner. The second space bodes well for the
gallery’s coming of age, with Doug Aitken devising a very special project for its upcoming
inaugural show. More on that later.
07.24.08 AD NAUSEAM A king-sized summer group show gathers wide-ranging works that defy taste
Concepts of beauty are currently being bent every which way at the
Alison Gingeras–curated “Pretty Ugly” exhibition, currently running
at both Maccarone and Gavin Brown’s Enterprise in New York. Displaying a wildly eclectic selection of artists from Otto Dix to Jack
Pierson spread over the two gallery spaces, “Pretty Ugly” relentlessly
challenges aesthetic expectations. A swirl of corrupted beauty invades the white cube, from angst-driven imagery (Chapman
brothers, Hans Bellmer) and twists on good taste (Gelitin, Bernard
Buffet) to gory avant-garde works (Günter Brus, Hermann Nitsch). But beyond the show's expected shock value, its astute “break with museographic
conventions” proves once again that galleries can serve as relevant
platforms for ingeniously curated group exhibitions, such as the
recent “Who’s Afraid of Jasper Johns?” by Gavin Brown and Urs Fischer
at Tony Shafrazi Gallery. At the same time, across the Atlantic at Vienna's MUMOK, “Bad
Painting, Good Art” explores a parallel track with
a tight selection of twenty-one painters, a quarter of which are also
included in "Pretty Ugly." Turns out beauty knows no borders.
9 Months Later, 2007-08 Artwork Agathe Snow Courtesy of the artist and Peres Projects
"Pretty Ugly" runs through August 29, 2008, at Gavin Brown's Enterprise and Maccarone, NYC
07.23.08 T. COLE RACHEL'S RECORD OF THE WEEK Way back when, the Feelies were one of the most incredible things to come out of New Jersey—and that's saying a lot
Unless you’re old or a raving music nerd, you might not care (or have noticed) that the Feelies—one of the greatest and most influential bands ever to come out of New Jersey—reunited over the holiday weekend to open a show for Sonic Youth. It was a bit unnerving to see a huge crowd of people scratch their collective heads and whisper “Who are these old dudes?” when the Feelies took the stage, but for those of us who have spent the past two decades obsessing over the band (they made four great and hugely influential albums before basically calling it a day back in 1992), it was a chance to see live what most of us (myself, at least) were too young to catch the first time around. I immediately came home and dusted off my worn vinyl copy of Crazy Rhythms, the band’s iconic debut album from 1981. I love thinking about that fact that this record came out when I was 7 years old (and probably listening to a Muppets disco record) and would go on to influence a good number of the bands I would come to love about twenty years later. The Feelies remains one of those bands that critics love to talk about but most people have never actually heard, so here’s hoping that all the drunk, sweaty people at the Sonic Youth show went home and gave them a good Googling. You should too.
