Sunday, July 30, 2017

James Jean and Daryl Feril for Prada

I'm over here living my life, going out and doing cool shit each and every week, enjoying what time I have left in Tokyo, and getting so far behind on this blog I keep that I'm still posting about Christmas (show of hands, though, who's surprised.. exactly), so I haven't posted anything about what used to be my favourite topic for I think a few years now: pop art and cultural references in haute couture fashion.

Actually, I've just scrolled back and looked: the last collections I posted about and commented on were all from 2014. Thom BrowneDolce & Gabbana, and Meadham-Kirchoff, respectively. There's also this post about Jeremy Scott dresses and the one I've still never finished about Manish Arora from the other site I used to post things on five years ago before copypasting them all and deleting my account there. Sigh. 


Now the only way I keep up with this stuff is through the pages and magazines I follow on social media, and that's how I found out that James Jean has been working with Prada since 2007 - the same year I finished high school, which was one decade ago, hello darkness my old friend - and his illustrations and their prints are now more than ever one in the same and it's so, so good.


Quick non-sequitur: he's also doing artwork for Guillermo del Toro's new film The Shape of Water, which I think looks like the Abe Sapien of Hellboy origin story mashed up with Amélie and The Lady in the Water, all of which I really enjoyed.




When I scrolled past this poster on Instagram I was like, hnnngggg.

Anyway, I've been a fan of James Jean since, well, since high school, actually. Since about the time I just mentioned, 2006 or 2007. My mom bought me a book of his postcards that I miss and for some reason remember very clearly, maybe because I'm constantly thinking about what to get rid of and what to keep. He's Taiwanese American and under 40, and a lot of what he does is whimsical in kind of a creepy and sexual way, often involving sea creatures:

("Noah", 2014)

But anyway, that's more than enough of a rambling introduction: let's get to what he's actually done for Prada. These murals are the first item on the agenda, for the Prada Epicenter stores in New York and L.A. I'm assuming they're the same, as I've also seen them described as "wallpaper".



I tracked down the original article about the murals/wallpaper/installation, but it's really just a blurb with no images. The third one directly above plus quite a lot of what follows was all taken directly from this Prada collaboration section of Jean's own website.

Immediately following that was the Spring/Summer '08 collection, which featured his illustrations printed on the garments as well as a backdrop he did for the runway show in Milan:









I really like that satellite there. Why do forest nymphs need one?


In addition to the prints and runway show backdrop, he wrote, storyboarded, and did visual development for this weird and in some ways low budget-looking but still lovely CG animation in the same vein as and promoting the collection. It's called "Trembled Blossoms", taken from Keats' "Ode to Psyche":


Here are some high-quality stills from it, 
also taken directly from the same page of his site.








Let's fast-forward a decade to the present, and the Prada Resort 2018 collection.

Dazed and Confused interviewed him and wrote about it, similarly introducing it by starting with the Trembled Blossoms '08 works and including the full video of the runway show from this year.











Saturday, July 29, 2017

Rostock, Magical Holiday Land of Deliciousness and Relaxation 2.0

Well here we are again, flying out of Haneda after midnight to do the annual Family Holiday Spectacular; New Year's 2014 was Germany (though I did do a Christmas in July post about that too lol), Christmas and New Year's 2015 was the U.S., of course, and 2016 was Germany again.



You may be thinking, hey, didn't you post about Weinachten and Silvester in Deutschland in a slightly-less-super-late fashion than this? And yes, you know what, you're right. I did that. Thing is, though, that we did an awful lot during those two weeks, and it took me forever to organise the giga-fuckton of pictures from my phone, my mom's phone, Hannes' mom's phone, my old camera, and my dank new camera, plus a couple of extras from other people thrown in, so there are still a bunch I haven't shared, and this isn't exactly chronological, as you might be noticing now that we're way back at the airport waiting for our redeye flight with a matcha soy latte and everything. 

This is all about the two most excellent Christmas markets, the ten giga-fucktons of food (that didn't pertain directly to one of the holidays themselves), the hangovers, and most importantly, the family time in Rostock.


My mom arrived in Hamburg a few hours before we did via Newark, and here are Hannes' awesomely nice parents waiting to meet her with a homemade sign. ...Witness! Marco smiles! This is super rare and a sign of a high crop yield and general good fortune.


We finally got there via Dubai - which has a piece of shit airport without the infrastructure to support the large number of flights going in and out of it - looking and smelling pretty not great. But it sure was nice to hug my mom again after a rough year alternately hacking up a lung/freezing and sweating profusely in Japan.


Not only were Anke and Marco there, but a bunch of Hannes' friends were nice enough to show up, too. Lars and Solvig live in Hamburg so it might not seem like a huge deal for them to come, but they waited with Hannes' parents and my mom for hours and facilitated communication between them, and Lars did this even though he had a terrible hangover.

Part of my mom's Airbnb apartment


And what ours looked like next door




Hannes' mom is the mommiest mom I've ever been mommed by besides my own;
all of the holiday decorations were her doing. She's nuts. And amazing.


They were half-basement rooms, so this was our view in the morning

We went right out to the Weihnachtsmarkt, which encompassed the entire centre of town, 
to show my mom the sights and start in on the glühwein






I had started feeling super sick in the car and spent the drive from Hamburg with my eyes closed focusing really hard on not throwing up, and well, having hot mulled wine and one of those cones of sweet roasted hazelnuts right there was not the most prudent decision I've ever made.





Anke took a secret spy picture of us. 
Or well, not that secret; Hannes is obviously used to it and unamused

But I was excited. And hungry. Nuts seemed safe. High calorie, high protein. Everything is fine.

That's Hannes' normal face but in my case that's a "I'm realising it's not fine" face.
My mom is obviously having a great time though, and that was the important thing lol

Look at how cute the beeswax candles are! I really liked the tiny gingerbread house one and the second or third time we walked by this cart I caved and let my mom buy it for me.


Oh and they also have real-life mead horns because like, pfft, welcome to the frozen north y'all





I needed to sit down because I was worried I was going to pass out and/or throw up and I didn't know in which order. Have you ever fainted before? It sucks. You get cold sweats and your peripheral goes black and closes in and you're sure you're definitely going to puke, but then you just wake up with a bunch of people over you and feel terribly embarrassed. But yeah so, we found a place with seating asap.


Look how cute he is though ><
Here he is trying to be nice - for whatever reason I asked for an eggnog because it sounded really good and creamy in that moment and my mom tried to stop me but I wouldn't listen.


-sparkle, sparkle-


Mom: -continues having a lovely festive time-
Me: God fuck why am I so stubborn, she was so right



One of those links back up at the top of this post - the last Christmas in July one, specifically - is about the first Weihnachtsmarkt I saw, which was charming af even though it was just sort of a shell of its full-blown self. Hannes had described it all to me in Korea and his parents had sent us a box with glühwein and chocolate to prepare me for the tsunami of decadence that awaited, and I was so excited. It was so wonderful and magical, that first decision to go to Germany, but I do know now that I didn't actually see the Christmas market before. They're like, carnivals, with like, rides. Oh yeah. So many people, so much food, so many shops. 



I wasn't supposed to take this picture I guess. I've noticed since that every time I see these traditional wooden ornaments, no photos are allowed. Is there, like, a cut-throat annual competition for this niche market? Are those cute stumpy angels, like, groundbreaking?

Ooooh, aaahhh

I've never seen my mom eat as much as she did during the holidays - and I mean that in a good way! She's terrible about taking care of herself and doesn't really eat or sleep. She just won't eat all day and won't notice or get hungry or feel like it. But this is right after she had Marco show her which was the nicest bratwurst to try, and she loved it.


Oh hey, we also ran into Stefan and Mandy!
(I don't know how I was still holding it together by this point, I was so miserable)



When the sun finally disappears completely - not that it's ever really fully visible 
and bright - everything gets even more whimsical and charming.



Everyone in Germany has these, everywhere, all the time. 
I can't blame them, though; they're pretty great.





So I couldn't deal with standing up and walking and interacting with other humans and smelling food smells anymore by the end of our stroll, and then proceeded to throw up all night. At first I told my mom I'd chill with her in her room and help her decide who should get which gifts she'd brought, since she'd never met any of Hannes' people before, and I really couldn't even do that. I laid on her large bed like a slug while she unpacked and separated things and then kicked off the whole thing by puking in her little bedside trash can. 

It got worse and worse, and I was freezing no matter how much I curled up and how many coats and blankets were piled onto me. My mom - and remember, this was the first time we'd seen each other in a year and this was still the same day that we had arrived lol - was getting pretty worried, and I caved and asked her to call Anke (Hannes' mom, who is a nurse). I used what little German I could muster to have my mom say, "Courney is sick. Not hot. But very very cold".

Anke came with some medicine but mostly decided I needed some sympathy and that it was because of all the excitement. "No, I'm dying," I think I replied calmly. She patted me on the head.

Anyway, so, I threw up all night, and went back to our own room at some point the next morning, I think. I don't remember. I do remember sleeping on my mom's bathroom floor for part of it, though. Central air and heating are the best and I can't wait to have them again. 
Hannes woke me up to ask if I felt good enough to go to the ice sculpture exhibit I talked about in the last post, but I was just kind of like, "-gurgling sounds, immediately falls back asleep for the rest of the day-".

It felt like and could only be described as food poisoning, but with no reasonable or likely cause. My digestive system is easily traumatised and changing countries is the worst thing to do to it; about a month after I moved to Korea, for example, I spontaneously became allergic to both dairy and eggs.
I'd never had a problem with either before that I was aware of, though to be fair, I had only started eating eggs when I was about 20. As luck would have it, that was also right at Christmastime. I recall vividly the fateful night it happened: I was at a little kimbap place at the foot of the steep-ass hill I lived on and then a café with my ex after I had worked the entire day that day, which was a Saturday, in a Santa coat, way the hell and gone in far eastern Seoul at an English academy's festival. For whatever ungodly reason the company people decided to take the worst possible way back, and it took I think about three hours. Even though I'd only been in Seoul for four weeks I had been like, "don't drive that route, it'll just be stopped the entire way", that's how obviously terrible their decision was. I get carsick and was super hungry, but the terrible pain I felt after eating the kimbap - which has a strip of fluffy omelette in it - was pretty shocking. I told the ex it wasn't getting better and that if we didn't leave I wouldn't be able to walk up the hill. It was like being stabbed in the stomach.

After that I was terrified of having any egg and switched to black bean milk. Something similar happened here in Japan again, too, except that it lasted longer, included soy, and I had even fewer ways of dealing with it. Both Korea and Taiwan have a wide variety of bean milks, and in the case of the latter, all kinds of rice and other healthy grain milks, too. Japan has soymilk. Plain soymilk. And plain almond milk at the actual, franchise supermarkets usually located at or outside of train stations, for about $4.50 a box. So almond milk and I got well-acquainted while I became increasingly miserable and insane, and only because Hannes was paying for it. That's the only reason I ever did gluten-free vegan here, the year leading up to this holiday trip: because everything was making me terribly sick and I had to.

You know where gluten-free vegan is not only easier but also totally affordable?

Yep, no prizes for this one: fucking Germany.

So anyway, back to the main storyline!

Post-haircut selfies! Wow, was that experience needlessly frought with drama!

The "stylist" at the cheap shopping mall salon bleached the shit out of my head, seemed like she didn't know what she was doing, thought it was funny (she and the other woman helping her literally laughed at me each time they checked it and were saying things like "I guess", "we'll see", and "oh well!"), and then had to fix it after I pitched a full-blown bitch fit and made her so angry in return that Hannes had to step in and use his newly-honed professional diplomacy skills to prevent an international incident. 
It was even bleachedier than this initially; she had to dye it again with toner. Because no, bright bleach yellow and subtle dusty/ashy blonde are not the same colour at all, you ignorant slut. And at first I hated it and was super pissed and thought I looked like an 80's hooker, even after she toned it down.


But then after a few drinks I was like, "You know what, fuck. I think I like it.
 80's hooker is the aesthetic I aim for half the time anyway".


And then after a few more drinks it was selfie-ception~ ~ ~!
Nah not really. Not even the same day. 
(But there were absolutely more drinks.)

Yes, more drinks and chilling out before the...

Medieval Christmas Market!

Imagine the food and festive atmosphere of the main Christmas market, but at a miniature Renaissance Faire a few small cobblestone streets over and up against the mossy mid-13th century city wall. Yaaaassss qween.


Yes this is an old-timey blacksmith in a leather tunic actually hand-smithing practical items


I wish I'd been able to take this pic of Krampus (and that frightening mask next to him) 
with my nice new camera.

Double the mom, triple the excitement!



This town crier-type actor guy made "hear ye, hear ye!"-style announcements a couple of times



That face when you're just gazing into the fire thinking of murder because you're still sick to your stomach and you have 80's hooker hair and your jacket's not warm enough

(Hello darkness, my old friend..)




This time, though, food and drink totally helped.

Because look what I got! Rosemary potato wedges and baked 
sheeps' cheese (I think?) with a bunch of herbs and tomato slices on top.


Not really sure what Solvig could be saying here that's so shocking lol

This woman singing on this ship stage was whimsical and so lovely, but I couldn't get a decent video of her and her beautiful voice because everyone kept talking at the same volume while she was performing -narrows eyes-







German-style breakfast at Hannes' parents' place, plus this lovely tofu scramble

Bottom right, see this shit? Rice toast that looks and feels like real bread, 
tofu scramble, choice of nut milks.

Close-up for extra understanding of its extra-goodness


As you can see, this was actually the day after that haircut, but I decided to mix it up just a bit

Mom looking at the GDR photo albums exactly like I did when I first got there



At the organic supermarket to pick up a few things and look at the cheese
look at the prices
such cheese
few money
wow

In the front the have little cases of prepared food, including - hey! Including onigiri?!

And this entire section of cake and pastries is gluten-free. Hrrnnngg

I got that one top center, the "little almond-banana-boat" and a fair trade soy espresso.
Yaaaasssss qween.
I'm the kind of person who needs to eat something in the morning, probably because of the acid reflux and general stomachacheyness, but I regretted that lovely rich gluten-free and possibly vegan? boat square because this was where we went next, for lunch.

Hannes and I had come before when we walked along the harbour in the centre of town, 
but just for a drink and to share something small.

I'm pretty sure my mom is literally deliriously happy here

Red beet soup, which was absolutely delicious

The veggie platter, which I barely got through half of before I felt like I was going to pop. Those eggroll-looking things on the left are little potato fritters, soft and fluffy in the middle, and that on the right is goat cheese. 



Charming af once again, right?

Another spiky star decoration outside, except this one was 
more of an installation/statue and changed colour.