Thursday, 19 February 2009


Former international model couture, Cheree Cheree, was famous for never revealing her face or true identity in the world obsessed with image. She traveled the globe as an esthete adventurer in search of unusual and all things exciting. But the life is often too banal, and Cheree is not afraid to whip the crowd. This is her first newspaper of the City of New York, her current station:

Suicide - Cheree

Target is once again attempting to bring high design to the others - by inviting Alexander McQueen to produce a line for its stores. The promise of such an awkward pairing brought me to the two-day pop up store along the West side highway, possibly one of the few reasons to venture that close to Jersey. What I found was that Target made a cute transformation of the space into a warehouse, which conveniently it already was. This is to say they slicked up cinderblock walls with the requisite shade of red, added clunky meat locker plastic panels at the entryway (complete with Target logo), and enclosed the large space with chain link fencing and particle board plastered with hip/urban images. All this to add a street vibe to further emphasize that you're getting high design clothing at bottomed out prices.

Displayed on dozens of institutional metal racks, the clothing was...easy to access. That may have been the highlight. Patterns (harsh) and cuts (boring) were repeated throughout and unfortunately were not very innovative in the first place. I must admit that it is just not the kind of quality and couture that I'm used to, which undoubtedly colors my opionion. In realizing this, perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to negatively judge Target for what is ultimately a respectable attempt to include the public in high fashion, a realm largely unknown to them. But still, this is Alexander McQueen. Whatever, trust me when I say that you should shop for your outerwear in the pajama section of Target like I do.

The clothing was one thing. And then there was the art. Target apparently commissioned artists to create artwork just for this two day event. All the artists shared two important characteristics - a little free time on their hands and a greater need to please a corporation that got them some sort of exposure than to protect whatever meek integrity they once believed their art to possess. The art was centered on fashion. The art integrated the rough and sexy materials of urban life and, oddly, commercial warehouse work life. In one corner, there was a Macbook propped on a stack wooden pallets with a projector throwing images on a wall. Nearby a competing video projected onto MDF jutting about in every direction. There were also artist-made photographs hidden among the aforementioned hip/urban poster images. Really? What crap. Are these displays meant to showcase the visual artists or the clothing designer? Because basically they do neither. The art was so uneventful that I don't remember the images being projected. Well, save for the one with the map of the United States because honestly, after a life of traveling, I just enjoy maps.

So we have fashion, we have artwork, and we have allusions to hot and anxious street life. The only thing left to add to our all encompassing Target mix is music. Ill suited to the large space and the design elements of Alexander McQueen were Phenomenal Handclap Band. That being said, PHB were the only people that truly knew what they were doing and looked at home doing it. The kids were enthusiastic and made a promising, lighthearted sound rooted in the 70s. A band with two keyboardists is usually a good thing. Unfortunately two of the members appeared as though 10 Urban Outfitters catalogs molested them, but given the other circumstances of the evening I will let that slide.

Oh, overall it was boring. Most fortunately my Valentines Day picked up speed after meeting up with friends and having a round at EAR, a few rounds at K&M in Williamsburg and then on to meet up with some lovely Swedish filmmakers at Union Pool. Names names names.

I do so look forward to assisting The Sibyl with these New York transmissions, but honestly it is going to be difficult to find the time to write between all the events and all of these damn drinks.

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