On Friday night, we went to the Andrew Charles fashion show in the Moore Building, the Design District base of Funkshion Fashion Week. Andy Hilfiger is Tommy’s brother and Andrew Charles is Andy’s sartorial ode to rock-and-roll. The show featured a lot of leather and leopard print, several scoops of rhinestones, and a full-volume soundtrack starring the Rolling Stones, The Ramones, The Clash, The Kinks, etc. Basically, it was a mid-life crisis in the form of a fashion show, complete with an amateurish performance on guitar by Andy himself backed by Tommy Ramone on drums. (That might sound cool. It wasn’t.) Lousy with would-be Real Housewives, red-faced philanderers, and impeccable dandies, the show was a makeup-stinking mess. Here are the photos.
We have designed a shirt to let you bare your inner beast and confirm for your parents that they have indeed created a monster. Originally designed for the Critical Mass Halloween ride and later featured in Barry Jenkin’s short film Chlorophyl, the Wolfcyclist tee comes in six colors: white, charcoal, red, hot pink, pink, and grey. (Actually, the women’s hot pink has already sold out, but we may get a few more. Stay tuned.) You can get a closer look at the t-shirt by clicking on the photo below and make a purchase using the PayPay button in the sidebar. After placing an order, your shirt will ship within three days.
Thank you for supporting Beached Miami by buying a wolf and/or wolfette. Remember: They do bite.
I’ll confess it: I love Bill Cunningham, long-time fashion chronicler for the New York Times. I’m quite late as a devotee, having only recently discovered “On the Street”, Cunningham’s weekly Times column, while the odd octogenarian with the yellow teeth, disarming laugh, and heavy New England accent has been riding his Schwinn around New York with his Nikon 35 mm for about 60 years — enough time to have 28 bikes stolen, Cunningham says with a hearty chuckle in Bill Cunningham New York, a Zeitgeist Films biopic screening at several Miami theaters in April.
As the title suggests, the 84-minute film is as much about New York as it is about Bill Cunningham, and how the one has influenced the other through the decades. The city’s role in Cunningham’s life is that of a fecund urban forest where he, like an obsessive lepidopterist, can seek out, study, and in perfect moments capture (with a camera for a net) the rarest of species. These include anyone from Shail Upadhya, a Nepalese former U.N. diplomat who turned his sofa into a suit, to some nameless no one with the cojones to get on the subway draped in flamingo feathers.
Conversely, Cunningham’s impact on New York — at least its fashion — has been immense. Indeed, the film makes a strong case that the city’s bon vivants see Bill Cunningham in the mirror when they get dressed every morning. For his part, Cunningham doesn’t seem to care who you are (even if you’re Marilyn Monroe) if you’re not wearing something “mahvelous”. What he cares about, perhaps more than anyone alive, is clothes — or as he calls them, “armor”.
The digital tower on Lincoln Road read 48 degrees in the early afternoon today. Ever the intrepid photog, I donned earmuffs and a Gore-tex parka and ventured out into the forbidding frost to capture Miami dressed in its winter’s best (again). This is what I saw.
Nothing ushers in Thanksgiving like donning shutter shades, a side pony, and E.G.s. At least that’s the Sweat Records tradition, and last night at Vagabond several hundred Miamians got in on the act. Here are the pics. (Just Imagine “Karma Chameleon” playing in the background.)
This weekend the temperature dipped below 75 degrees, and in Miami that’s called winter. As you can see in these photos, taken on Lincoln Road, the populace dressed accordingly (except for the last guy, who had a different strategy for staying warm).
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Local portrait photographer Katia Hernandez captured these images at last night’s Funkshion Fashion Week Miami Beach event at the Bass Museum of Art. Hosted by Miami Heat power forward Juwan Howard, the show benefitted cancer research and featured the lucky progeny of various NBA players — including LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, and Tracy McGrady — as runway models.
“A fat man eating quails while children are begging for bread is a disgusting sight, but you are less likely to see it when you are within sound of the guns,” George Orwell wrote in Homage to Catalonia.
I recalled the line last night at “Flora and Fauna,” the Krelwear runway show at the Setai Hotel which kicked off Funkshion Fashion Week Miami Beach. Amid the several hundred beautiful people (see photos below), those words nagged at my mind as persistently as if Orwell himself were continually tapping me on the shoulder. While not within “sound of the guns,” in Orwell’s literal sense, I was well within mental range of the immense SNAFU that is Life On Earth at this particular moment and, to me, a fashion show at a South Beach hotel with wine flowing at the rate of a dollar per drop and an upright centaur in full makeup gamboling through the crowd brandishing a horsewhip — to me, this seemed like one hell of a succulent quail. And I was the fat man, from belly to bib, because I ate the goddamn thing up.
If it seems like the most spineless kind of penance to criticize an event after attending and enjoying it, not to mention turning it into fodder for a blog post, it is. But you know, I’m a writer, a writer bereft of the slightest insight into fashion (see: my closet), and this is what we call a “write around.”
Having blown my cover, I will advance this critique of “Flora and Fauna”: the models’ 7, 8, 9-inch heels forced them to walk down the runway in baby steps, or, in the worst cases, with the tense gait of someone on a grave search for the restroom. Hard to say why designer Karelle Levy would so inhibit her models, but the effect was to draw my attention away from her clothing and toward the seemingly imminent disaster in the ankle region — which, amazingly, never struck.