Sorry for the radio silence.  Technical mishaps, lack of inspiration and general tiredness prevented me from writing this entry sooner.  Let me explain.  First, I’ve recently come into temporary possession of a new piece of camera technology that is mind blowingly wonderful, but Chuck Bass, my name for my white Macintosh could not deal with it.  So, I was delayed in the processing of the photos.  Alas, the technical side of things has been resolved with some Macgyvering by me.

So here goes.  Last Sunday I attended the Jazz Age party on Governor’s Island, easily one of the highlights of my summer season.  Yes, I now speak like Brooke Astor.  I mean skiing in Killington and snorkeling in the Cayman Islands are highlights of my winter and last spring seasons, of course.  Nah, just being funny.  I love the 20s party. You just have to get yourself to New York, find a place to drop your things for a couple of hours, pay $15 and the fun, it is to be had.

In terms of fashion and style, the 20s party never disappoints.  I danced a bit this year to the dulcet tones of Michael Arenella, but mostly I walked around looking for people to photograph who caught my eye.  Of course everyone was wearing 20s clothes, but some people truly embody the 20s and have this movie star quality about them.  These are the people up here.

First off, we have to have to address Michael Arenella.  I thought his outfit was amazing last year, but this year, my lord.  I mean white on white seersucker.  Accessorized with a matching hat.  It is like meringue with whip cream and ice cream.  Three things that are sinful.  And great together:

 

Details my friends.  They matter.  Then I got this gent, who was lighting a pipe while I observed him.  The beard, the mustache, the pipe.  All in all it made for a great combo:

 

 

 

With this gent, I noticed his luscious locks.  And immediately had to photograph:

 

He seemed really tickled pink that I wanted to photograph him.  I really liked that.  A lot of gents as well went with tuxes or black and white ensembles:

 

 

 

Other gentlemen followed their own trend.  I like to call this one “upholstery fabric”:

 

 

OK, this is it for now.  Believe me, there will be MUCH MORE.

What if we took the Lady in the Clamshell painting and re-imagined it, urban style.  I know, she isn’t the lady in the clamshell, but rather “The Birth of Venus” by Botticelli. Well, we don’t have giant clamshells in Boston, but we do have these rusted out bridges that look like clam shells:

 

 

Yes, these are rusted out bridges over the Charles river.  And then I guess someone would want to rub the Charles River water out of their eyes after emerging from it.  Like this person is doing:

 

Or she could just be standing like the Venus itself:

 

 

 

 

 

In any other place, she’d be really wise, but because this Athena or Minerva lives in Boston, she’s gotta be wicked smaht:

Even the animals get together every once in a while to discuss what is going on with the copy machine, who is leaving, who is getting a raise and who they generally dislike this week.  I bet they didn’t think I’d get their staff meeting would get captured by my camera:

 

 

 

 

I wake up every morning at 7am.  I’d prefer it to be much later and I’d prefer that skiing be involved every single morning.  Alas, I must board the world’s worst train to go fortunately to one of the best jobs I have ever had.  Unfortunately, this morning it was dark outside already when I boarded the world’s worst train and it just got steadily worse until I got to work.  In fact it was black as night when I got to work.  At 8:30 am.

I did a little industrial light and magic on these, but it was really dark, so it was an invitation to make these look extra special weird:

 

 

And in this last one, I went for impressionism.  No, I’m totally kidding.  The camera wouldn’t focus and I was in a hurry to get out of the rain.  But I think this one turned out OK:

But I think this little one was just attempting to sweep the driveway:

 

Yes, fashion fans.  Anna Piaggi, or Madame Piaggi as my hero Bill Cunningham used to call her, has passed away.  In case you don’t know who Anna Piaggi was, she wore some really interesting clothes and even more interesting makeup.  Bill Cunningham called her “the greatest subject in all of Europe.”

I don’t live in Europe.  I live in Boston, where people dress up as bananas to pillow fight and where dressing up as a Teletubby on marathon day is acceptable.  Even, dare I say, encouraged.

Is it any surprise that the people who drive Boston’s “Ducks” are dressed in similarly interesting garb?:

 

No sorry, Grace Coddington was not available to art direct this shoot.  I tried to make the shot I did take of this guy a little bit more editorial fashiony looking.  I know, he’s on a bus.  I got that.  Vogue this is not.  But I got the essence of the look.  He’s saying plaid is in for the season, as are bow ties.  And while we’re at it, magic, hilariously unfunny jokes and general joviality.

The Duck Tour — come to the views, stay for the outfits.

I want to own a dog.  One day, I will.  I want to own a boxer, bull terrier, boston terrier or a French bulldog.  I choose these breeds because they have the most personality.  And because they are the ugliest.  And ugly is GOOD.

I hear that owners eventually look like pets and if this is any indication, this is the future I am looking at:

 

Oh and probably a lot of this in terms of general French Bulldog behavior: