hey hey,

so when press people get together off-duty they share/exhume/compete about the incendiary times they've had, accomplished and failed. We're a kind of a ridiculous (yet yes, at times, noble) tribe that bonds, loves and hates together and against eachother - terribly fragile ego's ha!! Ultimately, and over hard licquor long into the night and onto the next day, we say cheers and inwardly grate and celebrate the fact that we live in the trenches - and by our own choice argh! At its lows, life will never feel more visceral, jab at your soul worse. Wrench out my sodden heart and stamp on it why don't you? Yet on its high's no drug can touch it - I've tried! Energy will never pump through a persons veins more crimson than when your addiction is being fed. Or maybe that's just us. It's something that I have raced towards and run away from more than a few times - I always come back to it. She's the mistress.

And so today, with honour, I raise a glass to Shawn Mortensen. We did all of the above together, let's not embarrass the man by going on and on about his accomplishments (one of the greatest street culture photographers/gloriously nosey parkers that ever walked this EARTH!) He passed away yesterday evening and oooooooooooooohhhhhhh my, that shit stings. I met that Jedi fucker and man, I'm hopping mad that he's been taken away. Once met and never forgotten. Good-bye Mister! It happened way, way too soon. Shawn, why d'ya have to check out so fast?!! Well listen my friend, I know you got a space saved for me in the great bar in the sky. We were waiting for you to come back to Paris - ohhoho the plans we had laid! Pfffffft. All I can do is raise a glass high and light a fine, fine cigar in your honour - victory SALUTE. Please, let me wish you good-luck, fire, love and protection on your new journey. Next time, don't go without saying good-bye. I'll hold you to that. Don't be thinking that I'm joking now. Line up the shots

yes yes mate: www.shawnmortensen.org

Yves and his phantasmagoria

Tons and tons of lush stuff in the Yves Saint Laurent auction, it was just very hard to compute these two men living with all this stuff. The overall aesthetic is still sinking in and hard for me to describe although their magpie eyes would seem to have retired at 1980. I do think that the objects put into the show were ever so lightly chosen and edited. However - Pan, Dionysus and Minotaurs meet photos of Marcel Duchamp in drag emblazoned across bottles of imaginary purple potions. The subtext was there....

bits'n'bon bobs

Onto another, different writer; this intro to Ulysses floors me every time. Mise en abime as the French say:

Stately, plump Buck Milligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently-behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: Introibo ad altare Dei.

Fab lunch at Ladurée

This was my first proper press lunch in Paris ie. with all the other fashion writers. There were about 50 of us, all from the big newspapers and publications (from what I could gather) I didn't know anybody, had no chums (it was like being the new kid at school essentially) and in the end thought, well I've been invited so I'll just make the bloody best of it and enjoy the good food!! The food was divine, I made a mental note to return to Ladurée and showed poor form by stealing a macaroon for the journey home. And of course this menu. For posterity like...

note from a friend..

This beautifully hand-drawn note came with an amazing bouquet of flowers from one of my favourite new friends in Paris, after a feature I had written about him in i-D. That was an exciting moment in my household!