Yesterday in the Paper of Record one Guy Trebay, whom I often enjoy reading, wrote a bit of a treatise on the hipness and 'cool' of Marc Jacobs. While there are plenty of grammatically fascinating paragraphs like the following...
“I love Marc,” said Mr. Lucas, who filmed scenes from his hard-core gay pornographic film “La Dolce Vita” at Mr. Jacobs’s Bleecker Street shop. “I just wish he didn’t have such an addiction to miserable boyfriends,” added Mr. Lucas, who has been in a monogamous relationship for many years, referring to Jason Preston, a former male escort and intermittent partner of Mr. Jacobs — who has not.
Or off-the-wall quotes that are too absurd to be believed, even if it comes from the mouth of Courtney-It's-All-Steve-Coogan's-Fault-Love...
“I come to Marc because he stuck with me when I thought all I had was $2,800 in the bank,” she said. “Even though it turned out I had eight million I didn’t know I had.”
My true personal awe stemmed from the following, "
Cool, in the sense of a Marc Jacobs show, is like acupuncture. A mysterious electrical network regulates the system; manipulate one point and you trigger a remote response. The brain may be involved, but no one can tell you quite how. And, although it is possible to diagram the energy vectors (music to fashion to art to pornography) it would be impossible to dissect them under the knife.
As a person who has been going to acupuncture twice a week for the past three months, has more than a passing interest in at least three of the four 'energy vectors' which Mr. Trebay touches on AND has been told on more than one occasion that my logic is sometimes loopy at best, I can't even begin to parse the above and have to wonder if the copy editor was recovering from some sort of terminal summer cold which had resulted in a sleepless night of Nyquil and Air Conditioning cold sweats so that when they stumbled upon said sentence, glanced at it, tried once, maybe twice, and then just said, 'WTF...'
Mangled Metaphor Pain
Addictonology comes in many forms or so says Alessandra Stanley in her mangled metaphor marathon of the new VH-1 whorefest 'Celebrity Rehab'. That it took me a third reading to actually parse the below sentence is both a testament to my own personal addictions - celebrity, rehab, and the New York Times - and to how absolutely mangled it is.
It is a crazy world we live in with scum like Perez Hilton pole-vaulting to the heights of micro-celebrity while the 'talent' (Britney, Lindsay) implode publicly.
January 14, 2008 in New York Times Commentary | Permalink | Comments (0)