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Aug. 28th, 2008
Le Gun in The Family
Aug. 28th, 2008 06:40 pmThere's that Dolce & Gabbana ad with a boat floating in Capri's deep blue water, and a young couple lying around just in their white bathing suits. They are quintessentially italian-looking. The camera picks his eyes as being blue like the water. He stands up and leans over her, giving her a kiss. The song playing is Mario Lanza's "Parlami D'Amore Mariu".
Mario Lanza was the tenor that the two girls in Heavenly Creatures were obsessed with. They were just like hundreds of thousands of teeny boppers in the 50s. Will there ever be another tenor that drives girls wild? I'm kinda obessed with him right now. A box set with dozens of his songs is only 4 quid on Amazon. It would be a crime not to buy it.
It's not sunny in London, but it's muggy and warm-ish. I suppose it will have to do. Last night I walked across Bethnal Green with Kevin, on a mission to attend Le Gun's "The Family" exhibition and 4th edition launch. On the way, we stopped at The Star of Bethnal Green to sip on a nerve-quenching pint of lager and appraise the newly opened club/pub/music venue. They have an 80s night, but it's apparently badly attended (according to a source who kept texting me throughout the night with tips on where to go clubbing and what's best at KFC... not that I'd ever eat at KFC!)
Le Gun's party was attended by the East End's fashionista/artista core. Lots of muddy ballerina slippers, big hairs, moustaches, skinny jeans and shy smiles. Lots of cute boys and lovely-looking girls. Lots of people with styles studied to the last button - an exercise in what can go wrong when you try to impress too much. Lots of art school graduates and old timers hoping for a break. Lots of second-hand clothes. The beautiful illustrations on the wall - including a marvellous room made out entirely of cardboard - were almost a second thought.
On the way home from work today, an old woman on a wheel chair, hair growing all over her gaunt face, shook her twisted arm in my direction and said "excuse me..." An old man sitting beside her on a bench, stooped shoulders and defeated face (missing many teeth) took a drag from his cigarette and looked at me with zero hope. I braced myself for the can-I-have-some-money question.
"Do you have the time?" she mumbled quietly. I stopped, turned around, fished out my mobile phone and told them it was 5.11pm. They said thank you about five times and then, just as I was walking away, she apologised in her weak voice for disturbing me.
Mario Lanza was the tenor that the two girls in Heavenly Creatures were obsessed with. They were just like hundreds of thousands of teeny boppers in the 50s. Will there ever be another tenor that drives girls wild? I'm kinda obessed with him right now. A box set with dozens of his songs is only 4 quid on Amazon. It would be a crime not to buy it.
It's not sunny in London, but it's muggy and warm-ish. I suppose it will have to do. Last night I walked across Bethnal Green with Kevin, on a mission to attend Le Gun's "The Family" exhibition and 4th edition launch. On the way, we stopped at The Star of Bethnal Green to sip on a nerve-quenching pint of lager and appraise the newly opened club/pub/music venue. They have an 80s night, but it's apparently badly attended (according to a source who kept texting me throughout the night with tips on where to go clubbing and what's best at KFC... not that I'd ever eat at KFC!)
Le Gun's party was attended by the East End's fashionista/artista core. Lots of muddy ballerina slippers, big hairs, moustaches, skinny jeans and shy smiles. Lots of cute boys and lovely-looking girls. Lots of people with styles studied to the last button - an exercise in what can go wrong when you try to impress too much. Lots of art school graduates and old timers hoping for a break. Lots of second-hand clothes. The beautiful illustrations on the wall - including a marvellous room made out entirely of cardboard - were almost a second thought.
On the way home from work today, an old woman on a wheel chair, hair growing all over her gaunt face, shook her twisted arm in my direction and said "excuse me..." An old man sitting beside her on a bench, stooped shoulders and defeated face (missing many teeth) took a drag from his cigarette and looked at me with zero hope. I braced myself for the can-I-have-some-money question.
"Do you have the time?" she mumbled quietly. I stopped, turned around, fished out my mobile phone and told them it was 5.11pm. They said thank you about five times and then, just as I was walking away, she apologised in her weak voice for disturbing me.