Lux Lotus

ART CRUSH OF THE MONTH: Kidder Smith Gallery

Boston-area readers, you have until Saturday to make haste to Kidder Smith Gallery for a show of Greg Miller's work entitled THE SEDUCTION. Pictured, Dialogue Two (Chinatown). Color me breathless!

Lost (Cosmonaut) in Translation

"The allegedly un-ironic Russian was actually schooling the supposedly super-ironic author in the simplest form of irony: now that's ironic." -- Daniel Kalder in The Guardian, via A Cup of Tea & A Wheat Penny.

Windowlicker

This one's for the guys... an actual text message sent by yours truly over the weekend: "U have to get some chuck taylors for spring! K. is wearing black hitops w. Dickies and white T and looks like 50s gang tough brilliant!!!!" Cue Rumble Fish. And oh yeah, My boy can eat fifty eggs.

[Converse Chuck Taylor All Star Hi-top, $39.99 at MusiciansFriend.com]

Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.

LuxLoves: Squam Art Workshops

It's no secret that I've admired Elizabeth of Bluepoppy for ages, although our paths have only crossed in person once, at Cafe Deville not so very long ago. She sends word today of her latest endeavor, the gorgeously droolworthy Squam Art Workshops, chock-a-block with brilliant classes like "Personal Mythic Figures" (mine, naturally, would be a cross between Boudicca, Lucrezia Borgia, a sleepy mermaid and Poe's Annabel Lee) and one led by another Lux Lotus fave, poet Lizzie Skurnick! Divine.

La Nouvelle Smart Set

...est arrivée.

DOE IS ME

I was all ready to be like, Woe is me, I have no Valentine, I am a tragic figure, and then I realized I should come up with a sob story for a less hopelessly bourgeois holiday, save my tender teardrops for the saplings of Arbor Day. Also, people send me candy, flowers and things to treasure year-round, and it's better when unexpected. Leaving that behind, I enjoyed such a marvelous evening of enchantment tonight with "Upstairs at the Square," featuring Anne Enright and Camphor. Not only was it seamless and arrestingly cool-- I got goosebumps the first time the reading flowed right into a song-- but I learned that the band's forthcoming album, Drawn to Dust, was inspired by such disparate yet SO LUX LOTUS influences as wabi-sabi (cited in Le Cineclub's review of Shopgirl) and Jose Saramago's Blindness. It's late now and I have to get up very early tomorrow, with my well-worn copy of Wabi-Sabi For Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers tucked in arm, for a little holiday. Thank heaven for cute boys with country houses.  'Til Tuesday, doves! XO.

IMAGE: FABULON.

Apollo & The Temple of Love

Because I work so many evenings, events and such, and during the day I have calls and meetings and projects to look after, most of my leisure time is in the wee small hours, and I generally use them to sleep. So although I think about style and fashion and my desire to possess beautiful objects constantly, I seldom have an opportunity to actually go into a shop and have a look around. Tonight, that all changed when I popped into Apollo Braun on Orchard Street to pick up a "Think Gay!" hoodie that I had seen in the window as I passed by late last night, for a friend. Much to my utter surprise and delight, the designer himself, Doron Braunshtein, was on hand. I noticed a framed clip as I breezed in, mentioning something about Bjork shopping there. Let's just say, whenever she lands on this planet, that's certainly the frothy sea she'd dream of crashing into. I was familiar with the Apollo Braun brand via my darling pal, Liberation Iannillo, who had written a profile that I recalled as inspirational, in that "the Israeli native came to New York City a little over three years ago with exactly $13 dollars in his pocket. He quickly found odd jobs such as nude modeling, stripping, and (worst of all) retail to support himself." You must have the in-person experience to see how such magic can happen so quickly. 10 minutes later, I walked out with a couture sweatshirt, a copy of his book, America, My Whore -- which contains such oddly apt bon mots as, "I AM AMERICA! I AM AMERICA! / I don't hate Kimora/ I don't hate Kimora/ but I do/ I do/ and God knows I'm right." -- and a "Madonna is My Mother" tote, which I am currently adoring more than maybe anything else I've ever owned in my life. I can't wait until the next time I have a chance to stop by and pick up the Flashdanced (credit to MJL for the verb) tee that says "Sex for a Greencard," and whenever I need something to wear for a high-profile event. Until then, I'll have to console myself with thinking of Apollo every time I see the sun.

PHOTO: TRIGGER MAGAZINE.

And She Was

The thing I love about working with Janice Erlbaum to publicize her new book, Have You Found Her (out today!) is that she seemed equally at home at the Vanity Fair-sponsored pre-publication party at Dooney & Bourke last fall as she did at the "Art Stars" open mic night tonight in the East Village at a bar where people still smoke! She's so refreshing like that. I was delighted because it was her first official reading and I stopped by a bodega on the way to pick up some flowers that were the same bright yellow as the book cover, no mean feat in the snow. I remarked to Janice that although I am seldom surprised, I've been inspired by the positive feedback on Have You Found Her thus far. And although the media attention is generating heat, this is a book that people tell people about. And want to. It has that vital electricity. Anyway, I forgot all about work when I left and took a quiet stroll to Georgia's for a sweet tea fix and a bite to eat. It was the end of the night and I ended up having a beer with the woman who runs the place, chatting about life and all, disappointment and working hard and success, and I gave her my copy of Have You Found Her.  She said, "Best tip I ever got," and as I went out the door and turned to wave I realized she didn't see me; she was already reading.

Windowlicker

This weekend I saw In Bruges, which I mostly failed to appreciate, except for the fact that I admired the styling of Clémence Poésy as a Belgian drug dealer. Long straight dirty blond hair and a gold chain necklace that rested in her clavicle plus a couple of on-trend outfits added up to a louche streetwear look with a vibe of ill-gotten elegance. J'ADORE.

[Dior Mimioui Yellow Gold Necklace, $700 at eLuxury]

Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.

Self Storage

Gayle Brandeis, whose novel Self Storage I publicized last year, has made a gorgeously evocative short film to launch the paperback version, out this week (and available at Target as a "Bookmarked/Breakout" pick-- for tossing in your cart with some Jovovich-Hawk). I am not involved this time around, but do check Self Storage out if you haven't already! Poetry, politics, postmodernism: it's all there. The trailer appears to be shot in Southern California, but it has that perfectly vague, "Anywhere in America" feel that's so true to the book.

Previously on Lux Lotus: Red is the New Red.