1960s Clayton NY
Colt 45 Malt Liquor, 1969
Chub goth is the move
A Countess From Hong Kong (1967)
CARE NETWORKS | This installation pays tribute to Lavender Hill, a commune formed outside of Ithaca, New York in the late 1960s. Lavender Hill was committed to cultivating a multi-gender space that included lesbians and gay men, intentionally challenging internalized patriarchy and dominant gender norms within queer culture. The group of artists who created this work—Morgan Bassichis, Anna Betbeze, TM Davy, DonChristian Jones, Michi Osato, and Una Osato—supplement historical material with faux ephemera that they composed, reimagining an archive. They cheekily wink at the joy and humor of chosen family and collective living.
Posted by Rachel Lewis
Lavender Hill Historical Society, 2019. Mixed-media installation. Courtesy of the artists and commissioned by the Brooklyn Museum. Installation shots by Jonathan Dorado.
Start reserving your tickets for Pierre Cardin: Future Fashion today! Opening July 20, the fiftieth anniversary of the Apollo moon landing 🚀🌚, the retrospective navigates seven-decades of the legendary French couturier’s bold, futuristic looks that have pushed the boundaries of fashion, furniture, industrial design, and beyond.
Visit http://bit.ly/cardintickets for tickets to this stellar show!
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
She’s intelligent, creative and much beautiful. More beautiful than any other women in the world, I’ll tell you. Her body, her heart, her mind and needless to say, her music taste. But it’s been a while since she locked herself in that ballroom of an office of hers. Every time I come by to check up on her, everyone would just confirm of her dormant state and continue sipping on their cheap coffee. Even from her closest friend, all the way to the publicist.
I worry for her, although I shouldn’t.
I couldn’t get her out of my mind, during the day in my studio and during the night on my bed when I looked by my side and imagine if it were hers instead. Questions after questions wandered about in my head while nobody else seems to realize what a wreck she might be inside, maybe even getting swallowed up by her dismay.
I missed her even more when I knew I shouldn’t.
She used to call me just about everyday to play her a tune or two and conversed with a bottle of wine. She’d ask me to play a rockband’s acoustic or a ‘90s R&B although all I could play was the piano and hum flatly.
I did a lot of things with her which we both knew we shouldn’t. But if there were one thing I learned from my time in university majoring in music, is that the things you know you shouldn’t do are the only things you should. Because you will never know how beautiful the melody would be.
So, that’s exactly what I did. I wrote to her.
“Hey, Margaret. My recording period ends at five, I’ll be able to get out after then. If you need me, call me anytime. It’s been four months. It’s Timmy, your piano man. Remember?
Your friend, Timothy.”
I felt like as if she had read them, so I let myself feel like I’m doing something right for a second. But my mind just thought of her traits and antiques, how likely it is for her to just wake up another day with her makeup running down her face but find it in herself that it’s been too long since she last took a look at herself in the mirror, that she had just seen her wrinkles and dark circles. That’s when she decided for herself that she wanted to apply some mascara again and called a tune in again.
It took me three days. She called me on that Thursday night, her office was more polished than ever. Her divorce papers were laid out in front of her, signed, in what it seems like red lipstick. She did it on purpose; just like how she did most her things on.
I pretended not to look as I took a seat on the stood of her piano. “I never expected to see you again, Maggie.” I mentioned to the woman smoking a cigarette, looking like an evergreen forest, in her red heels.
“Why wouldn’t you?” She huffed out thick smoke from her lips, “You’re my piano man.”
It was a swift and sick feeling. It was the longest swift feeling I had and the best kind of sick, the royalty kind. The kind of sick you get much worse than butterflies in just your stomach. They fly across your body and didn’t miss one spot, not even the tiniest vein in your eyes. My fingers danced on the piano as a smile ran to my face and if I’m not dreaming, one ran back to hers as well.
We never said anything, and I doubt will we ever, but we both knew. A bottle of wine was placed on top of the piano and her polished fingers played with my tunic. “Play me something from the '60s.
By Mother Gospel.
Not mine hahahah my friend makes amazing stories that I love so I thought I’d share pls let me know what u think
Former psychology student opens London’s latest Boutique, ‘Beyond the Pale’, Seen here are (L-R) Manager Jo Cruickshank, model Chantey Mulville, owner Peter Woodworth & model Anthe Holt
London, England, 1968
Hibari Misora with The Blue Comets “Makkana Taiyo (Red Sun)” in 1967
Romy Schneider by Milton H. Greene, 1963.
Not really Who related but it’s still funny so eh
Szívem csücske, te! Az egész a sanzonokkal kezdődött… mentségemre szóljon, hogy sokat ittam akkoriban, és nem láttam az erdőtől a mát, a holnapról nem is beszélve! Megesett az is, hogy szerelmes voltam, máskor meg rossz, habár soha sem nagyon. Innentől egy kicsit zavaros minden. Mindenesetre egy ponton túl azt vettem észre, hogy olyan zenékért lelkesedek amilyeneket csak Mickey Egér hallgat. Ezzel egyidőben rajongóim a hátsókijáraton át távoztak az amúgy is egyre kevéssé népes horizontról, így végre koncentrálhattam arra ami igazán fontos: a hatvanas évekre! Azóta jobbára itt ülök, és amikor egy huszonegyéves lány a kedvenc pozitúráimról faggat, én szemrebbenés nélkül közlöm vele, hogy nincs jobb mint hátra dőlni a karosszékemben! Szabadidőmben besokallt influenszereknek segítek aggasztóan unfrankóvá válni, és a helyi nyugdíjasotthonban dídzsézek hetente háromszor! Köszönöm neked, Syd Dale! (1967)