My Rocky Valentine

I know it was only a matter of months since the last time we spent an evening of mischief at the Rocky Horror Picture Show in The Sugar Club, nevertheless that's exactly where we we found ourselves last Saturday night, only this time it was Anti-Valentine's Delight flavour.

The bottom left picture shows the Bear kindly retying the knot on my corset which somehow came undone. Also, I had to get a picture of my eye make-up as it was my first proper attempt at that liquid eyeliner flicky thing and I was rather proud of the result.

There was much to-ing and fro-ing on my part beforehand, as I was finding it tremendously difficult to decide on a corset to wear. Granted, the red and black one was more in keeping with the Rocky Horror colour scheme, but the purple one meant I wouldn't have to keep readjusting myself all evening. Purple emerged victorious, as the question of boob-wrangling would inevitably have gotten more tiresome as the evening wore on.

All the usual mayhem applied, toast flying at the screen, an abundance of ass on show (man-ass included and impossible to tear your eyes away from, no matter how much you want to) water guns fired into the crowd, simulated sex onstage, you know yourself. The Bear and I each had a hip flask of rum stowed upon our respective persons and I can safely warn you beyond doubt that his 'n hers hip flasks will unquestionably be followed by his 'n hers headaches the next morning.

Well one of us got ripped off, that's for damn sure.

After the show, when the dancing had ensued (I say dancing, in my case I mean acting out as many lyrics as possible with increasingly erratic gesturing) I was approached by a foxy lady called Caroline with fire engine red hair and a top hat that I'm totally jealous of. Said lady made my night, as it turns out that she recognized me from this here blog and we had a great old chat about it, in between me not quite getting my head around the whole situation. She also informed me that Tura Satana died during the week, whose ridiculously colourful life I've previously blogged about. Maybe now a film will be made about her, because someone really needs to dammit. So to summarise: sexy fun, sneaky rum, Hi Caroline! and RIP Tura, you total badass.

Squirrels Vs Robots

Not quite as age old a question as say, Pirates vs Ninjas (pirates, obviously) but there you go. Those of you in Dublin will most likely have seen the Upstart posters battling it out against Eamon Gilmore, Micheál Martin and gale force winds on lamposts across the city. It's a great initiative that put the call out to artists, designers and whoever else flipping well wants to, to submit a poster design in order to smack everyone in the face with a dose of creativity in the run up to the General Election.

I submitted two designs for it, one featuring squirrels, inspired by this blog post and the other, in typical last-minute, oh-Jaysus-what'll-I-do, here's one I made earlier style, is a rejigged version of my Full Circle poster.

In the purple corner, fighting it out for fuzzy mammalkind.

In the blue corner, battling for androids and cyborgs alike.

Yesterday, I was delighted to get an email letting me know that my work was chosen to be printed and would be waging a lampost war of its very own against whichever politicians happen to be running in that area. A browse through the online gallery revealed that, in this instance, the Squirrels vs Robots result favours our mechanical brethren. Go Robots! So, if in the following weeks anyone spots these blue robots smiling their automated smiles down at them from a lampost, please drop me a line because I'd love to get a picture of it, and you will be duly rewarded with my undying affection complete with bonus inappropriately long hugs.

Steampunk'd

Yesterday, Google commemorated the birth of Jules Verne with an interactive 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea version of their logo. A nice touch and one that inspired me to write a post about steampunk.


A few months ago, when Mark Gatiss's superb take on The First Men In The Moon was being shown on BBC4, I saw the term steampunk being bandied about as a description of the show. It wasn't until I looked it up that I realised there was actually a term for the Victorian sci-fi aesthetic that I've always found so appealing. To be specific: "steampunk is a subgenre of speculative fiction usually set in an anachronistic Victorian or quasi-Victorian alternate history setting."

I love Disneyland Paris. (Don't worry, I'm actually going somewhere with this.) The rollercoasters, the atmosphere, the constant smell of popcorn, the oversized lollipops, even the creepy animatronic kids in Small World. I particularly love the Discoveryland section of the park, where Space Mountain resides. In the American parks, this section is a 1950s-vision-of-the-future, World of Tomorrow themed area. But its French counterpart is a glorious Jules Verne inspired playground, and the more I thought about it, the more I realised that it's actually rife with steampunk influences.

Look at it! It's so flipping pretty!

Space Mountain, which I've always thought of as one of the most gorgeous looking rollercoasters ever, is a Victorian canon that sends you rocketing into space for feck's sake. It's a steampunk rollercoaster! No wonder I've always loved it.

It transpires that films like Back To The Future III, A Series Of Unfortunate Events, Sky Captain and The World Of Tomorrow, and even the recent Victorian Robert Downey Ridebag-fest Sherlock Holmes would all be loosely classed as steampunk, with The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen graphic novel generally credited with hauling the genre into mainstream pop culture.

Captain Amelia from Disney's Treasure Planet, Violet Baudelaire from A Series Of Unfortunate Events, Mina Murray from The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Captain Franky Cook from Sky Captain and The World of Tomorrow. It appears that steampunk fiction tends to go for long-ass titles.

There are all manner of objects that steampunk enthusiasts manage to convert into gorgeous neo-Victorian versions of themselves, keyboards, guitars, iPods, even Santa. Seriously, Google it. One of the most impressive steampunk makeovers I've seen are these reimagined Star Wars illustrations by artist Bjorn Hurri. Check it.

How much cooler does Leia look? Infinitely so is the answer.

Steampunk fashion is a thing to behold too. Brown leather corsets, aviator goggles, polished brass, lace, buckles, top hats, laser guns and a general air of badassery.


It's all whirring cogs and gears and a sort of smashing together of sci-fi, Victoriana and the wild west. And it's only deadly.

*UPDATE!*
In a weird and rather well timed coincidence, there's a Steampunk night happening in The Sugar Club on the 25th February, details here. Intriguing, no?

Shiny Shiny Disco Balls

Ah the nineties. Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool and shootin' some b-ball outside of the school. Not to mention conversations that went "No way" "Way" "No way!" "Way!" "NO WAY!" "WAY!". Good times. A last minute text from The Incredible Mulq yesterday and a resolve to brave the hurricane-force wind resulted in the pair of us being flung into a shinier, more disco nineties, courtesy of Bitches With Wolves as they tore up Whelan's last night in their own glittery way.

Quote and photo from State

The crowd, as expected, was hipster central. Haircut o'clock, you could say and ticking off the appearance of dickie bows (check), oversized glasses (check) and ridiculous quiffs (check) made for a fun game of hipster bingo. And that was just the boys. The girls were backcombed, red-lipped and too pretty to say sorry when they walloped into you. "The cast of Fade Street are probably here" sneered I. Moments later, frontman, Head Bitch and human disco ball James pulled a girl onstage to dance along to You Can't Piss To This, exclaiming "Jaysus! It's yer wan from Fade Street!". Having only seen half of one episode I still can't confirm if that was actually the case, and neither could The Incredible Mulq.

Making fun of cool kids aside, the gig itself was brilliant fun too. Copious changes of sparkly costume, Solitary Brother morphing into Papa Was A Rolling Stone, a dynamite Dolly Parton-inspired acoustic version of their disco aural assault Broken Hearts and quips like "There's no we in Madonna" made for an unquestionably entertaining experience. Demented, supremely danceable electro-pop. Next time we're bringing the boys to hold our coats so we can go nuts on the dancefloor.

Oh, and Brendan Courtney was there too. Mega.

The Owl And The Kitty Cat

There's worse ways to spend a Sunday morning than ambling around the Dublin Flea Market in Newmarket Square (last Sunday of every month) while drinking lemonade. Indeed, it's served the Bear and I rather well in the past, as it was there that we came upon Pre Loved Style, who sexified our coffee table up immensely. Last Sunday, the Bear managed to add to his ever growing VHS collection, as he is wont to do, and picked up a little wooden bowl (that I decided should be filled with M&Ms) for €2. I didn't do too badly myself, happening upon this pretty piece of finger candy for €7.


As well as this mega cute owl pendant for €8, that...


...wait for it...


...doubles as a clock necklace! Look at him go. He's like a little inoffensive flasher you can wear around your neck. Aw.

Quelque Chose #7

Lá Fhéile Bhríde inniú. I'll take this Bridget instead though.

Raindrops On Roses Notwithstanding

A few of my current favourite things:

Mad Men


I know, I know. I'm so incredibly late to the party that people are making cocktails with Buckfast and someone's fallen asleep in the jacks. The Bear and I are only a handful of episodes into the first series and absolutely loving it. Although I now feel terribly underdressed going anywhere, given the perfectly turned out fifties glamour of Betty and Joan.

Mini Wham Bars


A big yellow bag of these tasty little bad boys is a mere €1.99 in the Spar across the road. Tooth melting deliciousness. I am in so much trouble the next time I go the dentist.

Archer


Slick animation, one liners that'd make you choke on your tea and Jessica Walters from Arrested Development playing almost the exact same character as Lucille Bluth, only filthier. An entire stationery shop doesn't contain the amount of shiny gold stars that this show deserves. Look it up immediately. You can thank me in tiny Wham bars.

Free Vodka


The nice people at Conway Communications were kind enough to send me a bottle of Absolut, as a pretty cut-glass version of the bottle was being launched. And I'm not one to turn down free booze. Not when it fits in my freezer so nicely.

Scream Queen

Back in November, while on the train home to Waterford for the weekend, that day's Guardian newspaper was left behind by a fellow passenger. While skimming through it, I came upon an obituary for Hammer Horror actress, Ingrid Pitt. After reading it, I pulled out the page and kept it in my bag, which sounds like I was being a bit of a weirdo, but it was actually because her story was so fascinating.


Ingrid was born in Poland in 1937, to a Jewish mother and German father, who worked as a scientist. After her father refused to work on the Nazi's programme to develop rockets, her mother and five year old Ingrid were sent to a concentration camp for three years. When they were taken into a forest to be shot, amazingly they managed to escape and were rescued by partisan troops, with whom they lived rough for a year. Eventually, badass Ingrid made her way to Berlin and joined a theatre company, after a short stint as a medical student. However, it was soon time to leg it once more after she got in trouble for speaking out against the Communist authorities, and fled westwards with the help of a US Marine officer, who she then married. However, restless Ingrid wouldn't stay settled with her new husband in the Colorado military base they lived in. She ended up divorcing him and returning to Europe, landing bit parts in Dr Zhivago and Where Eagles Dare, as well as lead roles in dodgy films doomed to be consigned to the scrapheap of terrible sci-fi like The Omegans. Heard of it? Yeah, me neither.


Ingrid finally made her breakthrough in The Vampire Lovers, where she was cast as a 200 year old lesbian vampire that seduced female victims while barely clad in low cut transparent gowns. At a time when British horror in the late sixties and seventies was ramping up the sex and gore in its baroque films in an attempt to win over cinema crowds, Ingrid made a cult name for herself thrilling cinemagoers as a sexy predator with no problem making the most of her vampy cleavage.

She wrote numerous books in her later years, including her autobiography Life's A Scream and The Ingrid Pitt Book of Murder, Torture and Depravity, both of which sound bleedin' fantastic, and given the eventful life she led before breaking into film, I imagine would make for a fantastic read.

Penguin, Joker, Riddler... and Catwoman, too! The sum of the angles of that rectangle is too monstrous to contemplate!

So the internet is abuzz with the news that Anne Hathaway has been confirmed to play that slinkiest of supervillains, Selina Kyle aka Catwoman, in Christopher Nolan's next Batman film. I would have thought that Hathaway is too lovely and sweet to pull off a mean, sexy character as deadly as Catwoman, but I'm completely willing to be proven wrong. Moreover I'm really looking forward to seeing what the new approach to the Catwoman costume will be. As such, I've had a look at the feline femme fatale's costume style over the years.


Her first appearance was in 1940, in Batman #1, where she was introduced to us as a thief called "The Cat" in a fetching green dress with a stylish blue-black forties hairdo and no costume to speak of. Poor show, Selina. Must try harder.


However, she wasn't long stepping up her game somewhat, appearing in furry cat masks between 1940 and 1942, which was an improvement on the lack of costume front, but didn't exactly bring the sexy. It wasn't until the mid-forties that she really kicked things off with a more revealing mask and an altogether more attractive look in a purple dress and green cape, which she rocked well into the 1950s.


The purple theme made a comeback in the 1990s versions of Catwoman, albeit in a much more skintight way to match her amplified rack.


Catwoman in the 1960s had sashayed her way onto television in the gloriously camp Adam West Batman series. Julie Newmar, Eartha Kitt and Miss America 1955, Lee Meriwether (in the crazy-ass 1966 Batman film) all poured themselves into the shiny black catsuit and kitty ears. In my opinion it's Newmar who steals the sixties Catwoman crown by a long shot, with her cartoon-like tiny waist, low slung belt, spikey eyebrows and general jaw-dropping rideyness.


While Julie and Eartha were purring up a storm onscreen, comic book Catwoman seemed to have borrowed from the TV show, style-wise, as she was now appearing with a long necklace like Julie's and a mask a lot like Eartha's. Although the hugest difference was the choice of green for her skintight catsuit, as apparently green was the colour of choice for sixties comic book villains. I'm not convinced by this weird green getup though, as it makes her look like some kind of slithery lizard girl as opposed to crafty cat burglar.


1969 thankfully saw the end of the green scales shenanigans, with our girl re-emerging in red and black boots with matching eyemask and some manner of leotard with a collar. Ka-pow!


Catwoman has also given grey ensembles a shot here and there in her time, in comic books and as an animated character. While the nineties saw the resurrection of purple in her outfit, Michelle Pfeiffer was kicking Gotham ass in Batman Returns as a hyper-sexy red lipped, leather clad and slightly deranged Selina Kyle.


Of course in 2004, Halle Berry made an absolute balls of Catwoman in an impractical leather bikini mess of an outfit, although to be fair, the ripped trousers were a nice touch. And I'm pretty sure the movie is hilarious when you're drunk.


Currently, comic book Catwoman is tearing up Gotham with a shiny black crop of hair and an even shinier black catsuit. This most recent look seems rather influenced by the movie versions, although she's now working a pair of cat-eye goggles rather than a mask. I'm guessing Christopher Nolan's take on her costume will most likely be black in colour, but I can't wait to see what happens next with Anne Hathaway stepping into the bad ass pussycat's sexy boots.

Magical Mystery House

If there's one thing I love, it's a spooky old mansion. Creepy buildings with weird histories, like Loftus Hall or the Hellfire Club really float my boat. As do bizarre follies like the Bovolo staircase in Venice, where a 15th century rich fella got some notion that he wanted to be able to get to his top floor bedroom on horseback and had the money and lack of cop on to make it so. I'm glad he did though, because it's absolutely gorgeous and wonderfully strange.

I want to be a rich eccentric when I grow up.

Another thing I'm fascinated with is mad old birds like the Marchesa Casati, or the Edies of Grey Gardens, eccentric women who did their own thing regardless of whether they were acting the complete loolah or not. As it happens, these three things I find so interesting are all smashed together in a wondrous and weird place known as The Winchester Mystery House, situated in San José, California.

Front view of the house. But wait till you see...

...The Winchester mansion on Google Maps. Seriously. Flipping size of it.

Sarah Winchester was an extremely wealthy and deeply troubled widow, after the deaths of both her baby daughter and gun magnate husband. A medium she sought help from allegedly told her that the Winchester family was cursed and doomed to be haunted by the ghosts of the thousands that the famous Winchester rifle had killed in battle. Sarah's efforts to confuse and waylay these supposed spirits are what led to the massive 160 room Victorian mansion she resided in. Taking eccentricity to a whole new level, the lady of the house had continuous 24 hour construction work going on, adding rooms and entire wings to the house, sometimes tearing them down entirely and rebuilding them, for 38 years until her death.

This looks like an entire town, but it's actually the Winchester mansion before the huge 1906 earthquake that knocked the house from seven stories to four and demolished the observation tower. Scald. I love a good observation tower.

The constant building and rebuilding of the house is only one part of the story's craziness though. The labyrinthine interior is rife with demented features like staircases that lead to the ceiling, or rise up eleven steps and then descend for seven, windows in the floor, cupboards that open onto brick walls, doors that go nowhere and Tiffany art glass windows with specially designed spiderweb patterns, as well as brilliant oddities like hidden rooms and secret passageways, all as an attempt to throw off any evil spirits that she believed were following her around the house. There's even an account of the roundabout way in which she made her nightly visit to her "Seance Room" that mentions her clambering out windows onto flights of stairs and slipping between rooms via sliding panels. Poor old mad Sarah.

Door to nowhere, stairs to the ceiling, windows-a-rama and spiderweb motifs a go-go.

After Sarah died, there were meant to numerous sightings of the ghosts of former workmen, eerie unexplained footsteps and the like, earning the house a reputation as one of the most haunted in America. Whatever about that, the house itself is surely worth a nosey around, as it's open to tourists and y'know...amazing. All I know is that if I should find myself anywhere near San José in the future I'll be all over that like white on rice.

Take A Good Hard Look At The Motherfuckin' Boat

So I have this coat that I bought in London well over a year ago at this stage, which I'm rather fond of. For some reason I've never quite gotten around to posting about it, until today that is.

Ta daaa

It's a lovely Elgee of London 1960s trenchcoat with embroidered red flowers and a suede SAILBOAT on each pocket. Kablammo! Everybody loves boats, right? And on top of all that it's showerproof, no less. Just showerproof, mind. None of your fancy stuff. When people ask me where I got it, I get to sound like an unbearably smug hipster-type, seeing as the answer to that question is in fact a vintage shop on Brick Lane. And now that I have an iPhone thanks to the Bear and his supreme Christmas present buying skills, I'll get to wander off taking Hipstamatic pictures of my feet (isn't that one of the things they do? Probably not while walking though I suppose) after I answer, just to dial up the hipster-ness to eleven.

Yessss.

Quelque Chose #6

Me: Whatever happened to Gina G, I wonder?

The Bear: She ended up in porn.

Me: Oh my God, really?

The Bear: No. I just made that up.

Me: Oh. That's something that you'd totally believe though, isn't it? It just sounds true, like.