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Monthly Archives: September 2015

Hats Off Tibet!

Sep 20 0 Comments

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Anyone who knows me well knows that I have a deep affinity for all things Asian. I even have a two foot sumo wrestler statue in my living room. That aside, it is always a pleasure (and a treasure) when I come across a store that has unique findings from the far east. Stores like Takashamiya are lovely, and I have no qualms with commercialism, but there’s always something delightful in knowing that something you own is yours and yours alone – not mass produced, not found in America, perhaps not even from this century.

One of my favorite findings that I have recently come across is a Tibetan store called Do Kham. Do Kham is run by a man named Phelgye Kelden who, himself, is equally as intriguing as his store. Mr. Kelden arrived in the United States from Tibet in 1979 due to the Chinese occupation of his homeland. The move was not an easy one, as Tibet is a country of such extraordinary beauty and New York city is, to put it mildly, the polar opposite of Tibet.

Mr. Kelden Himself

Having studied Tibetan art and culture in India as well as learning practical sewing and design skills from his family, Mr. Kelden decided to bring a piece of his homeland to a city that knew so little of it. Thus said, Mr. Kelden opened a store called Do Kham (meaning Realm of Desire) located at 51 Prince Street in Manhattan. Mr. Kelden’s store is a mixture of both his personal designs as well as pieces he has found along his travels that interest him, ranging from scarves to coats to jewelry and even perfume bottles.

A Selection of Antique Jewlery

Although I could easily photograph (and wish I could purchase!) nearly everything in the store, what inspires me most are the hats that Mr. Kelden himself creates by hand. The Tibetan hats that he was exposed to in the 70’s were, in his words, “unrefined and not presentable” to show to the American market. He decided the style of the traditional hat was beautiful enough that something could (and should) be done about them so he began to create his own line of traditional Tibetan hats that had more of a fashionable “New York” flare to them.

His efforts clearly proved worthwhile as soon enough the his hats and various other designs were being featured in the likes of Vogue and Elle magazines.

Scarf, Vest and Bag ALL Designed by Mr. Kelden

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Mr. Kelden makes all of the hats himself, and they are handcrafted with Tibetan wool and silk brocades that are handwoven in India and Tibet.

While most of his hats are lined with fox fur, Mr. Kelden also tries to help the environment accommodate his varied customers by creating “vegetarian” hats as well (a.k.a. fake fur – LOVE that term!) Mr. Kelden uses the best replicated “vegetarian” furs so you can seldom tell the difference between the real furs and the fakes.

A “Vegetarian” Hat

No two hats are the same, and by appointment Mr. Kelden will design a unique hat for you based upon the color palate and furs you desire.

For more information on Do Kham you may go to www.dokhamny.com or call 212.966.2404

Fierce Like Venom: Taylor Taxin

Sep 20 0 Comments

Jewelry designer Taylor Taxin isn’t your typical cutesy one-hit wonder; with the middle name “Jade” she was essentially predestined to design jewelery.

Retail Value $35

Taxin began designing jewelry as a child as a means to enhance her outfits. It didn’t matter what she was wearing; what was more important to her was what she added to it. That philosophy still maintains today with Taylor’s unique and charming pieces that give any outfit that little extra je ne sais quoi. 

Retail Value: $50

Snakes are one of Taxin’s main inspirations and accordingly so, she has branded her present line as Venom by Taylor Taxin. As a side note, venom actually works quite well for Taylor as she herself is just as impressive, beautiful and cunning as a snake.

Retail Value $40

So What is next for Ms. Taxin? After the success of Venom, Taylor is looking to take a more subtle approach with a line she is in the process of developing based off of Buddhist ideals, symbols, and color schemes. And no, she is just not just throwing the skulls into her designs like so many designers do ala Alexander McQueen; Taxin has a purpose for their use and understands why and where they came from (something I didn’t even know). The use of the skull in jewelry, at least in the Tibetan culture, is to be worn as prayer beads to contemplate the meaning of life and death during meditation. Based off the sheer amount of jewelery Taylor has been producing, I can’t imagine she has much time to contemplate anything other than work!

Retail Value $35

Taylor Taxin Jewelry can be purchased on her Facebook website,  and direct orders (custom too!) can be placed by emailing her at taylorjadetaxinjewelery@gmail.com

*MY PERSONAL FAVORITE, Retail Value $90

And with prices starting as low as $20, YOU TOO should “contemplate” purchasing one of her pieces!

 

 

Love it or Haiti it

Sep 20 0 Comments

To my loyal blog readers, I’d first and foremost like to wish all of you a happy and healthy new year. I have not posted for the past two weeks as I have been traveling in Haiti with an extraordinary foundation called Wings Over Haiti.

Nearly a year ago, one of the most devastating earthquakes in recent history erupted directly in the center of the capital city of Haiti, Port Au Prince. Leaving over 100,000 dead in a matter of minutes, the earthquake injured millions more and continues to devastate the living inhabitants of the city even today, (most recently with the Cholera epidemic). I could go on and on about facts and statistics but I’d prefer you go to CNN.com if that is what you are looking for. What I am here to do is share with you my personal experience in Haiti; perhaps, if nothing else, to offer you incite into the lives of real people whose stories you won’t find on the news or elsewhere on the internet. Love it or Haiti it, the truth must be told and I am proud to be able to share with you a visual voyage of my time in Haiti.

*All images photographed by Alexa Winner (with the exclusion of any photos in which I appear).

Featured in this photo is Wings Over Haiti founder Jonathan Nash Glynn, myself, and volunteer Carina Blon (only 17 by herself!) in the background.

Having been lucky enough to have traveled to some of the most compelling and remote destinations in the world (many of which clearly advise travelers NOT to go to unless absolutely necessary), I truly didn’t think twice about the advisory warnings against going to Haiti. Wings Over Haiti promised to look out for me, so it was an easy decision for me to spend my holiday vacation experience in a third world country. Having also recently been lucky enough to be asked to be a committee member for the Carma Foundation (another foundation committed to helping Haiti), I felt that in my opinion, it would be irresponsible and selfish to represent a foundation and speak about a country having really had no hands on knowledge of what I was putting my name on. To show up to a benefit in a lovely dress is one thing, but to sign your name to something as a featured member of the committee to me means that you must truly understand why, what, and whom you are representing. The answer was clear: if I was to accept this gracious title presented to me on behalf of Danae Cappelletto and Melky Jean (sister to Wyclef), there was no way I WASN’T going to Haiti.

More so than many other countries I have visited, the safety warnings did indeed prove valid as I did find myself, at times, in what one may consider compromising situations. Riding in a “tap tap,” often people on the street such as the gentleman featured above would grab at our legs or cling to the vehicle in hopes of getting a free ride…or at least so I believe those were their only intentions. This didn’t bother me. Wings Over Haiti employs some of the most extraordinary Haitian men in the world. They would, quite literally, put their lives on the line just to protect you. And lets acknowledge the obvious truth here; I’m not naive to the fact that as a tall blond American girl I stick out like a sore thumb and am somewhat of an easy target. Being the thrill seeker I am, the incredible Haitian men I was with would cautiously agree to walk me through some of the most dangerous parts of Port Au Prince so I could get a true glimpse into these people’s lives. Thank goodness my Creole is less than mediocre because I’m sure the men looking after me like Shad St Louis censored some of what was said about me by the locals. However knowing he was there to protect me, I could only help but chuckle when an uproar occurred in a market I passed through when a woman about four times the size of me announced my arrival to the crowd and shouted “who wants to watch me beat the blond girl up!”

I can’t take the market insults, or any other insults I received on the trip personally, because when you see an image like the one featured above, it is easy to understand how despair, depression, fear, and frustration can culminate into hatred for someone such as myself. A year later, Port Au Prince looked to me as if the earthquake had hit yesterday.

Not only had the rubble from the earthquake remained, but additionally trash began to pile on top of the rubble creating what has become in often cases worse of a mess than the day the earthquake happened. What shocked me considerably about this, (cholera, sanitary issues, and other problems aside), was when I learned that many of the bodies that had been trapped in this very rubble still remained, dead and untouched, the legacy of their souls forever lost in a breeding pile of garbage.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the unpaved streets were filled with men and women such as the lady above trying to sell the remains of whatever seemingly random pieces of salvageable products (relatively speaking) that they could find. It is the sadness in this woman’s face, and so many others, that tells me those wooden boxes and empty paint buckets have been sitting there for awhile and aren’t going to be sold any time soon. After all, in a city where the only police I saw were in front of and inside the supermarkets, I don’t believe a broken pot is on the top of these people’s list of things to buy when there is no food to put in the pot in the first place.

 Although commonplace, (a man collecting scraps through piles of garbage), as soon as I saw this man in particular I insisted we stop the vehicle so I could try to get a sense of him. I don’t know what precisely compelled me to do this; was it a conversation I was looking for? Was it a high-five? Was it an empty bottle of Mountain Dew? What I realized eventually was that this figure, and I say the word figure for a reason, drew me in because what I was looking for was his face. Physically speaking he was alive, but in an eerie way, he was almost an identifiable enigma. No matter how hard I looked, how many photos were snapped, I could never find this man’s face. This moment symbolized a lot for me. Not only had he lost his obvious belongings, but he had lost the very thing that enables us to belong; his face.

 I call this photo the smashed cake because to me, it looks like a perfectly delicate birthday cake that I envision some child smashing their head into (Okay, maybe I may have done that once). What this picture is in fact is the remains of the palace where the governor lived right in the heart of the city. The entire palace has been looted, and even the whereabouts of the governor himself are a mystery to anyone you ask.

With such chaos, corruption, and uncertainty, it’s easy to understand why you’d not only want to flick off someone taking your photo, but deeper than that, why you’d want to flick off the world.

 On Christmas day, we invited all of the children that attended the Wings Over Haiti school along with their parents to meet us at a building to have a special lunch and dinner with us and for the children to receive gifts. When most of us think of Christmas, we envision Christmas trees, lights, JOY, perhaps even snow. Snow aside for obvious reasons, lights aside for electricity issues, and Christmas trees aside for exportation complications, I was certainly expecting the joy to still remain on a Christmas day in Haiti. Instead, we found ourselves in one of the most awkward situations I think any one of us had ever felt on a Christmas day. For upwards of three hours, the parents and children blankly stared at us as if it were a classroom and they were seated in detention. I had expected everyone would be mingling and dancing and curious to open presents, but instead, those first few hours felt more like we were holding them hostage than we were celebrating one of the most blessed days of the year. Did someone forget to tell them it was Christmas?

 In response to the above question, the answer was no. They clearly knew it was Christmas as many of the parents had dressed their children up in their finest attire. This little girl, who I simply could not stop myself from photographing over and over again, was, in a weird paradox, the most beautifully dressed yet seemingly the most shell shocked and unhappy, remaining the entire day with the exact same face as if she was a deer in headlights.

When we presented the children with their gifts (albeit wrapped in small black garbage bags) I was also shocked at the fact that none of them were immediately responsive to opening what was handed to them. Did they not understand it was a present? Did I not understand how to approach the situation? To me, being handed a gift is so joyful, and to be blunt, fairly obvious that it is what’s inside that matters, not the outer wrapping (you can analogize that statement if you so choose). The gifts we gave them however (and let me add that it was translated to them in Creole that the were indeed gifts) simply remained in most of the children’s laps until it finally became clear that perhaps the reason they weren’t opening the gifts was that maybe, just maybe, they had never received a Christmas gift before. Practically child by child, we had to instruct them and often unwrap the presents for them so they could enjoy the stuffed animals, books, and chocolate treats that we had stuffed inside.

 Sensing we had to change the tone of the day, we decided that we would turn the music up a bit louder and try to get everyone to join us in dancing. For whatever reason, I was asked to be the first to start dancing in a room full of people sitting in confusion. Sure, I can feign my way dancing through nightclubs in New York, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a white girl like myself possesses very little in the way of dance moves, particularly in a crowd of people who are known for their inherent rhythm and dance to begin with. Embarrassment aside, I tried my best to shake my stiff hips and lanky arms to the sound of muffled Christmas music and soon enough (thank god) we began a NON-DANCE REQUIRED conga line that ended up changing the entire vibe of the day. Suddenly the children were smiling, the parents were giggling, and we must have conga’d around the same small room for a solid two hours.

 Although easily one of the shyest of the bunch, this particular student had the most beautiful radiance to her – as if she was angel in starched white clothes that had somehow fallen into a world in which I couldn’t perceive that she belonged. Not to say that any of these children belonged in this situation, but there was something about this child, something inexplicable; an aura she possessed that spread itself across the room. It is something I cannot define, but this girl almost felt like a movie star; mysterious, reserved, untouchable…inexplicably beautiful.

 While much of our days were spent helping rebuild the children’s school and playing outdoors with the children (they too were on holiday, but to put things back into perspective for a brief second, winter holiday doesn’t mean vacationing in St. Barths, winter holiday simply means an absence of homework. The kids still showed up at the school, although unrequired, nearly everyday). Personally I wanted to interact with all of the children, whether they were students of Wings Over Haiti or not. A  child is a child, and if they want to laugh and play, who am I to pick and choose? As such, I asked that we visit some of the refugee camps. While the adults were significantly more guarded and uninviting, the children would often run up to me, sometimes in overwhelming crowds, eager to have their photo taken or touch my hair or show me their dolls.

Lost in a sea of happiness.
The girls trying to braid my hair like theirs. For some reason I just can’t pull off the cornrow…

  So why, you may ask, have I chosen to put this picture consecutively after the picture above? The answer may shock you but what you are seeing right here is a bucket of baked clay; clay to fill the stomachs of those very girls in the picture before. Like a placebo effect, their stomachs are tricked into feeling full from the clay as a means of replacing the food of which they can’t afford.

Bunnies, swans, pigeons, guinea pigs and even a small cat, in my ignorance I thought I had stumbled upon a touching, albeit fairly disturbing, roadside pet store. “How lovely” I thought, until I realized these animals weren’t to be taken home to be loved, they were to be taken home to be fried for dinner.

 With all the malnutrition and mysterious concoctions being passed around, in addition to legitimate illnesses and extreme pain (both physical and emotional) combined with a system that provides little to no health care, and forget about even trying to find a counselor or therapist, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that it is common place to find pharmacists drug dealers your average joe selling bulk quantities of mysterious pills on street corners as nonchalantly as if they were selling bananas. It is difficult to say whether these pills are what they claim they to be (although if I were a betting man I think I’d surely put down my money in confidence that these pills were either completely synthetic, containing 20% of the actual medicine they claim to be, or strictly generic at best, and I too believe that is a stretch). In a private discussion with a Haitian woman involved with Wings Over Haiti, I heard directly from the horses mouth so to speak that these pills will do one of two things; make you more ill than you were to begin with, or do absolutely nothing as they are often made of chalk and other non-effective materials that can be casted into the shape of a pill.

 With all the barriers that are preventing these people from getting the help they need, it is no wonder that it is sometimes just easier to sit down and give up than to try and trudge ahead when your efforts may seemingly feel fruitless. The man in the picture above was sitting outside of a Church, not unusual given that someone who appears to be in as much duress as he is may turn to the Church for comfort. Interestingly enough however, as soon as I approached the Church to enter they immediately slammed the doors on my face and locked me out. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the whole premise of a Church to be accepting of everyone? I’ll do my best to avoid right now sharing my own personal feelings on politics and religion, but for me personally, this felt incredibly disheartening. I genuinely wanted to see the Church. I had absolutely no intention of taking pictures inside, yet for one of the first times in my life, I really began to understand what it feels like to be discriminated against. You can hear stories from friends of other ethnicities who have been discriminated against, but until you actually feel it for yourself firsthand, you truly don’t know how bad it hurts.

Some of my fondest memories in Haiti were the times I spent with a girl name Katiana. Katiana was deaf and mute, and no one quite knew where her parents were. Although I was warned that she had a temper and to be careful around her, Katiana and I connected in some special way that she felt it her duty to protect me, and in some odd way, I too began to feel a duty to protect her. Although she could not speak to me, or hear what I would say to her, she took to me like a sister and I developed a genuine love for this touching young girl. Despite my trying to refuse, Katiana would always insist on grabbing my bag and carrying it for me, on trying to move me out of the sun and into the shade, on slapping my skin to kill the mosquitoes that were about to bite me; truly going out of her way to do anything she could to protect me. Of all the people I met, Katiana felt most like a sister to me because I truly believe she and I connected on a level that doesn’t require speech or sound, it requires love and compassion; something most people get too confused or frustrated by to bother wasting their time with. Because I allotted Katiana the time and treated her as equal to the other children, I realized she had an amazing fascination with photography, often taking my camera and snapping hundreds of photos. In turn, I made a promise to find a way to send Katiana a camera of her own, because as I have experienced with Katiana and other disabled children, when you actually take the time to interact with them and figure out what interests them and what can make them feel special and unique, it is then when they begin to gain a self confidence, motivation and pride that they are able to do something or have something that no one else can. If Stevie Wonder can play the piano blind, then I have every faith in the world that Katiana could be the next Annie Leibowitz.

Now it wouldn’t be a fashion blog if there wasn’t a little fashion involved, and to tell you the truth, this incidence happened completely unintentionally. One day I was carrying my bag around and inside I had a copy of Vogue and W magazine. Katiana opened my bag to see the magazines and before I knew it, all the children from the village had gathered in completely and utter awe catching glimpses of Elizabeth Hurley seductively holding a Dior bag and Karlie Kloss bending in fascinating positions in balloon pants. It was as if I had opened Pandora’s box. The children couldn’t keep their eyes off the magazine pages and I eventually had to succumb to discarding my reading material because I don’t believe I had ever seen such excitement in any children’s eyes before.

*Side note to Ms. Wintour: Perhaps there is indeed a market for Vogue Haiti…

There is an old saying that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Artist Celeur Jean Herard took that expression to heart. Herard will have his own separate blog because his artwork is truly too compelling to only show one piece, but in summary, Herard has made a living off of creating sculptures from garbage and rubble he finds through his scavenging. And yes, the skull above is real, and one of many disturbing yet fascinating ways Herard has taken what would otherwise be garbage and turned it into art.

Artist Celeur Jean Herard’s younger cousin: Living in a studio as eerie as Herard’s, it’s no wonder this little cutie has mastered the tough guy pose at such a young age.

One of the most joyful days for the children, parents, volunteers and teachers at Wings Over Haiti was report card day. Every child was called up to the front of the room, one by one, parent in hand, and given special honors for their own individual accomplishments. The joy on the mothers faces, to see their children not only in school but actually succeeding, brought tears to many people’s eyes.

I also have to give mad style props to another student from Wings Over Haiti. On report card day, this girl rocked her sunglasses with such pride and pazzaz while walking up to receive her grades from the teachers. She didn’t even so much as take the glasses of when she received her marks and handshakes, she rocked the stage with such confidence that we all were in stitches laughing.

Another student receiving accolades for her outstanding academic success from one of the heads of Wings Over Haiti, Shad St Louis.

Wings Over Haiti’s fundamental goal is to build a quality school that can provide it’s students with the best opportunities that we can possibly give them. In the above picture you may see us quite literally moving through the forest carrying supplies by hand, but Wings Over Haiti is already in motion to develop an advanced art and math program, build a basketball and tennis court, create a playground based off of solar energy, and that’s only where the list begins.

As Hillary Clinton once said, “it takes a village to raise a child.” That statement couldn’t be more true and applicable to Wings Over Haiti. And even in our village, the littlest members want to help too.

It’s an image like this with of one of our students that shows her understanding smile and knowing eyes that there is indeed something greater out there for her, that perhaps she can prevail through all the suffering. And for every child with that look in their eyes, we must not give up on them and keep their smiles growing.

For more information on Wings Over Haiti and opportunities to donate and receive newsletters, please visit www.wingsoverhaiti.org

Rachael Rubin: Talent You Just Can’t Makeup

Sep 20 1 Comments

One may assume that if you’re a trained artist, particularly in fashion, you would be able to have a fairly decent set of skills when it comes to doing your own makeup. Such is not the case. For the last five years I have literally been wearing the same Almay concealer, Nars bronzer, Bobbi Brown liquid eyeliner, and random Walgreens lipgloss. The heaviness may change depending on where I’m going, and occasionally I’ll get experimental with a little gothic look, but generally speaking, I’m pretty much clueless (and actually content being so) about doing my own hair and makeup. I’ve stuck to these patterns because when I try any harder, things just start looking uneven or I end up looking like a transvestite. Case in point: Halloween 2006. I tried to dress up as a Japanese Anime character, I ended up looking more like a street walker in Chelsea.

Thus said, I do however have an extreme appreciation for anyone who can do hair and makeup well. How lucky am I to not only have an assistant who can do everything (and I truly mean everything) but is also a professionally trained hair and makeup artist. Sometimes I swear God or Buddha or whomever sent Rachael to me as a gift.

Aside from her interest in fashion, Rachael also has an incredibly unique style when it comes to doing hair and makeup. She is innovative, creative, intuitive and inventive. Simply put, Rachael is a master of her craft; a true artist. Rachael combines her impeccable creativity with personalized attention to each model or client to create a one-of-a-kind look that ultimately pleases the client themselves as well as anyone else involved in the project. Rachael (like myself) has taken the old wisdom of “find a way to do professionally what you would do for fun anyway” and turned it into a career that clearly reflects her natural talents and dynamic personality.  For the last several years, Rachael has been working to create an extensive and varied portfolio that truly reflects what she does best. Below are images of some of what I feel is Rachael’s best work.

And last but not least, Rachael’s top three makeup tips:

1) For a tired eye, add a little white eyeliner on the upper and lower inner eyelid to make the eyes look more awake and bright.

2) The best overall brand of makeup is Makeup Forever (sold at Ricky’s and Sephora).

3) The most essential item of makeup to have is Great Lash Mascara by Maybelline.

For more information on Rachael’s work you can check out her web page, www.rachaellynseyrubin.com

Shots to Kill: Dean Dodos

Sep 20 0 Comments

Every once in a blue moon you come across an artist who really seems to have created something that doesn’t exist. Dean and my friendship has been years long, but what I always enjoyed about watching him shoot, whether it be with me or another subject, is his focus and ability to pull someone’s spirit literally out of their bodies and onto film. Dean has a unique talent to see beyond the surface of a person and capture their true energy. Shooting with Dean, in a somewhat indescribable way, is almost a sort of outer-body spiritual experience. He is able to take you to a dimension which you may not of even known existed within you. I often look at his work and question “is that really who I think it is?” because he is able to capture such pure moments. Having worked with some of the greatest photographers such a Juergen Teller and Angelo Pennetta, Dean’s list of credentials are long and impressive. Aside from the aforementioned, Dean is also able to differentiate himself from every other burgeoning photographer on the Lower East Side in the unique way he eclectically (and thoughtfully) is able to combine fashion, music, and art into all of his pieces (yet to be decided if it’s subconsciously or not). Dean has accomplished what some photographers spend years trying to do: having the capacity to look at one of his images and KNOW that it was he who shot it. Below are a few of my favorite pseudo-candid photos Dean and I have taken over the years. By pseudo- I mean we never really plan on taking photos, Dean’s brain just see’s a moment and the next thing you know your listening to Burke and banging your head against an American flag at three in the morning. Call it madness, call it brilliance, call it Dean.

 

Au Revoir Carine

Sep 20 0 Comments

It brought me much sadness to hear this weekend that legendary editor-in-chief of Bible French Vogue will be stepping down from her position, completing her last issue in March. Thus said, while the staff at French Vogue may be shaking in their Louboutins about what is to come for the future, I have a feeling Ms. Roitfeld will be strutting out the offices comfortably in ease having known (on the celebration of her ten year anniversary as editor-in-chief at French Vogue) that she did a damn good job. And to paraphrase her words; when you’ve done a great job at something, it’s time to move onto the next project. My selfish input would be to send her with a one way ticket to New York to replace Anna, but that’s just my bias opinion. Dutch school boy hair cuts work for some I suppose….

And now begs the greater question; who is to replace Carine?

The rules of fashion change weekly, if not hourly, so why should we just assume another chic French woman is going to fill Carine’s footsteps (not that they could quite be filled, but hey, if Sarah Burton can do it for Alexander McQueen, anything is possible).

Here are a few of my choices that I think could actually handle the job and bring an interesting perspective to the magazine.

Who: Allona Doletskaya

Why? Allona, like Carine, was formerly editor in chief of Vogue; albeit Russian Vogue. While the nitpicking and skepticism will be endless for anyone replacing Carine, perhaps it’s those strong Russian genes (and yes I mean genes, not jeans) that can handle the strain of the job.

Who: Tom Ford

Why? Why can’t a male fill a traditionally female’s role? He and Carine are quite close so the aesthetic would remain just as provoking and as Tom dabbles in all sorts of media, from fashion to film, why not do it all and put it into one magazine?

Who: Emanuelle Alt

Why? As current fashion director at French Vogue, it would only be a natural progression to move up in the chain. She clearly exemplifies Carine’s aesthetic but brings a bit more severity to her style. She’s also got the “I’m the editor of French Vogue-my-hair-can-be-messy-and-I-still-look-stunning-whilst-pouting look down to a Tee.

Who: Julia Restoin-Rotifeld

Why? When your mother knows the industry like the back of her hand, and you also have a unique eye of your own, it would seem to be a pretty natural progression for Julia to take the reigns. Forget the age, the girl has brains and style equal to if not beyond any other competitors vying for the position.

Who: Daphne Guinness

So what if I’m being slightly bias on this choice, the woman’s a living legend. No one wears (or KNOWS) couture like her. Daphne embodies all that French Vogue stands for. I don’t know that she’s up for the work (or is even interested) but I’d certainly nominate her for the candidacy.

A Pheasant Surprise

Sep 20 0 Comments

As a vegetarian who doesn’t eat vegetables, to say Thanksgiving is one of my least favorite holidays is a bit of an understatement. Instead of making some hokey entry about Thanksgiving and what I’m grateful for (amongst other things, at the dinner table tonight I said I was “thankful I was not a turkey,” I decided to make this Thanksgiving-day blog about fashion, “pheasant fashion” if you will (believe me, I understand the irony behind it). Below I have compiled a few of my favorite “pheasant-fashion-moments” if you will… Please enjoy. And last but not least, happy thanksgiving!

 Alberta Ferretti

 Alice + Oliva

Audrey by LiveInStyle

 

Chanel Fine Jewelry

Dolce & Gabbana

Haji Couture

 Helena Rubenstein

 Irina Shibayeva

 Irina Shibayeva

 

Just Making Sure You Are Paying Attention!

Lee Klabin

 

Michael Teperson

Irina Shibayeva

Philip Treacy

Rheanna Lingham

Rudi Gernreich, 1966 Collection

Savatore Ferragamo

Alexander McQueen

Alexa Winner Custom Headband (as seen on me, far left)

Alexander McQueen

Alexander McQueen

Shu Uemura

Styled by Anne Della Russo

Stylehive

Vintage Kate Moss

 

 Vogue, May 1970

Zang Toi

Vivienne Westwood

Vintage Yves Saint Laurent

Shopping for a Cause

Sep 20 0 Comments

Dear Friends, please join us in a VERY special cause.

As some of you may know, I am a representative for the Donate Life foundation, a foundation this is committed to spreading awareness about the importance of organ and tissue donation. In doing so, I was an honored guest at their last charity event and offered up my styling services to the winning bidder of a raffled auction. As it turns out, the winning bidder happened to be the guest speaker, a beautiful girl named Kristin Molini who at the age of 25, has spent half of her life in and out of the hospital and has already received FIVE organ donations due to a condition called gastro-pareisis (paralyzation of all the organs in and around your stomach). Moreover, Kristin has not been able to afford jeans, shoes, or ANYTHING new in ages.

So on November 30th, Kristin and I will be spending the day together shopping and going around to designer’s showrooms to pick out a new wardrobe for her and give her the ultimate girl’s fantasy day. As such, we humbly ask of you, in support of Kristin, to either donate clothing/shoes/dresses/jewelry for her (if it is from your personal closet, you may ship it to my address), if you are a designer, she would love to come to your showroom too and really see what the behind-the-scenes world of fashion is like, or if you are unable to do either, a check, even for $5, written to the name of Kristin Molini, will help provide me with a budget to take her shopping. Whatever you can provide for Kristin, big or small, will make a huge difference to a girl who hasn’t had a meal in 9 years and lives off a feeding tube, yet is brave enough to tell her heroic story in front of large audiences in old clothes that barely fit her.

You may send any checks in the name of:

Kristin Molini and any packages or letters to:

Alexa Winner c/o Kristin Molini

304 Mulberry Street – Apt 2M

New York, NY 10012

Kristins special day will be documented on our new blog available by going to http://www.alexawinner.com/, and all contributors will receive special recognition on the blog and a letter from Kristin herself. I really encourage you to look at her website, http://www.survivedfive.com/, and if you are able and inclined, you can know that Kristin wears a size 7.5 shoe, is about a size 00 in pants, a size small in shirts, about 80-85 lbs, and around 5’7.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter and I appreciate your support.

XX,

Alexa

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