I have barely watched any television the
past few years. I don’t think I have the patience to either discover new
programmes or endure the commercials. I can’t stand the scandalmongers, the
game shows with their quasi-celebrities
or the horrendously dull reality shows. For me the worst is the latter,
especially the ones that put a bunch of silly people together and confuse the
audience with a carefully staged "real
life" situation (getting into the guts of a hospital, a school, a jail,
the lost island crowd, the nanny deal, the “let me get your business straight”,
the “let me make you a good-whatever”…). All fake and vacuous. Maybe there's some
utterly anthropological depth that I'm missing when I only see a cynical
maneuver on the part of the producers to achieve their audience targets by using
vulgar, unrefined and mostly vulnerable people wanting their Warholian 15
minutes of fame. However, I love the more intelligent frivolity on offer and I
know that there is good TV out there, I just never seem to catch it. Creativity and intelligence are also necessary
to make good junk...
Sorry, that was not a very constructive
start, but to paraphrase the song: “this is my blog and I'll say what I want
to”. Keep reading.
Anyway, due to a cosmic convergence last
week I spent some time in front of the television and encountered a show that I
had never seen before. The pop singer Alaska was in there. The alter ego of Olvido
Gara, some sort of muse of la movida
in the 80s, a mix between Lily Munster, a gothic Betty Page and an excessive
character of David LaChapelle, only
in greasy Spanish style.
Lily Munster (Yvonne de Carlo)
Pin-up Betty Page
Photograph by David LaChapelle
Alaska
Her first appearance in Spanish showbiz was in Pedro
Almodóvar’s film “Pepi, Luci, Bom y otras chicas del montón”, his crummy opera prima. Alaska was fourteen and
recently-arrived from her native Mexico. Having picked her artistic name from a
comic book- although she could have kept her fantastic real name - she founded and
was the lead singer in such pop bands as Kaka de Luxe, Alaska y Los Pegamoides,
Alaska y Dinarama and most recently Fangoria with Nacho Canut.
Alaska on "La bola de cristal"
Alaska á la Siouxsie Sioux
Alaska, the Pegamoides' years
Alaska posing for Spanish Interviú
She participated in a memorable children’s
programme called “La bola de cristal” –the content of which I thought at the
time not totally appropriate- but it certainly marked an era.I always loved her carefully groomed
punk-gothic style. Not a great singer, in fact more the opposite, but with a
charismatic personality. She has made kitsch and excess her way of life, and
watching her current reality programme-“Alaska & Mario”- is like witnessing
an artistic performance. Her husband, Mario Vaquerizo, knows how to keep up
with her too. Ignoring his phony -and at times very irritating -laugh, he as actors' manager, journalist and singer himselfhas created a
persona that has won my admiration. Apparently this is their third season
showing the audience how they live. Critics say that they are repetitive. I
find them absolutely fascinating, colorful, upbeat, tender and respectful of each other and of
everyone around them. And it all looks truly genuine despite the seemingly forced
horror vacui set up: mounds of
tasteless objects, Elvis bathroom wallpaper, black kitchen, golden ornaments,
religious nicks-nacks, Alaska’s mother (América), with her Cuban accented,
fortune-teller thing going on…
The famous couple
As I said, very LaChapelle
To me they represent the paradigm of
conscious and intelligent frivolity. Pure. Tacky. Spanish style.
Summer. Or a close facsimile. Temperatures
are still low in this shady bit of Spain –sorry, once again the weather- but
what the hell, it’s time to get the colors out! I don’t care if it's raining
cats and dogs, or that it’s in the teens, I am going to wear bright
colors.And accessorize accordingly!
Encouraged by the attractive exhibition on
Francisco Durrio at the Fine Arts Museum of Bilbao, I thought I needed to give
myself a contemplative moment with costume jewelry. I ventured a second visit
to the show just to calmly enjoy the room devoted to his craftmanship in
precious metals. His rings, buckles and brooches fall somewherebetween Symbolism and Surrealism in style,
and are very seductive, a perfect jewel for a man in my opinion. Paco Durrio was a Spanish artist who
lived 73 years, between 1868 and 1940, divided among Bilbao, Madrid, Paris and
Saint-Prix (Seine-Oise) in the outskirts of Paris where he died without a dime.
He painted, sculpted, mastered the art of silver-smithing and overall devoted
his soul to ceramics. In the meantime-and this is what the exhibition is about-
he acted as mentor and protector of Spanish artists moving to Paris, mainly
Basques and Catalans, and established fond relationships with artists of whom
he formed a considerable collection of artworks: Gauguin, Degas, Van Gogh,
Sisley, Picasso, etc
Pendant (Birds) c. 1895-1896 Chiselled silver with opal and nephrite Museo de Bellas Artes de Bilbao
Cleopatra, before 1904 Chiselled silver and green stone, 4,5 x 12,1 x 1,4 cm Musée d’Orsay, Paris
After such an inspired and unruffled
afternoon I looked at myself in the mirror and saw no trace of accessories, not
even one bit of jewelry…and proceeded to go tragically nostalgic about all that
unnecessary stuff that a woman accumulates over time. I dumped all my costume
jewelry on top of my bed and started classifying it. I had a big ball of tangled
necklaces, bracelets, good stuff, cheap stuff and a lot of the “Matutano”
stuff. For those not initiated in this, Matutano is a Spanish snack company
(now owned by Pepsico)-chips, Cheetos, peanuts, etc.- which back in the 80s had
a campaign where they gave away plastic earrings and bracelets hidden in their
chips bags. As you can imagine the quality of them was as high as the ones that
they sell in the “all-for-one-pick your
currency” shops today. However, the colors were fluorescent and the motif
was very Spanish. So pertinent to my current mood!
With that I found the big, flat clip
earrings and a lot of resplendent chains, bold necklaces and combinations of
leather and gold. Very eighties. So that’s what I’m going for, and a lot of it.
Mix and match real gold and plastic necklaces, bright colors with tribal or
ethnic textures, anything flies. So from here, I want to encourage everyone to
do the “dumping maneuver”. Ask your mothers, your grandmothers, even your neighbors
to join in on your trip down memory lane. It’ll be a good laugh and a very
cheap option for these times of austerity. If you find pieces that need fixing
or customizing, it makes for another fun activity. Haul them to your local
beads shop and ask for help. Your accessories can look like new, and perhaps
you’ll leave absolutely convinced of the treasure you have!
Will the summer never arrive to this shady
bit of Spain? Or will we euphemize the drag of constantly wearing rain boots
and master the art of driving an umbrella? Keep the faith, I say. We must stand
optimistic and make mental adjustments as if basking under the sun and swimming
in the frothy sea. Oh, yes, I am going to buy a fantastic crochet bikini. Like
the one adorning the Duchess of Alba. For those foreign to this infamous lady, I must tell you that she
occupies the highest rank of the Spanish aristocracy. Her ancient lineage was
painted by many artists including, most notably, Goya, as the mysterious and
subject in the scandalous “La maja desnuda”. Unfortunately the heiress of such
duchy that concerns us has now brought the fame of the crochet bikini to its
lowest ebb in terms of style.
I decided not to show you an actual
photograph of her because it would tarnish the reputation of this blog, but it
is easily searchable, and as you will see Google Images even classifies the
search into distinct categories-duchess with one piece swimsuit, duchess with
bikini, etc-so as you can guess there’s a whole world out there…
The Spanish word for the craft of cotton
crochet is ganchillo which means
literally little hook. It also
denotes the knitting tool itself. And
with that little hook –and the help of the knitting clubs-one can find-and
make-all kinds of pretty things. Here in Spain we all remember the little “hats” that disguised the toilet paper, the removable crocheted cloth for protecting
the sofa arms and the round covers for the mesas camillas (old round tables that underneath held a hole for a coal heater). Real cozy. The former
and the latter may require a photo, carrying the risk of pushing me off the
style pedestal from which I have planted myself.
Here you go
But let us not forget, our subject for
today is bikinis.
Yesterday I passed a shop window that had
the sexiest bikini ever. A crocheted, dark
sand-colored little number by the Spanish brand TCN. So I went in and ventured
to try it on. Pfff. It doesn’t even have a liner! So what do you do when it
gets wet?In case you don’t know, once
wet the material will start to stretch out. Any good knitter knows that a
crochet bikini is the stupidest thing ever, so I was hoping for a little linen
liner to control the expansion. Not
to mention the see-it-all through those loose stitches! I have to admit it
looked great, it showed more than necessary (that is the point anyway, isn’t
it?). So I asked the attendant, "how does this behave when you get in the water?" to which she replied: “oh, no, that bikini is not for swimming or getting wet”.
Oh. REALLY!? For God sake’s, the ridiculous thing costs over €200 a pop! What
do you want me to do with it:
1.wear the top as a bra with
denim cut-offs
2.show it off under a light and loose camisole
and skirt
3.pair it with a sarong and high heal sandals
for dinner al fresco
4.make a quick-ass music-festival ensemble under
a transparent rain jacket. Lets not forget the mandatory (aforementioned) rain
boots.
The last option
is my preferred. See you all at the Bilbao BBK Live. Neither rain, nor sleet,
nor dark of night will impede my attendance with my new knitted (home made instead) bikini.
Helmut Newstonish: I'd show a pic of myself but this one is a lot better
A day not unlike today some time ago I made
an unforgiveable mistake. For some obscure reason I felt it was really
horrible, so much so that I still remember it clearly. It was hot and sunny and
abanicos were out, lots of them, men
and women, swirling and whirling the suffocating air. That wonderful alliteration
by Rubén Darío […] bajo el ala aleve del leve abanico […] came to my mind. I always thought that it explained
perfectly the meaning of the Spanish fan and I eagerly offered such piece of
information to an unguarded, foreign listener –a stranger no doubt here to
learn Spanish -who's panicked expression clearly asked“why is this crazy woman picking me as a
target?”. And I went on, oh, yes, a great poet born in this land, blah, blah,
blah, and then I had to say it…Miguel Hernández…boom. The damage was inflicted.
Wrong author. “Arrogant jerk” I thought to myself later on, “you (me) deserve
it for trying to be so smart”. At least I guessed the correct homeland of the wrongly
cited poet.
The use of the exotic fan came from the Far
East, although it was co-opted by ancient western civilizations such as Egypt
(remember Elizabeth Taylor’s Cleopatra feather-blown by sculptural slaves),
Greece (ripis) and Rome (flabellum). It was made of lotus leaves
or peacock feathers tied to an embellished long handle. During the Middle Ages
it was still employed but was made of parchment sheets with precious metal, ebony
and/or ivory handles. It wasn’t until the end of the XVI century that the
folding fan appeared, brought again from China through the newly opened
commercial routes. It was first used by the upper classes, which had them made
from vellum, fine lace, precious gems and mirrors. Sometimes even painted by first-class artists,
the fan became popular in the XVIII and XIX.
Spain was one of the main producers of abanicos, competing with Italy and
France, to the point of founding the Real Fábrica de Abanicos (Royal Factory of Fans) in Valencia in the
XVIII century. With it, women developed a complete body language of its display
- hand gestures, eye play, arm, hip and bust positioning…hence the perfect aleve (perfidious) adjective of our
poem.
Dust off the fans in the closet and join
the game, there is one for every moment! My favorites are the ones that make
that wonderful “chas-chas” when
opened and closed, which I could do a thousand times without tiring. How about
those giant ones worn by the Spanish summer band Locomía back in the mid
eighties? (Quality of the video as bad as the band, but you get the idea)
In closing and for the record I stand
corrected and offer my most humble apologies to that unsuspecting traveler. I hope you found your Spanish voice, and profoundly desire that you
have encountered a more erudite teacher than I!
