These recent images from Yohji Yamamoto are so appealing to me, I could practically eat them.   The girl’s Snow White coloring is an idealized version of how I like to imagine myself.   The clunky Docs combined with the feminine lines of the clothes is a classic look at this point, transcending punk but still recalling Vivienne Westwood. I also love it because it’s the opposite aesthetic of what I grew up with in California: the tan surfer-girl look.

While the Morticia look came naturally to me, I’m aware it can’t work forever.

But here’s what I don’t want to evolve into:

No no no no no.   It’s just not on. I’ll be wandering around in a long nightgown before I go Biker Granny. Let’s   hope.   If you see me at 80 years old, rocking the Biker Granny, please kill me with a swift blow to the back of my head. Thanks in advance!

I subscribe to a newsletter that tells me what’s going on in L.A. Yesterday, it included a plea from a shop in Santa Monica that is struggling to stay in business. They are “reaching out” and asking for support.

BUT!   Since I’m a cunt, I elected to write a comment on this post, relating my terrible experience in the shop. This happened a couple of years ago, but the bitter aftertaste is still there.

I wandered into the shop and saw that they carried shit by Yohji Yamamoto. A salesperson approached me when she saw me looking at a brown leather jacket. She proceeded to do everything in her power to make me buy the jacket. She started by expounding on how great it was, and ended up by saying it was now 30% off, but just for today only. She looked like she would gladly strangle me if it would close the sale.

I turned my attention to a pair of Y3 shoes nearby. I asked her if she had the silver ones. She looked irritated. I told her I’d seen them online but they were out of my size on the website. She sneered slightly and delivered the immortal line:

“You obviously know nothing about Yohji, or you’d know that he only makes one pair of shoes in each size.”

Then, she turned and walked away, a veritable midget in her shortness and wearing a ridiculous beret to make matter worse. I stood frozen in disbelief, looking around for a hidden camera. Or a manager. But after a moment, I put the shoe down and left, thinking What a Fucking Cunt !

I hatched a plan with a friend to rent an Asian guy to accompany me to the store, posing as Yohji Yamamoto. It would be like that scene in Annie Hall, where Woody Allen suddenly produces Marshall McLuhan to silence some idiot. Like McLuhan, Yohji would approach that cunt and say, “You know nothing of my work!”

Ah, how we laughed.

There are two morals here:

1. You must strive to make art out of life’s slings and arrows.
2. Don’t be a cunt if you work in retail.

These limited edition runway boots are $3,400 if you hurry up!