Vom

What the eff is this. What are we coming to as a species. What is wrong with us. I can't blame everything on global warming, you know. I need Tylenol after seeing this.

"True" Fact

I'm about to ruin your whole day, kids. Have you heard? Spandau Ballet has announced a reunion tour. That means the song “True” is now going to  be stuck in my (and your) head all goddamn day.

Ever since I found out this unfortunate news, I’ve had the “ahhh ah ah ahhhhh” line boring its way through my skull. NOTHING WILL MAKE IT STOP.

Cause Célèbre

There they are, those free-living starlets, one an actress, the other a singer, and both of dubious talent. In fact, the long-stemmed vixen who greets you at the door is one Paris Hilton, whose only discernible gift seems to be an ability to draw photographers like so many moths to a flame. But when you visit Bar on Church this Wednesday, you'll see the likenesses of Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears, and the aforementioned hotel heiress out in force throughout one helluva dizzy (and ditzy) evening. Infamy is as good as fame, it would seem these days. And the deliriously delish drinks named after each celebutante will call to mind their more notorious characteristics and activities. So we say go with the flow, bathe yourself in vicarious FAME, and live like a star at its glimmering zenith (before it hurtles down to earth in a heap of dust).

To attend FAME–and bask in all the fretfulness, debauchery, and raw hope that you're accustomed to on, say, a night of birthday bingeing–is to love it. Well, maybe lust for it.

Bar on Church  is as louche and licentious as ever, but with each weekly iteration, it also feels more and more like a warm blanket. It's kind of reminiscent of the Kit Kat Club from "Cabaret" when that kinky Weimar Broadway show slinked its way into a refurbished Studio 54 in New York. Here in San Francisco, the atmospherics will certainly be decadent enough on Wednesday night: Live (almost) nude girls! Live (almost) nude boys! Drag queens! Go-go dancers! Oh my! But the place also feels, well, inviting. 

Credit Greg Willis, the young Energy 92.7 FM radiohead who cooked up FAME in the first place. He (along with miss Hilton) coaxes you down the red carpet and down the rabbit hole...where the wild things run rampant. Willis is an ideal Pan-like guide–and that's not just because of his slightly elfin ears and cherubic looks. He knows his way around a club, and directs the festivities with ease. Meet him. Introduce yourself. He's an up-and-coming gatekeeper to the SF/EB's percolating club scene.

Translation: You'll all dance (tomorrow's DJ is Jim Hopkins); you'll all drink (cheaply, too–free rail bevs and specialty cocktails under $10); and you'll all wake up the next morning, kohl-eyed and smiling like you've got a secret to tell. We'll tell it for you: GO TO BAR ON CHURCH WEDNESDAY NIGHT.

Leave your troubles outside. At FAME, life is beautiful.

To RSVP for the VIP open bar, from 9-10pm, email flavorsyoucrave@aol.com. There's no cover (in more ways than one) and the party doesn't end till 2 a.m. And to put you in the mood:

Gone Fishin'

Dearest readers,

I will be taking a short commercial break from the mag this week. My nine-to-five requires it. Forgiveness, please.

In the not too distant, though, look out for a feature on the one new night spot you should make room in the middle of the week for (just DVR "No Reservations," hokay?), and exclusive interviews with San Francisco luxury designer Bacca da Silva, "Top Chef" contestant Jamie Lauren, and many more hep cats. Just know that I love you all and will be spot-blogging my adventures (unrelated to the SF/EB, but still relevant to the university of me). Basically, I'm going to keep the journal as I embark on the great whateveritis, to keep track of my own progress and to have “someone” to talk to who isn’t a pigeon or a bartender.

I hope you’ll follow me as I go. And I hope all my posts won’t be “woke up, drank tea, watched Fenriz documentary, hit head on keyboard, sat in Central Park, had an absinthe, had another absinkdkwlnzzzzzzzzz...”

XOXO,
PEB

The Last Supper, Revisited

at (the former) Hero Arts Rubber Stamps Inc. Warehouse


It's as if Andy Warhol had a premonition: During the final year of his life, he devoted himself obsessively to creating works after Leonardo da Vinci's famed mural "The Last Supper." It would turn out to be Warhol's last great series, as he died in early 1987, soon after a selection of these works premiered at an exhibition. Warhol was attracted to Leonardo's masterwork because, as he explained in a final interview, "It's a good picture. It's something that you see all the time. You don't think about it."

In his hands, "The Last Supper" could imply a critique of the commodification of a religious image, stand as a veneration of the celebrity-like status of the painting, or even offer a Pop celebration of Warhol's own religious faith.


On Friday night, tucked away in a warehouse in sleepy Emeryville, The Silver Factory came to life again–if only for an evening–when dead ringers for Warhol, Bob Dylan, Edie Sedgwick, Ultra Violet, and other superstars of the era converged to summon the ghosts of Pop Art past. They lounged on a replica of the Warhol's famous red couch before the glut of attendees packed the joint to beyond capacity. If you missed the image, take my word for it, this was a last supper moment indeed.

The full-scale re-creation included an open space covered floor to ceiling with tin foil and silver paint, bands performing the music of the Velvet Underground, and silk screeners popping art out by the gross.


The night was organized, and featured art, by employees at alternative weekly East Bay Express, Amoeba Music, and art collective Off Space, in cooperation with the de Young Museum.


4,000 guests attended the free event (the optional $10 food and drinks ticket was a steal: Limitless artisanal wines, microbrews, and an assortment of amuse-bouches from top local eateries). More than 100 artists were featured in the labyrinth of galleries. Film, photography, painting, collage and sculpture were on display, as was a neon-scrawled room given a psychedelic twist under black-lights.

Particularly fascinating were Billy Sprague's fleshy, organ-like murals, which should remind anyone familiar with contemporary installation art of Mark Dean Veca's famed works at the Yerba Buena Center and at London's Bloomberg Space.

1343 Powell St., Emeryville; 11 a.m.-2 p.m. through Saturday; amoeba.com.

Forbes Interviews Barbie...Seriously

To commemorate her 50th birthday, Forbes Magazine interviewed Barbie last week. You read that right. Sort of. One of the most widely read business magazines conducted a tete a tete with America's most famous 12 inch-tall blond bombshell, through her reps (read: the answers were provided by press peeps at Mattel). I'm not sure if this is technically journalism, but it's easily the most painstaking interview the magazine has featured in quite some time. For example, Barbie's "responses" are rendered in pink font, which is a first for the magazine–not even Forbes editor-in-chief and publisher Steve Forbes has appeared in anything other than standard black print. Want to take a li'l gander? Well, here ya go!

Forbes: You're the most popular doll in the world. How do you keep it real?

Barbie: At the end of the day my best friends are little girls, so, truthfully, they help me keep it real. On any given day they take me on all sorts of imaginative adventures–from a princess to a president, movie star to mermaid, fashionista to fairy–so I really can't take myself that seriously. You've had 108 different careers. Which was the most satisfying? I am a big believer in dreaming big and inspiring girls that they can do anything they set their minds to. Being an astronaut in 1965 was very satisfying because–for one, traveling to space was, literally, out of this world–and, secondly, I went to space before any other American woman astronaut, so that's something I'm very proud of. I'm also very proud of all my philanthropic work–from UNICEF Ambassador (1989) to Candy Stripe Volunteer (1964).

Are you currently dating anyone?

I'm just too busy for boyfriends or marriage these days. Right now, I'm concentrating on my careers and projects...this year alone I'll be starring in two new made-for-DVD movies, trying out a few new careers like a SeaWorld Trainer and planning all my 50th birthday bashes around the world. It's a busy year!

Has your Barbie Dream House been affected by the real estate crash?

Luckily Malibu is a pretty stable market...and my Malibu Dream House just had a fabulous re-design by my good friend Jonathan Adler. The house turned out so amazing that Jonathan and I decided to collaborate on a line of real home décor pieces called Jonathan Adler Loves Barbie so people can have a little bit of Barbie style to create their very own Dream House! The collection comes out this fall.

Seems a little...product placementy, don'tchathink?

I'm not complaining about the content, exactly. (And Jonathan Adler, if you're reading, I'm currently in the market for a new apartment–pimp my pad!) But I am a bit confused about the fact that the Forbes editors are running content of a commercial nature where they usually run real interviews, with real business moguls (read: living people who are not made of epoxy and polymer). Sure, I run advertorial stuff, but PEB is a fashion and style magazine, not an unbiased business periodical. Plus, I kind of find the interview...charming. So no letters accusing hypocrisy!

So it's officially happened, possums: It's a Barbie world. Life in plastic; it's fantastic!

Designers, Designers Everywhere

I know, I know...MORE events with cheap bevs and pretty things? But I'm just one person! you say? Well, possums, take your inspiration from DvF and multitask! Set your sights far and wide, drink plenty of water, and voyage on. There should be no fashion show too late, no dj set too loud, no drink too inexpensive (seriously, they're free in most places this weekend). Saturday brings 50 local designers and 5 top-shelf spin doctors, courtesy of Chillin’ Productions and Minna Gallery. Check out new designs by Maxwell Loren Hollyoke-Hirsch, Zacgart Rossman, Alyana Udensen, Matthew Palladino, Cody Cochrane, James Blagden. And be prepared to scour the trunks for treasure.

111 Minna Gallery, San Francisco; Saturday, March 7; 8 p.m.-2 a.m. (21+ID, $7).


Friend of PEB (she's practically a sister at this point), Lorraine (and her blog, too!) tipped me to this shindog on Sunday. She writes,

"It all started with some beers, a backyard and a bunch of D.I.Y.-minded peeps at Still Life Clothing co-owner Kelly Malone’s Mission abode. Now Indie Mart is a big ‘ole happening with 40+ indie vendors, live music and a legion of fans. But don’t worry, the super-casj atmosphere, cupcakes and edge you came to know and love are all still in effect."

So finish brunch (nurse your hangover) and head over to the Independent on Divisadero. There will be 40 vendors opening shop and a BBQ. (Which is basically like doing a rain dance, except this version invokes the sun–bring on the Spring!) Also, they have cupcakes. Yes, those dainty islands of delicious. And instead of coffee, let djs Primo, Triceradops, and ALLCAPS percolate your shopping spree.

The $2 suggested donation goes to San Francisco Women Against Rape. After this weekend, take the night off and get some much-needed r&r. You'll have earned it, sugar!

628 Divisadero, San Francisco; Sunday, March 8; 11 a.m.- 5 p.m. (Take the 24 Divisadero, 5 Fulton, or 21 Hayes; 21+ID).

Look Cute, Fight Cancer

Who knows when Breast Cancer Awareness Month is? If you didn't raise your hand, the reason should be because EVERY month should be Breast Cancer Awareness Month. (It's October, bee tee double-you, as Blair Waldorf would say.)

To encourage awareness–and, more important, support–all year round, Marc Jacobs and Bloomingdale's have teamed up to present this darlin' "Cure" t-shirt. It features the designer's signature character, Miss Marc, clad in a Fight Like a Girl tank and armed with red boxing gloves. She aims to KO the disease, and so should you.

Why this is cool: Fifty percent of the tee's sales go to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation. If donating to a righteous cause means needing a little bit of fashion as incentive, then two-mints-in-one, I say. My mother and sister will each have one before the week is out (or, better still, before Bloomie's runs out).

845 Market Street, San Francisco; www.bloomingdales.com; 415-856-5300

Just Hanging Around

Via inside.dvf.com

Yes, it's contrived, but Diane von Furstenberg's "impromptu" photo-op is a moment of zen I had to share with you.

She can find her chi AND multitask–that's what makes this woman a survivor. Still love those AmEx commercials that depict her communing with nature the most.

I wonder who she's calling.

"Hello, Anna? Is your refrigerator running? Then you'd better go catch it!"

*click*

Exclusive: White Elephant Sale

Click PEB's exclusive pictures during the slide show for information and descriptions

A seemingly tireless woman in a red cap operates the delivery station with a kind of wizardry. She ushers a car filled with invited guests through the enormous warehouse gates, appraises a pretty ceramic cup and saucer set, and offers guidance to three volunteers, without taking a breath.

“It gets busy around here,” she tells me. “But I love this time of the year.”

She does have a Santa Claus-like aura of good tidings and goodwill about her. Mary Perry Smith ought to be familiar with the operations of the Oakland Museum's primary fund raiser, the White Elephant Sale–she's been serving on its committee, in some capacity, since 1969. Smith is wearing a sweater with the phrase, “Nifty at Fifty” printed across the front. “I remember when we first started the sale, and it’s only gotten better since then. I remember so many people and wonderful things that have come through these doors.” Now she’s running the show.

Project East Bay was invited to meet with Smith and the sale's 2009 co-founders Deborah Callahan Smith and Dena Canty and preview the thousands of items on sale this Saturday and Sunday. I got to take more than 100 photos of what's in store for March's legendary rummage sale (Northern California's biggest).

Every stick of furniture and all merchandise, new and used, is donated by hundreds of supporters each year, and stored in a massive waterfront warehouse, which has served as the White Elephant Sale's home for the last 12 years.

“I’m totally invested in this,” Smith gushed. “I mean, we all are. Take a look around. There are so many volunteers here, all of them with the same goals in mind. There is literally someone for every job, from sorting, distributing, cleaning, pricing—everything.”

Smith noted the positive impact this sale has made on the local culture scene.

“Personally, I know very little about art,” she said. “My interest is in community. If we can help different ethnic groups become exposed to this kind of project, to art, and get people from all backgrounds involved, we’ve helped build bridges within our community.”

Smith's dedication to enriching culture in peoples' lives began with a chance (one could say forcefully volunteered) stint helping the Oakland Museum Women’s Board in the late 60s.

"I remember when I first started. Well, actually, my husband volunteered me. And I loved it. I joined the board, then became the chair. But knowing that this, that our efforts, since I've been here, all benefits the Oakland Museum, that it all goes to them, that's what keeps me so inspired to continue, and to do more."

Like a mother hen, Smith floats around the warehouse six days a week, from the beginning of January through the sale in March. It isn't simply a meticulously curated emporium, she said. There are scads of people keeping the chaos of "rummage" in control. In the summertime, trucks are scheduled to make new deliveries. Over the course of the year, various departments start to get involved, to prepare for the next year’s sale. More than 1,000 volunteers and workers contribute to the sale each year.

“You know, someone had to polish and price every one of these buttons. That’s our attention to detail,” she said with a proud smile. “Everything here has been carefully collected and made salable. We polish the furniture and the silver, we wash the dishes, we launder the clothes, we vacuum the rugs. Everything is in beautiful condition.”

In 1960, the Oakland Museum's Women's Board founded the sale to raise money for art programs and exhibitions. To date, the board has donated more than $14 million to the museum.

“The Oakland Museum is really a model for the country," said Smith. "Our tax dollars built it. It was the first to have Indian powwows inside a museum, well before the Smithsonian did it. It was the first to feature Asian American writers in exhibition, the first to have a folk festival. That we can help make more programs like those possible is what inspires us every day.”

There are 17 departments filled with a cavalcade of clothes, household items (some traditional, some unique), sewing machines and paraphernalia, and art. Volunteers file in each spring and autumn to show support and lend a hand (or a sofa, or a bicycle). It's a major commitment. I met with several who have manned the WES from the beginning, and others who are celebrating their first year on staff. They offered me a tour of maybe the biggest selection of floor models ever.

In the art gallery, you'll find a series of impressionistic paintings scattered among photos of Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh and Paul Newman (which is autographed, so snatch it up quickly). One oil work resting in the corner features a rather quixotic knight errant whose nobility and honor will immediately bring to mind Cervantes' famous windmill-tilter. And next to it, a still life of a fruit cornucopia suggests the paintings of 19th century trompe l'oeil artists like James Peale. In addition, I don't remember the last time I saw such an abundance of "happy trees" in attendance at the same time.

There are trays upon trays of buttons, all arrayed like bins of candy waiting to be scooped. In one glass case, a collection of quirky pins is arranged like a Godiva display. Bone china, leaded and crystal-cut glassware, and fondue pots (there's even a beer-making set) greet visitors like an assortment of tiny hosts. Wading among the various candelabras, serving ware, and table fixtures, I couldn't help but be reminded of the "Be Our Guest" scene from "Beauty and the Beast."

Rolls of rugs (some Persian, some Chinese) are buttressed by rows of chairs and sofas. A couple pieces resemble Philadelphia Chippendale, and a settee set will instantly bring to mind Marie Antoinette. Curios, bureaus, cheese tables, and vanities form an army at the center of the warehouse. With styles from rattan to Bel Air ultra-modern to continental contemporary, and prices ranging from $80-800, it seems fitting to say that there will be something for everybody.

When you hit the clothes racks, look for hidden gems. I spotted several Halston suits, Christian Dior jackets, and Escada evening wear for the women, and a peerless assortment of tweed and herringbone blazers for the men. No shortage of natty ties and knotty pipes, either.

But also in great supply is the sense that the White Elephant Sale is about more than just inexpensive, lovingly used wares and wears. To simply embrace the get-great-stuff-cheaply element (for which an argument can be made–it is a recession after all, and that should prevent me from owning my own ice cream maker?) is to forget the history, and future, for the Oakland Museum's legacy in the SF/EB. Purchases made here are not simply bags full of inexpensive tchotchkes. They ensure that art and science will be able to flourish in Oakland, and that the surrounding peoples will be granted access.

“I’m amazed by the women who founded this sale," beamed Mary Perry Smith. "I’m proud to be one of the women who keeps it going strong. This is what we do."

333 Lancaster St., on the Oakland Estuary, one-half mile from Fruitvale BART; 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Sat. and 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Sun.; 510-536-6800.

Be a Gallerina: First Thursday and Friday

Courtesy Xanadu Gallery

It's that time of the month again. You know what I'm talking about. Art time! What did you think I was referring to?

The first week of the month means San Francisco and Oakland gear up for their art crawls, which feature (like I have to tell most of you) local and (in)famous artists, street vendors and musicians, and very inexpensive winter warmers.

First there's Thursday...You'll find most of the galleries on the storefronts of Geary, Post and Sutter. I recommend Christopher-Clark Fine Art, Russeck, Weinstein, Pasquale Iannetti and Meyerovich, which currently have works by oldies but goodies on display (Picasso, Renoir, Matisse, Chagall, Rembrandt, Warhol, Lichtenstein, and Dali–I hear these fellas may be big someday). Martin Lawrence (no, not that Martin Lawrence) boasts the largest collection of Chagall paintings for sale in the world, in addition to a stunning collection of Keith Harings and Andy Warhols. They're for sale, too, but window shopping is free. Weinstein boasts an assortment of incredible sculptures, among them, the most Rodin originals this side of Stanford University's quad.

On the local front, Bay Area artists are the featured players at the galleries at 49 Geary and 77 Geary. On Sutter, mosey over to Hang Art and Hang Annex; each sells work by emerging local talent. They say art is an investment. The prices at Hang are recession-friendly, and encourage the idea of collecting. And as I said before, free wine and snacks will be waiting.

Love the Rolling Stones? Love paintings? The San Francisco Art Exchange invites you to sneak a peek at Ron Wood's paintings and drawings. On backup vox, there's Alberto Vargas and 20 more rock and roll photographers with visual skills to demonstrate. Pump up the volume here.

The Xanadu gallery is a exceptional destination if, for no other reason, it's located inside San Francisco's only Frank Lloyd Wright-designed building. (I know, we have only ONE?) If you' re familiar with the Guggenheim, you'll appreciate the facade and lobby space alone.

Now on to Friday...Talk about an embarrassment of riches to behold. Where do I begin?

Marina Vendrell Renaut's "Flaming Furbelows"

How about at the beginning (a very nice place to start). Oakland Art Murmur is back in action, and looks to be chock-full of wonderful new work. This coalition of art and cultural venues is basically a den of talented artists who open up the floodgates to their little kingdom to one and all. Side street bodegas abound. As do one-night only art installations.

The space at 21 Grand features Collaborative Collage: Daniel Healy and Damon Smith, which looks to be a patchwork of mixed media marvels.

Front Gallery is always known for its paintings and photographs by artists who invest personal, as well as sociopolitical awareness into their medium. This is a can't-miss stop.

If you're a texture person (like I am), Johansson Projects is prime real estate for works you just. Want. To. Touch. This month's featured exhibition is called "Flaming Furbelows," which carries the torch (no pun intended) for promoting art you can see and feel. Johansson Projects is something of a curatorial laboratory, and "Flaming Furbelows" is an extension of that exploratory endeavor. From inside fleshy mounds of fur and yarn, Marina Vendrell Renaut's soft sculptures emit eerie music-box squeals. Her wooly Frankenstein's monsters are fashioned out of discarded mink stoles and stuffed with yarn balls. It's like a petting zoo from hell. Kate Eric's "Bug Wars" are also revealing pieces, rendered in diorama form. Fantastical insects wage battle across landscapes of post-apocalyptic glee and Dr. Seussian wonderment. It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world, indeed.

Feeling crafty? Step into Rock Paper Scissors collective, to witness the esprit du cour among local artists and community curators (volunteers) who work to strengthen the culture in the SF/EB and encourage sustainable practices and alternative models. It's a real meeting of the minds kind of place, and PEB will have an exclusive interview with Chelsea Fadda, who leads the joint's Artslab and Craft Nights every other Thursday.

Photo published by permission, Amoeba Music

And then, of course, there's more Warhol than you thought there was in these here parts. Sponsored by Amoeba records, East Bay Express, OFFSpace, and my pals at the de Young Museum, the Third Annual Amoeba Art Show is bringing an all Andy-inspired evening to an Emeryville factory (natch) space. Look for live painting, film, musical performances, and performace art. Because it's an Amoeba joint, sophisticated film buffs' cups will runneth over: There will be a screening of "13 Most Beautiful...Songs for Andy Warhol's Screen Tests." And like the de Young's recent Andy Warhol suaree, there will be cover bands galore. Nihilist Outlook & Grace features members of The Sandwitches, The Beat Cops, Barbarasteele, and The Sexx Act; and the Exploding Plastic Amoeba features the Berkeley store's Marc Weinstein on drums. (Look for event coverage next week–ed.)

It's a free event, which is always nice. But, I encourage you to bring a can of Campbell's soup for the Alameda County Food Bank. Sure, it enters you in a contest to win museum passes, original art, local restaurant gift certificates, Amoeba gift certificates, and more–but it also will ensure that someone in need gets a meal.

Now that's art from the heart. See you at the galleries!

Event Report: Diesel:U:Music Happy Hour(s)

at Diesel

Diesel/Cornerstone Promotions

Last Wednesday through Friday, the riff raff was out in force. Between racks of graphic print sweatshirts and motorcycle jeans, the good people at Diesel packed a dj turntable and mixing bay, a makeshift stage for five bands (Girls, Birdmonster, Loch Lomond, and Ra Ra Riot), a full-length bar (and three bartenders), and a deep-dish pizza buffet. The place teemed with the hep cat crowd: skinny pants paired with fedoras; belted shift dresses draped over leggings and boots; plain white tees boasted ironed-on irony.


It was certainly a see-and-be-seen atmosphere. This appealed to the masses in general; dissenters were few. (They were easily spotted as a few nattily dressed gents who had clearly come in from the cold and from a hard day working in the financial district—don’t cavil, they were tired and needed a stiff drink.) In spite of the sardine can-like space—is there a maximum capacity for a clothing store, by the way?—this happy hour proved to be just that.

After all, the drinks (Stoli! Fancy fruit-infused vodkas! A Budweiser brew that tried to hazard something resembling flavor!) were FREE. The bartenders were generous and exceptionally accommodating (they even made a special concoction for my companion–she wasn't sure what it was, but felt confident the extra ingredient was “love”). My pal Stu and I edged our way to the front of the line a number of times, between the gangly and the gorgeous, to satiate our thirst. Welcomed with open arms.

It was pleasantly surprising to discover that this crowd was not simply in attendence to inhale a few gratis cocktails (there was an online RSVP that was put into fullest effect on Friday–you weren't on the list, you weren't getting in). When the bands performed, people listened. And why not? Girls bopped, Birdmonster rollicked, Loch Lomond entranced, and Ra Ra Riot quaked the heavens with their orchestrated sound.

Diesel/Cornerstone Promotions

On to the clothes!

First it's worth noting (it's really worth hiring an airplane sky writer to announce) that prices have been staggeringly slashed: 30-70% off! Next I'm happy to report that the designs have a much sharper concentration than in seasons past. Diesel’s aesthetic can fall between the cracks when big name brands like American Apparel and Urban Outfitters cart out their seasonal hipster uniforms. But a number of the menswear pieces have distinction, including a charcoal cable knit sweater and razor-sharp gray button downs that resemble Helmut Lang’s current pret a porter line. One difference, of course, is that these garments are priced to move. And move they did. Ra Ra Riot's members swung through their set with verve, and in full costume (Diesel streetwear).

Black puffy jackets have a slender cut that keeps them well away from Costanza territory. Also, for the spring and fall, there's an impressive range of women's cardigans and pullovers, in funky colors and cuts, that require little more than a t-shirt and tight jeans to look tailored. I also loved belts that boasted subtle, well-finished buckles and details, rather than just the brand logo.

Co-hosted by the wonderful magazine The Fader, this series of happy hours did more than just ply San Franciscans with free booze and music. It felt more like a high-school dance from the 60s, the sort during which a live band played, kids mixed and mingled, and a wholesome good time was signed; sealed; delivered.

Artist Profile: noa-

The collection of art on view at the Shoe Biz concept store on Haight is orchestrated to emphasize texture as much as color, and offers something of a novelty: rhythm. Noa- is a San Francisco-based painter, penciller, and clothing-embellisher whose crunchy arrangements of form and perspective–even on flat surfaces like sketch paper–are arrayed with almost musical clarity. You can catch them adorning the Shoe Biz walls through March 28th.


His art often reveals some of the fuss and filigree of Victorian wallpaper when seen from across a room. Look closer, though, and his motifs expand to reveal graphic, organic images, from tree creatures, to skulls, to symbols resembling various joints and organs. Swatches of Jackson Pollack-like spatters, rendered in rustic reds and calculated onyx, combine the traditions of painted Japanese screens with the cutting edge of a skateboard graffito.


Some works by the artist look floral from afar, but with further inspection of the ink-toned paintings, corporeal forms appear in between paint drips. Born in Oregon in 1982, but raised in Shizuoka, Japan, noa- seeks new avenues of expression in an attempt to connect people in modern times. To do so, he paints on, well, everything. What better way to unite us with his message than by marking our various everyday media, from t-shirts and shoes on our bodies, to canvases and murals on gallery walls.


I interviewed noa- prior to his exhibition opening on Saturday, where he also gave a "live painting" demonstration for four hours before the party even began. Dj Nisus presided over Saturday's proceedings, which gave a layer of audible physicality to the organic musicality of the art. Together, they mixed tack and tact like a couple of jazz pros riffing off one-another. Noa- is a local talent who deserves to be seen and heard.


Name: noa-

Age: 26

Occupation: Painter.

Hometown: San Francisco. (He's Japanese, grew up in Oregon, and now lives and works in the Mission.)

Must-have item at all times: My glasses.

Signature drink: All.

Finish the sentence: When not working, you can find me. . .
. . .at my house.

Favorite local locales?
China beach.

Favorite neighborhood in the SF/EB?
There are so many places. I cannot decide!

Any insider tips, being a local?
Surreality in reality. Check out the website here: www.sir-sf.com/.

What got you interested in painting in the first place?
Blank paper and pencils.

As you answer these questions, what Web sites are open in your browser?
www.noa-ark.com!

What was your very first work tht you painted, stood back to look at it, and decided, "This is who I am and what I am supposed to do?"

A lot of the work is pen and ink, detail-oriented, line work. The paintings and prints reflect that same attention to detail.

What got you interested in transferring your art to clothing and shoes?
Because our lives should be surrounded with more art and more creations.

Where do you seek out inspiration?
In my entire life and in nature.

Your work is incredibly graphic and detailed. Some of it has a dreamy look and some almost a nightmarish one. How do you refresh or cleanse your palate?
I find that in smoking.

ShoeBiz, 1420 Haight Street, San Francisco; Monday-Saturday, 11:00 a.m.-7:00 p.m. Sundays open until 6:00 p.m; shoebizsf.com; 415-861-3797. A REMINDER TO ALL PEB READERS: PRESENT THIS FLYER THROUGH MARCH 28TH TO RECEIVE A 15% DISCOUNT AT THIS SHOE BIZ LOCATION!

(All images are exclusively granted to Project East Bay and posted with permission from the artist. They are not to be used for commercial purposes.)

Want to recommend someone you know for an Artist Profile? Email your suggestions and/or samples of their work.

Event Report: Noise Pop Opening Night

at Mezzanine


How do you kick-off a week-long music festival serving San Franciscans indie rock gumbo?

"I don't know about you, but there are two things in this world that I care most about: noise and pop," Bradford Cox declared before a phalanx of gushing Deerhunter fans, packed elbow-to-elbow at Mezzanine Tuesday night.

That's how.

Deerhunter is a band of outsiders with a front-man who seems desperate to achieve It Boy status. Cox is a fascinating character study. On the one hand, he’s notorious for his confrontational (and dress-wearing) behavior at shows. The last time he and his mates were in San Francisco, for example, he reprimanded his drummer and fellow guitarist–for all the world to see during, and between, songs. I refrain from mentioning their names because Cox’s stage presence is negligent, discomfiting, and yet self-consciously endearing; he’d much rather gawkily blab about himself than create an esprit du cour on stage..he's just SO AWKWARD, you know? The band responds aptly: whereas Cox plays like a fever dream, the other hunters are practically asleep during performance. It works. Regardless of chemistry, what sweet music these fellas do make.


On Tuesday, Deerhunter tunneled and burrowed into the shapes and color formations of sound. Echoing some of Cox’s musical touchstones, from the Breeders, to Sonic Youth, to Krautrock, to Radiohead (and a touch of Stereolab for good measure), the rousing structures of melodies and counter-melodies bent and swelled, with hairpin rhythm changes. I don’t have to tell you that Cox chooses to emulate this music–he’ll tell you himself on the band’s blog.

Since their album Cryptograms in 2007, Deerhunter has been harboring attention for their dreamy, asymmetrical shoegaze stylings. That was before Cox knew how to warm up (in his way) to a crowd. By the time 2008's Microcastle was released, his mark was indelible. This performance was no exception.

Before the opening warbly strums of "Hazel St.," Cox preened, "This song is for Harvey Milk." That oughtta get the home crowd cheering. When he suggested he might start removing his clothes during the performance, he got an even more vociferous reaction (the lead singer of opening act Lilofee, who also threatened a striptease, was less enthusiastically received–more on them later).

On "Never Stops" the vulpine Cox crescendoed into what could very possibly be considered an aria: "I had dreams/That frightened me awake/I happened to escape/But my escape/Would never come." Feelings of beautiful isolation and glamorous despair–made sonic–washed over a crowd undulating like moths around a candle. Also exciting about the songs chosen for this show (with nearly obsessive compulsion) was the vaporous, mottled feedback layering under synths and white noise. Cox has a wispy voice that hangs and drags on the downbeat, which gave the psychedelic digital effects an ideal dance partner. It was pretty when it was supposed to be; it was atonal when it needed to be. Cast under a halo of smoke embellished by seizure-inducing strobes, the experience was–dare I say–ethereal.


But that’s not all. Deerhunter’s reverb-heavy, ambient post-punk, droppin’-acid-like-dippin’-dots noise rock, got a 60s-era roll.

One newer song, "Famous Last Words," took with general ease among the if-it’s-popular-I-don’t-like-it holdouts, and (worse) the if-it-gets-more-mainstream-I-won’t-like-it kids. Cox and co. have an affinity for girl-group pop and 80s guitar rock, so they performed such new work with requisite bounce and catchiness. You can’t have shadows without light, Deerhunter suggests. I heartily agree.

Oh, and that was Moses Archuleta on drums, Josh Fauver on bass, and Whitney Petty and Lockett Pundt on guitars. If Cox isn’t going to introduce them to us, I’ll do it for him–gladly. He and his (not so) merry men are welcome at our table any time they feel the urge to pop into town. Just wake them up when they get here.

You've got to give it to San Francisco band Lilofee for showing up in the first place. Under the Noise Pop gonfalon (read: FREE BEER AND FREE DEERHUNTER PERFORMANCE), lead singer Kimi Recor and band mates Rob Easson, Dan Aquino, and Cyrus Etemad put on a show–a damned good one. Recor fawned over the crowd, perhaps too much so. She belted, she bleated, she bullied her way around an auditorium no larger than a high school gymnasium, to get the attention of people who attended Mezzanine for a different reason entirely. (See previous comment about the gratis libations and headliner.)

So what–let’s see. Lilofee’s oeuvre (such that it is at this early stage in the duo’s career) covers industrial beats, power-pop, New Wave, turn of this century electro, and 80s glam rock. So you can see why Recor performs with the gusto of a bull in a china shop. In fact, an argument could be made that she and her band were the most alive performers of the night.

“I feel like I should be in a hair band,” she pealed between stomps and shouts. Eventually, she shed her tights and tossed them into the crowd. Thanks, but no thanks. Just play. People will listen.

And so it went. Noise Pop glittered, buzzed, and hurtled—and that was just opening night. Talk about a gregarious host: lucky early RSVPers gained early entry and were plied with the aforementioned complimentary booze, in addition to Argentinian Hot Pockets (aka empanadas) courtesy of ¡Venga! Empanadas, made-to-order silkscreen t-shirts, and skateboards.

Check out the rest of the festival here. Catch a show!

Music, Drinks, Clothes...and Pizza

This week marks a grand time for style across the spectrum. First there's Banana Republic's City Sounds Tour. Look for store-wide discounts, live music from violin prodigy David Garrett, refreshments, and swag bags. For added measure, there'll be a Benefit Cosmetics beauty specialist on site doling out tips of the trade. Banana Republic, a San Francisco-based clothier (GAP Inc.), makes clothes for men and women that are ideal for the workplace, but can also be gussied-up for happy hour–like this one. Here are the deets (RSVP mandatory).


Next, there's The Fader magazine's series of happy hours from Wednesday-Friday. Check the flier for the impressive dj sets and live performances in store. Speaking of stores, the events will be held at Diesel on Post Street. (RSVP also required.) For added fun, try hopping from one happy hour to the other–see how well you fit in! My friends at The Fader and Diesel have assured me that the place will be jammin'.


And my friend Lorraine at SF Indie Fashion tips us to this lovely Wednesday in the city:

"Delve into the history of the beauty industry at Wednesday night’s screening of "The Powder & the Glory," a documentary that’s part of the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival’s year-round programming series at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts," she writes.

The 86-minute film explores the well-known rivalry between beauty industry pioneers Elizabeth Arden and Helena Rubenstein, both of whom launched careers during the first decade of the 20th century–a time when makeup and beauty treatments were often thought to be synonymous with prostitutes and stage performers, not ladies.

After the film, the party continues over at W Hotel’s XYZ bar, where the first 50 guests will score swag bags courtesy of sponsors Bare Escentuals, TerraNova, Yes-to-Carrots, Kryolan and more.

Tickets are $8 for adults ($6 for students and seniors) and are available online or by calling 415-978-2787.

See you at one, or all, of these happenin' events! And keep lookin' snappy!

Shoes + Art = Cure-all for the Rainy Day Blues

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring.

Well, WAKE UP, pal! There are a few things in this world that, no matter the weather, make me feel all warm and toasty. One of them is a new artist exhibition. Another one is shoes (yes, straight men like buying shoes). What luck to find out that Shoe Biz on Haight Street is showcasing both this Saturday.

Known for merging local art with local commerce (read: lots of footwear), the retailer–which also recently opened a Valencia Street location–is throwing a party in honor of San Francisco painter and sketcher Noa's latest work. Check back later this week for an exclusive interview with the artist, who will appear at Saturday's event to curate the pieces on display. Arrive between 2-6:30 p.m. to see a live painting session, accompanied by DJ Nisus. And from 8-11 p.m., the party kicks off with DJ 8Doors and a live set by Zaion.

And just because I love ya, Shoe Biz manager Euna is offering PEB readers 15% off all full-priced purchases during the event! Just print up the flier posted above to redeem. And see you at Noa-Ark!

First Look at Christian Siriano's Payless Line

Courtesy Imaxtree

In December, "Project Runway" season four winner Christian Siriano announced that he would design a shoe and accessories line for Payless.

They're designed. They're manufactured. They're HERE.

The Egyptian-inspired footwear and handbags are pure drama: Spikes; chains; spindly heels. They're also friendly to our furry pals. Each shoe is made of patent pleather and the colors–chocolate, gold, and aqua satin–are luxe looking with a splashy streak. The detailing is sharp, too. The lightly embossed print on each piece resembles hieroglyphics. Here's the best part: The price point will be $25-$45. when they hit stores. They're going to be available in the coming months, and expect them to go quickly.

Fashionistas will notice the line's striking similarity to Rodarte's looks two seasons ago, and Yves Saint Laurent's collection last fall.

Style Watch: And the Award Goes to...

Good (rainy) afternoon, fellow Oscar watchers! As promised, I'll be with you for the long haul, from the first red carpet hit/miss to the final golden statuette.

Let's start the show!


Freida Pinto: Swoon. This has got to be the most beautiful girl in movies today. Her airy, sari-inspired frock in cobalt blue makes her seem all the more ethereal. She did John Galliano proud. I understand her ex-fiance recently dumped her because he despised how "Slumdog Millionaire" ended–with her character falling in love with Dev Patel's, which spawned a battery of affair rumors. Freida, CALL ME.

Skinny Dev Patel, in his skinny tux, looks like me at my friend Brian's bar-mitzvah.

Danny Boyle and his producers look like "Reservoir Dogs" all lined up. Charming.

Melissa Leo, in a bronze number with a sculpted butstier, is a little too matchy-matchy for me. I think her hair is tinted the same color as her dress. Maybe her plan is to win the Oscar if she resembles one?


Taraji P. Henson's skin glows. The ruffly, multilayered gown nicely hugs her muscular frame and softens her up a bit. Chiffon goes a long way.


Heidi Klum is a stunner in her graphic pink-red dress with a cutout on the side that reveals her sky-scraping legs. Shameless plug for her own (kind of gaudy) arm candy (not Seal, folks; those jangly, costumey bracelets).

Were Michael Shannon and Emile Hirsch separated at birth?


Sarah Jessica Parker, in a ballerina look (again, but this time crossed with Glinda the Good), still impresses on the red carpet. Her "barely mint" dress is basically a seafoam Dior haute couture tutu with more volume and length. Her fall of brunette mane is reminiscent of Lauren Bacall's old school locks. And hubby Matthew Broderick's midnight blue suit reminds me of that scene in "Father of the Bride," when Steve Martin tells Hanck the wedding planner that his (knock0ff) Armani suit is falling apart. Then Hanck says, "Armani don't also make polyester." Fail.

Amanda Seyfreid is maybe going to be her generation's Michelle Pfeiffer. Her red gown is like a watered-down version of Heidi Klum's (read: the cutouts overlap and cover her legs).

Robert Pattinson, the Mormon sparkle vampire in the popular movie "Twilight" comes across as a dour heir to Hugh Grant.

Mickey Rourke is a mess, and it totally works. His white Jean Paul Gaultier tux with short-cut lapels and a black vest is pure rock 'n roll. The best part, he has a charm necklace with a photo of his dog Loki, who passed away six days ago.

Meryl Streep is the best actress in the world and one of the worst dressers. That just endears her to me even more. SHE'S A MORTAL AFTER ALL.

Anne Hathaway, in a jewel-encrusted Armani Privé gown embellished with payette scaling, is completely cribbing Marion Cotillard's look from last year's Oscars. Ya know what? It's a winning look.

Sean Penn looks a little like a stuffed suit. Also, he's done too much man-tan, it would seem.


Brangelina. It's the varsity quarterback and prom queen. But he's sporting some odd whiskers and she's Morticia Addams-ed out. My first real meh of the night.

Penélope Cruz's brocaded creme dress is a dream.

Jessica Biel's architectural ivory satin number is a miss. It droops like a giant peony and makes her angular physique look, of all things, baggy.


Miley Cyrus looks quite lovely in her silver Zuhair Murhad gown. Great petals, sparkly wide straps. She also looks more age appropriate than last year.

Valentino is one of the last towering presences on any red carpet. Fashion royalty.

Robert Downey, Jr. looks dapper. That is all.

Viola Davis, the gripping epicenter of the movie "Doubt," looks pretty in her metallic swath of copper straps bandaged around the bustle.


I love Kate Winslet's Yves Saint Laurent dress. It's pop-arty but sleek, thanks to a clever gunmetal-to-smoke transition along the train. The embroidered leafing gives that dramatic shoulder strap less intensity.

Melissa Tomei is a bit of an optical illusion in her grayish Versace tent, replete with zig-zagged pleating. It's pure geometry. I hated geometry–that's why I became a writer.

And with that...we move on to the main event.

See/Hear/Scene/Here

So many exciting events to attend this weekend (and next week), so little time! First there's the 40th St. Corridor Art Quest tomorrow night. Who doesn't love a quest? This one takes you from MacArthur BART, to Telegraph Avenue, to Piedmont Avenue, in search of local art. From 6 p.m.–9 p.m., check out Manifesto Bicycles, Rowan Morrison Gallery, Premium Tattoo and Vintage, and Issues for art receptions. There, you'll obtain a “treasure map” (I swear), which will grant you access to more venues and prizes. Along the way, there's music, dranks, and locally made wears and wares. To aid you in your journey, a street-art LED light installation connects the destination points.

From there you can pop over to the de Young for Pop Party. Channel your inner Andy and Edie and absorb the full-on Factory experience: Cocktails, treats, exhibition viewing and dancing to The Unauthorized Rolling Stones. It's 9 p.m.–midnight. White fright wigs will abound.

Sleep.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday! I just spoke with Judith Grimm, who runs Triple Base gallery in San Francisco. She and co-curator Dina Pugh feature up-and-coming California-based artists in the space. They're literally putting the final touches on "The Colony," which will run through March 22. Check out more than 30 paintings, drawings, and sculptures by artist Rachel Kaye, who takes her inspiration from New York City's most prestigious private women's social club, which was founded in 1903 by socialite and suffragist Florence Jaffray Harriman. (It was also featured on a recent episode of "Gossip Girl," the BEST. SHOW. EVAR.) You'll find works depicting women who have made an impact on Hollywood and fashion (with a little royalty thrown in for good measure). I'll be covering this exhibition in-depth soon. Look out for an interview with Kaye and a discussion with playwright, novelist, art critic–and overall renaissance man–Kevin Killian.

And next Tuesday marks the opening night of Noise Pop! Talk about a festival of wonders: Indie music, art, and film, for a whole week (February 24–March 1). Someone pinch me! Tons of coverage to come, starting with Deerhunter's free show–I'll be with the band...seriously! Check out the deets on Noise Pop's Web site.

Not enough fun yet? Alright, because I love ya, there's also this cause for celebration: Want Some Girl Scout Cookies? Don’t know any kiddies? Send the scouts an email: http://www.blogger.com/cookies@gscnc.org. They'll hook you up.

From the Runways to the Aisles

Courtesy Regent Releasing

So it's Oscar weekend. I have my picks: Mickey, Meryl, and "Slumdog Millionaire"–Jai Ho! (Translation: It rocks!)

But this weekend, if you're looking to catch a flick that's entirely unrelated to the Academy Awards hubbub, there is a fascinating new film about the fashion industry that just opened in San Francisco (no, not "Confessions of a Shopaholic"–ick).

Check out "Eleven Minutes," a documentary that follows the rise, fall, and rise of the first "Project Runway" winner, Jay McCarroll. Back story: Upon accepting his prize (a $100,000 contract, a mentorship from Banana Republic, and a spot in 2005's New York Fashion Week) he refused the money and the mentorship. Why? He didn't want to sign a contract that made him (and his designs) the property of the Bravo network and The Weinstein Company.

So life got hard for the fledgling designer.

“Eleven Minutes” explores the less glamorous life of a fashionista. It brings to mind a less polished answer to “Unzipped,” the 1995 documentary about Isaac Mizrahi, or a more revealing portrait of an artist than 2007's wicked fun (but cigarette-slim) "Lagerfeld Confidential." It's a fly-on-the-wall movie-going experience that takes us from the sketchbook, to the design studio, to the runway, to the harsh realization that nobody may actually buy the clothes in the end.