Last Wednesday, I opted not to go to the illustrious Art Fair Vernissage. That’s French for “varnishing,” a term used for the preview of an art affair before the formal opening. It’s not like I don’t appreciate fine art—it’s because I DO appreciate art that I decided not to go to the vernissage. My reason for not going this year is because I know full well that people are completely smashed by 6pm, either from champagne at the Lee Wolter thing or vodka at the Absolut Lounge.
Hi blessed beings, I’m back after my little sabbatical! My first column this year is dedicated to Gaga. You saw this coming a lightyear away!
I dragged my sick ass out of bed to see Nicky Hilton last Thursday at the Samantha Thavasa opening party at Ozone on top of the Ritz-Carlton.
I dragged my sick ass out of bed to see Nicky Hilton last Thursday at the Samantha Thavasa opening party at Ozone on top of the Ritz-Carlton. Samantha Thavasa isn’t a designer—it’s just the name of this Japanese fashion company that’s not particularly well known yet outside of Japan, although they have been using big-name western celebrities for their ad campaigns
2012 will be a year of tumultuous change! Start doing your Rampages of Appreciation. I appreciate readers appreciating my Rampage of Appreciation.
I had wanted my first column written in January to be extra special. Alas, I got shitfaced after the Scissor Sisters concert, drank champagne for breakfast and was made to drink more (a deliciously floral La Scolca Gavi di Gavi) during lunch at Doppio Zero (LOVE their fresh handmade pastas!) so this column will just descend into a hot mess, like the old After Hours column, which some readers have expressed nostalgia for.
I had wanted my first column written in January to be extra special. Alas, I got shitfaced after the Scissor Sisters concert, drank champagne for breakfast and was made to drink more during lunch at Doppio Zero so this column will just descend into a hot mess, like the old After Hours column...
I’m not saying this just because giant mastermind and organizer Jay Forster picked me up and turned me upside down (with me screaming and holding onto the arm of an alarmed security woman in her 40s for balance), then squeezing my nose for eight seconds and asking me to “write good things about Clockenflap” before letting me into the VIP tent.
I’m not saying this just because giant mastermind and organizer Jay Forster picked me up and turned me upside down (with me screaming and holding onto the arm of an alarmed security woman in her 40s for balance), then squeezing my nose for eight seconds and asking me to “write good things about Clockenflap” before letting me into the VIP tent.
So the press started getting psyched for the Holiday Season last month, after having received all the press releases ages ago. Then the holiday hampers came, and now all the major hotels, restaurants and PR companies have sent out invitations to their Christmas cocktails and parties for this month.
So the press started getting psyched for the Holiday Season last month, after having received all the press releases ages ago. Then the holiday hampers came, and now all the major hotels, restaurants and PR companies have sent out invitations to their Christmas cocktails and parties for this month.
So I was at Dandy, this cool café bar and after-hours dance club on Lyndhurst, when a woman came up to me (completely ignoring my conversational partner as if he didn’t exist—rude, eh) and said: “Excuse me, are you Johannes (mispronounced) and do you write a column for some mag?”
“Why yes, thank you for reading,” I replied and smiled, although I’d already sensed her rancid animosity. You know, those drunk, ornery, disappointed-with-their-own-lives people whose pain and rancor you can just smell from a mile away.
So I was at Dandy, this cool café bar and after-hours dance club on Lyndhurst, when a woman came up to me (completely ignoring my conversational partner as if he didn’t exist—rude, eh) and said: “Excuse me, are you Johannes (mispronounced) and do you write a column for some mag?”
I’m off to Bali this weekend on a pilgrimage to all my favorite temples—the Temple of Sarasvati in Ubud, my patron goddess, and Uluwatu on the cliff for G.O.D. (Generator Brahma/Operator Vishnu/Destroyer Shiva). Oh and I’ll also be returning to one of my favorite hotels Ubud Hanging Gardens, as well as checking out Jimbaran Puri Bali. Beach yoga here we go!
So here’s a bit of karmic cleansing for myself before I set off on my pilgrimage:
Dear non-Hong Kong person,
Please do not give money to the Buddhist monks begging for alms outside bars in Central or Tsim Sha Tsui. REAL Buddhist monks are NOT out on the street begging for alms outside bars in Central or Tsim Sha Tsui.
One of the most subversive things a man can do is to dress up as a woman. You’re blatantly ignoring society, which dictates what is appropriate clothing for a gender. And it pisses off a lot of inflexible, closed-minded people. Which is why I make it a point to dress up in drag at least once a year, usually on Halloween.
One of the most subversive things a man can do is to dress up as a woman. You’re blatantly ignoring society, which dictates what is appropriate clothing for a gender.
Everyone and their mother (oh yes someone brought their mother; I met her) wanted to go to check out the Shanghai Tang Mongolian Village on top of Central Pier 4. Thank God it rained heavily last Tuesday as that deterred a full horde of 1,200 (heard that was the number who RSVP’d) from ascending the steppes up to artificial grass and pop-up Mongolian tents (which are called gers; yurts are Turkic).
Everyone and their mother (oh yes someone brought their mother; I met her) wanted to go to check out the Shanghai Tang Mongolian Village on top of Central Pier 4. Thank God it rained heavily last Tuesday as that deterred a full horde of 1,200 (heard that was the number who RSVP’d) from ascending the steppes up to artificial grass and pop-up Mongolian tents (which are called gers; yurts are Turkic).
