voguerer

nytimes.com
Bill Cunningham, legendary Times fashion photographer, dies at 87
In nearly 40 years working for The New York Times, Mr. Cunningham operated both as a chronicler of fashion and as an unlikely cultural anthropologist.
By Jacob Bernstein

Bill Cunningham, the street-style photographer whose photo essays for The New York Times memorialized trends ranging from fanny packs to Birkin bags, gingham shirts and fluorescent biker shorts, died in New York on Saturday. He was 87.

He had been hospitalized recently after having a stroke. His death was confirmed by The New York Times.

In his nearly 40 years working for The Times, Mr. Cunningham operated both as a dedicated chronicler of fashion and as an unlikely cultural anthropologist, one who used the changing dress habits of the people he photographed to chart the broader shift away from formality and toward something more diffuse and individualistic.

At the Pierre hotel on the East Side of Manhattan, he pointed his camera at tweed-wearing blue-blood New Yorkers with names like Rockefeller and Vanderbilt. Downtown, by the piers, he clicked away at crop-top wearing Voguers. Up in Harlem, he jumped off his bicycle — he rode more than 30 over the years, replacing one after another as they were wrecked or stolen — for B-boys in low-slung jeans.

In the process, he turned into something of a celebrity himself.

[READ MORE]

If you’re unfamiliar with Bill Cunningham, I strongly recommend watching the documentary Bill Cunningham New York. A unique figure in the world of fashion, and the father of modern street photography.

youtube

Enyce Smith is utilizing the art of voguing to make a statement about the slew of tragedies that queer, trans and black people have all suffered over the past several months.

The queer artist’s new video, sponsored by HIV non-profit organization REACH LA, brings together a group of voguers to provide artistic commentary and perspective on the recent tragedies targeting people identifying along the queer spectrum and within communities of color.

“With recent tragedies I felt it was important to make a video showcasing the beauty of being different and the need for love and respect all across the board,” Smith told The Huffington Post. “We need to own who we are and be proud of it! The LGBTQ community and the African American community are speaking out on not being treated fairly and being a part of both. I feel it’s only right to speak out so I address the Orlando Pulse shooting, the discrimination against trans [people] using public restrooms and the recent killings of black lives. We are all humans.”

[via]

Toni Halonen

Toni Halonen est un créatif d'Helsinki, Finlande. Ancien étudiant en architecture à l'université d'Aalto, il oscille aujourd'hui entre l'illustration, la direction artistique et les arts visuels. Toni a déjà oeuvré pour Kenzo et Bloomberg Business Weeks et passe son temps libre à voguer sur Internet à la recherche de vieilles montres.

Toni Halonen is a creative soul from Helsinki Finland. He studied architecture at Aalto university, School of art and design but wanders these days between illustration, art directing and visual arts. He has worked with clients from Kenzo paris to Bloom berg business weeks and wastes his spare time by nerding on the internet about old mechanical wrist watches.

youtube

CL’s Backstage Dance Party joined by Joey Bada$$ and NYFW models!

On the final day of a frigid New York collections, Korean pop sensation and front row phenom CL decided to heat things up with an informal dance party. Cass Bird and Jorden Bickham grabbed some pretty pals and built-to-move clothes straight off the catwalks; choreographer and YouTube sensation Willdabeast (whose recent take on the “Formationvideo went viral) made a few calls to flexers and voguers; and before you knew it the likes of Joey Bada$$, Taylor Hill, and Stella Maxwell were joyously proclaiming goodbye Fashion Week, hello bitches. Here’s to the hottest night of a cold week!

CL is the perfect foil for Alexander Wang’s mix of bouclé and bad girl. The men’s silver parka lined in fur was especially hard to part with at the end of the night.

(CL IN: Alexander Wang men’s coach jacket with fur lining, price upon request, long-sleeve lace T-shirt with patch, $695, wool wrap miniskirt with side belt, $750, nylon and cotton Tender tights, $125.)

CL was joined by the ff:

  • Joey Bada$$ (Rapper)
  • Stella Maxwell (Model)
  • Adwoa Aboah (Model)
  • Grace Hartzel (Model)
  • Rianne Van Rompaey (Model)
  • Soo Joo Park (Model)
  • Aymeline Valade (Actress/Model)
  • Amilna Estevao (Model)
  • Li Xiao Xing (Model)
  • Karly Loyce (Model)
  • Yasmin Wijnaldum (Model)
  • Taylor Hill (Model)
  • Roberto Sipos (Model)
  • Dilone (Model)
  • Pierce Caddy-Penny (Model)
  • Emanuel Figueroa (Dancer)
  • Dejiavu Prodigy (Dancer)
  • Derek FKA Jamel Prodigy (Dancer)
youtube

Proletarian French Voguers

youtube

[ARTICLE/VOGUE] 160226 Vogue: “CL’s Big Backstage Dance Party”.

On the final day of a frigid New York collections, Korean pop sensation and front row phenom CL decided to heat things up with an informal dance party. Cass Bird and Jorden Bickham grabbed some pretty pals and built-to-move clothes straight off the catwalks; choreographer and YouTube sensation Willdabeast (whose recent take on the “Formation” video went viral) made a few calls to flexers and voguers; and before you knew it the likes of Joey Bada$$, Taylor Hill, and Stella Maxwell were joyously proclaiming goodbye Fashion Week, hello bitches. Here’s to the hottest night of a cold week!

Apparently that vogue video with those two white kids is from a dance class in Russia, and the person who taught them was one of the 4 main voguers in the recent The Wiz live. Whats funny was when I was on one of those dancers instagrams (i cant remember which one) I saw one of them teaching a vogue to a class of white kids and found that shit to be sus immediately. These Black folks and Latinxs are teaching an art form and they don’t realize it now but they will regret it. 

I’m still slightly annoyed with Bambi and Aya, like they ain’t call their shit voguing but it was CLEARLY inspired by the art form. 

Save me that “cultures are meant to be shared” shit, cause Black folks and Latinxs never get the homage and are constantly erased. This was an art form crafted by African Americans, Caribbean Americans and Latinxs, (*which people often forget it was primarily Afro Latinxs). Overall, the African retention is very blatant within the art form. 

thescene

Korean pop sensation and front row phenom CL decided to heat things up with an informal dance party. Cass Bird and Jorden Bickham grabbed some pretty pals and built-to-move clothes straight off the catwalks; choreographer and YouTube sensation Willdabeast (whose recent take on the “Formation” video went viral) made a few calls to flexers and voguers; and before you knew it the likes of Joey Bada$$, Taylor Hill, and Stella Maxwell were joyously dancing in our favorite #NYFW collections.

Save The Last Dance For Me.

Le froid vivifiant de Décembre. L'enchaînement terne de ces jours gris tirant sur le blanc qui comporte pour moi un enchantement indescriptible. Tout semble métallique, la vie s'est lentement retirée. Ce n'est pas les fêtes, dont j'ai horreur, que j'espère. Je ne sais même pas si j'espère quelque chose. Je me promène sur les quais. Un vent espiègle caresse son visage comme je ne saurai jamais le faire, d'une tendresse dure. Je le jalouse en secret. Mais je tiens sa petite main dans la mienne. Elle la serre un peu plus fort. Trouver chaleur et réconfort. Éphémère placebo.

Je sais de quoi elle rêve emmitouflée dans son petit manteau. Mais je suis bien incapable de le lui procurer. La grande maison à la campagne, le chien qui dort paisiblement au coin du feu, lire la journée et trinquer une fois la nuit tombée, les ballades en forêt, si possible à cheval, voguer à grande vitesse dans un cabriolet sur les petites routes bordées d'une mer verte impassible, fendre la brume opaque, calme et sereine au petit matin, nos sentiments sur la banquette arrière, nos espoirs dans la boîte à gants, et aller parfois voir la mer. Rien d'extravaguant, ce qui est encore plus envoûtant, ce qui la rend si différente. Sa simplicité m'émerveille. Elle ne ressemble en rien à celles que j'ai connues avant, petites bourgeoises sophistiqués et superficielles attirées par mon côté bad boy. Et même si elle ne ressemble en rien à ce que j'ai toujours cru vouloir, elle me donne envie d'y croire.

Son parfum emprisonne mes pensées dans un délicieux cocon. Je ne saurai comment le décrire précisément. Elle qui a toujours les mots qu'il faut pour me réconforter alors que j'hésite, que je trébuche maladroitement à chaque virgule. Elle s'évertue encore à m’offrir des livres que je n'arrive pas à lire. J'aimerai tant lui écrire une chanson, une ode intemporelle, une symphonie onirique. Mettre en volutes son charme assassin, y emprisonner définitivement sa beauté pénétrante, la noblesse de son âme à la pureté angélique. Elle possède une grâce intimidante que seuls les écrivains, que seuls les poètes savent capturer.

C’est un soir comme un autre. Il fait déjà nuit. Le miroir me renvoie une pauvre image de ma personne. Je fais pitié. Abjecte personnage. Pâle copie de ce que je fus un jour. Je vide mon verre de whisky. Le Velvet joue dans le salon. Mes pseudos amis ont l’air de s’amuser. Des éclats de voix, des rires francs et puissants, des bribes de conversations me parviennent. Je me tape un rail sur la cuvette des chiottes et déverrouille la porte de la salle de bain. Encore la même soirée entouré de ces gens atrocement sans talent. Heureusement, elle est là. Toujours. Je ne sais pas ce qu'elle me trouve. J'évite de me poser la question trop souvent. J'ai cette propension à psychoter délétèrement pour un rien. Je devrais sans doute prendre mes médicaments. Je n'en ai pas franchement envie. Elle sait apaiser le bouillonnement frénétique de mes pensées nauséabondes. Sa simple compagnie dilue mes maux. Et puis elle me divertie, petite ingénue m'entretenant de littérature, de musique comme de ce qui la révolte dans notre société. J'aime lorsqu'elle s'emporte sur les sujets lui tenant à cœur, que son visage s'empourpre, que sa voix s'élève tandis que ses mains fendent l'air en faisant de grands gestes comme si elles étaient possédées.

Je la regarde depuis le canapé où je m'enfonce inexorablement, tant métaphoriquement que physiquement. Elle est plus douce et sucrée qu'une nuit estivale à la chaleur naissante. Je voudrai la serrer dans mes bras et lui susurrer des mensonges acidulés au creux de l'oreille. Passablement déchirée, elle danse avec Aiden. Du moment qu'elle me réserve sa dernière danse et qu'elle couche son corps brûlant contre le mien lorsque le sommeil l'emportera.  

L'autre fois au musée, je n'ai pas osé lui avouer que pour moi, elle était la plus belle oeuvre de la collection.

Clochards Célestes.

7

The Fabulous Underground Voguers Of Baltimore and Paris

“I was moved by the poetics of survival that I encountered, as much as the flamboyant freedom of voguing,” Parisian photographer Frederic Nauczyciel says.

For Nauzyciel’s inner city subjects, who often have to hide their sexuality in their daily lives, voguing turns gender into a fantastical performance. Unlike drag, which tends to lend itself to cartoonishly feminine personas, voguers play at a wider range of characters, performing as thugs, business executives, schoolboys, butch queens, or angels (also known in the vogue-cabulary as “cunts”). 

More> Co.Design