POISE:
Some people only need one name for instant recognition, Diana, Elvis, Jocelyn, Obama and of course ‘Marta’. It’s been four years since Marta featured in a fashion spread on the pages of my Blog, four years where her star has risen even higher in the sky. The first photo is Marta, it’s the poise, the arrogance, the ‘fuck you’ stance. The crisp white scarf is almost clinical in it’s perfection, in it’s lines, The black polo neck harks back to the beatniks and the existentialists of the early 1960’s. Being a friend of fur Marta wears a faux sheep skin jacket that probably came as a one off from Stella McCartney. Marta owns this scene, she is to be followed, she is to be heard, she is, quite literally, our very own Maggie Taberer.

BALLET AND LACE:
More detail on the frock will follow in the next post, but first i want to highlight Marta’s ceaseless push for the world to wrap their legs in white stockings, be they lace, nylon, silk .. whatever, just so long as they are white, because everything else is highlighted by them, i wouldn’t mind guessing that’s a glimpse of garter at the top her leg, or perhaps an unlaced truss. Not sure where she has them made, but Marta’s foot ware is always like no other persons on this or any other planet, the male size 15 foot she has looks so delicate here as its set off with a ballet shoelace tie.

SO 1973, BUT IN 1969:
What to say here?, Marta is all business, with it’s ‘Tetris’ pattern and slight hounds tooth shading around the line of the grid, Marta looks to confuse us here, and thrown we are, the low and wide cuff suggest a slight nod to the bell bottom of the sixties, but Marta does our heads in by having then on her sleeve cuffs, the drop earrings soften the harsh, possibly metallic necklace, with our primate princess it’s all about mix and match.

ARABIAN MISTRESS:
Marta risks getting sand in her Manolo’s all for the sake of glamour, no one before or since has made beige work like Marta, it’s a theme with her to push her beauty through this vortex of banality, wisely she goes for light coloured bangles around her wrist that wont attract heat, but the fashion masochist See’s her back wearing her full metal frame sunglasses, I’m sure the lenses were searing through her retina’s like a child with a magnifying glass frying ants, but Marta does not give a flying fuck, if cataracts mean she’s gonna look like her fashion face furniture does not suck, then pass her the white cane of glamour. Did anyone think for a second that Marta would appear in the desert without in your face earrings?, didn’t think so. It’s interesting to note that while shading most area’s of her face, the one area Marta wants in the direct desert sun is her Cindy Crawford beauty spot, in Marta’s heart that spot can never be too dark.

KITCHEN HAND:
In a down home moment Marta makes a mock breakfast to show off her earthiness, but Marta fools no one, least of all her devoted fans, who else but Marta would have heavy lace stockings around such flammable hardware, a mini skirt is functional so as not to get caught in the undercarriage of any white good appliances. A white apron is draped over the mini skirt in tribute to ‘Little Edie’ and I’m betting my left nut Marta left that apron on the whole day even when she went out later that evening. A highlight is the Lacroix-esque puffy sleeves that pre dates the designers use of them in 1986 by about twenty years, in your face .. in your fucking face!. Marta can’t get a fashion shoot in without toying with your mind, by casually leaving her industrial patent leather hand bag on the kitchen counter, it’s all about smooth surface kitchen chaos.

ROLE PLAY MARTA:
Nobody said super model simians had to be conservative, here Marta, just for shits and giggles, Don’s a nurses outfit, if truth be told I’m hard pressed to think of anyone who hasn’t slipped on a white uniform and done a little suppository digital rectal penetration role play, but as ever Marta grabs fashion by its shedding fur and fucks with your head, no one can tell if Marta has hacked at her patented white stockings here to deconstruct them, is it something of a sanitary nature she’s picked at and draped over her legs?, or is it a bandage she’s pulled from a child’s stuffed toy that had been filled with medical waste from India?, Marta gets off on the tension, and you know we’ll never know for sure.

Please, please, please .. no jokes about Miss Tammy being on ice, it’s even too obvious for me, however during a lightening trip to my true home of Melbourne, someone suggested a quick visit to the ice skating rink would be in order, obviously fueled by a winter Olympic fervour we ice bunnies descended like an over heated teste upon the place, it wasn’t until i got there i thought ‘Hmmmm, not sure I’ve skated since i was 17, and that effort, tho on a skateboard, left scars still evident to this day’, the sweater i wore on that occasion looked as if I’d been molested by Steve French the stoner panther on a bad comedown, so it was with a little trepidation that i laced up my skates, it wasn’t long however before I’d let go of the hand rail and was pretty much zooming around the rink, of course an element of cockiness crept in .. not upon me, but the young guy in front who started flapping his arms before falling at my feet, my feet with shiny silver blades on them, my feet that couldn’t divert from his fingers that had splayed on the ice to get him balance, before i knew it i heard a something that sounded like ‘Wolverine’ in X-MEN when he engages the blades from his paws/hands, the next noise was a little more human, and involved the young guy lamenting the meeting of finger and blade, luckily he had his girlfriend with him so he sort of scampered away to the first aid office, all the while I’m sure stifling a blood curdling scream, or at the very least a big sobbing tear fest. The afternoon went quickly as i conducted guided tours around the rink to show my friends the blood spray pattern in the ice, my friend Tim who is becoming a forensic scientist was cock’o hoop, especially when he saw there was still splatter patterns on my boots. Big shout out to Miss Blurtina who took an early fall but under pressure still managed to hold up the camera and click away for us, a trooper indeed.

Breakfast with Matt in my favorite cafe in Flinders Lane Melbourne, it’s been a few posts since i mentioned Melbourne hasn’t it?.

I’m so torn as to who is my all time favorite talent show disaster, it’s a tough call between Todd Rixon who can be found earlier on in this blog dancing and blowing his hamstring on national television, or my beloved Krista Krul who is a performer of such unyeilding talent and timing, i dont think the band realised she was singing a reggae version of this song, click on Krista’s name above to be taken on journey of extreme performance art.

George Michael tears up Mardi Gras 2010.

Wow!!, this reminds me of a sign very similar to this that was posted in the lift of a friends apartment building, the fact i didn’t souvenir this ‘Turd Terrorist’ poster is something i will long lament.

On Saturday 27th of Feburary myself, Phillip, Adam and Tim ventured forth to Hamer Hall in Melbourne to pay hommage to John Waters who was doing his show ‘This Filthy World’, to say this was a hightlight of my life would be to down play this moment, dont forget, i’m the man who travelled to Baltimore for the sole purpose of being where John Waters and the Dreamlanders were, so this was a dream come true to finally see him in person, at the end of the show we raced to the stage door where in between John being presented with a strap on tumerous anus we got to meet him, i had John put in writing on my scratch and sniff card from his Polyester movie, that i am a filth elder, and there it is, written in his very own hand. I like the photo of Phillip with him, John has a look on his face that explains what Phillip had just told him .. ISN!!.

Heh, pissy vegetarians.

A few weeks back sitting in a cafe in Newtown, this car drove past that was covered top to bottom in soft toys, Barbie dolls, flags, small plastic toys etc, i didnt have my camera with me and was fuming as no one would believe me when i told them how out of control this car was. Fast forward last week and i’m driving to Sydney, out of the corner of my eye i saw a car zoom past me and it was the very same bizzaro mobile i’d seen a few weeks ago, this time i had my camera and catching up to the car i was able to get a couple of photo’s, you may have guessed by other pics on this blog that i love my loco cars, but this one i think so far takes the cake.

At the moment i’m in the process of remastering a video i made years ago that feature Beryl’s fashions from ‘Sons and daughters’, i thought i’d lost the tape but recently found it, so i’m tweaking it a little for the masses .. okay, a few friends to enjoy, in tribute to ‘The Honeymooners’ i have selected this photo as the cover where Beryl is cowering from a threatend smack across the chops from Rod, i love Beryl’s silent movie actress recoil in this shot, the other contender for the cover photo, has Beryl holding up a dead mullet that she had been gifted from Rod, hard choice eh.

While out on a JB run with my mate Adam he casually mentioned that if you go to KFC and order a Golden Gaytime Thickshake it comes up on the screen as ‘1 Gay Krsh’ of course that was all it took for Christine to skid sideways into the nearest KFC to test the creamy, biscuity theory, sure enough up on the screen came confirmation that i was about to sup a gay crush, before long i was trying to suckle clumps of coagulated biscuit up through the not very accomodating straw, persistance paid off however and nary a soggy crumb was left in the bottom of the gay crush receptacle.

A few shots from over summer which when looking at them involve mostly friends and an exploded microwave oven, sounds like all bases covered to me.

For all things Number 96 click “Here“.

Weird thing, a couple of old television shows have fallen into my lap recently, one being the tv series for Planet of the apes, with a couple of these i’ve been amazed to have my memory jolted from when i was just a kid of around nine or ten and my juvenile lustings and their roots in my television viewing, so many of my early crushes involved tv charactors or celebrities, upon viewing Planet of the apes i have a hazy memory of actually enjoying it when Urko would rough up the two spacemen Allan and Peter, i think my little heart definately skipped to a quicker beat whenever Urko would have the guys bound up into a net trap .. can i admit that here?, why not, nobody’s looking.

I’m beside myself with excitement, i’m in such a state there is even a little bit of wee coming out, it’s only three days to go until the next box set of Number 96 comes comes, this is set post pantihose strangler and features a storyline of Dorrie learning to drive, i can’t wait for that and the avalanche of Dorrie-esque malapropism’s that is sure to feature.

For all things Number 96 click “Here“.