Making Time: Jason Heaton digs into the best German watch brands out there, raising questions of whether Pforzheim is too silly of a name to be a real place. [Gear Patrol]
Business Attire: A serious-minded collection of menswear tips, including the following wisdom on office parties: “always dress well enough to be promoted but not so well that they wouldn't feel bad about firing you.” [The Onion]
”Whatever, Drake Sucks”: An irreverent commentary on 25 of the year’s best tracks. Highly recommended. [Self-Titled]
The History of Iggy: Amateur snaps from a Stooges show at a Michigan high school in 1970. Those kids have no idea what they’re seeing. [Retronaut]
Ladies and gentlemen, this is the second greatest endorsement photo we have ever seen. (#1 is still here.)
It comes from the new campaign for Paco Rabanne’s Black XS, which enlisted Jonas Åkerlund and an unusually somber Iggy Pop. We don’t know much about the scent itself (the samples haven’t come in yet), but Iggy’s expression speaks for itself.
We’ve never seen a man wearing gold sparklepants look so unhappy.
Graham Smith was the unofficial house photographer of London’s club scene in the late ’70s and early ’80s, chronicling one of the most flamboyant, lurid and just-plain-awesome periods in grooming history.
For proof, check out the newly released We Can Be Heroes. It’s got hundreds of never-before-seen stills, capturing punk legends like Gary Kemp, the Sex Pistols, Boy George, Iggy Pop, Robert Elms and hundreds more in remarkably—and, at times, eerily—intimate preshow moments.
As Brit style writer Robert Elms explains, the London club scene in the 1970s “wasn’t a place for those who dressed up for the occasion but for those who dressed up as a way of life.”
John Varvatos has been drawing on music-industry cool for long enough, it was only a matter of time before he made the connection official. But we were hoping it wouldn’t be quite so much like a reality show.
It’s called Free the Noise, and to be fair, it’s closer to the more credible custom known as the Battle of the Bands. Aspiring bands upload clips of their act onto the website, finalists are chosen to face off at JV’s Bowery location (former home of CBGBs, if you recall), and the winner walks away with a development deal from Island records and a series of spots in Varvatos’ Star USA ads.
Sounds like a good deal, but a record deal isn’t what it used to be. And doesn’t the whole thing seem a bit rockist?
The punk years were pretty rough, both economically and sartorially speaking, but there’s no doubting Debbie Harry was one of the highlights.
Add in a few older gents settling into wine-soaked adulthood—we’re looking at you, Bowie and Keef—and it’s a photoset we’re more willing to take a glance at. The photos are all courtesy of godfather of rock photography Bob Gruen (hat tip to Phazerblast), and there’s plenty to like.
The other day when we said there were no challengers to Keith Richards' reign atop sex, drugs and rock'n'roll royalty, it obviously triggered something - the appearance of a certified contender, David Johansen of the New York Dolls.
What we have here is a study in contrasts. You could call it old vs. new, youth vs. experience, or even the future vs. the past. On a purely sartorial level, however, we would just call this pic of Irish nouveau-folkie Damien Rice and Canadian-born singer/songwriter, poet and novelist Leonard Cohen good vs. bad.
At the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame's gala at the Waldorf-Astoria the other night, the great Cohen was inducted into that dubious institution. Rice performed one of Cohen's songs in tribute; he should have borrowed Cohen's classic evening clothes as well.
With the “rock look” flying around so much these days—we’re looking at you, John—it’s easy to forget the people who crafted that look in the first place: the musicians, but more importantly the photographers.
Scandinavian photographer Eric Broms’ is one of the more recent arrivals to the scene, but his work is a pretty good example of it. His subjects range from icons like Madonna and Debbie Harry to the more primal flair of Mr. James Osterberg (also known as Iggy Pop.)