James did NOT have a hangover. He was on vacation. He – I – WHATEVER – e-mailed some notes that were forwarded around in bits and pieces. Eventually they were posted as a confusing mishmash that must have seemed positively deranged. Of course, it was nobody’s fault and I could explain what the hell I was talking about, but please, can’t we just move on?
Let’s talk about the Party Monster party last week:
Are there really still clubkids, you ask? In 2004? Well, yes, I discovered. And they came from all over the country to relive the glorious heyday of Disco 2000. Why, you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting club-kid classics like Keoki, Rocky Racoon, Boom-Boom and Alexis Arquette.
I was awash in a sea of me. It was a little too BEING JOHN MALKOVITCH for my taste. As you can see from the picture on the right, that’s me, surrounded by me and me. (I’m the one missing an earring). It’s flattering, if a bit unnerving. Of course, as the editor of this blog is always pointing out, it isn’t really about ME at all. I’m the most annoying person on earth. It’s the idea of drama and glamour and anarchy and style-busting fabulosity that clubkid-ism represents.
So I met a million people, took a million pictures and felt up a million cute boys. I’m not an idiot.
And as everybody screamed and swooned, and oohed and aaahed, I could tell what they were REALLY thinking was: What in the HELL is he wearing? A polka-dot schmatte the size of a circus tent? THIS is what passes for club-kid style these days? What, he couldn’t put on a decent pair of platforms for his own party?
Well, The gown was an Adolfo original, from the 1979 collection (vintage couture, SNAP!). He outfitted Nancy Reagan, you might recall, and her clit-clique of alpha x-rays. So the dress is chic beyond reproach.
But it’s also fucking retarded. Easily the stupidest dress I’ve ever seen. No woman on earth could pull it off, I don’t care how willowy they are. Mary-Kate would look like Bruce Villanch in it. It’s circus couture for fashion-impaired hippos.
So you see, a dress like that pays homage to my dueling style gods Betsy Bloomingdale and Leigh Bowery. I had no choice but to wear it.
– James St. James