Ok, so I have no clue what the fuck is being said in this Cafe Mode post. Actually that’s not strictly true, it’s got something to do with Le Festival de Hyères 2008 and featured in the frame below, Louise est étudiante en histoire de l’Art.

Even Westwood as a reject everything, and fuck what I don’t know can get the fucking skinny from that. And knowing that Louise is a History of Art student is enough, you see the mechanics of life are hidden within paying attention to such details. I know a little about Art, but not enough to be interesting… what is interesting though is that on the way to catch a train out of Florence I decided that ‘one simply must’ visit the Uffizi, so myself and the betty I was with, scampered through the gallery until we stood before the Birth Of Venus in genuine awe. Can you say you have experienced awe, fuck off can you. Unless you’ve stood before that painting sweating and breathing like you just made the beast with two backs, back to back or witnessed the birth of a child, and I mean smelt placenta, you haven’t got a fucking idea. We then bolted back through the gallery and collapsed on the right side of sliding doors in a train station, and looked at one another forever changed. True story. That is why Louise with those impossibly hip heels, barely hidden getaway sticks and glasses that make all the cool kids go ‘you fly’ would dig everything STNF.

Enjoy…

Confessions of a Casting Director threw up these images of the bohemian blonde Noot Seear, allegedly just because Noot was off to fit right in with that hippy fucking vibe at Coachella.

The point is that Noot is called Noot, and that is a name to get your braces bouncing around your ass. Stick it on a 5′ 9 1/2″ Star type and you’ve got someone who’ll spin the boys about so much as to make them thoroughly fucking lost.

So get all Carole King for Noot.

A load of these Hedi Slimane burns have appeared all over the place. Someone over at foto_decadent threw up a few and I caught the image below which I’d not previously seen.

Anyway it gives me an excuse to promote the idea of skinny rock betty’s photographed well as being something that will never fade away. That is definitely a ‘good times’ of INXS and Jimmy Barnes proportions because this is STNF’s heart and flesh.

I said in a previous post the I was going to discuss Fashion Toast, however, I can’t be fucked right now.

Instead, I want to allude briefly to her girl crush on Clemence Poesy, purely because Poesy can do the Shit Threads look to the finer detail. Something the vast proportion of this world can’t, because they dyslexic when it comes to getting dressed. I was going to trawl for burns, but Fashion Toast saved me the trouble, what a help.

mashKULTURE exposes more of Neighborhood’s Delta collection. There is a trend of excellence in these tees, be sure to avoid the cliche’s and hit the tees with the photo prints, quality on your chest and across your blades.

I would feature the tees that I’m talking about, but you’re enough of lug to be able to work it out and besides this image from the Neighborhood site is too hip to resist.

mashKULTURE featured the glorious Zoo York decks that make up the Urbane Jungle.

Six boards each sucking in and pushing out the concepts of Art, Literature, Architecture, Tourism, Transit and Food. It all sounds queer as fuck in concept alone, yet Mark Owen and Matt Owen have done hell of a job and each is dripping hip.

Part of me knows though that a fuck in a suit will buy the whole half dozen and put them on the wall of his expensive replacement for a soul apartment as a sign of how he’s still holding his own in popular culture. How much does that guy deserve a fucking shoeing.

Murry’s Bagels must be pretty fucking good, tempting Suzanne Diaz to perch on his window bench.

The Glossy refers to her as being “as cute as a button”? Are we looking at the same piece of Polaroid?! Ok, she’s paid to fucking pout, but their ain’t much cute going on, coy maybe? Marginally dipped head, eyes forced to look up, mouth fractionally agape. Come on, that ain’t cute, that’s the basics of sultry, and like a professional, she’s making that camera and most of the patrons of Murray’s-fucking-Bagels sing sweetly.

Recommended to me a long time ago by a layered piece of cute in Nike Air Max, because it made one of my former lecturers (a leading and published authority on Tarantino nonetheless) cry like a baby, Now, Voyager is almost perfect… you need to know nothing more than, “don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.”

You don’t have to be STNF to realise this is fucking maverick with a capital ace!

Nipped away from foto_decadent via fashion toast (more on her some other time…).

Noir-ish and superb to the last, yet unfortunately tarnished due to the extreme difficultly for a viewer to get past Soderbergh’s persistence in using The Good German to let all watching be abundantly clear that he has indeed seen movies such as The Third Man and Casablanca, well done Stevie!