Weeks of Fashion.

The season is once again upon us. The fashion world comes out in full force for the celebration of Fall and Winter. The big four cities loom large and bright, two down and two to go. I decided to showcase these big, busy, beautiful, boisterous, days as seen through my eyes. I hoped to catch a slightly more playful, less rigid tale of what we call Fashion Week. It’s a gathering of the community, a time to come together and bask in all that we are. To laugh, cry, run, dance, get dressed up, get dressed down and whizz through a week that feels like a year. Heres the first taste of the NYC installment, the last one ever in Bryant Park. Stay tuned for where the rest of the photos are ending up, it will be a pleasant surprise…

Big hair and even bigger personality, That Is Nicotine. Amanda Nørgaard embodying all those things and more, She Is Nicotine.

Photo Show.

Space. The final frontier. I am putting together a new photo show as we speak, and wanted to give a little teaser. I’m pretty excited, I mean space is rad. And beautiful eyes are rad. Click on the photo… Why not get the best of both worlds? Girl Lost In Space, She Is Nicotine.

The New Year.

The year came to a close with the sky exploding in competition with a million corks. Bright lights that put a glowing city to shame, as the sky blushed a maroon red. We all kissed the night away amid the slish-slosh of sipping lips, and locked tongues with the dying of another day. A special day that dies but once a year as a phoenix rises from the ashes, 2010 phoenix’s in fact. And amid the exploding comes another kind, an explosion of reflections. Oh what a year its been, the world has gotten smaller, and yet so much larger at the same time. New friends and old alike in love and life have a laugh with me. Because its only going to get better. So peace to all and one alike, and lets have the best “New Year” of our lives. A beautiful girl wishing us peace? That Is Nicotine. Behati Prinsloo? She Is Nicotine. And a New Year to inspire and love and be inspired and be loved, That Most Certainly Is Nicotine

Anyway that you want it.

I don’t normally make musical posts but I cant get enough. I mean its the philosophy of my life. You can have it anyway that you want it.

Time goes by…

There is this thing called time. This constant in life that never pauses never stops and never sleeps. It doesn’t care if you are rich or poor. It doesn’t care if you are strong or weak. It doesn’t care if you are old or young. It treats everybody as equals and just keeps on moving. Running towards some goal that we all may never understand but wish we did. It scares people because they have no control over it. It makes them desperately run in the other direction on a moving sidewalk that has no end. And they hid their faces from it when it stares at them from the little places it likes to hide. But I say a pox on that. Look time in the face and smile, grab its hand and go dancing with it, bring it along with you as you live your life to the fullest and never turn away. And remember to always take it. Take some time, or otherwise the world will just run right on by you. So the next time you roll out of bed, stand with your back to the sun and feel the warmth run through your body. And take all the time you need.

Heres to taking time. And heres to oversized sweaters and the beautiful girls who wear them. This lovely lady is Mara, and I think she wears it well. Both the sweater and time. She Is Nicotine.

Breakfast, and a concert.

There is a time, not inclined to say when but let it be known that the sun is waiting in the wings for its grand entrance, that the stomach begins a rumbling. The champagne has been slish-shloshing in your stomach from all the two stepping. And when you added Mr. Petron to the mix the dance party got a little too friendly in the tummy. So you embark on what can only be described as a vision quest. Hurtling through the New York dawn, you begin to see visions of bacon and eggs in the sky. Arriving at none other then a restaurant that caters to the party set, whose doors never close, and it smells of delicious food at both reasonable and un-reasonable times. The latter being the time we choose.

But when coming straight from the ruckus that is the dancefloor, and not having slept, one can not expect to simply sit at a table and delicately eat as if it were your mothers table. No no. These sorts of breakfasts require a different delicacy. They require that you bring your own speakers, and have an impromptu hip hop concert served to you amid the eggs and waffles and bacon. And of course, you don’t stop dancing.

Early morning meals, right after late morning adventures, where you turn a quiet restaurant into the club you just left and don’t care? That Is Nicotine.

Hawaiian reunion in the big city? That Is Nicotine.

Rain upon the marble lawn.

If the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane, then the rain in Paris falls just about everywhere else. It was on such a day that the Valentino show for fall winter happened to occur. Initially it seemed to put a damper on the mood, and the excited atmosphere was rather subdued. But that lasted only a minute. Because in Paris, even the rain is beautiful. It pelted down on the marble etched ground, making it shine and shimmer. From across the great space, the Eiffel tower peeked out from behind the gloom, to remind us all where it was we were. Two sets of stick thin legs decided to challenge the tower to a battle of height and poise. Although it still loomed large behind them, two gorgeous mannequins made it seem a little smaller. And made the day seem a little brighter.

Impromptu photo ops making dreary days seem lighter? That Is Nicotine.

Pylon Paradigm.

The world always tells us to stop. To think things through. To analyze before you realize. To look both ways before you cross the street. Someone is always putting a pylon in our path, and telling us to take another route. How will you achieve anything at all if you don’t just take the mental leap. Success is not out of arms reach, people are just far to scared to extend their arms for it. I often find people waiting around for something to happen but not actually taking the time to make it happen. JUST DO IT. Have the corporate gods not hammered the slogan into your head enough. JUST FUCKING DO IT.  Will you sometimes fall? Yes. Will you bruise your knees? Yes. May you sometimes get hit by a proverbial bus? Probably. But at least you stepped off a sidewalk crowded with the bahing sheep of everyday life. 

So pick up the fucking pylon, and tell them to go to hell, you are gonna drive down the road anyway. You just probably wont look as good as these two doing it.

Girls having a pylon fight at 3am on route to a second club after a cab ride spent chugging “water”? They Are Nicotine.

 

Summertime, and the livings easy.

Summertime has come again. It’s time for patios, and laying in parks. For beautiful girls, and tanned skin. For sunglasses that fill up faces, and shorts that barely exist. For long bike rides where there is no destination in mind, only you always know your going to end up somewhere. For going places alone, and finding friends who like you, congregate where the sun is the brightest. For sipping Yarrito’s in the back of pickup trucks, and holding cool drinks to hot necks, shivering and laughing the whole time. For pool hopping, and outdoor parties.  And midday debauchery. Always midday debauchery. Who says you can’t drink before noon?

Its summer, and summer Is Nicotine.

Purple is the new Black.

One of my favourite fashion magazines has got to be Purple. Since it’s inception, Purple Fashion Magazine has been offering readers countless iconic shots and interesting takes on popular themes. Always pushing the envelope, Purple has worked closely with some of the fashion industries bad boys, like Terry Richardson for instance. I have always admired the grittyness of Purple, and a lot of that due to this man, editor and founder, Olivier Zahm. He recently launched a blog in conjunction with the magazine called Purple Diary (http://www.purple-diary.com/)

I took this shot of Olivier in the Tuileries following the Dior show. We walked and chatted about film and all things beautiful. He left on his scooter, the epitome of la vie en France.

Olivier Zahm Is Nicotine.

Purple Fashion Magazine Is Nicotine.