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.

Aussies are mad.

I met a lot of very interesting people in NY, but one that sticks out in my mind is my friend the Aussie. All around the world I run into Aussie’s and although they are a completely hidden minority, they are always the craziest, most fun, and frankly quite insane people I have met. They drink the longest, party the hardest, smile the biggest, and laugh the loudest. I can only imagine what being in a country full of them is like.

This particular girl from down under is Tallulah. She is a riot, and a completely lovely person. We met in Paris, under circumstances of utter debauchery and quite frankly alcoholism (See the post: My Girl Likes To Party All The Time), and caught up in NY where those same circumstances were in full swing. Staying beautiful after drinking nearly 1L of vodka only hours before, and not sleeping is no easy task. But I think she pulls it off.

Tallulah Morton, She Is Nicotine.

Midnight Haircuts.

Those bangs didnt stand a chance.

The booze is fast flowing, and the liquid libation has loosened up both tongue and mind. You start to run your fingers through your hair, been drenched, and begin to notice a series of flaws that you never noticed in the sober realm. Upon further inspection, and a few more bottles of the brown stuff, you grow to sorta hate the way your hair looks. With no mirror other then your clouded brain you long to hack at it until it feels just right to your fingers. And then you remember, you are in the house that hair and makeup built. In a veritable temple of tactility, you realize that the man across from you, although barely able to stand, is a qualified hairdresser. So you instruct him in your most ladylike voice to “Give me a fucking haircut”. And although his good buddy Vic is weighing heavily on his mind, he goes at it like its 12pm, not 12am, like hes stone cold sober, not sweat hot drunk. And that ladies and gents is how one goes about a Midnight Haircut.

The lovely lady going at her bangs with a straight bladed razer is none other then the awesome Janelle. You may recognize her from that series of super fun Belvedere vodka ads alongside another midnight avenger Mr. Terry R. Any girl who can look devilishly innocent while holding a straight-blade is alright by me.

Janelle with a razer and a midnight haircut, She Is Nicotine.

Miss, I love your shape.

This girl is quite a piece of work. Not only is she really fun, but she was also incredibly interesting to talk to and hang with. Yes of course I’m talking about Leigh Lazark, 1/3 of the party trio the Misshapes. I snapped this backstage at the Jeremy Scott show, while the mad japarazzi was mobbing Kanye and his little lady. So me and Leigh got to know one another. You can’t see it in the picture but dear Leigh was nursing a fashion related injury. You see while skating at the V-man party in NYC the week before she injured her finger. But she didn’t let that stop her from being fabulous in Paris, what a trooper. Oh, the hazards of fashion. Leigh’s seem to be taking over, oh well I love the name.

Leigh Lezark, She Is Nicotine.