Day: April 10, 2011

Bossypants

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Blacklight: <picks up book from couch> “Isn’t this that lady who married that crazy religious guy with a talk show?”

Me: <cramming candy in mouth> “What the frosted pop tart are you babbling about?”

Blacklight: <hold out book> “You know…that lady…”

Me <brain sparking to life> “Do you mean Tammy Faye Bakker?” <Blacklight nods>  “But that’s Tina Fey….” <cue Blacklight looking blank> “Saturday Night Live? 30 Rock?” <Blacklight stills looks blank>

Yup, that’s my Blacklight! How you can confuse a woman who wore almost as much makeup as as Bozo the Clown and Boy George with Tina Fey I’ll never know. Maybe it’s that Tammy Faye and Tina Fey both have T and F in their names. Beats me. You’d think someone who spends the bulk of his time watching videos on Hulu and YouTube would recognize Tina Fey. Then again, this IS Blacklight we’re talking about. And his mind is a wondrous and weird place. Now Tina Fey’s mind? Also wondrous and weird but in a different way.

Bossypants is isn’t a strict biography. It’s one of those comedic memoirs where you learn a little about their past (and yes she mentions THE SCAR SITUATION-Gwen is a moron aside I never realized she had a scar on her face until I read about it in magazine article-wonder what that says about me if Tina Fey’s scar is some sort of facial Rorschach test), how they became a success and their BIG PROJECT. So you find out a) Tina’s dad is total Clint Eastwood Do F*** With Him Badass b) she was a theater nerd c) kinda resembled one of your friends from high school if you’re our (late 30/early 40s) age d) Alec Baldwin Alec Baldwin Alec Baldwin and d) Don Fey is a Bad Ass M-F’er.

It’s like your life and work and family only your office hunk ISN’T Alec Baldwin (I know I know I know). Stuff happens to Tina. Hello cruise ship trip from hell. Hello can’t find the Peter Pan plates for your kid’s birthday party. Hello bad haircuts. You know, stuff that can happen to anyone (except that Alec Baldwin thing…yes Blacklight…chunky Alec Baldwin is a babe, now go watch Wrestlemania VIVIVI or something okay?).

Oh and spoiler for the last chapter…She IS…lucky bish!

Blow By Blow: The Story of Isabella Blow

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

If you read about/worship/are part of a certain level of the fashion world, you know who Isabella Blow is. If you’re trolling the racks at T.J. Maxx or choosing between the different fits of Faded Glory jeans at Wal-mart chances are excellent you don’t know who Isabella Blow. And if you’re Blacklight you pick up Blow By Blow from the dining room table and ask why the person on the cover looks like they belong on “that weird drag queen show you watch…how come every one on there is gay?”<cue RuPaul’s head EXPLODING from the sheer derp> .

Isabella Blow was a creature that didn’t belong in our time or place. Perhaps it’s best to imagine her in the 1920s Paris, having tea with Chanel herself or in the 1930s having Elsa design an amazing dress. A person who loves fashion so much and walked about sporting extreme hats is in the wrong time and place.

Besides cover art and a title that jumps of the shelf Blow By Blow is the attempt of a grieving husband to explain and make sense of his late wife’s life. Isabella Blow’s life at any point could have come straight from a book. Her early years as a peer’s eldest daughter have a Barbara Pym meets Angela Thirkell meets Barbara Vine meets Nancy Mitford quality. Her early American years a Pat Booth bonkbuster (Pat Booth author of Palm Beach/creator of Her Highness Lisa The White Trash With The Conical Tits and Heart-Shaped Ass). Her New York years a Tama Janowitz story, her London years a Wendy Holden novel with a dark turn.

But the reader needs to be careful before jumping in. If you don’t have pre-existing knowledge of the fashion world of the 1980 onward or easily understand the world of the English peer you’re going to have a rough time reading. If you skew Blacklight (nerd boy who worships Stephen R. Donaldson) put down the book and walk away. But if you’re more girl Anglophile me, give it a try. The lady under the hats was as extreme as her clothes and just as fragile.