The Mo', the Merrier!

I can’t act. I’ve tried. Friends have asked me to appear in productions and it’s never been a good idea. Oh, I can throw a star fit and I can be all the degrees of me. I just don’t understand the craft.

My very good friend Mo Fischer understands the craft. Mo is very learned in the skill of acting and has been acting on stage and screen for many years. I got to know Mo when she lived in New York while she was lighting up numerous stages performing as Mo B. Dick, World Class Entertainer,a rakish yet affable dude. Well-known as a Drag King performer, Mo was featured as ‘T-Bone’ in the John Waters’ movie Pecker. Always wishing to express fluidity with gender, Mo performs as a woman as well (of course). She appeared as Irma in the movie Hair Burners and she appeared in Girl Gang 2000, directed by Katrina Del Mar.

In a new venture, Mo is reprising her role as Mo B. Dick. She is currently creating ‘webisodes’ in which she portrays numerous characters, such as Joelle, a diner waitress prone to giving sage advice, along with Florence, Mo B. Dick’s ex-girlfriend, and Pedro, who is devoted to Joelle. These ‘webisodes’ do not have a title quite yet (I suggested As the Mo Turns, but to find out more about these episodes and view them, please sign up for Mo B. Dick’s fan page on Facebook.  

Mo has moved to the Los Angeles area to be closer to the movie industry. I love it when I get to see Mo during her East Coast visits. She is also passionate about fashion in a very unassuming manner. It is an extension of who she is. I always learn fantastic and stylish fashionable things to do from Mo. Here is my cherished friend Mo Fischer, lending her expressiveness to Subject Eye.

The footloose and fantastic Mo Fischer!

What were you thinking?

I had a plan that centered around the hat. I wanted to be festive, comfortable and warm.

List of items you are wearing in your photo:

Hat: my hat is a one of a kind. It is a red 45 rpm by Graham Parsons and the Rumors of  ‘Soul Shoes b/w White Honey (live)’ produced by Nick Lowe. It has some royal blue netting and some black, red, and tiger tail feathers.

Dress: a Goodwill find. It was a long dress, but I cut it for a Dolly Parton performance I was doing. I just cut it short to get more wear from it.

Shoes: blue glitter mules from Betsey Johnson that a friend gave to me. She found them at a thrift store for 5 dollars.

Leg warmers: these are my ‘skull’ leg warmers. I’m wearing them for comfort.

Favorite music played while getting dressed:

I listen to Howie Pyro’s pod cast radio show Intoxica on LuxuriaMusic.com. He plays obscure Rockabilly.  

Your inspirations: icons, fictional characters, shapes, eras?

Vintage images and clothing. I reconfigure it into something more than what it is. I love 1950s and 60s fashion, but I never replicate it perfectly.I mix it up and make it me.

 Mo's 45 rpm record hat,with netting & feathers.

Shopping tactics:

Thrift stores and resale shops. I’ll envision something that I need, like a good black sweater. Then I’ll find one that is encrusted with Swarovski crystals.

Avoidance tactics:

I never shop retail.

Do you Rock, shock or think about matching socks?

I rock. But I’ve been known to shock. I have a strapless and ‘ass-less’ black dress that I wore once to a party. People were gagging! (laughs)

How do you keep or lose your figure?

I’ve got good genes. And I don’t eat bad foods. If I can’t pronounce it, I don’t eat it.

Do you think you're sexy?

Yes. I’m Year of the Snake in Chinese Horoscope. (Note: people born under the Year of the Snake are sensual, love new ideas and are innovative in thought and action. They are also concerned with their appearance and are enigmatic.)

What do you collect? 

I don’t really collect anything. No, I collect vintage dinnerware.

Are you designer label happy?

No, I’m not a label person. I cut them out.

If you could be reincarnated as a piece of clothing, what would you be?

Something designed Bob Mackie worn by Cher or Mitzi Gaynor.

Is your skin in? (what is your skin care regimen, if any?)

I use Clarins Skincare.

         

A night to remember or forget regarding your clothing:

A night to remember: I was singing at the club Squeezebox in NYC. I was wearing a leopard suit that someone made for me, Fluevog creepers and a burgundy shirt. I had my gold tooth in and a high blond pompadour. And in the audience I saw John Waters! One recent Halloween I went to a party with a literal Picasso face. My features were askew and painted on; my nose was to the left and my mouth was to the right. I had lashes only on the bottoms of my eyes and I wore a black ‘Bob’ style wig with asymmetrical side lengths. I wore a short black dress with a trompe l’oeil necklace on it. I also wore sexy Agent Provocateur black bra and panty set and orange fishnet stockings.

Any advice for future generations?

Don’t follow fashion. Don’t wear labels. Use duct tape and safety pins.

        

Past, current or future projects?        

My past big project was 'The International Drag King Tour' that toured throughout the U.S. and Canada. Presently, I work as a performance artist in LA and NY. I’m always creating different projects. And in the future, I would love to do a one-person show. I’m so fluid with gender. I could become whatever character, either male or female. That’s my dream. I'm currently writing for my soon to be released 'webisodes'.

         

Keith Sheaffer, Mo and artist Veronica Cross at my art opening 'That Summer Feeling'.

Mo as 'The World Class Entertainer' Mo B. Dick.

Your Right to Be Married, My Right to Be Envious

Whoever you are, you should have the right to get married. And these two questions should not exist: Is he out or is he in? Is she out or is she in? And I’m not talking about a Project Runway query. I’m referring to what is known as ‘the closet’. The closet sounds like and awful place to exist. I know I hated being locked in a closet when I was a child (child rearing certainly has changed since my day), but you know I’m not speaking of a literal closet. The world can be a dangerous place, and being in a closet may be the safest place to remain (though how sad that there’s not enough respect and compassion in the world engineered the reasons for the closet). But there is certainly not enough room in most closets for a wedding. Everyone has the right to be married. 

Just don't ask me whether someone is straight or gay. Someone recently asked me this question as the beginning of a conversation about a mutual acquaintance. This was not a good idea. I find it rather distasteful to inquire whether someone is gay or straight. I absolutely do not care about anyone’s sexual preference or proclivity (within the consenting adult arena of behaviors). If you are looking for the answer because you wish to date a specific person, may I suggest presenting a ‘calling card’ with your name, phone number and your most recent DSM IV-Revised psychological assessment, and then strike up a conversation. I guess I’m a bit old fashioned.

But if your date progresses and you both develop to a desire to marry, I am passionate about the right to marry no matter how your choice of a mate’s genitals are configured (or not). As you know readers, I have never been married. And yes, I wish to be. Maybe the desire to be married should be part of a diagnostic tenet for an aggregate of mental illnesses in the DSM IV- Revised. But it is not as of yet. So whoever you are, if you are planning future nuptials whether you are gay or straight, I hate you. Well, I don’t hate you. I’m just envious. Whoever you are I support you, as I expect you support my vacuous desire to get attention for a day from all my friends while I march around before them in a fabulous ‘couture for the occasion’ dress.

What I wore in Ouarzazate...
(For Johnathan Arnold, ErikTLA and Josie Marode)

When traveling, I always try to remember the Girl Scout motto “Be prepared.” (Of course I was a Girl Scout, couldn’t you tell?) But what does one wear when one is completely stranded in northern Africa at the base of the Atlas Mountains, between Marrakech and Ouarzazate, in one hundred degree plus weather?

I can answer this. First, let me give you the backstory: I was on tour in the mid-1980s with Madonna. The last stop of this promotional quick tour brought us to Paris.  

So, it was thrilling for me to go to Paris for a job. I’ve always loved Paris, and I adored my job, which was being a back-up dancer and designer for my friend, who was then beginning her music career. We were booked to stay at the extremely luxurious Hotel Le Meurice. I loved walking around Paris all day in my extreme self-produced fashions. I spent my per diem for perfume at Chanel and ordered obscure crustaceans (well, obscure for an American) at La Coupole.  I returned to my suite and was greeted by the news that we would were extending the tour and going to Morocco.

Morocco! How exciting and what a great opportunity. We were going to shoot a promotional video for the song “Holiday” to be aired on European television. An executive from the French office of Warner Bros. had come up with an idea that included getting us all to the oasis town of Ouarzazate, where we’d be driven around on the sand, in a car, by the winner of the French Grand Prix auto race, because we were, um- on a holiday. It was a simpler time and 1980s music videos really reflect this.  

Marrakech was incredible, so stunningly hot and exotically beautiful. I had never felt anything so hot as the sun in Morocco beating down on my skin. After a couple of restful days in this amazing paradise, we were split into two groups, boarded mini buses and headed south for Ouarzazate. I was grateful that I could remain with my friends, but not so happy about our travel accommodations. The bus looked as if it got lent to us from the “Putt-Putt” mini golf course and, true to first impression, broke down completely as it climbed the first challenging incline.

This was in the time before we were all attached to our iPhones and lap top computers. There was no way to reach, well, anyone. We were on the side of a mountain with no food and no communication, although fortunately we did have some water.

 “American Express won’t help you now, Madonna.” “Fuck you, Rika” was her reply. I did deserve that response. My comment was rather callous, considering we were truly stranded somewhere in the Atlas Mountain range. Our party of three ex-professional dancers, one charming blond artist-road manager, a couple of French record company employees hired to accompany an up and coming pop singer were useless in the desert with a broken down mini bus. I remember seeing part of the engine lying in the middle of the dirt road. This is never a good sign.

I took a little walk along the road. I saw nothing but a glorious and expansive desert, some extremely thirsty looking shrubbery and amethyst stones. Someone had the plan that we should hitch a ride on the first vehicle we saw, which numbered none in 3 hours. Finally, a friendly goat trucker stopped and offered to take us as far as he could. We piled into that musky truck, grateful for a ride anywhere. I recall thinking that I wasn’t dressed in my best back-of-goat-truck fashion, as I was wearing shorts. Bare legs felt so wrong. I was not prepared.

Our benevolent driver came to the end of his journey near remarkable Bedouin camp with a giant tent at its center. Madonna and I were the only women. But these men were focused on their respite from hard work and desert travel. They barely noticed us. There was a large cauldron of goat head soup that we were kindly offered. “Don’t you dare declare you are a vegetarian, Madonna!” For once she listened to me. We drank tea and marveled at how large the full orange moon looked as it shone above the dark, seemingly purple sand.

After navigating scorpions and bargaining with another trucker to drive us to our destination, we finally reached Ouarzazate. We were all exhausted, dehydrated and not speaking to each other.

The resort was stunning. It was completely isolated, far from any other building or dwelling. It felt like … an oasis. But we were all too bitter to enjoy it and opted to just shoot the video by the pool, which was just like any other pool except it was in the middle of a desert. We had traveled all that distance just to dance in front of a pool that could have been at the Marriott Marquis in Time Square.

Here I am, along with Chris Ciccone and Madonna in a promotional video for Holiday. And here is what I wore in Ouarzazate:

(This video was posted on YouTube by Fabricio 2534)

It’s Smart to Art!

Last week there was an array of art openings and art fairs in NYC. It’s such a great time to attempt to see everything. I say attempt, because there are not enough hours in the day (or space in the mind) to see it all. There’s the Whitney Biennial, the ADAA Art Fair, The Armory Show (which has gotten so big these days that it must contain every piece of art on the planet), VIP, Scope, PooL, Volta and Fountain Art Fairs. There’s also the off the beaten path fairs like The Art Boat, The Outsider Art Chair and The Art Kiosk. OK, I made those up, but the Fountain Art Fair did start out on a boat. 

I love viewing art. I do like how art can transport you temporarily to another place. Sometimes the other place is a world I don’t understand, but I like traveling there none-the-less. I like that looking at art can open up a dialogue for discussion. Whether you think the work you are viewing is beautiful, worthy of ownership (even as a fantasy), or just a piece of shite, it’s good to keep the cognitive brain cells active. Remember, it is just an opinion, unless it is your art.  

A few years ago, I was the curator of an exhibition that I titled Beauty Nothing More than the Promise of Happiness. The quote is from On Love by the 19th century French writer Stendhal. The book is a bit pithy, but I find in that sentiment a deceptively simple description of the art viewer’s potential reward. I hope you can find the time to look at some art and find some enchantment or happiness. 

 From The Whitney Biennial 2012:

One of the fantastic paintings by French artist Nicole Eisenman.

Another painting by Nicole Eisenman ( Leo Koenig, Inc.)

'From The Canyons to the Stars' by Joanna Malinowska (Saatchi Gallery).

 A live performance by the artist Dawn Kasper.

Erika Belle and Brian Batista at The Whitney Biennial preview.

From Rammellzee-The Equation,The Letter Racers:

Part of the installation by Rammellzee at the Suzanne Geiss Company.

 A painting by the late artist, actor and musician Rammellzee.

From The Fountain Art Fair:

I really wanted to buy this drawing, but alas...sigh.

One of the many small paintings by Brian Leo.

The "imploding biomorphic imagery" of Margaret Withers.

Something to Declare

I won’t be going to Paris Fashion Week this season. It is extremely saddening. Life and its sometimes spirit crushing realities can be sobering. There are many who for some reason love viewing sports. For me, going to Paris is akin to what it must be like to watch the Super Bowl if you happen to be a football fan. Except with better clothes and food. 

When I pack my suitcase for Paris Fashion Week, I include the clothes I feel I can’t get away with in New York. Nothing is too colorful, too sheer or too long for Paris. Nothing is too cumbersome. If it fits into a garment bag, I say, “Allons-y!”

I adore watching who gets seated where and wondering how the famous and powerful never seem bothered by the blinding brightness from the flash of the 200+ cameras aimed at their faces. Sitting nearby as high-powered fashion editors burst into tears, overcome by the beauty before them (as they did at McQueen’s A/W 2006 “Widows of Culloden” collection and Yohji Yamamoto S/S 1999 “Wedding” collection), is certainly a sight to see.

A look from Alexander McQueen's iconic A/W 2006 'Widows of Culloden' collection. Photo by Erika Belle

Only Lee McQueen would place handmade lace atop reindeer antlers. From 'Widows of Culloden'. Photo by Erika Belle

There’s all sorts of entertainment. You might get to witness grand buffoonery such as John Galliano rolling down the staircase of the Paris Opera after showing his collection (he gave another performance, not so well received, but you all know about that). You also may witness the New York Times “On the Street” photographer Bill Cunningham completely ignoring a parade of French starlets at the Issey Miyake show, his attention focused instead on a young woman entering the show in a lavender velvet cape.

No matter which show you attend, the energy in the room is palpable. Everyone is there to witness something new. You find yourself squinting and saying things to yourself like “I wonder if Catherine Deneuve is going to the after-party too?” I don’t know about you, but it is rare for me to be in a room with Catherine Denueve when she is in the 3rd dimension.

A paused moment from Yohji Yamaoto's A/W 2007 collection. Photo by Erika Belle.

And now for the motorized twirling polka dot skirts at the Yohji Yamamoto show- A/W 2007. Photo by Erika Belle. 

You have to get used to the downtime before the shows begin. The waits can sometimes be long, but keep in mind that once the shows starts, they’re over in twenty minutes, max. And it’s worth it. When you see the clothes emerging, straight out if the gate, you really feel a connection. Fashion can very often seem frivolous, but to see it in a grand production does something to you. It changes your DNA. You may be merely looking at clothes, but if all the elements line up correctly, you get to witness and feel the energy of something truly wonderful being born. 

Fresh from the gate: A look emerging at the Yohji Yamamoto A/W 2011 show. Photo by Erika Belle. 

 Erika Belle after the Yohji Yamamoto show in Paris 2011.

Click here to see the complete Alexander McQueen 'Widows of Culloden' show.

Below: from Yohji Yamamoto's S/S 1999 'Wedding' show (video by FBK1976) 

‘Tis A Gift To Be Simple

I find that I can only truly be at ease within the confines of clean and spare spaces. I find peace of mind when surrounded by, well, almost nothing. And not only do I love empty spaces, I find that I’m rather fond of very simple shapes.

I wish I could live in squalor. It must be so relaxing to not care about colors matching or whether food hits the wall or the floor when you throw the remains of a meal bits toward the trash can. You and your lounging filth will live a long and unfettered life.

I also wish I had the gene that allows you to decorate an abode with abandon. Or the gene that allows one to easily choose a toothbrush. I have to first ask myself questions like, “can I really commit to this shade of orange for three months or will these bristles clash with the striation of color in my bathroom tiles?” I guess I’m pretty high strung. I do know this. I realize I’m a Paxil cocktail with a chaser of Valium situation waiting to happen.

I take comfort when surrounded with examples of basic Euclidian geometric forms. When I recently attempted to furnish my apartment I found it very difficult. It took me a few months to see that everything I purchased was based on a square, circle or rectangle. The Marcel Wanders couch that I was so proud of was, to the eye, a perfect gathering of rectangular planes. The spines of books in the shelves and the Pablo Pardo Cortina lamp: more rectangles. Plates and bowls: circles and spheres. The Warhol silkscreen: a perfect square. Perhaps I’m ready to take over the ‘shapes’ lesson for a kindergarten class.

It may not take a lot of imagination, but it takes a lot of fortitude to maintain this sort of tight aesthetic discipline. Don’t get me wrong, I love having my things about, I just don’t want to have to see them at all. I realize that it is wonderful to be able to have things, but one needs to be wealthy enough to hire architects to make your things disappear from sight.

I used to think that it would be great to own a castle and fill it with it with all kinds of art, fine furnishings and other Regency trappings. Now I know that if you are mega rich, you may own a copious amount of choice things, but they are never all on display. The wealthy showcase a beautifully encased and extremely enormous amount of void.

Any fool with money can purchase a real Louis VXI chair, but it takes some smarts to be able to hire an architect like Zaha Hadid or Carlos Zapata to design an amazing structure for you to live in so that your chair and all the other lovely things you own can disappear. 

 Thermoplastic molded room designed by Zaha Hadid for the Hotel Puerto America.

A view from Philip Johnson's Glass House with furniture by Mies Van der Rohe.

The kitchen in Klaus Biesenbach's apartment that was 'altered' by a visiting friend. Photo by Tony Cenicola-The New York Times.

Diggin’ Degen!

I met with the charming Lindsay Degen late last week. It was a couple of days before her first full ready-to-wear presentation was to take place. As we had a talk about everything under the sun I realized that, considering she was in preparation for her fashion show, she was rather calm. When asked about not having pre first collection jitters, she stated that “the show will be great and everything is under control”.

And it was. The Lindsay Degen F/W ’12 knitwear collection ASK TELL was held in the West Village on Wednesday, and the tone was set as models took the stage to the sound of the New York Dolls’ Personality Crisis.

One of the knitwear looks: Degen F/W '12. Makeup by Jessica Berndt for Lime Crime.

Lindsay (who studied at RISD and is a graduate of Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design, London) decided to call her collection Ask Tell as a celebration of the repeal of the Clinton-era military policy of Don’t ask, Don’t tell. She was inspired by imagery from the military, particularly the WWI Modernist artists that developed the patterns used for what we now recognize as camouflage. Lindsay used elements from these patterns to create multi-textural knit designs.

This season, Degen was a collaborative effort with a group of artisans, including a photographer, architect, milliner (Mischa Lampert), potter, jeweler, and cobbler (that’s right, there are knitted shoes!) Lindsay wanted to make sure this collaboration was fun, so she and her united team created something that combined a love of the DIY aesthetic with the coherence and execution of an established brand. 

The beautiful and talented Lindsay Degen. 

Two looks from the Degen collection inspired by WWI 'Dazzle Ships'.

Leggings and Camouflage platform sneakers.

Camo Hunters Hat, Porthole Tee, and Crocheted Nipples.

Sweater details and sneakers designed by Chris Coulthrust.

A hat by Mischa Lampert and a necklace by Katelin Gibbs.

Knitted shoes: A mirthful creation by Lindsay Degen and Chris Coulthrust.