Sie heißt Neverfull, die neue Tasche für LV. Sie also niemals voll. Das ist gut...

Bild. Sofia Coppola

Air's "Kelly Watch the Stars".

PS. Am I the only one doesn't get the Michael Phelps hype? Dude has a tiny head. Like really tiny-- part of me wants to say it's because swimmers have such broad shoulders, and a result his head might look abnormally diminutive in comparison as a result-- but no, I think it really is just that small.
PPS. Nerd friends of mine might be impressed that Paul Cornell stopped by my shop today.  I'm going to say it right now that I was a little surly- blame it on the altitude here. Being nice takes up a lot of oxygen. Actually no, I was just tired and cranky from my other job. And the fact that my boss (well one of them, as I have multiple jobs) was micromanaging me. Paul, if you're reading this: Sorry. All and all, guess I have yet another name to cross off my list of people within the industry that I've met without even setting foot in a con (yet).

I'm on a coffee break with Oliver-the-Hipster and Skinny-Jean-the-Bisexual. And they're trying to impress each other by referencing obscure EPs, Jim Jarmusch, Polaroid cameras, I'm Not There and Sofia Coppola soundtracks.

This is a game of cultural literacy that you win by forcing the other player to admit they've never heard of the text in question -

Despite all the Hipster trappings, a Sofia Coppola soundtrack is a perfect marriage of mood and music.

Girls by Death in Vegas -- The minimal techno aesthetic exploits under stated development and suits the paired down, succinct nature of Coppola's plot and visual style.

City Girl by Kevin Shields -- There are no solid, clear chords -- just reverberation -- that carries you all the way to the stratosphere and beyond.

Just like Honey by The Jesus and Mary Chain -- The perfect companion to any urban environment, play it when your meditating on moments of loneliness or life itself.

Alone in Kyoto by Air -- Expresses the feeling of weightlessness you get when you're in a foreign country; the sense of discovery but also the solitude.

I've always remained at a distance to Lost in Translation because the film works like a mystery that slowly reveals itself. I've always thought that trying to write a review of it would be like trying to pin down a cloud. Hence why I use similes so often in this post, it's easier to compare it, than to state what it is. Although I've tried to argue that the film is about one thing, lets say Culture Shock, then it quickly retreats and becomes something else -

You know that ecstatic, tender sensation you receive when someone numbs your nipples with ice then gently massages them? If you don't have a partner willing to touch you in that sensitive area, listen to the Lost in Translation soundtrack. Let it insinuate upon your consciousness like a wave of ecstasy.

Amy Winehouse realizou show de 40 minutos, ao re-lançamento da Fendi emblemática da loja em Paris, no que viria a revelar-se uma das mais exclusivas mostra da temporada.

" Amy Winehouse e seu prefácio conjunto com uma declaração de renúncia, dizendo:

"Perdoa a minha ignorância, eu não sei nada sobre moda".

Ou não, a diva pode preferir uma  réplica de bolsas Fendi, ao contrario da coisa real, o que colocou em dúvida sua gratuidade pela empresa e está a havendo rumores de que houve uma pequena taxa para o seu desempenho na noite elegante da marca.
Com uma lista de convidados de cerca de 600 celebridades, na lista de convidados incluiu Jessica Alba, Sofia Coppola, Rihanna, Kanye West, Claudia Schiffer, Jade Jagger, Mila Jovovich, Mary-Kate e Ashley Olsen, Lou Doillon e Marisa Berenson.  Embora muitos desses grandes nomes são sem dúvida os fãs da marca Fendi, Winehouse desempenhou  um  papel fundamental para a grande influência de uma lista de celebridades.

O presidente da Louis Vuitton-Bernard Arnault e  Michael Burke-Fendi CEO acolheram o evento, juntamente com Silvia Venturini Fendi e Karl Lagerfeld-designers para Fendi Chanel e bolsas, respectivamente. O evento teve, sem dúvida o intuito de tornar ainda mais dinâmica a expansão dos rótulos, das bolsas Fendi , e o engraçado é que réplicas Fendi estão vendendo tão bem ou melhor do que qualquer  réplica do mercado.  Outras marcas líder no setor incluem Gucci, Chanel, Christian Dior e outras.
Estes rumores que estão rolando, podem ser a primeira de várias aparições de Winehouse em nome de grandes grifes.  Inicialmente, houve um boato de que ela estaria realizando um show para a Louis Vuitton (Fendi é uma filial da Moet Hennessey-Louis Vuitton), e muitos acreditam que é a indústria iniciando colaborações que podem lhes render belos frutos.
A respeito de sua modesta reivindicação de ser  uma GIRL moda-ignorante, Amy Winehouse desde seu "simples" estilo de vestir, como seu penteado colmeia ,fez dela uma das mais distintivas e reconhecíveis celebridades dos nossos dias.  Este, juntamente com a sua imensa popularidade fez dela um produto muito atraente para os grandes estilistas de luxo, e ambas as partes só podem servir para beneficiar o mercado.

Amy Winehouse embora não seja uma porta-voz oficial para qualquer designer de marca, seu vestuário e acessórios são tão bons, como referência para os principais estilistas.  Qualquer coisa que ela use, seja ela uma bolsa Chanel, Gucci bolsa, será inevitávelmente clicado pelos paparazzi e publicados em todo o mundo. Com esse tipo de publicidade gratuita em jogo, não se admira a Fendi e outras marcas estarem tentando desenvolver uma relação com a jovem artista.

Se Fendi pode se tornar sua marca preferida, não há qualquer dúvida que irá afetar diretamente a venda de bolsas Fendi e Fendi designer réplica bolsas ao redor do mundo.

I can’t imagine any Tokyo interior style but the ultra-sleek and modern, which was executed marvelously in Bob’s hotel room. Our local surroundings have an obvious effect on how we decide to design and I loved how the cityscape visible through the window popped out from the rest of the room almost like a painting. You can see the immense, bustling city, which is a wonder in and of itself, and the more delicate and quiet room that it inspired in the same field of view. It’s like listening to a piece of music and knowing exactly what the musician was thinking when he or she wrote the song.

I feel quite differently about the bar and lounge area where Bob and Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) meet for drinks. In that room I was struck by the contrast between the cold looking city and the warm, welcoming bar. The deep colors and velvety textures do a lot to warm up the room, and I think the candles placed under the opaque shades add a nice finishing touch.

The design themes presented in these pictures showcase the different ways interior designers can play off the contrast between indoor and outdoor environments. The first room focuses on modern style and the second exudes a more familiar classic approach.

Want to share your favorite design on film? Give it a try over at the RealTalkDesign.com forum.

"We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn't fathom them at all."

"At that moment Mr. Lisbon had the feeling that he didn't know who she was, that children were only strangers you agreed to live with..."

"We got to see how truly unimaginative our suburb was, everything laid out on a grid whose bland uniformity the trees had hidden, and the old ruses of differentiated architectural styles lost their power to make us feel unique."

Written by Jeffrey Eugenides (Same guy who did Middlesex)

Directed by Sophia Coppola

Music by Air (The Virgin Suicides)

With a title like the Virgin Suicides, who could resist from picking it up? The words themselves hold deep seated feelings from us: "virgin" invokes in us a sense of purity but also a lingering threat of being sullied and "suicide", for obvious reasons. Eugenides can really weave his stories, and part of the amazing writing and story is supported by his omnipotent narrators. The narrators are an ambiguous "We" who we can only imagine as a slew of neighborhood boys fascinated by the five golden goddesses of the Lisbon House (which is confirmed by the movie).

The books starts out with a punch to the gut, getting straight to the point. Five sisters, Lux, Therese, Mary, Bonnie, Cecilia, five deaths. We know they all suicide within the first paragraph, the narrator(s) tossing around their deaths like a casual and familiar topic. Their relationship is unique, the passion and obsession of Lolita: so physically and infuriatingly close, yet so unattainable. The boys/men treat and talk about these girls like goddesses, mysterious in the confines of their rigidly enforced house, ruled by a weak father and an overbearing matriarchal mother. Whenever the boys talk about them, you feel their sense of starry-eyed, time-slows-down feeling. The juxtaposition of normal life and suicides is jarring: as we read on about thesegirls, we are often stabbed with a sentence like "a few weeks before their deaths" or "before Mary stuck her head in the oven" interjected between the description of their dreams. Their story is told years after the girls' deaths, the narrators in their middle aged "soft bellies, thinning hair" woes recalling the events of that year. The whole book is spent trying to figure out why they did what they did, and trying to piece together who they were and who the sisters were. They hold interviews with the girls' brief encounters: one night stands, teachers, neighbors, anyone they could get their hands on. While interviewing those lucky enough to ever talk to them, they float between present tense and past tense smoothly, still very much infatuated with the girls that summer.

These girls touched on the oppressive social rules of suburbia, leading the boys to realize the banalities of their own lives. They are, after all, sitting around 20-30 years later reminiscing about the only summer that they consider important in their whole lives. A social commentary on the woes of teenage suburbia, The Virgin Suicides is a refreshing and elegant book that instills in us a little wonder and awe when we are tricked into conformity.

The movie captures the essence of the book, copycatting the same exact lines in the innocent voice of an adolescent boy. Reminiscent of American Beauty and The Hours, it is beautifully done with a rich suburbia infested by aimless adults and melancholy teenagers. It didn't make the book better, (like what The Hours did to Mrs. Dalloway and The Hours - the book) but it didn't make it worse either. It was right on target depicting the book, which is a difficult feat. The girls were beautiful and Kirsten Dunst does a great job of being the teasing, desperate Lux. The girls' acting, however, couldn't compare to the dopey boys who we see sitting forlornly in front of their house, fathoming what they could be doing aching to touch them. Highschool Lover by Air sets the melancholy atmosphere in a rich suburbia setting.

A particularly beautiful and touching scene that made the book come to life was the secret phone call composed entirely of music : a scene much harder to depict in a book. It was an unforgettable scene - love-sick boys slumped over a phone, picking out records: "So Far Away" while the depressed girls only a house away playing "Help!" . Three stars to you, girls and boys. Though I kept wondering why nobody just got off their depressed butts and went over to the house to rescue the girls. It wouldn't be as romantically depressing and suburban, I guess.

MA såg jag på bio först, och tyckte mycket om. Jag gillar stämningarna Coppola skapar. I början när MA som 17-åring tvingas lämna varenda liten sak från sitt tidigare liv när hon kliver in på fransk mark, till och med sin älskade hund. Det överdådiga och samtidigt flickaktiga. Hur de provar skor, går på maskeradparty, väntar in solnedgången. Det finns så många oerhört vackra bildsekvenser, och så gillar jag när SC lägger in modern rockmusik.

MA är Coppolas tredje film, efter "Virgin Suicides" (Kirsten Dunst är med i den också) och "Lost in translation". Jag har alla, det här är en regissör jag vill följa. Men borde det inte vara dags för en ny snart?

Och sen såg vi "Sweeney Todd", då. Där var det blod så det räcker!
De spelar bra, och sjunger med den äran, till och med Johnny Depp är rätt okej, och det är kul
men samtidigt hemskt.
Jag pallar inte det där slumpmässiga mördandet av oskyldiga. Hämnd på skurkar är en sak, men vanliga gubbar en annan. Men de får ju sitt straff... Det vore kul att se den som musikal nån gång.

Minns förresten att Tim Burton och Helena Bonham Carter - som ju är gifta - bor i varsitt hus granne med varandra. Men hur fungerar det med barnen/barnet, för de har väl minst ett, tror jag? Kanske har de en hemlig gång emellan, det vore fint. Med spindelvävar och gistna trappsteg i trä.

(Förutom HBC/Bellatrix Lestrange är två till från Harry Potter-gänget med, Alan Rickman (Snape) och han den otäcka råttan Peter Pettigrew.)

Ciò che invece è smarrito, perso, sono le emozioni più dirette, le verità più immediate. Probabilmente i due protagonisti si amano, ma il loro amore è congelato nella lingua che li ha ridotti, unidirezionati, la lingua delle maschere e dei ruoli, la lingua che permette agli altri di identificarci agevolmente e a noi stessi di sintetizzarci efficacemente. Insomma, il sottotitolo del film pare un vero equivoco. Mi soffermo su questa apparente inezia perché il film è molto bello e il suo titolo è una chiave di lettura di notevole spessore. Sofia Coppola realizza un’opera classica, semplice, in grado di dire qualcosa di forte raccontando una malinconia amorosa ed esistenziale, ma soprattutto calando la vicenda nella città più folle e consumista del mondo, Tokyo. Due sono gli interrogativi più interessanti: se la lingua con cui ci traduciamo lentamente corrodesse ciò che voleva significare? Che rapporto ha la nostra identità con la follia di un mondo disumanizzato, privo di immaginazione, puramente esecutivo? Il tema amoroso, il motivo per cui l’amore si perde nella traduzione, diventa la cartina tornasole di tutto ciò che questa lingua contemporanea rende difficilmente traducibile. Allora sì, l’amore è forzatamente tradotto, ma in una lingua che ne smarrisce l’effetto semantico, che non realizza l’atto linguistico, perché l’identità delle persone e il valore dei sentimenti si costruiscono sempre e solo in concomitanza della dimensione sociale.

Lost in translation, di Sofia Coppola, Usa, 2003, 105 min.

Cast: Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson, Giovanni Ribisi, Anna Faris

Uscita: Venezia 2003, 28 novembre 2003 (cinema)

Però questo film fa schifo al cazzo. E' nella top ten dei centoventicinque minuti peggio spesi della mia vita insieme a quella volta che ho cercato le chiavi di casa per tutta la camera e poi ho scoperto che le avevo in mano.
Trattasi di quasi due ore di cose che non succedono, battute che non si scambiano, scopate (ci avevate promesso le scopate!) che non si consumano. Il film è praticamente muto. Però è accompagnato da una colonna sonora rock (insomma, diciamo una canzone ogni mezzora), wow, questa sì che è rivisitazione!

Un susseguirsi di scene di maria Antonietta che non tromba con Luigi, Maria Antonietta che guarda Luigi mangiare, Maria Antonietta che se la intende col Conte Fersen, Maria Antonietta che partorisce.
Ah, poi ci sono anche Le Scene Dello Sfarzo, vale a dire Maria Antonietta che compra quattro paia di scarpe, Maria Antonietta che vuole piantare delle querce in giardino e Maria Antonietta che mangia delle torte rosa.

Le quattro paia di scarpe di cui sopra portano all'inevitabile rivolta del popolo, all'attacco a Versailles e alla fuga della famigliuola reale. Niente scene interessanti con la ghigliottina purtroppo.

Indimenticabile poi la paretecipazione di Asia Argento (non appena ha aperto bocca ho subito capito che era lei. ma perchè cazzo non si fa doppiare?), che grazie alla sua faccia di merda riesce sempre a procurarsi il ruolo della stronza in tutti i film cui prende parte. Qui fa la puttana personale del re di Francia morente Luigi Ferdinando, altro personaggio così approfondito che per far capire che è un poco di buono esordisce in scena con un "Come ce l'ha il seno? E' sempre la prima cosa che guardo". Evviva la piattezza! Tanto è un uomo, è palese che questo film è indirizzato alle donne inacidite, alias le lesbicacce.

Da encomiare almeno l'accuratezza storica nei particolari (un'Oscar per i costumi l'avrà vinto), fanno addirittura il bagno con le vestaglie e non si lavano mai i denti. Si tradiscono solo quando Luigi paragona i piedi di Maria a dei ghiaccioli (ci vorebbero dei freezer steampunk), ma magari è solo la castroneria della traduzione italiana.

Palloso come pochi, mezza pizza giusto perchè Kirsten Dunst non è che mi faccia proprio schifo da guardare.

LONDON, BERLIN, PATAGONIA & DACHAU - 24 July 2008 - Neo-Nazis throughout Europe, Asia, The Middle East and North, Central and South America, including Patagonia - expressed shock, regret and not a little sadness today at the news that Formula One boss “Mad” Max Mosley was awarded a record £60,000 in damages after winning his privacy case over claims he took part in a “sick Nazi orgy”.

High Court judge Mr Justice Headly Lamarr (and you may ask yourself why) sided with Mr Mostly in his action against the News of the World, which published pictures of him indulging in a sado-masochistic sex session with five hookers, four birches, three blunt razors, two cans of quick-acting, stain-free Zyklon B automatic dishwasher pellets (”Insert ONLY from above and step back”) and a plastic partridge in a pear tree shaped dildo.

In the sleepy Bavarian village of Dachau, 83-year-old horse butcher, Adolf Hatler (Ed. Names changed to prevent being sued) said it was another sad day for Nazism in general. “You’d think after 63 years we could go back to living a normal life without shame and not fear the justice system ignoring our God-given Human Right to hobbies and games that have been handed down to generations of Bavarian Catholics.”

Eva Brown (Ed. Names changed…etc.) now 87 and a mornings-only Berlin library-cleaning lady, waxed nostalgic and a football-pitch-sized wooden floor. “I’m too old now to participate but I fondly recall in 1945 as the Russians entered Potsdam spraying sweet-smelling lavender-scented Zyklon B insect repellant on Dr. Joseph Googles and his wife who were already in a state of heightened excitement at the thought of being captured copulating in full military regalia.”

One-time Bayern Munich “Mittelstuermer” Franz-Josef Hitler (Ed. Names changed…etc.) reached on his iPhone 3GB in remote Patagonia was less sanguine. “Thank the Lord we out here are safe from prying journalists, after-all they only got Eichmann when the blithering idiot went to see The Godfather because he’d heard Robert Duvall was his spitting image. But I would appreciate an email with the online address for the bird-shaped dildo. That sounds like fun.”

Formula One “Obersturmbahnfuerer” Mosley (Ed. Only some names changed…etc.) himself seemed torn between two birchings about the record sum awarded him. “Just because I’m the son of Britain’s last Fascist Leader willing to announce his allegiance to Nazism in public doesn’t mean to say I actually enjoy wearing concentration camp kit, having my pubes shaved with a blunt razor, being screamed at by hookers pretending to be prison guards, and Jews at that, inserting Zyklon-B capsules from below without rubber gloves and not stepping away and anticipating somewhat fearsomely four agonising hours of “The Partridge” In fact I don’t enjoy it at all. That’s the whole point. It’s the humiliation that’s the most fun. Like I’m getting standing here outside the court talking to you “Arschlochers!”

El dueto de directores fueron fotrografiados en Argentina.

El padre se encuentra definiendo el film Tetro. La hija se rumorea podria realizar la publicidad de Dior en el proximo septiembre.

Aja. Men idag (lördag) sov jag i alla fall till elva, drog sen alltså till apoteket (där jag också köpte alsolsprit; för när jag skulle badda mina skavsår upptäckte jag att min förra flaska gick ut 2004. när jag tänkte att "äh! alsolsprit håller väl ändå?" och baddade på skavsåren med spriten i alla fall så SVED DET SOM FAAAAAAAAAAAN - vilket det alltså normalt inte ska göra - så jag tänkte att det kanske var bäst att casha ut på en ny flaska i alla fall... ;) Men så att ni vet.. alsolsprit håller alltså INTE hur länge som helst, även om ni använt den sällan & flaskan är nästan full...! =P) och gjorde mitt ärende. sen åkte jag in till stadsbiblioteket och strosade där ett par timmar i rotundans galleri där jag längst upp hittade en bok på måfå som jag lånade hem: Londons barn (The Children of the Archbishop) av Norman Collins från 1962. Har ingen aning om vad det är för bok, men läste första sidorna och den verkade skitbra, så den ska jag ta med mig nu till Hälsingland på mån.

Sen när jag kom hem från biblioteket käkade jag mat och sen somnade jag klockan sju - igen. ;)

I veckan damp också min Marie Antoinetta-plansch ned hos postkontoret i Sundbyberg, som jag beställde typ i slutet av maj/början av juni, men som de inte hade på lager, så jag har fått vänta halva sommaren då de var tvungen att beställa från utomlands. Marie Antoinette (Coppolas film, alltså) är nu inte direkt min favoritfilm men planschen lyser upp och är cool och passar färgerna i min tapet.. jag gillar den jättemycket... men filmen är faktiskt också riktigt bra; mysig, rolig, färgklatschig & har coolt soundtrack.. aja, såhär ser planschen alltså ut för er som inte vet, med Kirsten Dunst i 1700-tals outfit, tycker den är riktigt läcker..

Annars känner jag mig nu plötsligt lite blue... Lykke Li passar bra en kväll som denna.

Título Original: The Virgin Suicides
Gênero: Drama
Tempo de Duração: 97 minutos
Ano de Lançamento: (EUA) 2000
Site Oficial: www.virginsuicides.com
Estúdio: American Zoetrope e Muse Productions
Distribuição: Paramount Pictures
Direção: Sofia Coppola
Roteiro: Sofia Coppola, baseado em livro de Jeffrey Eugenides
Produção: Francis Ford Coppola, Julie Costanzo, Dan Halsted e Chris Hanley
Elenco
James Woods (Sr. Lisbon)
Kathleen Turner (Sra. Lisbon)
Kirsten Dunst (Lux Lisbon)
Josh Hartnett (Trip Fontaine)
Hanna R. Hall (Cecilia Lisbon)
Chelse Swain (Bonnie Lisbon)
A.J. Cook (Mary Lisbon)
Leslie Heyman (Therese Lisbon)
Danny DeVito (Dr. Hornicker)
Scott Glenn (Padre Moody)
Jonathan Tucker (Tim)
Anthony DeSimone (Chase)
Giovanni Ribisi (Narrador - voz)
Hayden Christensen
Sinopse: Durante a década de 70, o filme enfoca os Lisbon, uma família saudável e próspera que vive num bairro de classe média de Michigan. O sr. Lisbon (James Woods) é um professor de matemática e sua esposa é uma rigorosa religiosa, mãe de cinco atraentes adolescentes, que atraem a atenção dos rapazes da região. Porém, quando Cecília (Hanna R. Hall), de apenas 13 anos, comete suicídio, as relações familiares se decompõem rumo a um crescente isolamento e superproteção das demais filhas, que não podem mais ter qualquer tipo de interação social com rapazes. Mas a proibição apenas atiça ainda mais as garotas a arranjarem meios de burlar as rígidas regras de sua mãe.

Comentário: primeiro filme da Sofia Coppola, mostrava que já tinha o DNA do cinema, assim como o pai.

MÚSICA: TIGARAH - CULTURE, COLOUR, MONEY, BEAUTY

Hope to see you over there!

http://www.rushmoreacademy.com/2008/07/06/guest-blogger-derek-hill-on-wes-anderson

No volvamos aquí nunca, porque no será tan divertido...

Bob Harris - Charlotte / Lost in Translation

Wallpaper de Lost in Translation: Descarga

the owls are made by the japanese company monseuil

i love this beck video! I like how the robots perform a traditional japanese dance but then just start dancing randomly. and it reminded me of the deleted scene from sofia coppola's lost in translation (below)