Cocktologists Crush on Fortified Wine, Darling The beagle is restaurateur Matt Piacentini’s latest New York City venture, a pre-Prohibition style cocktail lounge lined with blueberry and cream-patterned wallpaper. It is warm and familiar, decorated with framed vintage etiquette columns, winking at a more formal time and entreating you to put on pearls or a top hat. And what’s wrong with that? There is much to be gained from revisiting the past, not least of which are long-lost recipes for tipple. Bar manager Dan Greenbaum is one of a handful of mixologists across the country reviving classic sherry cocktails to the delight of serious drinkers in the East Village. “Sherry?” says Greenbaum, feigning the look of confusion on a...
The Iconic Cutter Scissors to the Silhouette of a WomaN A few things will take a man far with a woman: heavily-laden compliments and an impeccable talent for cutting hair. Rossano Ferretti gathered as much since the age of 14 when he started cutting the locks of his girlfriends, plural. He’s charmingly forthright: “I was the only boy amongst 17 girls [in hairdressing school], so I said, ‘Maybe this is my school.’” Over 30 years later, and after working closely with Giorgio and Gianni in the ’80s, creating some of the biggest supermodels’ dos, writing a book and a manual, and giving hundreds of seminars worldwide, Ferretti is at the top of the world. Literally, he is the world’s most expensive hairdresser, but beyond that, Ferretti has built an empire. ...
A Photographic Tryst in the Skin of A Teenage Murder Duo Murder has long been a point of sordid fascination for society. We recoil in horror at grisly scenes in film and literature, only to press closer, desperate for every detail, empathizing with killers, trying to understand their psyches, and rooting for justice (or simply feeling a sense of Schadenfreude). Art photographer Christian Patterson explores the captivating nature of violent crime in Redheaded Peckerwood (MACK), a deconstructed narrative of 19-year-old Charles Starkweather and 14-year-old Caril Ann Fugate’s infamous three-day killing spree across Nebraska in the late 1950s, which left 10 dead, including Fugate’s family. Presented as a pictorial crime dossier, the book...
Oslo: 10:30 p.m. a fuzzy Norwegian picks up his phone for an interview. The man, Hans-Peter Lindstrøm, best known mononymously by his surname, is in his creative third trimester (that is to say, his second official studio album will be “birthed” shortly after this article goes to press), and there are some pains. The album is different—a lot different—from his work since he started putting out singles in 2003. “Sometimes I’ll just do the opposite of what I feel everyone else is doing,” he says in throaty Nordic singsong. “It might not be the best thing. I guess I’m kind of digging my own grave, slowly but surely.” Since he began releasing music, Lindstrøm, along with his main collaborators...
Here we are, set in an empty quarter of the Hollywood Tower, where stories of hauntings have been ingrained, and continuously advertised, eventuating Disneyland to come up with “The Tower of Terror” ride, and causing many a tenant sleepless nights. Luckily, the ghosts stay on their side this afternoon, as India Eisley, perched on her throne, gets her long marron hair coiffed and her radiant face—“like a baby’s ass,” interjects her publicist—made up beyond her 18 years.Down in the lobby, the shoot commences. She is instructed onto a velvet couch. Eisley pops up her legs, slightly bends the right one, and points out her toes, forming a 90-degree angle with her upper half. She is double-jointed. And she looks quite sexy for a girl who plays a 14-year-old in the...
The Oceanic Minimalism of a Contemplative Accumulator Consider the quiet, young artist in this confusing early part of the millennium. Her name is Emilie Halpern, and she is in her mid-30s, and she is holding a pillow to her freshly-showing pregnant belly. Her art is quiet, too: millennial Minimalist black oblong shapes strewn across her studio floor and encoded (perhaps a Kyoto rock garden). They are emu eggs, $10 each, eBay. “The idea,” says Halpern, “is that people may step on them, or they’ll get kicked. Total fragility.”Consider the eggs, the pregnant belly. Consider motherhood. A photograph of a reclining young woman hangs on Halpern’s wall. It is Halpern’s mother, the daughter of a successful Japanese painter named Takanori Oguiss who painted Parisian street...
Out of the corner of our eye, over our shoulder, a glimpse, a glimmer, an emanation, a misty shadow, something to make us doubt we’re alone. Stories have been told for centuries around the campfire and in the trenches about men who disappear, about meeting someone and later finding out they’d died shortly before the rendezvous, about unfinished business and vengeful spirits. Richard Carradine, the founder of the Ghost Hunters of Urban Los Angeles (GHOULA) has heard them all. Traveling the world, Carradine asks everyone he meets about his or her ghost histories, and pretty much everyone has one. He’s sought ghosts the world over, but he always comes back to Los Angeles, which he believes is the spookiest place on Earth.So tell me, in your words, what makes L.A. such a...
FLAUNT MAGAZINE © 1999-2011 SITE BUILT BY HULEA.ORG
