Kicking back at the gallery: L-R: Terry Richardson and Purple Mag Editor, Olivier Zahm

They’re known as two badass photographers. Terry Richardson made a name for himself by having comely female photo assistants blow him while another shot the action. He’s also talented at shooting fashion ads and celebrities in ways that reveal something fierce, yet vulnerable. His best pal, Olivier Zahm, the editor of Purple — who also likes to shoot sometimes nude bedroom scenes for purple DIARY — debuted his first real art show at the Half Gallery on Tuesday evening.

Oz was saying he did not know what to expect from this show; that he decided to choose more general nudes, sexual, but not too personal; that he developed the prints in a lab; he figured only friends would buy them, but “who knows, maybe collectors?”; that they’ll be selling starting at $250 each until the show goes down on January 2, 2010.

Below is a slideshow of the “cleaner” images. For the full reveal, check out the Half Gallery, 208 Forsythe Street, NYC, until January 2, 2010.

Rachel Antonoff’s little black shift with lace back….BRING IN THE MODEL!

When faced with the weather forecast and dozens of fashionistas headed to Art Basel in Miami this week, pals all around town told me, “Rachel Antonoff!” She’s being touted as a new designer “it girl.”  With 82 F/ 28 C staring me in the face, Miami calls for little cocktail dresses, but this bird’s success remains an anomaly. WHY?

Yes, she ravages thrift stores for old lace finds. She loves ballet (to her credit) but then gives inane explanations like, “I love a girl who has to wear a costume to work and ballet dancers wear costumes to work.” Yeah, hon, they also spend seven hours a day in sweaty, smelly leotards too, working the body, the instrument, which brings me to my next point.  Antonoff — who has sold her often mini ruffled skirts and dresses at Barneys for $250-$500 a pop– sometimes scores with a tapered black lace number that served as the centerpiece of her latest collection. She also created a rather nice white shift modeled by Sudanese beauty, Alek Wek (**Wek, who stands six tall, is an odd choice for waif-like dance inspired looks). Most of the time, Antonoff drapes her clothes on ordinary, slumpy girls. They look more like your nanny or worse, pub lasses. As much as I’d like to give Antonoff props for hiring her friends for her look books, I’d bet some catalogue models out there would jump for the chance to pout in her little numbers. The dresses are cute, but unlike ballet, the fantasy’s just not there. KATE MOSS NEEDED!

Omen on Saturday at closing, photo by Olivier Zahm

Every superstar needs a hideaway. And while the event calendar seems to have tripled in fashionable parties since the economy started to plummet, the loss of one treasured getaway marks a true omen. In this case it’s a double entendre with the rumored closing of Omen restaurant in Soho, all started by the photo above that appeared on the Purple Diary a day ago!

While Anna Wintour, Yoko Ono, Sean Lennon, and Sarah Jessica Parker still flock to Da Silvano as their quotidian five star diner, the true fashion crown LOVES Omen, the discreet, darkly lit second floor Japanese joint on Thompson Street. Every other month I get calls from photographer Tierney Gearon (also a former model) shouting “Meet me there in twenty. I need the buckwheat noodles NOW.” Just a table away, I often spot photographer Mary Ellen Mark, Lindsay Lohan, or Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban. Kate Moss ate there with photographer Mario Sorrenti. At least once a week, one of the French Vogue heirs, Vladimir or Julia Restoin Roitfeld takes refuge at one of the dark tables. Omen counts for their mom, French Vogue editor Carine, as her favorite New York restaurant for family birthdays and intimate meals, after Indochine where she likes to host bigger parties. To boot, the salmon sashimi glistens like fat happy meats and slide down the tongue with just enough tangy seduction to warrant an eye opening dose of sake.

So when my pal, OZ, shot the photo above and posted it on the Purple Diary as “Omen is Closing,” the restaurant got a barrage of telephone calls. It’s all lost in the FRENCH translation of the Purple Diary headline, that might have read in French, “Omen au fin du jour,” stating, basically Omen at Closing time… The owner told me his phone has buzzed off the hook all weekend about it. “No, no, no we’ll still be here into 2010, really.” So, Carine, you’ve got reason to cheer.

Carine still has her fave sushi joint! OMEN NOT CLOSING!!!

Theodora Richards makes like a leopard at the Wooly downtown….

They flocked in droves — cliques of cool kids and old journalist cats — to the farewell party for Rebecca Guinness, an heiress to the Guinness beer family and Vanity Fair party writer. Guinness, who has maxed out on partying in NYC, is heading back to jolly ol’ London next week where she’ll continue to write (about parties!) for VF. She’s a nice lass and has put so many of these kids and media hounds in her online columns, maybe they were hoping for one last plug at last night’s fete at the Wooly. As I circled the events-only space decorated as a 1920′s parlor/secretive boudoir, my mind went to turkey and who’s heading where for Thanksgiving, a mere day away.

Theodora Richards– fetching in her vintage cat coat from Geminola (Lorraine Kirke’s West Village store)– spoke of heading back to Connecticut for a traditional family Thanksgiving with Rolling Stones dad Keith Richards and model mom Patti Hanson.  Ditto Paul Sevigny, also headed with family to Connecticut.

Songstress Rebecca Shiffman pushed back her brown Botticelli locks and grinned. “My whole family, we’re going for Indian food this year. Some restaurant on West 10th Street.” I wondered if they’d find turkey curry. And Ms. Guinness, while invited by American friends to a traditional feast, told me she was more excited about brunch. I couldn’t hear over the din of the music– a deejay blasting Biggie Smalls and Morrissey– if Guinness said brunch at Pastis or Payard. Either way, there seemed to be some nice pastry involved. Of course in New York, new traditions are made every moment.

Rebecca Guinness ready to head back to London, but not before Thanksgiving brunch!

Tom Ford –real earthy dude under the hood — in a piece by “it boy” artists Dan Colen and Nate Lowman

Who doesn’t want to be Tom Ford? The gay, but super masculine and meticulous designer, who rebirthed Gucci from Italian licensing oblivion and took over for a stint at YSL, makes some of the best men’s clothes and fragrances on the planet. And now, critics have it, he’s scored (even Oscar buzz!) with his movie, A Single Man. Hell, even straight cock on block art stars like Dan Colen and Nate Lowman (who dates Mary Kate Olsen) parody this guy as a god among us.

Tom Ford can do anything. At least, I was briefed at dinner last night with a former executive from the Independent Film Channel. Apparently, said IFC executive hosted Ford, and while dubious at first, since he’s a fashion bloke and all, Ford sold him in less than an hour.  “I was convinced he had what it takes.” The guy told me. So he bought into the film for distribution. “It’s not the same with Madonna.” He went on. “Every film she does, sinks. No one will touch her.” Not that Madge needs IFC sales distribution, but apparently Ford has scored.

The flick, in limited release second week of December, portrays a gay man played by Colin Firth (and modeled after Ford) who loses his lover to sudden death and strikes up a friendship with a comely lass, aka Juliane Moore.

Ford stated at the private preview in Midtown NYC: “I am fortunate enough to have experienced extreme materialism in my life, but the point of the film is to remind us of the little things in life — not some new shoes you bought or a new car. Life’s about living in the present. We live in an artificial world. In the fashion business, you live in the future for the next collection. But when I spend time on my ranch in New Mexico with the sun above me and the rattlesnakes growing under the bush — I appreciate the present.” Indeed.  Given the following trailer, it looks like living in Ford’s “present” moment equals a visceral sensual tour de force.

Pièce de résistance from Pierre Hardy, and antidote to the chunky strapped heel… SUBLIME!

I’ve done a little survey among “it girls” around town and they’re sticking with their chunky heels.

The Italians like Sergio Rossi prefer more refined Fifties-chic pumps. And even though the whisperings around Versace say that the dresses look trampy and they’re ready to toss Donatella, the line put out a gorgeous, rounded red pump this season that spells sexy on a dance floor. My favorites among the refined include Christian Louboutin’s glitter infused black pump with electric blue tips and an equally stellar black mini sequined bootie with a gold nose. The pièce de résistance goes to Pierre Hardy with the sequined boot above. A STAR IS BORN.

Still gals like French Vogue daughter Julia Roitfeld stand by their black Balenciaga boots and gladiators. Love the fat platforms that YSL makes with the distorted curvy bottoms favored by social denizen Genevieve Jones. She also goes for fat Dolce platforms. More on the chunky tip, seen here on stylist Natasha Royt in YSL and in Rodarte’s latest, her pal Martin, a muse (yes, he’s a stunning platinum guy and best pal of designers threeASFOUR).

One chunk should stay in the closet — Tory Burch’s ugly buckle boot — displayed after the jump! REMEMBER THE CAT, PUSS IN BOOTS… WELL HERE IT IS! SO UGLY, IT SHOULD BE RECYCLED TO HELP HUMANITY, GIRLS WORLDWIDE. (Click after the break for visual)

Left: Natasha Royt’s foot in YSL: Martin in his new Rodarte chunksters

Casey Spooner, thespian, co-founder of Fischerspooner, and now deejay, looking seductive in his own pj’s

The other night at the new Ace Hotel in midtown, a motley crew of artists and art enthusiasts gathered around to witness the unveiling of pajamas, specifically by artist Will Cotton. Cotton– who helped host a fundraiser slumber party for Creative Time — made a name for himself painting 1940′s type starlets in pin-up poses surrounded by confections. Creative Time– a group of curators and other art benefactors– were raising money to fund what they do: basically erecting public works by artists all throughout NYC. Sometimes the works are socially conscious (e.g., encouraging people to vote or to conserve energy). But this time the message at the Ace seemed to be about the down economy. If you can’t afford to buy real art, invest in a pair of Will Cotton cotton pajamas ($150)! Guests munched on late night snacks like chicken fingers and sliders on a central wooden table– economical food! Even Casey Spooner, the once flamboyant glam singer of Fischerspooner, mellowed out in a pair of exquisite gray kimono-like pajamas and deejayed in the basement.

Cotton, who normally would be found in a studio with a paintbrush, has taken up actual baking. He’ll be frosting cakes for sale at Partners & Spade this Sunday, November 22, from noon to 6 PM. If his cakes taste as good as they look on his canvases, we’re in luck.

Will Cotton pajamas, with cake imprint; for more info to purchase, check out CreativeTime

Sophie Theallet, Anna Wintour’s latest darling…

Sometimes connections mean everything. That’s what I attribute to the latest winner of the Vogue Fashion Fund, French native and current NYC resident Sophie Théallet. At this week’s CFDA awards ceremony, Théallet beat out rock frock prince, Gary Graham, and gifted creator of curve hugging black numbers, Wayne Lee, to take home $200,000 for her next collection. Théallet’s designs– especially what’s in Barney’s now for Fall/Winter ’09– are at best ho hum and at worst just plain ugly.

She may have served as the right hand girl to the shaman of the slinky black ruched gown– Azzedine Alaïa — and as an organizer and second set of eyes she may have served well. But unlike her mentor — who dressed all the Eighties supermodels in smokin’ dresses — Théallet’s own designs, this lady from the Southwest of France, creates clothes without the SEX, as in not sexy at all.

Once again we must turn our attention to Vogue Editor-in-Chief Anna Wintour who recently turned sixty. She tends to like boxy, fitted frames and so does Théallet. Her other best pal (besides Alaïa) is gifted French make up artist Francois Nars who funded Théallet’s first solo collection. So it just goes to show you kids, it really is who you know in fashion. Still I’m giving her props for the Angelique Kidjo soundtrack of  “Porgy in Bess” in an African dialect on her website. That, unlike the clothes, is a turn on.

Boring…

Sean Lennon in unique custom hat

So many men, so little time. at least that’s how I envision some of my male friends running around Manhattan between work and play. What’s the best accessory for a guy on the run? How about a Hamburg or other kind of fedora. Having eclipsed last year’s facial hair trend, the in crowds of the world — seen here in Vanity Fair photographer Todd Eberle, Purple Mag’s Gavin Doyle, photographers Bogdan Teslar Kwiatkowski and Magnus Unnar, and Camilla Staerk’s videographer hubby Barnaby Roper — won’t leave home without their toppers.

Doyle, seen in the slideshow with his model girlfriend Pernilla, opted for a Rag and Bone beauty. (R&B average about $125 at Saks.) But if you like to trail the East Village, you might just find yourself at Barbara Feinman’s little shop on East 7th Street, like Sean Lennon often does. Feinman, who once sourced Barney’s measures heads for exact custom fits and styles ranging from Trilbys to Porkpie hats. Beyond Lennon, she’s counted a few other star clients including Eve, and Glenn Close, rocking an adrogynous look. (Feinman’s hats average $250 and up from there.) She won’t allow a client to return a  hat since they’re made to measure but she gives a seven day grace period for adjustments on the final product.

Blokes on the other side of the pond have been lining up at Stephen Jone’s Convent Garden millinery. His “Jones Boy” line creates incredible made to measure caps to trilbys starting at a hundred pounds and way upward. Anna Piaggi credited Jones in Italian Vogue as “maker of the most beautiful hats in the world.”

All this hat mania with the guys makes me wonder who will star in a  ”9 1/2 Weeks” movie reversal, the scene where a smoking Kim Basinger strips for a pre-surgery Mickey Rourke… but she leaves her hat on. Some candidates below!

Art by GQ Deputy Editor Michael Hainey, a first solo show, at Thom Browne store

Much like the fashion industry– exploited on reality television and desperate to keep its cool– pairing up with the art world every other night to give it more cred, Thom Browne –the financially struggling designer who created the above ankle pant for men — has too crawled into the art loft. But he hit obviously, directly, and intimately by giving GQ Deputy Editor Michael Hainey his first solo show– Less Human, More Being — this week at Browne’s Tribeca store.

The review on the GQ website is filled with platitudes, calling the show “a beautifully composed, emotionally resonant from the gut expression of images that haunt our inner lives.” “I see these as excavations. It’s digging down inside of me, trying to unearth.” says Hainey, of his twenty-seven works hanging between tweedy jackets and above those racks of short pants. Yeah, man, whatever. Bullocks! Browne hopes you’ll plug his clothes in GQ so he does not have to close shop in these hard economic times. (To note, I believe a gentleman would rather buy a good pair of jeans than trendy short pants in a money crisis.) And the GQ reviewer, well you’re technically paying him, so he’s also kissing arse.

The expo, up at the store through end of the month, proves laughable in an art school picking redundant subjects kind of way: scrawled paintings of horses, faceless women, and crows… so many damn crows! To quote The Raven: “NEVERMORE!”

Of course, I prefer a guy in a hot pair of Hudson jeans any day, but for those dudes in the market for short pants and a side of arty, check out Less Human, More Being at Thom Browne at 100 Hudson and Franklin Street, through November 30th.

An actual painting from the show… also the title of the exhibit