STYLE ADVENTURE ETIQUETTE

Archive for August, 2011|Monthly archive page

A Wilde Imagination

In Adventure, Art on August 26, 2011 at 11:11 am

Greetings darlings,

I am an aesthetic individual by birth, a classicist by nature — famous for my shrewd wit and sartorial flamboyance — why, one might almost confuse me with the great Oscar Wilde himself!

Though many of my unpublished novels have been inspired by, and generally aligned with, Mr. Wilde’s ideology, there is one famous position of his that I must refute.  In his essay “The Decay of Man,” Señor Wilde asserts: “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life.”

Well, my fine friends, I beg to differ.  Tee he!  Just couldn’t help myself with that one!  Just awful, I know…I know…but also somehow SO pleasurable at the same time!  Right?  Right!?

Oh, I digress.  Without further ado about nothing, I shall unfold empirical evidence gathered while gardening on the internet, which proves that the chicken did come before the egg!

Please refer to exhibit A, one of my prior blog posts.  If you have read it, please review paying particular attention to the section on the sculpture in front of the New York Palace.  If you have not yet read it, how do you expect us to be friends?

Moving forward:

Exhibit B. Ahem.

Exhibit C. Although the genus depicted is not French, he is a second cousin once removed, named after our uncle, Skittlefoot.

Exhibit D. Jedi evidence.

Exhibt E. Even frat boys know. For the record, I did nothing disgraceful at this house party. How could I have known that Rabbit was married to the hostess! Ooof.

Exhibit F. Utterly stunning ring by Verameat Jewelry found at my little shop, Eponymy.

Exhibit G. I'm no snitch, but I simply can't help point out the similarities here!

Exhibit H. A party thrown in my honor, complete with an ice sculpture by the illustrious Thomas Brown and gorgeous "Bianca" statues in background.

Exhibit I. This piece of evidence is somewhat more confusing for the layperson scientist. I'll say no more on that note about my superstring theories, and let my audience research on their own.

Exhibit J. And Gargoyles are French too! Bonjour!

Exhibit K: "Opus Manatee." Just sayin'.

Exhibit L. Hippoponymous.

Exhibit M. Ugly Doll? What a simply GHASTLY name. I entirely disagree. Single? Contact me.

Exhibit N. The Netherland Dwarf Bunny; story of a Fierce, Bad-ass Rabbit.

Exhibit O. We come in peace.

Exhibit P. The Long Eared Jerboa. Another bizarre biological imitation.

Exhibit Q. The nugget. My influence seeping into the culinary scene.

Exhibit R. Many have drawn comparisons noting the piglet. I must say, an absolutely lovely creature, but sometimes just such a boar. Ooooooo.

Exhibit S. The Japanese have always had a knack for beautiful design.

Exhibit T. Even across the globe, the Koala has followed my grooming techniques closely.

Exhibit U. Big Marshmallow. Another clear example of my translucent skin and voluptuous figure inspiring the gourmand.

Exhibit V. The baby sloth looks very closely related but unlike me these creatures are extraordinarily lazy. Why that 20 hour research nap I took the other day followed an exceptional day of rigorous jazzercise!

Exhibit W. Mini-nugget friends.

Exhibit X. Cousin Fred.

Exhibit Y. My gorgeous postmodernist coat. Why, the Empress has no clothes! Te he!

Exhibit Z. I taught my neighbor to be so fierce, though I couldn't help pointing out the egregious color and pattern on his jumper.

And there you have it my friends.  In art, as in nature, one simply CANNOT deny the brawn of a powerful live muse.  And while I would never… never insinuate that this muse was myself, I encourage you to do so.

With Wilde abandon…eminently yours,

Bianca Miller

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Walk of Fame

In Adventure, Celebrity, Night Life, Society on August 21, 2011 at 12:21 am

Greetings darling ones,

As many of you probably know entirely too well…it is just SO difficult to find good help these days!  Egads!

Particularly when one finds oneself inexorably thrust into the public spotlight as often as yours truly, one needs to be able to rely on fine gentlemen of the ample and lofty persuasion.  This little post is dedicated to my squires of the night, the men who protect and serve me.  My, ehem, watchdogs.

Daniel and Dominique, the finest personal security detail this side of the Gowanus Canal, coming to my rescue one Friday evening when I became absolutely overwhelmed by enamored fans and bothersome Paparazzi.

Antoine calls on Sir Michael for back up one exceedingly perturbing evening when I was bombarded by a pack of wild and worshiping fans.

It was rumoured I particpated in an affair of an unsavory nature with squire Dominique but that of course is rubbish! Pure rubbish I say!

And that, my friends, is a tiny window into the life of a true Star.  It’s not always as glamorous as it’s cracked up to be. Goodness gracious me.

Mindfully yours,

Bianca Miller

Bartender is the Night

In Celebrity, Night Life, Philanthropy, Society on August 4, 2011 at 12:20 am

Hello my pretties.

Isn’t it lovely when two of your favorite things arrive in one package?

If, like me, you find this heat to be reaching your upper threshold of comfort, may I suggest it be taken as a cue to catch up on some much needed reflection. Although the white color of my coat is perfect for bouncing back the sun’s harshest rays, I do find myself crossing the line from glowing to perspiring if I attempt any physical activity while wearing fur. Therefore I like to spend my city time in July indoors, ideally with a refreshing cordial of some kind. Nothing quite calms the senses like an expertly served Pimms I always say! Which brings me to the first of my favorite things: Brooklyn bartenders.

Having been in the privileged position of residing in this fine borough since my social debut, I have come to know and frequent some truly fabulous watering holes. Inevitably, my discerning eye has been drawn to those barkeeps whose deportment and repartee never fail to delight. I have found that my very favorites tend to share certain traits which I will, in turn, share with you.

My ideal bartender is a snappy dresser with a monosyllabic name like Paul, John or Floyd. They will be neither aloof nor overbearing but rather will, on occasion, share exotic tales from southern states. They will read interesting books and keep their money not in the bank but in gold. In times of great distress they will even encourage you to order your drink by specifying a liquor and an adjective. Indeed one of the most life affirming beverages I have ever tasted was presented to me in response to the description of ‘bourbon’ and ‘forlorn’. To further salve my soul this was accompanied by a touching description of Degas’ The Absinthe Drinker, which fit my mood perfectly.

The second of my favorite things is of course a man with a heart. Nothing in this world warms my soul in quite the same way. And so it is that when I first heard of The Barman’s Fund I was filled with a delicious cocktail of sensations, capturing everything from lust to pride to altruistic bliss – and back to lust again. In their own words their mission is simple,  ‘a bunch of bartenders take every penny they make on the first shift of the month and pool it, and then give it to various charities (Figuring that most community charities would much rather have 6 hrs of tips than 6 hrs of us washing dishes).’ This, I found myself thinking, is surely one of the most enjoyable ways to multitask, spending social and charitable time at once.

A glorious specimen of manhood, our dear friend John (he graces the bar at both the Vanderbilt and Weatherup) of The Barman's Fund braves the lines of target to buy diapers for nearby CHIPS maternity shelter.

I’m also happy to say the man behind the fund is an old friend, Floyd. I have a great deal of lovely things to say about him but fear I would make him blush. So I will leave it to you to see for yourselves – if you find yourself in Prospect Heights he’ll be the dapper gentleman behind the bar at The Vanderbilt.

Stopped by for a summer afternoon of bar therapy with Sir Floyd and a thumble full of Eponymy's eponymous Miller High Life.

Charitably yours,

Bianca Miller

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