STYLE ADVENTURE ETIQUETTE

Archive for the ‘Adventure’ Category

White Dogs Can’t Hump

In Adventure, Celebrity, Nemesis, Night Life on April 12, 2013 at 8:46 am

…that is, without the Godforsaken Tabloids Prying into their Private Affairs Constantly!
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Faithful readers,

I imagine you’ve all become increasingly agitated recently: reading all about my comings and goings — my goings and comings and the numerous fabricated and exaggerated tales of my supposed shenanigans, rabble-rousing and other malarkey the riff-raff tabloids have continued to propagate, notwithstanding the relentless efforts of my legal staff.  You’ve been anxious, I understand, for me to appear in this forum and yet again, set the record straight.

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I’ll have you know, I ordinarily don’t get out of bed for less than 10k.

I’d like to preface by mentioning and elaborating on the prequel to several presuppositions that may have been mercilessly thrust upon you by said media-satan-industrial-complex.

As you well know, 2012 was a tough year for the divine universe as a whole.  Without going into the nitty-gritty, dear readers, just look back on some of the biggest news stories of the year for crying out loud!  Awful, just awful.  Furthermore, according to my analyst, my numerologist and my parapsychologist, 2012 proved particularly difficult for a strong and determined yet innately sensitive soul like myself. 

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I was forced to spend months on end at a holistic spa at the beginning of 2013 being pampered, swaddled and massaged…just to cope! The horror!

Now, you’ve all known of the on-again/off-again flirtation and then affair I’d been carrying on with a certain Rottweiler over the course of several years.  At first, he seemed a rather solid and handsome fellow on the outside — albeit wounded from past experiences – as we all are.  Presumably, no real harm in that.

Eventually I could not deny, however, that there was an odd void — an aloofness in his gaze, an often severe glitch in his behaviour.  Over time, it became alarmingly clear that there were manifold subcutaneous afflictions.  Though it was vexing, indeed, to recently discover his deceitful and otherwise unsavory ways of the past, I was comforted to learn, in the end, that he’d been entirely inbred — and that the inbreeding had afflicted him with an awful irreversible condition including panic biting and schizoid personality disorder.  That — and the whole his-balls-being-cut-off-thing made him an entirely inappropriate suitor.

Also, it explained one kinky (unbeknownst to me!) night when I woke up shocked to see my gorgeous Italian leather collar had been chewed up to smithereens.  Eee gads!

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One particularly scandalous evening he wanted to wear this contraption and get into some “freaky shit.” I told him I’d pooped in his bed once, and that was as crazy as things were going to get.

Following the dissolution of the affair, I had several heart to heart conversations with my dear friend Emma, a Chocolate Lab with neurological problems.

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I see what you are thinking…just don’t.

It’s funny how Emma can sometimes be so wise when it comes to more complex matters of the heart or statistical sociology, but when it comes to things like not walking into parking meters, throwing herself into oncoming traffic or pooping in cross-walks, she can be so dim!  She is a country dog, after all.

Well it turned out dear Emma seemed to reinforce this absolutely dull, typical, insipid notion that is often thrown around in self-help manuals: “Are you being open enough?  Perhaps you are focusing too much on superficial qualities?”  Well I’m sorry, but advice makes me pout.

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BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

After that, I spent a bit of time trying to get my head on straight….which for me undoubtedly involves copious amounts of fine alcohol, towers of chilled shellfish, massages, spa retreats, amphetamines, fun European cough syrup, a PCP laced marijuana cigarette (I swear I didn’t know!!!) and an evening of Bolivian cocaine and Cuban cigars that culminated in the hot tub with several Icelandic Sheepdog male models.

WHAT?  A lady has her needs too.

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Just a whisper of vermouth s’il vous plait.

Then of course came the string of residual inappropriate suitors — a highly neurotic Whippet with horrible game, a needy Old English Sheepdog with pretentious conversational tendencies, and a really darling fun-loving Golden Retriever with absolutely no long-term potential.

A bit of time passed while I regrouped — then quite unexpectedly, while attending a society mixer, an American Hairless Terrier with a razor sharp wit and seemingly high potential appeared.  Well that fizzled out after he showed signs of split personality — a trait often associated with poor upbringing and training or being weaned from one’s mother too early — or is it too late?  One never knows these days.

Anywho, he later was seen out and about with an exceedingly plain Jill Russel terrier with an egregious yap and unsightly fur.  This is just what I’ve heard.  I’m only presenting the facts as they’ve come my way, you see.

So now, before you judge me, you must understand and agree that when one puts forth faith that a certain being is one way, and then that being turns out to be an entirely other way altogether…why it shakes up one’s faith in Dog!  And after all — as they say, “In Dog, We Trust”…

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As I’ve said before, a Lady has her needs, dammit!

Moving right along, I’m sure you’ve heard the exaggerated hubbub that followed: stories of my romantic rendezvoussssss in far off places, canoodling with a well known actor in the corner of the Washington Square Park dog run, being hit on by Taylor Swift at a late-night after party.

But my dear friends, I implore you — do not take this all at face value.  In the fast life — this life of fortune and fame — you’re dammed if you do, and dammed if you don’t.  I just can’t win!  And as Rosie Perez once said in “White Men Can’t Jump,” (tragically, this clip has been removed everywhere on the Internet):

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“Sometimes when you win, you really lose, and sometimes when you lose, you really win, and sometimes when you win or lose, you actually tie, and sometimes when you tie, you actually win or lose. Winning or losing is all one organic mechanism, from which one extracts what one needs.”

So like the hideous moth who hibernates in its own cocoon and emerges a glorious butterfly — or like the practically deformed young duckling who eventually emerges a graceful swan…I too shall overcome, even if it involves sedatives, a perfectly sculpted Latino cabana boy feeding me grapes (or preferably hot dog slices), a handle of Jack Daniels and watching mindnumingly awful but amazing movies for the next three weeks.

And so, my friends, until the sun comes out (and no, it won’t be tomorrow as I check accuweather.com every 15 minutes and hit refresh obsessively) I bid you adieu,

Lady Bianca Miller

A Mushroom of One’s Own: The Bitch Bench of Bergen Street Style IV

In Adventure, Dining, Etiquette, inspiration on January 23, 2013 at 4:20 pm

Welcome back, dear readers, to The Bitch Bench of Bergen Street Style.  This little section — why I like to think of it as my gift back to the community, an ode to my customers.

Lord knows everyone is always admiring Lady Bianca for this and that — my flawless porcelain skin, my voluptuous yet sleek peanut shaped body, the sheen of the hair between my toes…my razor sharp wit…why the list just goes shamelessly on and on!  And though forever appreciative of the constant adoration bestowed upon me by my fans, visitors to my shop, and random passerby on the street, it really does get tiresome, indeed, when I feel I am not getting a chance to be gracious and reciprocate compliments to others.

So it is with great relief that, in this little column, I get to point out and admire the stylistic triumphs of my dear fans and customers and engage them in interview — my attempt to better know the darlings!  This week, I interviewed the etherial and adventurous Francis Lin.  Ms Lin is my kind of gal.

While Frances pulls off this fabulous oversize parka in one of my favorite classic fashion colors (mustard) this is a look that eludes me, due to my heavenly curves.

Frances, what is your occupation?

I’m an emergency medical physician and also a medical toxicologist, however I’m taking a couple of years off to pursue what I’ve always wanted to do which is to write and create, and it’s been a very interesting journey; 2012 was the year of the fire dragon, which I am, as well as an Aries, so fire and fire. But it’s been a great year. A hard year, giving up a lot of job offers to do something that a lot of people were like, “hmmm…”

Change is always a good thing!  Eventually.  Sort of like the week I was so disappointed Fleisher’s ran out of Hot Italian Pork Sausage and I had get the Lamb Merguez.  I nearly had a horrific temper tantrum (my signature move is to fling my body on the floor and bite my paw) right then and there.  But after all that, the Lamb Merguez ended up being a new favorite!

Yes.  The change opened my world and my consciousness, my awareness to my surroundings so much more.

Regarding your current surroundings, what brings you to Bergen Street today?

I just wrote my first book (Whims and Woes), and I’m dropping off a few copies to Bergen Comics and I’m also going to go to Green Light. The book follows a character named Saro, who always finds the whimsical in the woe.

Imagine that!  Why, of course, that’s what Lady Bianca attempts to do in life – find the whim in the woe.  Speaking of whimsical, what did you buy at my dear little shop today?

I just bought this gorgeous dress [by Eva Franco] that has a little pouf and makes me feel like a princess, and it’s a great party dress.  I’d also been dreaming about this Soaked Earth fragrance [by CB I Hate Perfume] for a while, but I hadn’t had time to stop in. It smells like I’ve been digging in the soil for mushrooms, and I just love mushrooms. I guess it’s my Sunday church, going near the woods and digging for mushrooms and going to Central Park and finding mushrooms there too.

I, too, like to forage!  Now that we’re getting all these hurricanes and such here in New York, there has been a huge surge in the numbers, size and types of mushrooms we’re seeing all over the city.  It used to be, I’d only go foraging for mushrooms at my country estate in Connecticut.  I was constantly on the hunt for hen-of-the-woods mushrooms and, of course, chicken poop.  The groundskeeper, not understanding that chicken poop is a delicacy in more highly civilized countries like mine, scolded me after finding me in some remote brush with a mouth full.  The Neanderthal brute!  I’ll have his job for that!  

I found a mushroom as big as your heavenly body, Bianca, and I was carrying it on a stick like a hobo, walking through a book store on Madison Avenue of all places.  But because of that they didn’t forget me, so I’m also selling some books up there.

That description just became an absolutely gorgeous image in my head!  And on the subject of beauty, when do you feel the most beautiful?

When I’m completely alive and aware and engaged with the world, and it doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like; somebody has a connection with you, talking to people and having common interests, that’s when I think the world is beautiful and everybody is beautiful, it’s not about how you look. For a while I was so zombified, not sleeping, and only taking care of other people but not myself, and now that I’m writing I’m doing healing in a different way. I don’t think medicine is the only way to heal.

I think that’s very wise indeed.  Just like, school is only one way to get an education, and money can’t buy happiness…or taste, or style.  Do you have any style icons?

Oh gosh, I’m like worst person to ask this. I don’t know any pop culture, I’m like in my own world with mushrooms. I create my own world and my character is from a different planet that landed on earth, so…

Well for crying out loud — me neither!  But the universe itself, of course, is a heavenly style icon!  I, too, often feel as if I have landed upon this earth from somewhere else…that I am living in some strange space-time continuum.  I’d always attributed that somewhat to my extensive recreational drug use (I found hallucinogenic mushrooms wonderful as they are grown in poop, giving me the best of both worlds!) …or perhaps just to life in New York City.  If you didn’t live in New York City, where would you want to live?
Where wouldn’t I want to live? Actually, I’d want to live on a boat because then I could sail across the world and stop at ports and just live at a bare minimum, using solar energy and wind power to cook. Basically just cut off 99% of it… but I’d still have my Soaked Earth!

One has to have one’s indulgences.  For me I must have my gold leaf and caviar encrusted Kobe beef at least once a week or I become absolutely feeble and can barely speak or move.  If  in your next life you were to return as an animal, which would you want to be? (I dare say it would not be a Tajima cow.)  

I would like to be a phoenix!

Rising from the ashes is always a good look.

…or a dodo bird. They’re extinct now, but they were kind of whimsical and the story behind them is rather interesting. They were from the island of Mauritius, and they’d had no contact with humans so when humans came they had no defense mechanisms. The humans discovered that if they fed the birds rocks they would become really jagged so that they could sharpen their knives on them, but that wasn’t good for the dodo birds. The poor dodo birds!

What an untimely demise. I certainly would not care to ingest any rocks myself.  I tried it once, and my parapsychologist said it did not suit the hue of my aura which is an incredible deep blue, like my blood.  What color is your aura?
Oooh… it depends. Today I think it’s green and red and brown, mixed in with white, because I feel that I’m seeing time interweaving because we had autumn here and the old autumn leaves are mixing with the snow in the air. They are meeting for the first time but they’re not supposed to be meeting!

The Bitch Bench of Bergen Street Style: Part I

In Adventure, Etiquette, Fashion, inspiration, Style on July 16, 2012 at 1:58 pm

My fond admirers,

You may have read my recent post entitled The Lady (Bianca) Repeller: The Turd for Shoe.  It’s a revolutionary and important dissertation in which I decry “The Turd for Shoe” which I deftly define as the following:

“The Turd for Shoe is an inexplicable phenomena that begins to happen (usually early in male development) when at some point, man decides — WHY put your ENTIRE foot into a shoe (this might entail actually bending down, or perhaps some movement using arm strength and/or hand mobility) when, with one swift movement, one can merely SLIP one’s foot into a large, soft, brown, structureless TURD and then proceed to walk around like that, just living life.”

Well my fine friends, in addition to pointing out some flagrant abominations on the part of the human (particularly of the male persuasion) in making some gross errors when considering how to ornament oneself, I felt it prudent to lend my critical and adroit eye in pointing out creatures who have attained a level of lovely sartorial inclination.

And so, without further much ado about nothing, I would like to present my first in a series presented by yours truly entitled: “The Bitch Bench of Bergen Street Style.”  The Bitch Bench of Bergen Street, I should point out, is a dear little bench that sits outside Eponymy.  The bench exists, ostensibly, to provide an area for passerby and bored husbands of female shoppers to sit (preferably good-naturedly and not talking loudly on cell phones, chain-smoking or starting rubbish piles, ehem) while they wait for their loved ones.  In actuality, The Bitch Bench of Bergen Street is a platform which allows for myself and Eponymy staff and friends to both release anxieties among each other, and to gather inspiration from passerby.

In this series I choose a customer from my dear store who has somehow caught my eye and inspired me aesthetically, take a quick photo and I ask them a few questions in order to give the photograph a little flavor (I tend to veer towards lamb but everyone is different).  And so, without further hesitation, I present to you our first profile in this series.  And many, many thanks to Jillian, our lovely and gracious first subject for her willingness to participate and for her patience.

I adored how simple and lovely Jillian looked even in the vile heat and humidity of the day. She took a classic, basic look but added an unexpected twist by pairing a white tee and pink skirt with orange and yellow accessories. Nothing is either ostentatious nor matchy-matchy but it’s also not predictable. Oh, and I don’t know if you can see from here, but her toenails are painted a gorgeous 1950s kitchen appliance mint color. Brava Jillian.

Name: Jillian

Occupation: Producer

What she bought at Eponymy:  Cropped beige and white ikat AG Jeans, cream mesh detailed Mink Pink shorts.

What brings you to Bergen Street today? We were eating lunch at Sun in Bloom!  It was really good.

Are you pro or anti pickle?  pro pickle

Describe one of your most bizarre NYC experiences or sightings:

Oh jeeze.  There have been so many it’s difficult to narrow it down.  Well, I’ll give you one of the most recent.  The other day I saw a woman on the corner who was so strung out she had completely lost all sense of depth perception (and I’m sure other things) and so she was trying to drink a Mc Flurry that was melting rapidly because it was so hot outside but she was holding it at arms distance away and trying drink it from there and she just couldn’t quite figure out how to make it work – how to get the cup to her mouth so she could drink.  Very odd sight.

And there you have our first “Bitch Bench of Bergen Street Style” edition.  Until next time my dear fans,

Bianca Miller

What’s the Meme-ing of This?

In Adventure, Celebrity, Etiquette, Nemesis, Slander, Society on July 12, 2012 at 1:39 pm

Heaven knows I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to sidestep the pitfalls of high society life. I do so pity those who fall prey to the entourage of charlatans and hangers-on who make their living duping celebrities like myself with their own special brands of witch-doctory, hocus poucs and claptrap. Those of you in the know will be well aware of these tribes of swindlers; psychics, shamans, image consultants and dermatologists.

For the longest time I had steadfastly shunned them all, only to bow last year only to the advice of my trusted numerologist, Madame Menteur, to hire a press agent. This press agent, who shall remain nameless for legal reasons, was described to me as a necessary evil when living life in the public eye in today’s media saturated world. I would benefit from her careful hand, gently guiding my friends in the newsroom as to which stories of my exploits were suitable for public consumption and which were to remain my own for charming banter at cocktail hour. I also paid handsomely for the services of strictly controlling the right to my likeness, with imagery of my visage appearing only with my express permission, for a reasonable and tastefully donated fee.

Well you can imagine my horror when a dear reader took it upon themselves to inform my lovely friend Miss Miller of certain images that have been made available on what the young ones call Facesbook. It’s come to light that there are literally dozens of websites around the world where people place faked photographs that they buy somewhere called Photoshop, which I believe is in Seattle somewhere.

In response to this complete and utter failure by this so called ‘press agent’ I have asked my staff to take these photos from those websites and store them safely here on my own website instead. That way I can be sure they go no further.

So for that reason only they are stored below. I trust you will all have the good manners and courtesy to refrain from viewing them.

Bianca Golden Globes photobomb

Yours in dismay,

Bianca

Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

In Adventure, Celebrity, Etiquette, Fashion, Nemesis, Night Life, Romance, Slander, Society, Style on October 29, 2011 at 3:47 pm

Dearest friends and loyal fans,

Admittedly, it has been quite sometime since you have heard from me.  Although I feel in no way obligated to, as a lady of clout and social stature, I find it prudent to recap an abridged version of my activities — my comings and goings since I left you last.  This is not an excuse — but merely an explanation for my extended sabatical from blogging.

As I have lamented before, life can be such a struggle for a lady of my position!  It is not all coming up roses and little pieces of cut up sausage for Lady Bianca Miller.  Behind the veneer of glamourous parties, fabulous events, and sordid love affairs — there is a dark side my friends, a dark side.

And because so much time has passed since I have shared with you in this forum, I shall edit fiercely and attempt to catch you up to date swiftly.  I left you last sometime just before Fashion week.  As you can imagine, I get dozens of invitations from people desiring me to attend their event, show or party even for a few moments!  And while I can’t accept them all, I am higlighting a few of many of the events I lent my fame to that week:

Here, front row at the Zac Posen show, I snapped a photo of my old pal Sessilee Lopez. Of course I was asked to walk the show but due to a strained paw, I was unable to accept the kind offer. I imagine it was somewhat for the best as I tend to overshadow the rest of the girls, and it is a good show of generosity of spirit to give others their time to shine.

Later, backstage, I caught up with my good friend Anna Wintour (you can see her pictured here seated front row, catty-corner from me). Of course we were originally supposed to sit next to each other so I could lend an ear to her sometimes tedious inquisitions into my aesthetic interpretations of the sartorial floor show, but there was a mix up in the seating arrangements and I, not wanting to cause a stir, decided to do the graceful thing and yield to any deliberation on the matter.

After attending countless other fashion shows that week, I found it proper to take my adoring staff to happy hour at Maison Premiere where they offer all varieties of superior bivalve molluscs, all at $1 a peice!  Imagine!  Naturally, we had to give them all a go:

The stunning ladies of Eponymy, Amanda and Claire, ready to indulge in celebration of Eponymy's 3rd birthday. Dry Kir Royales and oysters? Yes please!

Though curvy in the right areas, I am also blessed with a speedy metabolism and so I do fully enjoy the luxuries of partaking in a second course at none other than Fette Sau.

Of course we found it only proper to end the evening with a Miller High Life toast to Eponymy, MHL being our eponymous beverage.

In addition to our private celebration, I decided it would be kind to support the industry and allow others celebrate the 3rd birthday of my little shop, Eponymy, by throwing a small soiree:

Here I am at my little shop, Eponymy, with my dear friend who occasionally helps me get things together. Generally, she can be a bit lazy about things you know. It is just so difficult to find good help these days!

I was able to secure my friend Stephane Wrembel to play the party:

Stephane has composed and performed the soundtracks to Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" and "Vicky Christina Barcelona" among other achievements. It was a glorious evening of lovely Gypsy Jazz. I say, I do know how to throw a party!

There is a possibility that while rehashing old glory days with my dear artist friend Thomas Brown, who has sculpted my likeness (I am somewhat of a muse to him), I may have consumed one too many Miller High Life beverages.

The lovely Emma Hoette who is both an accomplished modern dancer and costume designer, was also enjoying drinks from our favorite neighborhood bar, Weatherup! Unfortunately, I may have also represented in an entirely different way by perhaps slightly overindulging on the delicious cocktail selection they offered.

Of course, what really put me over the top was when the rock and roll crowd came tearing through the gathering.  One of my absolute dearest friends in the world and talented singer and muse, Lisa Ronson, daughter of the late, legendary Bowie guitarist, Mick Ronson showed up (late of course).  You know how those rock and roll characters can be!  Well one moment I’m innocently sipping camomile tea in a quiet corner and the next moment I’m drinking straight from a bottle of Jack and breaking musical intruments over senior citizen’s heads!

Here is Miss Ronson looking uncharacteristically demure in the presence of uber design, branding and merchandising stylist extraordinaire Alan Rohwer.

Well, it wasn’t just wild child Ronson’s doing.  Soon enough my friends and neighbors Ian Hultquist and Sofia Degli Alessandri of Passion Pit and Aislyn joined us and I soon began to enter a dark territory I believe I have heard many rock and rollers call “shit-can-drunk.”

Captured here in an inordinately modest and reserved moment, as soon as the cameras were off, Ian and Sophia started ripping the heads off small animals with their (lovely) teeth!

Well I kept up appearances and socialized for as long as I could...

...but I am afraid towards the end of the evening I had to retire somewhat earlier than anticipated...

...and naturally exhausted from several long weeks of festivities, I had to be escorted upstairs to my more comfortable residential abode...

Single?  CALL ME.  718-789-0301.

That my friends, is when the evening took a disastrous turn towards the devastatingly scandalous. Somehow, delirious and still tipsy from the evening, I wound up in the bath with an on again/off again romantic interest of mine. I can only assume that whilst passing through, he saw the necklace around my neck (by Diament Designs) reading "Available" and assumed that I was interested in rekindling our relationship.

...and of course the next morning....

...amongst all the kerfuffle...My Nemesis arrived on the scene to catch me in an amorous embrace with my gentleman suitor, Meatball.

I will tell you one thing.  Meatball was a perfect gentleman, even bringing me a breakfast in bed of chili cheese and bacon hot dogs, crispy pork sandwich and bratwurst with bacon braised sauerkraut from his splendid little restaurant Bark Hot Dogs.

But I am afraid, however, as glamourous as all of this sounds, I awoke the next day in a first class seat to Palm Springs, Florida where I escaped for several intensive days of detoxification, yoga and spa so I could get my head on straight for crying out loud!

I find the sun salutations so grounding in this crazy, crazy world we live in.

Oh, the pressures of fame!  I’ll tell you, friends, New Yorkians and countrymen, it’s certainly not all it’s cracked up to be!

And that, my friends, although an abridged version, should catch you up to date on my activities over the past few.  Pity me?  Gracious no!  I am a strong woman of substance and persistance and I shall laugh wholeheartedly and maybe even cough up an undesirable piece of phlegm (it is cold season now) in the cruel face of adversity.

With much due respect to my faithful fans,

Bianca Miller

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

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

Bianca Miller High Life

In Adventure, Etiquette, Nemesis, Night Life, Slander, Society on June 23, 2011 at 3:41 pm

As many of my closest friends know from experience, being a public figure in New York City has its advantages and disadvantages. In fame, as in life, you have to take the créme bruleé with the reduced fat non dairy cream cheese, so to speak.

Far be it from me to complain but I feel I must also make a stand to protect my privacy, my stature and indeed my hard-earned reputation as a lady of style, grace, humor and modesty.

I am referring, of course, to the sustained, unjustified and frankly disturbing nature of the sullying of my name carried out by the person I refer to, for legal reasons, only as My Nemesis.

While answering a run of the mill question on modern dining etiquette by a delightful visitor to our store, I was discussing the relative suitability of various summer drink options available to the fashionable girl about town. Having recommended some fine wines (I have been VERY keen on Grüner Veltliner lately) available from our friends at Sip, I went on to describe those drinks which were to be avoided at all costs; appletinis, anything endorsed by a rapper, beverages with bright colors not found in nature, and any beer that is not Eponymy’s eponymous beer: (Bianca) Miller High Life of course — “The Champagne of Beers.”

Now there is a time to drink, and a time for business.  Sometimes they intermingle, often they don’t.  In order to fully demonstrate the ungainly figure cut by a lady with a beverage at an unsuitable time of day, I kindly offered to pose beside a glass of beer during business hours. Naturally, this was solely for the purposes of instructing an eager student.

In a heinous act of malice and misrepresentation, this very moment was captured by My Nemesis and subsequently distributed to various gossip columnists around the city as a shameful attempt to paint me as a fallen woman.

Bianca Miller High Life

Of course, not such a long time later, while socializing with business associates at one of my local spots, The Flatbush Farm, the press showed up to document my whereabouts and captured me in several compromising angles making it appear as if I am overly enthusiastic and concerned about social lubrication.

I was merely chuckling at a preposterous comment my dear friend made regarding the paradox of the human condition!

Here I was simply grinning regarding a series of simply hil-ar-ious military-industrial complex knock-knock jokes told by my favorite bartender.

So you can see, as a socialite and philanthropist I simply must make public appearances and rub elbows with the elite.  But you can also ascertain how an innocent appearance can be turned into a false portrait of debauchery.  I’m just beside myself!

Just a year ago, you can take note of another photo captured by My Nemesis during a party beneifiting the arts.

See here, my gentleman friend slipped and I ended up falling into the beer. It was an absolutely frightening experience!

THEN — and this is an extreme example of privacy violation, I was holidaying at my darling country home in Guilford, Connecticut, relaxing by the pool with an afternoon beer, when I was bombarded by those awful paparazzi!  Now Guilford is a beautiful, relatively unscathed town that has not yet fallen victim to the precious, overly manicured towns of the more populated areas of Fairfield County.  How on Earth did they locate me there!

If one can't enjoy an afternoon beer at one's country home in peace for crying out loud, what on Earth is the world coming to!

And so it falls to me to firmly deny any wrongdoing and leave it to my trust in you, my dear friends, to judge who is wrong and who is sorely in need of litigation.

Yours indignantly,

Bianca Miller

Art Tour Extraordinaire: Part II

In Adventure, Art, Society on June 16, 2011 at 11:06 pm

Our little art tour was starting to feel like a bit of a roller coaster ride.  Up, with the elation of seeing my own image gracefully interpreted in a phenomenal display of the largest proportions — down with the anxiety of the plump, formless, pedestrian bear installation.  Eee gads!  I felt it timely to ride easy and drop into the La Chapelle show at Lever House  for some Pop-Art numbing.  The show went round and round like a merry-go-round,  awakening memories of childhood with its paper link chains.

It was then that I truly scrutinized the existence of the American Dream.

The tour was cut short when Vladimir noticed I was growing weary — after all, I had barely slept 18 hours the night before!  Having such a packed schedule can be positively exhausting!  So until next time…

Artfully yours,

Bianca Miller

P.S.

I was walking on Dean Street in Brooklyn today and came across this absolutely dreamy yard sculpture.  I feel the ambient lighting accentuates my perfect cheekbones.

BARK AT THE MOON

Art Tour Extraordinaire: Part I

In Adventure, Art, Society, Style on June 14, 2011 at 12:41 am

Now, I believe I’ve already mentioned my involvement in numerous social circles in our fine city. However I have yet to touch on my keen interest and pivotal role in the art world.  Indeed I have dear friends at Humble Arts Foundation, where I sit on the board and at  mr. and mrs. amaniolu — the curator of the wonderful collection for sale at my little store Eponymy.

As a patron, trendsetter, dealer and muse, naturally I am constantly being invited to gallery openings and events. What with my other commitments it’s frankly impossible to even attend a fraction of them. Exhaustication! That said, much as I enjoy hobbnobbing with a glass of wine and eavesdropping on conversations regarding false pretensions of metaphysical idealism, I also like to take it to the street and assess the more accessible delicacies of the art world.

Therefore, when I was asked to take a mini tour of some recent public art in Manhattan,  I decided to make time in my positively overloaded schedule to lend a skillful eye to the masses.

Driver! Take me to the venue!

I was picked up on Saturday morning by my driver Vladimir, a rather pleasantly plump fellow (notwithstanding the Russian prison tattoos on his hands and the gun shot wound in the side of his head). Our dear friend Alan Rohwer was in tow with my iced cappuccino, which was a blessing as I was absolutely parched. The scale of Alan’s artistic genius and talent is virtually insurmountable (why he nearly holds a candle to my achievements!) so naturally it was favorable to have him along for the ride.

Our first stop, The Helmsley Palace (these days known as The New York Palace), featured an exhibition in my honor. How spectacular the sculpture, and how kind it was of the guards to escort me down the red carpet to the base of the sculpture where I was photographed for what seemed like an honest to god eternity by those pesky paparazzi. Good lord. But one must oblige sometimes I suppose, especially when homage is shown on such a grand scale.

The sculpture itself, crafted by Julien Marienetti,  showed such attention to scale, such precise acknowledgement of my bone structure, my luxurious curves, the indent in the middle of my frontal lobe, the delicate folds in my face and neck – all diametrically opposed with the angular modern lines of the painted surfaces and vibrant colors. Gracious me! Pure Heavenly Goodness!

Take a look here, for a small style tip.  I decided to don a low-maintenance sporty outfit that day a lá Katherine Hepburn.  It is quite grotesque to look ostentatious at an event in one’s own honor:

Thank you kind city of New York! Thank you!

Once my appearance was made, we were on our way.  Vladimir suggested another location – a spot on Park Avenue boasting Swiss artist Urs Fischer’s 20 ton brass teddy bear.  While I don’t expect the subject matter of every public art work to reflect my grace and delicate facial structure, I have to say the lines did not please me aesthetically at all. Shame!

Botheration!

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