Hyperkult

Icons for the ages: Belmondo and Seberg; Photo credit: Film Reference

Once again I’m guilty of blog neglect, which is a shame because there are so many creative, delicious (food-related and otherwise) things that I’m enthused about right now. I’ve often felt compelled to share them, yet haven’t been able to muster the energy or focus to write.

There’s the otherworldly brilliance of Flying Lotus‘ new album, Cosmogramma, the joy that Cinespia season brings, my overwhelming devotion to L.A.’s nonpareil beat scene, my obsession with Echo Park designer Clare Vivier’s gorgeous bags (in sumptuous leather and, for summer, smart-looking canvas), and the 50th anniversary re-release of one of my favorite films, Breathless. And that’s not the half of it.

In short, I’ve been busy, but with Hollywood Bowl shows, many a weekend trip planned, culinary explorations, and so much more in store, now is not the time to slacken my writing pace.

My sweet friend and savvy co-worker Sarah is someone that I’ve been looking to for blogging inspiration. Fancy Eats, which she co-writes with her friend Amanda, is the stylish duo’s online fashion and food diary. There you’ll find them musing about everything from Isabel Marant (love) to amazing ramen restaurants, and encouraging readers to “Eat Well. Dress Fancy.”

I recently joined them on a Fancy Eats outing to M Cafe de Chaya in Beverly Hills, which we hit up with our Blackboard Eats coupon codes in hand. I frequent the Melrose M Cafe far more often than I’d like to admit, never tiring of their Sesame Soba Noodles and Kale with Spicy Peanut Dressing. This time around, I was floored by the layered fudge cake, which tasted nothing like any dairy-free dessert I’ve tried in the past. It puts mealy, dry vegan pastries to shame with each thickly-frosted, dark chocolate layer.

Our post-macrobiotic glow; Photo credit: Fancy Eats

Meanwhile, Luisa—who is a great storyteller, easily my funniest girlfriend and one of the most generous, warm people I know—shares the things that she loves on Free the Inspiration. From philanthropic outreach to runway stills to short films, Lu consistently unearths cool things to share with the online masses. Her latest pet project is an audition tape she made for Oprah’s soon-to-be-launched network.

Considering how much Luisa manages to inspire me, whether through her creative endeavors or during long conversations shared over wine in my living room, this contest seems like it was designed for her. Of course I’m biased, but I think you should vote for Luisa—multiple times, if possible. She’s a lovely person whose individuality would really shine on a show of her own design. The concept: to get meandering adults in touch with their most deeply held dreams. Hell, we could all use that kind of help, and who doesn’t love a good makeover? Vote for Luisa by clicking here.

In other news, I’m still mourning the recent loss of Lala and searching for a suitable playlist alternative. Fairtilizer will have to do in the interim. Here’s a taste of what I’ve been listening to lately:

Related Links:

Major Lazer and La Roux Present Lazerproof (Mad Decent)

Over the Weekend: Flying Lotus at the Echoplex (LA Weekly)

See Vivier (Clare Vivier Blog)

Jane Birkin in all her bohemian glory

Note: I wrote half of this yesterday and the other half this morning after waking from a Bordelaise and butter coma. My actual birthday was the 9th, but posting today gave me the chance to include a couple things I wouldn’t have otherwise.

Today is my birthday, giving me permission to be unabashedly indulgent for one day, and one day only. Truth be told, I prefer that these 24-hours pass with little fanfare, which is why I’ve planned a quiet dinner with a few close girlfriends tonight.

Since I have a free pass to be self-serving, though, I’ll use it to share a few of my favorite things in—you guessed it—list form. There’s no binding thread among what follows, save for the fact that I’m really loving, wanting, listening, thinking about, and/or admiring them.

1. The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño

I recently read a description of this novel, about a crew of “visceral realist” poets on a madcap quest for an elusive literary heroine, that pegged it as Y tu mamá también meets Gabriel García Márquez. That’s somewhat accurate and perhaps complimentary, but also reductive. Unwieldy as its character threads may be, Bolaño’s writing is controlled and lyrically singular. The last time I felt this way about an author was when I picked up Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which I now consider sacrosanct text. Only 200 pages in, and I can’t wait for the next 400.

2. The xx, “Intro”

The xx was on many a critic’s Top [insert number] list of 2009’s Most Notable Releases. I wasn’t convinced the first time I listened to the album, but I’ve since come to like the group’s self-titled debut and love “Intro,” its succinct opening track. It’s become one of those songs I stop midway, then jump back to the beginning because I don’t want it to end. Hypnotic and moody, just like I like ‘em.

Photo credit: LuisaViaRoma

3. Rick Owens Padded Leather Jacket

If I could make sweet, sweet love to an item of clothing, this would be it. After trying it on earlier this winter, I can attest to the fact that it fits perfectly and feels like a sumptuous second skin. Now, who has an extra $1,500 they can spare (and that’s on sale)?

Photo credit: Future Classics

4. Future Classics

When I first saw this draped dress in person, I believe my first words were, “this shit is ridiculous.” And it is—ridiculously beautiful, coupling femininity with layered and intricate figure-conscious cuts. I appreciate designer Julie Wilkins’ nod to vintage clothing and the deconstructive edge of each piece, especially. And who needs jeggings when you have sexy, buttoned, stirrup-like leggings like those above?

5. Style a la Jane Birkin

When I get dressed, I’m usually channeling Jane Birkin to some degree, or doggedly attempting to. While I may not be able to pull off the signature bangs, the high-waist jeans, square mini-dresses, and slouchy boyish/feminine look I can do. Pout not included.

Garance, left, and me, right, trying to tame my Canon Rebel XT (ignore the disgusting stained mirror)

6. Garance Doré

Photographer, illustrator, partner of Scott Schuman (a.k.a., The Sartorialist), and the French woman I secretly wish I was. She’s a woman of impeccable style, with an effervescence that comes across in photos and her playful musings about fashion. Devoid of pretense, Doré’s blog offers a refreshing and simultaneously erudite take on what’s happening on and off the runway.

Photo credit: Neiman Marcus

7. Chloé Eau de Parfum and Tom Ford Champaca Absolute

My grandmother on my mother’s side was a rigid disciplinarian who sold fish on the streets of Manila to provide for her family—far from being a fashion or beauty maven in the traditional sense. I only know her through stories my mother has told me, one of the more memorable anecdotes being that she was never without designer perfume. How the woman, who was partial to Nina Ricci and Chanel No. 5, managed to get her hands on high-end fragrances in the face of dire financial straits is equally confusing and impressive.

She passed her love of perfume down to my mom, who in turn cultivated the same appreciation in me. Growing up, I remember my mother smelling of Yves Saint Laurent’s Opium, Coco Chanel, and Jaipur, and my own taste tends toward forward florals and spicy aromas. At the moment, Chloé is getting the most play in my scent wardrobe (because I do indeed have a wardrobe, including Jo Malone’s Nectarine Blossom and Honey for bedtime), but Tom Ford’s Champaca Absolute is at the top of my wish list. Did I mention it’s my birthday today?

Photo credit: Neil Leifer

8. The Annenberg Space for Photography

Located on the same hallowed grounds as the CAA fortress building in Century City, the Annenberg Space for Photography is one of my favorite places to spend an afternoon in Los Angeles. I typically like to come here alone (more meditative), and I’ve seen every exhibit since it first opened last year. My favorite of the three rotating collections was themed around L.A. photographers/photojournalism, the work of Julius Shulman and Carolyn Cole being standouts for me. Best of all, visiting Annenberg is free; you’ll only have to pay a meager $1 parking fee post-validation. I visited the space today to see the Ioose/Leifer exhibit and left with a newfound appreciation for sports photography.

Mmm. Caramel icing.

9. Lark Cake Shop, Silverlake

As this is being written post-birthday celebration, I can include Lark on my list. My friend Frances, having heard me endlessly prattle on about wanting to sample the Caramel Cake from this adorable bake shop in Silverlake, surprised me by bringing it to dinner at Café Stella. It was as fantastic and moist as I imagined it, the sprinkle of Kosher salt in between layers of white cake and caramel icing subtly balancing out its sweetness.

Photo credit: The Louvre

10. Lists

My obsessive-compulsive love of organization was recently reinforced by a segment that aired on NPR. Famed Parisian museum the Louvre has unveiled an exhibit about “The Infinity of Lists,” curated in part by Italian writer Umberto Eco. Eco believes lists, even those as mundane as the phone book, can be “poetic” provided the correct intent is present. And that’s where this particular list ends.

A memorable concert moment among headstones

Now is a time for reflection, for looking back over the past year—oh, God, the past ten years—as the first decade of this millennium comes to a close.

It is a time for list-making.

I love lists. I hate lists. Making succinct, inevitably inadequate run-downs of my favorite something-or-others—films, designers, albums, ice cream flavors—is alternately fun and maddening. As soon as I think I’ve locked one down, I’m plagued with the guilt of having left off a borderline contender, or left wondering if I’ll look back on my Top [insert number here] with embarrassment or regret some time down the road. I now have mixed feelings about the Top 10 films I submitted to the San Francisco Bay Guardian for publication last year, for instance.

Yet like a smitten kitten I keep going back, because I love reviewing what’s been released, moments that have stuck with me, and searching the recesses of my culture snob soul to cobble together something that vaguely reflects my taste. So I suppose I’ll keep at it, though why anyone should care about what little ol’ me on my little ol’ blog has to say is not something I will dwell upon.

I may release these in a piecemeal fashion, or perhaps this is the only post I’ll dedicate to bulletpoint-ing…stuff. In any case, here is the first (last?) installment in Heidi’s End-of-Year reflections, in no particular order.

Top Five Live Shows of 2009

1. M83 with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, March 7
Highlights: The Phil’s rendition of Arvo Pärt’s “Fratres,” a soaring, orchestra and choir-backed take on “Lower Your Eyelids to Die With the Sun.”

2. Thom Yorke Secret Show at The Echoplex, October 2
Highlights: Crazy-ass, funk-a-licious “Harrowdown Hill” and “Paperbag Writer,” a song I never, ever thought I’d hear live—with Thom’s shirt unbuttoned the whole time, no less.

3. Bon Iver Sunrise Show at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, September 27
Highlights: Waking to a Buddhist blessing ceremony, the pure romance of “Flume,” a sing-a-long to “The Wolves (Act I and II)” followed by Justin Vernon’s cryptic farewell to the audience.

4. MSTRKRFT at Coachella, April 18
Highlights: As usual, the transition from Ugod’s “Ugodzilla” to “Easy Love,” which never ceases to inspire embarrassing, beat-bumping gyrations in me. That, along with John Legend’s surprise appearance for a finale of “Green Light”/”Heartbreaker” (whatever half-lip synching he was doing notwithstanding).
Lowlights: My friend almost passing out in the Sahara tent pre-show and getting drenched in the sweat of shirtless 21-year-old frat boys, but that goes with the territory.

5. Junior Boys at the El Rey, October 14
Highlights: “Parallel Lines,” the ever-so-sexy (and even moreso live) “Count Souvenirs”
Lowlights: A few technical problems and opener CircleSquare. Oh my suck.

Also, I need to stop using song titles as post titles so frequently.

*Edit: Sasha Frere-Jones is much better at this than I am.

Charlotte in Prada—what's not to love? From French 'Vogue,' December 2007/January 2008

The headline of this blog post is the best I can describe the latest music video from my favorite sylph-like chanteuse, Charlotte Gainsbourg. To me, it is quintessentially L.A., and not just because of the Dodgers hat featured in one vignette, or scenes that look like they were shot at the Beverly Hills Country Club. Much like the city I love so dearly, it’s a hodgepodge of weird, slightly nightmarish but still playful and sun-drenched images that somehow all make sense when strung together.

Enjoy this sample of what to expect from her forthcoming album IRM, which features major contributions from Beck. And after watching, go ahead and give the title track a listen by downloading it for free from Charlotte’s official website. Le sigh.

Dawn breaking over Bon Iver

Last weekend went by in a dreamlike blur. Somehow, a friend and I managed to stumble from Disneyland on Friday to a birthday party at The London West Hollywood on Saturday night to Bon Iver’s once-in-a-lifetime sunrise show at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, emerging with mildly scathed circadian rhythms and ravenous appetites. Luckily Joan’s on Third covered us on the hunger front, along with a couple other Bon Iver concertgoers with yellow wristbands matching ours. I vaguely remember an exchange with a fellow Hollywood Forever survivor while waiting for my food (Her: “Wasn’t that amazing?” Me: “It was amazzzzzing.”), but anything that happened after 9:00 AM was pretty much stricken from my sleep-deprived mind.

I’ve still got a small case of what I’m calling “graveyard cough,” but my scratchy throat is a small price to pay for a concert experience that I’ll never forget. Though the gates of Hollywood Forever—the “resting ground of Hollywood’s immortals”—opened at midnight, my friend Frances and I opted to take a disco nap at my apartment and show up around 4:00 AM. Fighting our way through Hollywood’s foggy streets and dodging a neon-clad male hustler yelling “You know you can afford me!” to passing cars, we finally crossed into a land of phantoms, headstones, and hoodie-wearing Silverlake hipsters.

We missed a screening of Bottle Rocket earlier that morning, a movie chosen specially for the occasion by Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. But no matter, because there was a projection of Planet Earth on the mausoleum wall and hypnotic mood music to lull us into a half-meditative, half-delirious state. The band must’ve sensed how out of sorts we would all be, so they called on Buddhist monks—yes, actual Buddhist monks—to be our alarm clock at 5:30 AM with a blessing and chanting ceremony.

As if that wasn’t enough to settle us into a state of pure zen, the band then took the stage, launching into their work from For Emma, Forever Ago and the Blood Bank EP. I’ve always filed For Emma under “writing music,” or “hole me up in a cabin for the winter” music, which, actually, is just what Vernon did when he was recording the album. But live I wasn’t moodily swaying my head back and forth like I’m wont to do when Emma wafts through my headphones. Oh, no. There was a bit of strange seated dancing going on, some tapping of feet, and tempo-synched neck bobbing that I normally reserve for whatever mega-awesome remix I’m obsessed with at the moment.

Yet Bon Iver, all heart on stage, gave us the kind of magical melancholy that we all sleepily trekked there for. After a finale of “The Wolves (Act I and II),” the mostly ass-parked audience gave a standing ovation and Vernon left us with this cryptic note of thanks: “Thank you guys so much for making this so wonderful. You guys are so kind, for real. Let’s do it again, maybe—or maybe never again. I love that.”

I love that, too.

Stumbling through cemetery fog at 4:00 AM

Sleepy Bon Iver fans