Patricia Field is kitsch, color and unabashed sex appeal with a slightly nostalgic edge. She’s what your grandmother would look like if she moved to NYC from Dallas and bought The Biggest Little Whore House in Times Square, circa 1984, after living in Brooklyn for a year. However, Patricia was born in Queens and her first shop in the Village, circa 1966, started it all.

The Patricia Field woman appears to be over-sexed (if one can ever be) and over the top and I love her for it. Everyone does; the Academy of Television Arts and Science (she has three Emmys), The CFDA and The Costume Designers Guild among others. She’s styled and designed for countless films and television shows including Sex and The City (of course), The Devil Wears Prada and Ugly Betty. Finally, to the delight of label hungry connoisseurs of style, Patricia launched her own line, House of Fields, in 1995. The house is where sequined hot pants go to die, be born again and paired with Patricia’s interpretation of the broad abstract strokes of the legendary Stephen Sprouse.

Field is a living fringe icon with signature fire engine red hair, mountains of accessories and around the way girl, ghetto fabulous flair. Ironically enough, this misfit is largely responsible for spreading the gospel of high fashion across America. Before Sex and the City, the majority of people were under the impression that a Manolo was a tea cookie! Her characters (well, their outfits) have given women license to break the wardrobe rules that she herself had rolled up and smoked over four decades ago. Thanks Patricia for f*cking up the status quo!

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“Works like magic or something like that”

Why? Again, I ask why would any normal person want tiny little soap in the shape of hands? Little hands are quite functional for small children, and little people, and Chelsea Handler—obvious pun intended. But there is something very sick and morbid about these hand-shaped hand soaps. I’d feel better about them if they were on a small puddle of blood red soap. Gore ‘em up a little!

They actually remind me of the old Al Gore a bit; the petrified, lifeless aspect of them, I mean like something one might find in Marie Osmond’s guest bathroom, oh! Nothing good can come of these hands. Now I’m picturing a threesome between Chelsea, Gore and Marie. No, make it a foursome, little Chewy!! These little soapy hands are the devil! Don’t look and, for God’s sake, don’t touch!

Little hands may be purchased for $16.00 at www.plasticfoliage.com

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Oh, Dear! I see you. I’m watching you and you love it. You want to be seen, that’s why you’re on the scene and in the streets, looking so good, like you do! I’ll do my part and catch you out, it’s such fun for me too!! Just a moment please…… Pause and PREEN!

Art Walk October
Where: Wynwoond, Midtown
When: Second Saturday
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• Thou shalt not party foul thine ex’s new girl. This includes:“accidentally” snapping her necklace, spilling red wine on her waaay too tight white jeans, and, most of all, stealing back your ex . . . well, maybe that last one is okay!

• Thou shalt be aware of backsplash. Vomit happens anytime, anywhere, don’t let it be on it be on your shoes, back, or coming out of you–insert puking smiley face icon here. Know your limit or threshold, stay under it! This is for everyone’s benefit. Thanks!

• Crash–parties, not your car–whenever possible! A good party involves an element of danger and a trespass rap.

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::Where: The Setai @ Miami Beach
::What: A*MUSE
::When: 10/14/09
::Who: Pamela Anderson and Richie Rich
::Wasabi: … was there

FUNKSHION- Richie Rich

The unassuming entrance of the über swanky Setai and it’s interior was swarming with typical Miami scenster models, rich guys, tightly pulled ladies, boy toys, and pretty young things, fresh off the tarmac, peppered with two or three lost hipsters. Come to think of it, it was downright Hollywood—CA not FL—at the Setai last night, only not nearly as well dressed. Miami’s South Beach fashion vacuum was definitely in effect. As 9 p.m. rolled around, the lights came up, the photographer pit began to rustle, and things got very hot very fast, to the beat of the not-so-hot, not-so-five-star, sound system blaring a comfortingly familiar string of cheerful eighties hits: The Go, Go’s “We Got The Beat,” Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me,” and, of course, Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love,” all preceded by Elaine Lancaster spinning Diana Ross’s Mahogany classic “Do You Know Where You’re Going To.” Honesty, at this point I wasn’t quite sure, but I knew Pam and Richie were involved so it would fun, at the least, or silicone and glitter at best!

As muse to this AMUSE collection, Pamela Anderson’s dual personalities, laid back beach girl by day and raunchy sex symbol by night, were poured out onto The Setai’s liquid lined runway. Her spirit showed through, most strongly in the miniscule lounge/underwear separates and the, beyond revealing, sheer grayscale leopard print jumpsuits. Great looking, but not deftly constructed, metallic, full skirted, party dresses were all glam, slam, thank you, sir, Richie Rich style. Apparently, Heatherette, Richie’s very popular and sparkly first line—one with a cult-like following—will never die and its ghost made brief, and welcomed—by myself, at least—appearances throughout the collection. Another pleasant appearance involved quite a number of well muscled and oiled male models wrapped in caution tape and not much else, evoking the thought of one of Pam’s most famous photos. Very pleasantly, the show closed to Hole’s “Celebrity Skin,” an obvious nod to Pam and the lines’ animal and eco-friendly ideals. Generally, it was a good, slightly smutty, fun time. It left me wanting more; more attention to design, more debauchery and more free booze! Couldn’t have it all, but I did get my fill of silicone and glitter!

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