I don’t accept that nonexciting.com is the parody of nonsociety.com. It is, rather, the converse.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Motor City and the New New York
Brought to our attention by Wired’s profile, blog star Julia Allison’s March publicity stunt, dancing to Motown in Times Square with three fashionable lady friends in ’80s Jazzercise outfits, is a sign of the times.
A question from the audience: Cute girls dancing in flattering costumes—why need more of a reason to look?
Well, how about to understand what New York in the Sex and the City age is?
While I tend to consider the attacks Allison, as well as other famous and apparently rich do-nothings, attract to be the stupid, puerile product of jealousy, I don’t think it snarky to note that these girls’ moves to Martha and the Vandellas’ “Dancing in the Streets” represent how far we’ve come from the Motor City.
In pre-Twitter days, Allison, an editor-at-large with Us magazine and—more important--a first-rate self-promoter, would never have become famous, unless the New Yorker wrote about her in Talk of the Town. But today her ability to pose for the cameras and the blogs has earned her the ire of gossip columnists, the admiration of millions—all right, thousands—of fans, and the cover of Wired. The dancing escapade was in promotion of the new blog site, nonsociety.com, which is chiefly interesting because, despite the luxurious lay-out, the girls, as they hash their lives out in front of us, don’t seem to do or say anything very interesting at all.
But, hey, there’s nothing wrong with dancing in the streets. It’s what we do now. Life has turned into a party in New York City, nobody appears to work, certainly no one gets murdered, and you’re invited! It’s just like Martha sings, “All we need is music/…/Doesn’t matter what you wear/Just as long as you are there.” No classes or races—like Woodstock, only with Gucci.
Not really. I mean, I suppose you’re invited, if you care to warm your pathetic little life by the light of the fashionable elite with venture capital and free time, and you’re free to do this even if you are poor or black and come out of a hell-hole like Detroit. But really, from Soho to the Upper West Side, it’s for the Gucci set.
Perhaps I’m romantic, or maybe I’m the puerile product of jealousy—but here’s the kind of city I prefer.
(C’mon, guys, click that last link. It’s got pretty music. And English subtitles.)
A question from the audience: Cute girls dancing in flattering costumes—why need more of a reason to look?
Well, how about to understand what New York in the Sex and the City age is?
While I tend to consider the attacks Allison, as well as other famous and apparently rich do-nothings, attract to be the stupid, puerile product of jealousy, I don’t think it snarky to note that these girls’ moves to Martha and the Vandellas’ “Dancing in the Streets” represent how far we’ve come from the Motor City.
In pre-Twitter days, Allison, an editor-at-large with Us magazine and—more important--a first-rate self-promoter, would never have become famous, unless the New Yorker wrote about her in Talk of the Town. But today her ability to pose for the cameras and the blogs has earned her the ire of gossip columnists, the admiration of millions—all right, thousands—of fans, and the cover of Wired. The dancing escapade was in promotion of the new blog site, nonsociety.com, which is chiefly interesting because, despite the luxurious lay-out, the girls, as they hash their lives out in front of us, don’t seem to do or say anything very interesting at all.
But, hey, there’s nothing wrong with dancing in the streets. It’s what we do now. Life has turned into a party in New York City, nobody appears to work, certainly no one gets murdered, and you’re invited! It’s just like Martha sings, “All we need is music/…/Doesn’t matter what you wear/Just as long as you are there.” No classes or races—like Woodstock, only with Gucci.
Not really. I mean, I suppose you’re invited, if you care to warm your pathetic little life by the light of the fashionable elite with venture capital and free time, and you’re free to do this even if you are poor or black and come out of a hell-hole like Detroit. But really, from Soho to the Upper West Side, it’s for the Gucci set.
Perhaps I’m romantic, or maybe I’m the puerile product of jealousy—but here’s the kind of city I prefer.
(C’mon, guys, click that last link. It’s got pretty music. And English subtitles.)
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