You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July 2009.
Those of you who are fans of R&B, Soul or Post-Disco will be familiar with the genre’s biggest super-group, The Whispers. No? Well get familiar here!
Now that you are in love, make sure you stop by the Nightery tonight to see the Institute’s very own Whispers cover band, The Whiskers!
And the Beat Goes On...
These guys are like catnip for the soul…
Incroyable!
Every time I try to think of the words to describe what is happening in this picture, I begin to weep profusely, and my probiscus leaks all over the keyboard. It really is that amazing.
Time to fix up your wardrobe Mr. Gibbon!
Our next makeover candidate was right under my probiscus the whole time! I’m surprised I didn’t sniff him out sooner!
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce Clive Gibbon, Institute Repairman. Frankly I am appalled at the security of this Institute. I mean really! If someone this ill-attired can get past the front door, surely it says something about our standards! I am in the process of inventing a device that detects synthetic fabrics, I dream of having one armed and alarmed at every doorway into this building.
Alas, I am not there yet.
I discovered Clive when I called for someone to unclog the drain in my shower. I was breakfasting when Clive arrived and so was taken by surprise when he emerged from the bathroom. Obviously I assumed that the hairball had come to life and was hellbent on murder. I drew my pearl-handled pistol and fired willy nilly!
When Clive is finally released from intensive care I will make amends by completely making over his look!
Bjorn and Jurmaine kicking back
Ladies and Gentlemen, the first in a series of shots of Bjorn in his Pied a Terre in the west wing of Institute Headquarters. The photos, taken by legendary shutterbug Frankenwurtz Lowenstein, are due to appear in next month’s Vogue Living, to coincide with the release of Flugelhorn’s new flick. I love a sneak peek, don’t you?
I must say this particular room has always made me a little uncomfortable. Perhaps it would be better if Bjorn ever got around to clothing his mannequins, rather than simply putting new hats on them.
Bjorn arriving at the premiere, pulled by Jurmaine.
In the spirit of such gems as Coco Avant Chanel and Unzipped the esteemed world of film has decided to make a subject of the Institute’s own Bjorn Flugelhorn.
Being Bjorn traces the highs and lows of a life lived for fashion (and toilet stall peyote binges). Bjorn would not sell the rights to his story unless he was allowed to play himself, and the result is the feeling of truly being along for the ride. A rather uncomfortable ride.
Bjorn was escorted to the premiere in his airtight box by his faithful companion, Jurmaine. By all accounts he kept the lid on tightly the whole time.
Cute, maybe. Asshole, definitely.
I was thoroughly enjoying a night out at Nairobi’s newest nightclub sensation Sploosh, when I was accosted by this pompous preppy pygmy with an axe to grind. Had a thing or eight to say about my probiscus. And my teeth. And my suit! That my friends was the last straw, I defend Armani with my life.
I lunged across the bar, grabbed an over-sized ice bucket and turned it over on this knee-high numbskull like one might catch a spider. Then I slid a piece of cardboard under the bucket and turned it over to the bouncer to dispose of.
World’s smallest antelope. World’s biggest twit.
Get me off this crazy thing called Pookie.
You know me, I’m extremely innovative and into trying new things. And so, when a friend of my third cousin Tony’s girlfriend’s poodle’s estranged ex-lover suggested I look up his friend Pookie on my brief soujourn to the mainland from Madagascar, I did. Pookie works part-time as a bush pilot. He offered me a free sight-seeing flight. I accepted.
All I can say is this: Never, ever, ever trust a winged Giraffe. The flight was bumpy, the service non-existent and the landing abysmal.
Go ahead and gawk, I certainly would!
What a night, what a night! After cutting several rugs to Sifaka Khan’s orgasmic opuses, I made my way to the VIP area to fine dine with the finest diners in town. Vichysoisse, Chicken ala King, Zabaglione! And that was just the appetizer.
From right to left: Sifaka Khan Head Dancer Fafah Ramboasalama, Kooky Winters, Yours Truly, Sifaka Khan warbler Hanitriniaina Rakotomalala and the ever effervescent Larry LaGrange.
Connecting the Dots between Opera and Thrash Metal
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am squealing with delight as I strap on my dancing shoes (Prada distressed suede boots of course!). For one night only, the Institute Nightery welcomes this fabulous five man trio. Their haunting mesh of klesmer beats, uninhibited howling and interpretive dance puts Yoko Ono to shame. Admittance by invitation only.
Cheeky Primitive Monkey!
Seeking out the best fashion Madagascar has to offer brought me directly to the home of Mr. Larry LaGrange, Madagascar’s Premier Poser! I am not sure if it was mere coincidence, or LaGrange’s penchant for a publicity stunt, but I arrived just in time to catch Larry posing in his birthday suit. I do love the addition of the trilby, it adds a certain je ne sais quoi to this smut. Bravo Larry! Put some clothes on and let’s do lunch.
May your fancies be tickled and your livers be pickled!
