This week it was not Erin Wasson, Carine or even Kate who inspired me. Usually these girls and their incredible sense of style have a very proportionate effect on my debit card but it was instead Allen Ginsburg's poem Howl that carried me away to a forgotten era. The energy and verbose quality of it makes me feel very 1994 NYC. (see Mary-Kate as an lovely little drug addled urchin in The Wackness for a visual aide) The grit and reality of Howl claws almost down to your bones- the seemingly endless chains of degenerate prose rolling down your tongue and past your lips. Despite being over 50 years old Howl still shocks and seduces the reader with unabashed provocations. And what it provoked me to do? Peruse the web for a Balmain miniature a la Gwenyth Paltrow to pair with my very worn in ankle booties and head to my favorite shadowy dive bar on Hollywood Blvd.
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at
dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient
heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the
machinery of night,"
To read the Howl in its entirety (which i do highly suggest!)
xx til next,