J.B. Taylor

Coq au vin and couture, nevermore.

The world lost two very influential and culturally important icons this week . . . that of Gourmet magazine (which is one of the world's oldest culinary publications and to which I had recently become an avid reader), and the genius photographer Irving Penn, who gave us gorgeous images of his wife, the legendary mannequin Lisa Fonssagrives, as well as unforgettable portraits of world leaders, cultural figures, tribesmen and still-lifes. We bid you both a sad adieu.

Official bum-out.

It has been one Hell of a week, especially when it comes to glittery stars becoming unexpected angels, and if Farrah and Michael weren't sad enough, now wonderful Karl Malden had to go and bite the dust.

I'd always found him to be totally bitchin', especially after watching him as the wildly frustrated middle-aged owner of a Southern cotton gin, who was married to a manipulative 19 year old (played gorgeously by Carroll Baker), in Elia Kazan's controversial 1956 flick, Baby Doll. But it wasn't until I went to a special screening of A Streetcar Named Desire at Grauman's Chinese Theatre that I really felt his acting wrath.

Malden's graceful performance is one for the history books, as he plays the level-headed mensch to Brando's brute, but there is one particular moment that audibly blew the audience's mind over all others in the film . . . it happens during a scene where he has sneaked away from his motley crew of poker pals to try and court the beautifully broken Blance Du Bois (played by Vivien Leigh). Brando interrupts him by calling "Miiiitch!" from the other room, and Malden turns his head to the camera, with his face taking up the whole screen, and screams back "commannng!". It doesn't sound like much, but on the big screen, Malden killed it, I got goosebumps all-over, and the audience let out a collective "whoa".  It was a cinematic experience i'll never forget, thanks to this unparalleled talent.

Never can say goodbye.

Like everyone else on the planet with any funk in their hearts and boogie in their souls, I'm totally bummed about losing Michael. After all, he was my very first crush, and I now understand the way my grandmother must've felt the day she heard Sinatra died . . . like your youth just hitched a ride to the Netherlands.

I grew up with my dad spinning Off the Wall, so my sister and I could dance around in our jelly shoes, but it wasn't until I watched his legendary Billie Jean performance, during Motown's 25th Anniversary special in 1983, that I really fell in awe . . . he introduced the moonwalk to the world, and at that moment, along with every other 8 year old kid on Earth, I fell in love.

It was his shy smile, glitter glove, sparkle socks, liquid smooth dance moves, and debonair style, and the nicest of all voices that had me smitten, so I kissed a poster of him "goodnight", every night, which I hung above my bed on the top bunk (see exact poster below). As a little girl I truly believed until the age of 12, that I would grow up to marry him. And then he became friends with E.T., which was just too mind-blowing to handle (see photo above, of little me ecstatic over receiving this cassette box-set for Hanukkah).

Other treasured  M.J. items were; a VHS tape of The Making of Thriller (which I must've watched at least 100 times), Lazer Blazers (see below), M.J. puffy sticker collection, my bedazzled white glove, a Tiger Beat pin-up of M.J. wearing a striped mariniere (below), and a mini-poster of Thriller-era Michael  holding a baby tiger (below).

 

My sister and I were so spazzed out over Jackson. that my parents rented a limo and took us to Dodger Stadium for the Jackson's Victory Tour, which remains one of my favorite childhood memories,. . . dancing in the aisles to Can you feel it? alongside my parents. It was one of those rare life moments when you knew you were experiencing something special, the likes of which would never happen again. 

I'm heartbroken that his unique brand of musical magic had to end so soon, especially considering that he had just re-united with his original production team (Quincy, Steve Porcaro, etc.), and was gearing up to release tunes sure to burn all the discos out.

Heaven, no longer missing an angel.

Actress, and '70s icon, Farrah Fawcett has sadly feathered away to the clouds above, so we pay homage to Charlie's most vibrant angel with a gallery of her uniquely gleaming California beauty:

I feel sad for Ryan O'Neal today, as he had been her devoted partner since 1980, and I used to see them on sweet dates at Nobu sushi in Malibu, holding hands and staring into each others eyes quite lovingly. Poor guy.

Photos: Corbis, Ultimate Charlie's Angels, Douglas Kirkland

Feast your peepers . . .

I've re-vamped the ol' blog, starting with my new name, The Vintager, and a dreamy new logo to match (thanks to my talented dude, Mr. Taylor, for his mad design skillz). I'll be posting more often (promise), and have many vintaging guides to cities around the U.S., currently in the works.

But for today, i've decided to share some inspiring auction lots, spotted on time-killing sites like Live Auctioneers, and Art Fact (but beware! These sites have totally usurped my eBay addiction, ten fold). Here are some favorite items, both recently sold, and currently open for bidding;

 

All images above from the Perfume Bottles auction in NYC, on May 1st. (L to R): 19th cent. European blue crystal figural snake scent bottle (sold for $2,400. What recession?), Rose Valois figural mini-scent bottles with little fabric hats c.1950s (sold for $750), Bourday Narcisse parfum feat. a 1920s bathing beauty and wooden stopper (too cute! Sold for $300). 2nd row: Mexican Paper mache lipsticks by Gemma c.1960s (sold for $125), fabulous "Opening Night" brooch by Lucien Lelong for Mosell c.1934 (sold for $2,900), Sortilege perfume from NYC's legendary Stork Club c.1940s (sold for $250).

Above featured in the Rossini Maison de Ventes aux Enchéres (Jazz memorabilia) auction in Paris on May 15th (L to R): Rare 1920s music-hall photograph of Josephine Baker, Folies Bergére magazine c.1926-1927 featuring Josephine Baker on cover, Booklet for the Moulin Rouge of Paris performing at Harlem's famous Cotton Club in the early-1930s.



Items above were sold on May 2nd & 3rd, at a fabulous auction of items from the homes of heiress/philanthropist, Doris Duke. (from L to R): Dreamy antique italian marble allegorical figure of fortitude (sold for $225,000), celarette barrel from Rudolph Valentino's Hollywood estate, Falcon Lair (sold for $1,200), outrageously wonderful terrestrial globe of sterling silver and set with real gems (sold for $5,000). 2nd row: Hand-sewn vintage calico kitten sachets (sold for $175) 3rd Row: Mid-century shell encrusted box (sold for $325), vintage "Here I stopped" 14K gold bookmark with D.D. monogram (sold for $3,500), mid-century Fornasetti "Strumenti Musicali" plates (sold for $400).

And i'd like to bid a heartfelt adieu to several inspiring personalities that are now wearing white Grecian gowns, and playing harps while lounging on clouds . . .


Actor/Chef/Author/Muppet Show regular, Dom DeLuise, who Lizzie and I once took a memorable ride in an elevator with, on our way to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in the early-'80s, when out of nowhere he looked at Lizzie, screamed, then threw handfuls of party confetti into the air. Needless to say, he won our hearts immediately.

Maxime de la Falaise, a true-Renaissance woman, having been in her colorful lifetime, a high fashion model, a designer of clothing and home decor, as well as a food writer for Vogue, and a muse to designers and artists such as Yves Saint Laurent, Elsa Schiaparelli, and Andy Warhol.

Legendary prima-ballerina of the Bolshoi Ballet, Ekaterina Maximova, who will blow your mind with her otherworldly perfection in this clip of her mad-crazy fouette style, and here, where the audience goes wild for her performance in Don Quixote. And here, as an adorable, doll-like, Sugar Plum Fairy.

And Sable Starr, famous '70s groupie, punk muse, and true love of Johnny Thunders.
Photos: Mom Smackley on Flickr, Lorenzo Tricoli on Flickr

Adieu . . . the world will miss you.

I'd like to pay tribute to a few inspiring folks that split town for Heaven this month . . .

Author and adventuress Leila Hadley, who traveled the world in the 1950s and wrote wonderful books about her journeys, including Give Me the World (1958), How to Travel With Children in Europe (1963), and A Journey With Elsa Cloud (1997)

Estelle Bennett of the legendary '60s girl group, The Ronettes, which she formed with her younger sister Ronnie. Together, the sisters, along with their cousin Nedra Talley, performed heartfelt songs that were the main inspiration for producer Phil Spector's inimitable "Wall of Sound" recording style.

Lux Interior, singer of the legendary psychobilly band, The Cramps, and husband of the band's wicked-cool bass player, Poison Ivy. They were at one time, one of my favorite bands ever, and whose explosively fabulous Holloween eve shows in Hollywood, became a tradition of mine for years (I would go-go dance until I couldn't walk)! My sister Lizzie and I once spotted Lux eating a sandwich at Art's Deli in Studio City, CA (he was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, black latex pants, and nice black pumps), and  we wanted to tell him how much we loved him, but were too awestruck (what lame-o's)! Rest in rock 'n roll peace, you lovely devil.

 

And a sad farewell to Kelly Groucutt, bass player for the magical '70s super-group ELO, who played on beautiful melodies such as Telephone Line, Mr. Blue Sky, and the soundtrack to Xanadu, only to name a few.

Photos: Leila (Thomas Dunne), Ronettes (Getty), Lux (beastandbean on flickr)

Dearest Blossom.

A weepy farewell to the lovely-voiced Blossom Dearie, who's songs sound like a much admired girlfriend whispering funny, swoony, secret-diary-entries in your ear. I'd first noticed her astonishingly sweet voice on the soundtrack to the heartfelt 2003 film My Life Without Me (starring Mark Ruffalo and Sarah Polley), and have been smitten ever since. How wonderful that though she is now looking down from a cigarette smoke cloud in Jazz-baby heaven, we still have her wonderful songs to keep us warm. We'll always love you, Blossom, dear.

Movin' Right Along (and adieu to Ms. Page).

Apologies for the lack of posts. As i'm sure you know, moving all your belongings can be a real drain on your creative chi. The good news is, i'm in LOVE with our new digs in Garrison (NY), and promise to post pics as soon as the decor will truly dazzle your peepers. But for now, here's a sneak peek at the cottage's entrance, exterior and garden;

And for the bummer update of the week, blow a goodbye kiss toward the heavens for 1950s pin-up pioneer, Bettie Page, who's style was so revolutionary, that she has spawned zillions of black-banged wannabes around the world (millions more being born as you read this). But what made her different than the other  cheesecake models, was her unique display of playful innocence (even whilst bound in bondage accoutrement). Bettie always exuded a child-like yet confident sexuality, despite her hard-knock past, much like fellow-legend Marilyn Monroe. Here are some of my favorite Bettie snaps:

 



* Bettie was one of the very first to pose for Playboy, and this Christmas photo was her first for the mag.

If you're a Bettie-ette, or would just like to know more about her, I highly recommend watching Mary Harron's beautiful 2005 film, The Notorious Bettie Page, which was unfairly skewered by the critics upon its release. Gretchen Moll gives a wondrous performance, and the writing, direction, and style are pretty much flawless.

Bye bye, Bettie baby. The world will love you forever & ever.

Photos: vampress, grrl

We'll miss you terribly, Mr. Newman.

Beyond sad to hear about the passing of Paul Newman . . . who was by all accounts, talented, kind, humble, and generous, not to mention drop-dead handsome. He was also Cool-Hand-Luke enough to have one of the happiest, longest lasting marriages in Hollywood history.

I couldn't help but shed tears this morning, just thinking about how deeply sad his lovely wife, Joanne Woodward must be. I'm sure it comforts her though, that his last moments were spent in the Connecticut farmhouse he loved so much, surrounded by friends and family, while being held in her ever-loving arms.

Here is a clip I love from Paul and Joanne's funny 1963 film, A New Kind of Love (which if you are a fan of vintage Parisian Couture, and brilliant comedic acting, I highly recommend watching). Enjoy!

Adieu to you, and those pale blue eyes.

 

(L to R) Paul and Robert Redford in Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid (1969), Beat style in the 1950s, Paul and Joanne in 1955 (photos: Corbis, DoctorMacro)

See you on the Dark Side of the Moon.

Was sad to read this morning about the passing of Richard Wright, keyboard wizard and founding member of Pink Floyd (click pics to view full size).
    

He wrote this gorgeous little diddy (which has always been a favorite of mine) along with many others, including Shine On You Crazy Diamond, which he lovingly composed in homage to former Floyd bandmate, Syd Barrett. He will be missed by music geeks and Prog-Rock freaks around the world, forever (me included).

Au Revoir, lovely YSL!

As a little girl, in the early-1980s, I adored flipping through my fashion designer mom's Paris Vogue's, and whenever I saw a goddess-like model, in a fairy-tale gown, with long, wavy Jerry Hall hair and ruby-red lips, I promptly tore it out, and taped it to the cartoony-castle-patterned wallpaper above my bed. I'd stare at these pictures constantly, praying to grow-up to be as mesmerizingly sophisticated, and glamorous as the models in the photos, and about 99% of the time, they were wearing YSL.

I was especially thrilled if the dresses were made of gold lamé, since that was my favorite. In fact, I was so obsessed with it, that my mom began bringing home swatches for me of the sparkle fabric from work, so that I could make little togas for my Barbie's, and have mini-YSL inspired runway shows on the kitchen table.

So when I heard that Yves Saint Laurent had passed away on Sunday, I was quite sad. So, in loving homage to the legendary designer, here is a collage of some of my favorite YSL images:

  
  


  

And if you want to view YSL's gorgeous garb in motion, be sure to watch his ultimate muse, Catherine Deneuve, work her stuff in the French surrealist film, Belle De Jour (directed by Luis Buñuel, 1967). Here's a peek:

Photos: YSL in his signature specs, a party-pink feathered confection, visiting Barbra Streisand and her dog Sadie in 1965 backstage at a performance of Funny Girl on Broadway, her Broadway theatre dressing room, '70-'71 Fall/Winter collection psychedelic "hippy" wedding dress, model Carla Bruni (now Bruni-Sarkozy, First Lady of France), YSL and his glam-gang (flickr: alexyenni), Autumn/Winter 1995, from his haute couture retrospective show at Paris's Pompidou Centre in 2002, standing in a "safari" suit in front of his first London boutique in 1969, '70s Ikat print kilt (found on eBay), sexy Yves!, my velvet dream coat, at his desk in his Paris home 1979, gypsy look from Spring/Summer 1983, Veronica Webb in 1992, with his portrait (flickr: DGegant), Fall/Winter '80-'82, Spring/Summer 1995, Iman in the Spring/Summer collection from 1986, with Lucie de la Falaise in 1992's Spring show finale (all photos managed by Corbis, unless noted).

Love and Le Smoking,
~ J.B.T.~