captured state of dishabille
I’m currently in Norman, and driving up to Tulsa tomorrow to spend Christmas with my parents and sister. I imagine posting will be light over the next week or so, as my parents lack access to teh Internets or even extended-basic cable. It’s a hostile place for a guy whose life revolves around TV and the Web. Instead, I imagine I’ll be reading those heavy things made of dead trees.
In the meantime, I’ll point you to this Ocean Drive Magazine profile of indie rock heartthrob Cat Power. Here’s an overly long snippet:
…the Chanel freebies have already started arriving. “I come from a long line of nothing,” Marshall says of her peripatetic Southern upbringing. “My great-grandmother was a cotton picker. I never could’ve imagined my feet inside a pair of fine Chanel boots.” It’s a shift she’s still adjusting to. As she prepares to head out for a late-night karaoke session, she begins running down her chic wardrobe—belt by Louis Vuitton, Hermès swimsuit doubling as a tank top—yet I’m confused by the identity of the design team responsible for her olive-green military-styled shirt.
“It’s from the Boy Scouts of America,” she repeats.
Is that a new hipster line, like Imitation of Christ?
Marshall looks puzzled: “No, it’s a Boy Scouts shirt! From the Salvation Army!” Her sneakers are, natch, from Kmart’s fall Anchor Bay collection.
Of course, it’s her voice that matters most…
