Alexandra Warrick
2017-01-19T09:00:05Z
Carlos Huber, GSAPP '08, is easily one of the beauty world's most idiosyncratic multi-hyphenates: He is an architect, historic preservationist, and the founder of Arquiste, an award-winning parfumeur that aims to conjure up, through scent, captivating slices of history—the Isle of Pheasants circa 1660, or 1400 in Tenochtitlan. Renaissance peace treaties and 19th-century duels notwithstanding, no time is more exciting than the present for Arquiste, as Huber debuted his first collaborative fragrances with brand J. Crew in late August. The two scents—No. 31 and No. 57 (J. Crew's first fragrances)—are Huber's olfactory interpretations of Peggy Guggenheim's 1943 "Exhibition by 31 Women," the first all-female modern art show ever mounted in the United States. The fragrances piece together the atmosphere of the exhibit's opening from such aromatic details as the space's oak walls and the cocktails enjoyed by gallery-goers.
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2016-05-06T09:00:03Z
It's hard to get good and shocked nowadays—the Internet is a veritable Pu-Pu platter of addled nonsense if you know which virtual alleys to wander down. For those exhausted by web-based content and itching to get their hands on artsy filth the old-fashioned way, however, there's always the newsstand. Filtering through the Bible-thick indie glossies in the back of your local smoke shop can hit a browser with more inexplicable areola decoration than you can shake a schnitzel at. Indie fashion magazine covers are still guaranteed oddball gold—as Paper magazine's Botero-grade Kim Kardashian cover proves, pulp can still trump pixels. Here are five more bizarre, Internet-breaking covers, included for the sheer numbers of questions they raise.
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2015-12-06T01:07:36Z
Rick Alverson's Entertainment is delicious torture. A clammy handshake of a film, Entertainment is so dead-eyed in its cynicism, it's exhilarating; as with the director's 2012 debut The Comedy, the film's so low it'll give the viewer a high. A molasses-slow burn, Entertainment features moments of exquisite stillness that are moody and melancholy and maddening; its flash-bang title, which appears in plump, cheesy font, is the tongue-in-cheek cherry on top.
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2015-09-29T10:26:50Z
For the last four years, New York City Ballet's Fall Gala has showcased an intimidating constellation of guest costumers, which includes designers from houses as vaunted as Valentino, Alexander McQueen and Rodarte. Joining their ranks this year is young couturier Hanako Maeda, CC '10, whose designs will appear in an original piece choreographed by the National Ballet of Canada's Robert Binet.
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2015-09-29T08:35:26Z
With Fall comes Fashion Week, and with Fashion Week comes scores of street style snaps that run the gamut from the sartorially sublime to the impossibly silly. This leaves the casual trendspotter in a bit of a pickle: what will catch on? What will fizzle out?
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2015-04-24T00:08:06Z
Tyler, the Creator's new album "Cherry Bomb" is slick, star-studded, and surprisingly sugary. Less his hallmark knot of gristle, it gushes with sticky-sweet optimism, more Nerds rope than hangman's. This is a stark inversion of close collaborator Earl Sweatshirt's recent dirge, "I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside."
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2015-03-05T14:16:09Z
"It Follows"... Oh, does it ever. David Robert Mitchell's "It Follows" relentlessly does nothing but run its central Scooby Gang of nubile, Keane-eyed teenyboppers through the ringer as they scramble from the clutches of a shape-shifting, sexually-transmitted monster.
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2015-02-19T14:52:21Z
"You want your theater to rock your boat, you want it to slap your sensibilities, you want it to shit in your bath."
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2015-02-12T16:48:56Z
Momofuku Milk Bar—David Chang's sweets-and-treats outpost helmed by pastry whiz Christina Tosi—has just set up a glowing pop-up cabin in Madison Square Park where hands can be warmed and sweet tooths satiated with two all-new beverage creations.
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2015-02-12T16:48:56Z
Raven Schlossberg's "DAYTRIPPIN' NIGHTSKIPPIN'," opening Feb. 12 at the Pavel Zoubok Gallery, is a poppy, hopped-up bullet from a gun—or at least a BANG! flag.
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