Every week we ask the ladies and gentlemen of the social web to show us their finest ink in celebration of Tattoo Tuesday; our favorite submission from Twitter and Tumblr each wins a free 3 month membership to SuicideGirls.com.
Every week we ask the ladies and gentlemen of the social web to show us their finest ink in celebration of Tattoo Tuesday; our favorite submission from Twitter and Tumblr each wins a free 3 month membership to SuicideGirls.com.
Every week we ask you guys to show us your ink in celebration of Tattoo Tuesday: we choose one favorite submission each from Twitter and Tumblr and they win a free 3 month membership to SuicideGirls.com.
Every week we ask you guys to show us your ink in celebration of Tattoo Tuesday: we choose one favorite submission each from Twitter and Tumblr and they win a free 3 month membership to SuicideGirls.com.
This last weekend Europe united for the Eurovision Song Contest, an annual event which a whole continent loves to hate, yet, like a car crash, is compelled to watch. For anyone who hasn’t had their lives touched by the force of nature that is Eurovision, allow me to explain. Founded in 1956, it was supposed to bring post-war Europe together in the spirit of friendly competition, but has since become a leviathan of campery, one-upmanship, tactical/political/block voting, ludicrous gimmicks, and people taking themselves far, far too seriously. It’s a yearly televisual event which serves as an excuse for the whole of Europe to sit down in front of the TV for one colossal drinking game (see rules), and is probably the best indicator of contemporary European politics we have.
Forty-three countries entered this year, and were whittled down to 25 finalists during two semi-final rounds ahead of Saturday night’s main competition. The winners were selected using a combination of televotes and jury votes. Ostentatiously, people were voting for the best song in Europe, but the entrants tend to be remembered for the spectacle rather than for their musical chops. From Britain’s Buck’s Fizz, who memorably ripped the skirts off their female members in 1981, to 2006 when Finnish rock band Lordi managed to temporarily unite the whole of Europe behind latex monster costumes, it’s the visuals that make Eurovision. I had planned to write this as the show was broadcast, but the mandatory Eurovision drinking game was particularly brutal this year, and all I’d managed to type by the next morning was “bbbbbbbbRRRRRRRRRRRRRR,” which I’m sure made a lot of sense at the time.
Anyway, now my hangover has finally subsided, I give you the Dedicated Follower of Fashion’s guide to the critical style moments of Eurovision 2011.
Alexander McQueen, ‘l’enfant terrible’ of British fashion, is having a truly global moment.
As some of the most famous people in the world gathered in outlandish creations for the Met Gala, which this year celebrated the opening of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s McQueen retrospective (Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty, which has attracted 46,000 visitors in its opening week – a Met record), it was hard for a dedicated follower of fashion not to wonder what its namesake would have felt about all this attention.
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