Posts Tagged ‘Fetish’

Last month, I was in Tokyo for a few TV jobs — which gave me a chance to report on Japanese Gothic parties and boutiques. The scene’s as vibrant and elegant as ever.

I was filmed for an episode of NHK Kawaii TV. The  30 min segment is about La Carmina’s world: the spooky places and people that inspire me.

I took the TV crew to Abilletage, a recently-opened Gothic vintage and handmade corset shop in Shinjuku. The NHK cameraman filmed me meeting my spooky friends, exploring the boutique and getting fitted into a corset by designer Bambi.

Abilletage is lushly decorated with thick red curtains, chandeliers and antiques. There’s also a coffee and tea section, popular with Tokyo’s Gothic ladies and gentlemen. (Order the ice chai, you won’t regret it.)

If you’re in Shinjuku, you must stop by the boutique. Address and more photos are on La Carmina blog.

After, I took NHK Kawaii TV to Baby Doll in Harajuku. I was keen to feature this Goth Fetish boutique in the program, since it’s been independently run for over 10 years. Baby Doll’s original clothing includes form-fitting outfits worn by Lady Gaga. You can pick up everything from tutus to play-torture equipment here.

Support indie stores! A Harajuku shopping trip should include Babydoll, located here. For more Gothic Lolita Punk store recommendations, check out my Tokyo shopping guide and map.

Finally, the TV crew filmed me partying all night at Midnight Mess, the longest-running Goth/Industrial/EBM event in Tokyo. The absinthe poured freely…

On stage with Yukiro, Maya and Selia. The all-night party featured Baroque Opera singing and an S&M bondage show. The Kawaii TV episode will air in January, and I’ll put up clips so you can see the Japan Goth party in action.

Where else to go for Gothic /alternative partying? Torture Garden Japan, which happens about once a year. There’s always a fashionable turnout, and tons of kink performances.

There’s also Walpurgis Night at Shinjuku Jam. The regular Goth event features live bands and music.

I love the 80s Gothic and synth tunes that Taizo spins. Lots of Siouxsie makeup to be found here.

And there’s always Decadance Bar, open almost every night and located above Christon Cafe Shinjuku. Drag queens and cyber kids congregate here to drink absinthe and dance.

For full addresses, reports and maps, please view my Tokyo alternative club guide.

What to wear on a night out in Tokyo? Believe it or not, Lip Service is popular here too! I wore a LS sailor costume during the filming of a Fuel/Discovery/National Geographic TV show.

Only a few days until Halloween… got a costume and party plans yet? I’ve got epic ones: flying to Mazatlan, Mexico for Halloween and Day of the Dead, courtesy of the tourism board. I’m hosting and arranging a travel  video for them, about the Gothic/spooky/art/culture of Mazatlan! (More info about my evil plans here.)

That means in the next column, you can look forward to firsthand Dia de los Muertos coverage. Now, off to catch my flight!

XXX LA CARMINA XXX

http://www.lacarmina.com/

The Birthday Girl

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Another birthday had come, and with it one more party to add to the list. We were at one of my favorite bars in the city; we being myself and a close-knit circle of good friends I’ve amassed over the years, those I truly felt close to. It was a moderately satisfying, if rather uneventful, night; the bar crowd was typical and the drinks were pleasantly mediocre. We were overdressed, of course, decked out in lavish flowing gowns and enormous hair more fit for a ballroom than a barstool. But this was a celebration and absolutely no time to conceal our love for the garish!

The venue was in full swing, but the lack of exciting dialogue was causing prime time to feel more akin to mime time. Something that would take the night from a blasé 4 to a riveting 8+ was in order. As if on cue, the dubious on-and-off love interest of my old college roommate decided to grace us with his typically “too cool for school” presence. He was an odd fellow, known for both his ironic Franz Ferdinand moustache and highly acclaimed work within the field of street pharmacy. He stepped forward to reveal that he had a blotter securely tucked away in the gargantuan Native American tribal chief ceremonial headdress perched atop his head. Not ones to normally partake in such rash activities (such as conversing with hipsters), we thought ill of the notion at first, but ultimately decided to throw reason on its head and see where this new development may lead us (possibly jail). There were three of us that decided to indulge and we each ingested our respective portion. For some time there was little impact beyond elevated adrenaline levels, but suddenly the world began to grow thin and long until a blackness corroded the lens of perception.

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After some time, as to the duration of which I could offer no educated guess, I became aware of myself once again. I was standing up, apparently the same as I had been at the bar but, in growing cognizant of my surroundings, I realized that I was somewhere quite apart from said city-dwelling tavern. There was simply what appeared to be a ramshackle, old dwelling floating solitarily in a void; nothing but amorphous darkness beyond the small bit of soil and several trees serving as the withering buildings’ meager estate. My options were few, and panic oddly suppressed, so I decided to see what lie within the crumbling edifice.

Not surprisingly, the interior matched the degeneration of the exterior; the walls were stripped of paint and paper, the floors were missing large sections and the ceilings were precariously cracked and splintering. There was dull light streaming in from an unforeseen angle which provided something of a conduit in navigating the inner sanctum of the structure. The bottom levels were all but uncharitable, so rather than tempt fate, I chose to ascend the staircase in the front room. Reaching the top of the stairs, I noticed that many of the upper rooms would nary accommodate a human body; however though, one particularly large empty room stood out among them as potentially habitable. With nowhere else to traverse, I ventured into this area.

Save for the bits of crumbled plaster and brick around the edges of the room, the floor was entirely bare. The walls had become uniformly blank with age, and the only things which stood out were a long abandoned fireplace and a rather dusty, ancient couch. This was strange enough, until, in a startling revelation, I noticed that some force or entity had posted a sizable HAPPY BIRTHDAY marquee along the back wall, and left a rather bulky cube-shaped present on the rustic couch. Both of these items lacked signs of age or length of stay. Normally, I would run from this uncanny scene, frightened out of my mind, but the effects of the drug and/or the blur of the dreamlike state caused in me an intense curiosity instead, and a distinct lack of fear. This was apparently to be my private astral party and I, as the guest of honor, should take care not miss it. I took my place on the dust-encrusted throne and proceeded to take the present into my lap. Across from me on the wall was a large rectangular mirror. As I stared at the reflected image of myself, I had the bizarre feeling of being watched, almost ethereally, as if the reflective glass was storing an image of me. Inquisitive, but un-phased, I resumed my duty of opening the sole present bequeathed to me by this inexplicable residence. I poised myself to grab the bow and tug it off, slowly removing the ribbon and peeling back the top of the container to peer inside…

I blinked my eyes, startled, as if abruptly awakening from a particularly gripping nightmare. I was sitting in my dimly lit living room, alone and empty handed. Unsure of what had just transpired, I resigned myself to bed and fell into a deep slumber almost immediately. Later, I would learn from my friends that I had left the bar on my own and none of them could find me and knew nothing of my whereabouts for the remainder of the evening. They speculated that I had caught a cab home straightaway and fallen asleep. That was an easy explanation, and I think that I should not tell them about the mystifying pictures I found the following day on the sofa in the room I awoke in. The pictures of me in my party dress, sitting on a strange, deeply aged couch in the middle of a barren, grimy room holding a large, pristine present in my lap…

see full size in gallery below

“The highest of all holidays in the Satanic religion is the date of one’s own birth. Every man is a god if he chooses to recognize himself as one. So, the Satanist celebrates his own birthday as the most important holiday of the year. Despite the fact that some of us may not have been wanted, or at least were not particularly planned, we’re glad, even if no one else is, that we’re here! You should give yourself a pat on the back, buy yourself whatever you want, treat yourself like the king (or god) that you are, and generally celebrate your birthday with as much pomp and ceremony as possible.”- Anton LaVey

Inspiration List: Estigmas (the Z-grade Spanish post-Apocalyptic fetishistic Nazi-sploitation film by Jose Bravo & J. Luis Martinez ), finding practical use for my extravagantly fancy Salon Du Pop ballgown, Hello Kitty children’s birthday thotchke, the delicious juxtaposition of gas masks worn with party dresses, sharing past experiences of fun with hallucinogens , abandoned buildings, turning 28 on January 22nd and celebrating my favorite Satanic Holiday of the year.

Whoever said that gas masks and glamour are mutually exclusive obviously hasn’t seen the bling encrusted and Louis Vuitton-logo-emblazoned conceptual “High Fashion Protection” pieces conceived by Diddo Velema. While Velema’s bizarre designer breathing apparatus appears to be a tongue-in-cheek reaction to “our collectively insatiable culture of consumption”, my own coupling of gas masks and ballgowns is completely devoid of any underlying political innuendo. It’s merely an ode to unconventional pairings of metallic frocks that would be most at home at a Martian senior prom, post-Apocalyptic survival gear, and playful child-like accessories.

Alas, sometimes our best laid plans (such as dropping acid in a haunted house) should remain confined to the realm of a controlled environment for sanity’s sake. The “Ominous Birthday Princess” getup looks simply darling at a photoshoot or a music video, and it will easily seize the imagination of any live audience member at a stage performance. However, certain fantasy-based stylistic statements won’t translate all that well in a club environment, mostly due to the fact that gas masks tend to be face-meltingly hot, and wearing one for an extended period of time without being overcome with the distinct feeling of drowning in your own perspiration can prove to be quite challenging. Unless you’ve got an actual sudden chemical warfare emergency on your hands and preventing toxic irritants from liquefying your eyes is your new number one priority, you’ll probably want to tear the fucking thing off in under an hour. And the sweaty aftermath? If you don’t mind oozing salty fluid out of every pore, go on and live out your dream of becoming the human sauna. But when your friends suddenly flee the scene to “wash their hair” or “call their grandma” at 1:00 am on Saturday night, well – don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Silver Belle

Vanity’s take on birthday girl glam:

• Salon Du Pop 14-71 “Marquise Gown” and matching 14-70 “Flaunt and Flattery Shrug“ in the silver/black colorway shimmer with the otherworldly inapproachability of a garb fit for an entity which exists solely outside of the common man’s perception of reality. The more LSD-laced tiki drinks one consumes, the greater their chance of catching a glimpse of her on the physical plane.
• Purple and black petticoat to further amp up the volume of the lavishly decorated Salon Du Pop Marquise Gown, adding considerably more “pomp and ceremony” to the party. Trust me, LaVey would’ve wanted it this way.
• To avoid getting mistaken for your own birthday cake, balance out the proportions of the billowing lace-trimmed sleeves of the shrug and the multi-layered floor length skirt with the addition of a black waist cincher. It will take the “foofy” quotient down a notch.
• Clinical trials have proven that 10 out of 10 times gas masks looked more legit/creepy/”industrial” than the respirators , dust masks and silly so called “surgical masks” that cyber kids can’t seem to live without. (Read my extended anti-respirator-as-fashion-accessory rant here)
• Purple sparkly Hello Kitty tiara
• ”Birthday Girl” award ribbon pin. Because I’m the guest of honor, bitches. And no force in the universe will stop me from obnoxiously announcing it with my attire.

Learn how to insert falls here.

A happy birthday to me(it’s this Saturday, so you still have a chance to get me something!) and to all a good night

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Credits

Photography: Bill Tracy Photography

Model:Vanity Kills

Location: Abandoned house in Montague, NJ

<3

Vanity Kills

Since its inception in 2009, Lethal Style has certainly seen more than a fair share of slasher stories paired with The Orginal Cult’s most killer threads. After all, the very name of this style blog basically spells it out for the readers. Over the past year, the characters you’ve read about here disposed of clueless club kids in Cellar Heat, bathed in model blood in Hotel Bathory, and put some rednecks on the business end of a hook in The Reaper. With the occasional shrunken head, chupacabra, and bear on PCP aboard an airplane thrown in the mix for good measure.

I’m thankful for my Lippy webmasters Mich and Jim for giving me the opportunity to flesh out all the crazy ideas spawned within the bowels of my “that bitch ain’t right” imagination. I’m thankful for Dan, my boyfriend, who mostly took over the fiction writing, so I could focus my ADD riddled brain on the meat of the matter — styling and long-winded fashion rants. I’m thankful for each and every photographer who helped to bring my twisted/hilarious/just plain bizarre visions to life. I’m thankful for the friends who became willing victims for my cause (a.k.a. guest models) and for every faithful assistant comrade who carried lights from the photographer’s vehicle onto location. Last but not least, I’m certainly thankful for a certain Los Angeles based clothing retailer, whose gear made all these sartorial shenanigans possible.

I dedicate November’s cornfield-n-machete splatterfest to you all.

Story by Dan Barrett.

The farm was just as it had appeared in the pictures. Fairly dilapidated and half eaten by weeds & rust, but still manageable as living quarters. It was a far cry from the place I remembered as a child, but it should be sufficient. After years of slogging away in office buildings in the city; filing papers, sending faxes, completing menial database consolidation, and ultimately realizing that nearly every waking moment was spent being a slave to our continuously evolving technology, I decided the only way for me to properly continue living was to escape it all. So, I sold my apartment in the midst of the metropolis and sought to buy the farmland my family had owned when I was born. Though the place had been in the family for generations, it had stopped being a useful source of revenue in the days of my early youth and consequently was sold so we could move to an urban area, where better-paying jobs flourished. There I had remained for the better part of eighteen years, learning the ways of the populous and becoming ingrained in the fast-paced society, learning to live and die by the clock. I had succeeded by the criteria of that world, but success did little to lead me from despair. And so, here I was at last, reclaiming the soil of my hard-working forefathers.

The place was highly removed from the population I had known; it was nearly an hour to a city of any notable size, and an impressive twenty minutes outside of what could generously be called a town. The roads leading to it were hardly even paved. It was a good, fortress-like, abode constructed not with outward splendor, but solely with functionality; combined with the beauty of the un-tread earth and nearby deciduous forests, it was the ideal haven for a deserter of society.

It took me only a matter of days to clean up the house enough to comfortably reside there. The place was mostly abandoned, and needed a number of repairs to be restored to basic functioning living quarters. I survived on sustenance I had bought in town while I worked to uncover the long dormant fields. All of them were long deceased and entombed by weed and rock. All, that is, except for one area. There was a cornfield which seemed to have, oddly, been kept up through the years. It was mid autumn, mere days before Thanksgiving, and the corn stalks were a brownish golden hue, in the final stages of decay, but it was clear this field had not been left to perish like the other plots. It was bizarre, but I deduced a rational explanation for it in my head. Despite my lineage, I knew very little about crop growing, so I chalked it up to some form of seed that replenishes itself yearly with little additional maintenance. If only I had been right…

For a while, the days and nights were generally uneventful. I worked on planting seeds when I could; I was hoping to figure out the art of pumpkin growing for the holidays. After dark I sometimes heard strange rustling coming from corn, but I inferred the cause was simply wind, birds, or perhaps ground-dwelling mammals, such as moles or rabbits, and dismissed it. One day, a few weeks after moving into the farmhouse, I was walking through the cornfield to understand its true breadth and depth. After a couple minutes of wandering betwixt this seemingly endless sea of rotten stalks and leaves, I came upon an extraordinary opening where the corn seemed to have been trampled, perhaps not unlike a crop circle! I could not fathom the necessity of such a thing. Unfortunately, my pondering was halted suddenly by what sounded like the crunch of heavy footsteps over the debris. I gradually turned counter clockwise and saw them close in around me. There were several, perhaps eight of them in total. Peculiar and deformed folk, they were wearing raggedy clothing and smelling rank, like old carrion fermented in mud. Some were carrying rusted weapons, and some just had horrible hook-like fingers. I hadn’t heard any reports of crazed mountain folk in this area but, then again, people HAD been quite reluctant to talk about why no one resided on the farm, nor why it had been so cheap. The things seemed to be oblvious to common language, and spoke sporadically in gruff, harsh tones resembling no language with which I was familiar. They closed in around me until escape was beyond hope. At that point a woman, who appeared to be their commander, appeared from the veil of obsolete vegetation. This being was more put together than the rest of them, many times over; it wore all black with stockings and terrifying heeled shoes. It had some sort of torture or suffocation device on its face, wild red hair and brandished a machete. It motioned to the group, at which point they barreled inward toward me and I was rapidly seized. My senses were gone from me for what I had hoped was only a short while, but of that I cannot be certain. When I awoke, there was only blackness around me. Though I could only feel its cold, slimy innards, the group had prepared me for some sort of archaic ritual by crudely grafting a pumpkin onto my head. They had used an unknown heat source to melt the flesh around my shoulders and neck, somewhat effectively binding it to the pumpkin’s outer husk. They had also burned my chest into an unrecognizable pool of blood and dripping gore. I felt nothing but smoldering pain and choking abysmal darkness in my new head. I screamed, steeped in agony, but the sound was deeply muffled and did little beyond causing painful reverberations. My body was being held down by an unseen force and there was little chance of fleeing or responsive action. Much to my chagrin, the ritual required my face also be butchered. I came to this epiphany when I saw thin slits of light appear in what had been my solid black mask. They were identifying the eye holes and, soon after, the knife came down full force on my face. The little I saw past that was marinated in sticky fluid red. She continued to cut up both of my faces, letting my blood leak through onto the pumpkin, running down its length and dripping onto the soil below. Through the pain I could hear them, distantly, chanting. I understood now. This group of miscreants was sitting down for Thanksgiving, and this was their opening prayer. They were giving thanks to the earth for providing for them and offering up a blood sacrifice as proof of their recognition. Perhaps it was due to my delusional state, but I swore I could hear the cawing of turkeys as they paraded around the area. After I had exsanguinated, my body was left, half buried, on the field; it was to provide the nutrients and life to the following year’s crop. Next to my stiffened corpse they left a plate of turkey, mashed potatoes and a husk of corn.

Psychos n’ Pumpkins

Inspiration list: Bad holiday themed 80’s slasher flicks, modern Z-grade Thanksgiving-themed horror centering around animatronic killer turkeys (seriously, check out Thankskilling), Suicide Commando’s music and Johan’s perennial fascination with the black shirt/red tie combo, creepy cornfields, autumn, mass murderers in impractical, alas fashionable, apparel (not an uncommon theme here at Lethal Style), GORE (I just can’t get enough), the backwoods cannibal redneck horror subgenre and over-the-mouth neck corsets.

In a fucked-up nutshell, it is the dysfunctional marriage of a psychotic machete-wielding hick and a well-dressed quasi-fetish-esque female Patrick Bateman (minus the yuppie bullshit). Set in NJ’s finest cornfields to the tune of Suicide Commando’s Construct/Destruct. All wrapped in a pretty package of seasonal blood and guts. Happy Holidays to you too ;)

Never underestimate the power of basics: a well fitted dress shirt (such as the New Model Army LS Insignia Military Shirt, your soon-to-be wear-to-death favorite), a trusty pencil skirt and a pair of “I-can’t-possibly-fuck-my-outfit-up-by-wearing-these” opaque black tights.

Stressin’ about lookin’ like a spinster bankteller? Supplement with shoes which show blatant disregard for comfort of any kind and neckwear which eliminates all notions of subtlety.

Indeed, life is vastly improved by footwear equipped with a heel and platform which closely resemble a marvel of modern architecture. Crossing the street is no longer something you do on auto pilot. In these shoes, it’s an adventure.

Note: If you plan on wearing them in an actual cornfield, I hope you have some damn good health insurance. If you don’t, then marry someone that does. While they’re not quite the McQueen Armadillo 12 inchers, strapping these on with the purpose of trespassing about a stranger’s cornfield with the intent of taking spooky photos in mind will hurt you just the same. In that aspect, cornfields are the great equalizer. Outside the realm of agricultural acreage, I feel like the world is mine for the taking when parading about town in these sexy hunks of metal. It also makes me wish I had seen day shift strippers from Iowa throw these at each other on Jerry Springer.

This time of year, we’re urged to express our thankfulness to Jesus, our fucked up families, and some other wholesome-sounding shit totally unrelated to your ancestors killing off Indians. I find it to be a slippery slope, since Jesus wants me to be nice to people I don’t like and my family drives me to drink. Perhaps, if you dissolve some Valium in a double vodka cranberry-tini, thanking the aforementioned parties will start sounding more plausible, alas; until then, I’m gonna go ahead and give praise to my true God: The Almighty Corset. It has this magical ability to nip the middle just right, assist a girl in the waist-to-hip ratio department, and create a magnificent rack out of seemingly thin air. I show my gratitude by wearing these Godsend garments year ’round just about everywhere I go. Overindulged in Aunt Ruth’s stuffing and pecan pie? The boning and strings will absolve you from guilt, my child. And spare you from being mistaken for a balloon in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.

Tie the whole ensemble together (see what I did there) with a zero budget accessory “borrowed” from your boyfriend (or brother’s) closet.

Celebrate carnage with bloodstained latex gloves.

While I hate to state the obvious, go for disposable examination gloves. You’ll hate yourself forever if you fuck up a cute fingerless bow adorned pair you paid like $65 for on the Internets. It’s a “use once and destroy” kind of deal here, folks.

On the style evolutionary scale, over-the-mouth neck corsets zoom past the dust masks and respirators cyber kids love so fucking much at light speeds. Leaving the dust masks where they belong: in a plastic bag hanging off a peg at the Dollar Tree. You see, neck corsets are considered to be bona fide clothing. Granted, they’re classed as “fetishwear” and can double as a punitive device within BDSM circles, but there’s still no mistaking them for home improvement attire. No matter how many spikes one hot glues onto a respirator, they still manage to look like they’re gearing up to paint a house. Sadly, looks like Ext1ze missed the memo (if you don’t get that reference consider yourself, very very lucky).

Earlier today I had a dentist hovering over me while sporting a light blue dust mask. Presumably it served to protect his face from the delicious mixture composed primarily of cement, tooth and blood spraying out of my mouth. While I do consider people of this profession to be sadistic and predatory by nature, not once did I think he looked like a cool, evil cyborg from the future. You don’t look like one either. And that, my friend, is why I’m on Team Neck Corset. Clearly the winning team.

Bonus points: You’re free from the tedious process of re-applying your lipstick all night long.

Bonus points: The Redux: That 60 year old dude, whose rockstar dreams haven’t given up the ghost yet, won’t drone on to you about his go nowhere band that plays synthpop covers of shit that was popular before you were born. Your selective mutism ploy will finally work!

Warning: You’ll be forced to find new and creative ways to get plastered. But as they say: If there’s a will, there’s a way!

For a family friendly, Thanksgiving-dinner-appropriate take on the getup pictured above:

• Stick with the shirt, skirt and tights.
• Remove shoes, falls, both corsets, bloody gloves.
• Pair with a plain black vest.
• Keep the tie! It will easily camouflage the pyramid stud buttons.
• Dust off those black 2” heels you usually save for job interviews. Surely you must have pair within the recesses of your closet.
• Don’t be so quick to put away that machete. You never know when your batshit crazy uncle will get into the scotch and start waxing poetic about all the sexy things he’d like to do to Sarah Palin over dessert.

Your relatives should be used to you wearing all this black by now.

I’ve discussed the fine art of dreadfall insertion on many occasions. This was one of them.

Guts n’ Gourds

Nothing warms the cockles of one’s bloodthirsty heart quite like torture and depravity, eh?

Here’s how I made a mess out of Dan.

Texture (looks great for burn victims too).

You Will Need:

Two ply toilet paper, Liquid latex(or school glue if you’re poor like me after spending a hell lot of money at the dentist), Petroleum jelly, Paint brushes, Red/black acrylic paint.

1. Rip toilet paper into individual squares.
2. Cover the back with adhesive of choice.
3. Adhere to desired area of exposed skin.
4. Cover the top layer of the TP with latex or school glue.
5. Repeat until the area you wish to cover resembles a toilet paper mummy. Note: Don’t leave any gaps between the bathroom tissue squares. Overlapping is key.
6. Keep busy until that shit dries. It usually takes between 30 to 45 minutes.
7. Create a mixture of 1/3 petroleum jelly 2/3 paint. Use dark colors like black/red/maroon etcetera.
8. Using a medium sized paintbrush, stipple the paint/petroleum jelly concoction onto your toilet paper mache masterpiece.

Assorted Viscera

You Will Need:

Oatmeal, red food coloring, corn starch, corn syrup, water

Combine one tablespoon of cornstarch, 2 teaspoons of water, 6 drops of red food coloring, half a teaspoon of corn syrup in a decently sized mixing bowl. Add as little or as much oatmeal as you want, since that’s the magical ingredient responsible for creating the curdled blood/clumps of ickiness effect. Apply liberally.

Fun Fact: The pumpkin on Dan’s head weighed 35 pounds.

Credits:

Photography: Bill Tracy Photography

Female Model: Vanity Kills

Male Model: Dan Barrett

Location: Coyote infested cornfield in Montague, NJ.

<3

Vanity Kills

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The next Miss Kitty’s Parlour will be held this Friday, August 20th at the Dragonfly in Los Angeles. UNIFORMS GET ME OFF! is set to be a night of fetish and fashion hosted by the one and only Miss Kitty herself. Naughty innovative interpretations of classic uniforms are encouraged for the night, and as always The Lady of the House will be giving away gift certificates from Lip Service!

Any and all forms of creative, naughty interpretations of classic uniforms are encouraged and rewarded for this night. Anything from catholic school uniforms to construction workers, police, fire and medical themed fashions, boy and girl scouts, and everything in between. For the boys, all forms of Tom Of Finland inspired naughtiness is always a good direction to go in (in my opinion) stache & all.

Check out our Lip SerVICE selection for your naughty uniforms HERE!

The Dragonfly -  6510 Santa Monica Blvd at Wilcox in Hollywood, CA.
Coat check & Valet available
FREE COVER Before 10PM (after $10)
$2 Well Drinks 9-10PM

Bondage Ball! @ Circus 6655 Santa Monica Blvd.
21& Over.
Fetish Free Play Zones.
6 bars.
9 Areas.
8 DJ’s.
4 Dance Areas.
Pro Dungion Equipment.
Go-go’s.
Free Photo booth.
Mainstage Shows.
Roving Performances.
Slave Girls.
$20 online at www.BondageBall.com . Get your outfits now at Lip-Service.com !

See you there!

Lip Service presents Bondage Ball! Saturday, July 3 – come celebrate YOUR FREEDOM TO BE ENSLAVED!

Hosted by International SUPER MODEL MASUIMI MAX. Bondage Ball will be held at a new location: CIRCUS – 6655 Santa Monica Blvd. Los Angeles, CA

For more information see the Bondage Ball Website.

Gear up for getting tied down – Shop lip serVICE and lip serVICE Sale!

see full size in gallery below

You’ve done the living room parties, you’ve trolled the same-ol’ same-ol’ club scene, and you crave something different, something funkaliciously new to ring in the new year. Can’t blame you. There’s nothing more suck than starting a fresh, new year with a snooze-fest.

Well, I’m here to help you find the freaky New Year’s Eve of your fevered fantasies!

Let’s start with LUSTFUL fun, since … well … that’s my favorite kind of kicks.

London, UK
Toture Garden New Years Eve Ball
How does a kinky fetish party with stage performances, naughty installations complete with cages and pole dancing podium, and what the organizers refer to as the Budoir Dungeon sound? Pretty yummy, eh?

Los Angeles
The Black & White Masquerade Ball
Our friends at Bar Sinister never fail to come up with a fab night of dark debauchery. This one has goth charm, alongside fetish fun, with play stations to start the year with a bang (or at least a nice crack or slap).

see full size in gallery below

Miss Kitty’s 2010 New Year’s Eve: A Space Sex Odyssey
Oh, fuck yes! Want to party like Barbarella on a dirty bender? Well, this is just the place for it. Miss Kitty’s has set up a futuristic disco brothel, complete with live erotic interplanetary shows, interactive pleasure stimulation areas, and … HOT DAMN! … male and female sex-bots!

Toronto, CA
SubSpace
Sure, every place has its own fetish New Year’s bash. But SubSpace has a pretty yummy one with a killer rep. Want tp get your freak on in the Toronto area? This is probably the most sexy place to do it.

Miami
Vivid’s Sex Sells
Want to rock in 2010 with some porn stars? Mega-porn giant Vivid and Opium at the Seminole Hard Rock have your perfect New Year’s Eve all ready for you!

see full size in gallery below

Nude Year’s Eve
Want to let it all hang out … I mean, literally, let it ALL hang out? Then the weekend butt-naked extravaganza at South Florida’s most well-known clothing-optional beach might just be your thing. Be warned, though, not all naked is created equal … some sights make you really grateful for the existence of clothes … just sayin’ …

Speaking of clothes, there are a few tasty options in the “fancy dress” category …

Alton, IL
Bubby & Sissy’s, an open-minded kinda place
How the fuck can you beat a fabulous drag show for unbridled fun? You can’t! This looks like a wonderful island of fab, sparkly sanity in the midst of what seems a pretty rural area so, if you’re anywhere nearby, maybe their New Year’s Eve party is just the thing to kick the ear off with some dragalicious kicks!

see full size in gallery below

Edinburgh (South Queensferry), Scotland
The Loony Dook
Okay, you’ve got me, Loony Dook is actually a New Year’s Day event, but it is part of the New Year’s weekend Hogmanay party/drunkfest so is fair game. Besides, how can one NOT love the hell out of a whole fuckload of Scots getting all dressed up in fancy dress costume, parading their asses down to the Firth of Forth in the cold, then plunging into the water for a frolic? Tell me that’s not a polar bear event with fucking killer style!

Speaking of love, how else do you think Venetians would celebrate the New Year?

Venice, IT
Love 2010
Sure, there’s a big, wonderful concert, dancing, and festivities but Love 2010 takes it up a notch on the LOVE. According to their website, “Once again, the New Year celebrations will culminate in a vast, communal kiss between over 60,000 people.” Pucker up!

There’s also some really great themed parties out there, ones that go well above and beyond to give you a night and experience you’ll not soon forget. Here are just a few examples of funky fun for the more adventurous …

Austin, TX
Welcome to the Freak Show
Like your fun with a circus freak edge to it? Welcome to the Freak Show might be right up your alley.

see full size in gallery below

London, UK
Gypsy Hotel
How can you resist anyplace that refers to themselves and their event as a, “Bourbon Soaked Snake Charmin Rock’n'Roll Cabaret and Freaky Side Show?” Easy, you fucking can’t!

Los Angeles, CA
NYETwentyTen – Space Odyssey
Super-futuristic with a frick’n geodesic dome? New Year’s Eve funkadellic WIN!

Newport, RI
New Year’s Murder Mystery at Astors’ Beechwood Mansion
What better way to have a killer night than spending the night with a killer? In the gorgeous Beechwood Mansion, you join the Astors for a night a theater, cut short by an untimely death, and get to try to solve a murder case.

Your taste even more exotic?
How about a night of sumptuous Indian cuisine, henna tattoos, and fabulously infectious music? You can get your festive Bollywood on at Brompton, Ontario’s New Year ‘s Eve Bollywood Extravaganza or, if you’re here in Cali, you can do New Year’s Eve Bollywood Style at Junnoon in Palo Alto.

[Show as slideshow]

Now that we’ve explored the rational vice-y options for your New Year’s Eve, want to hear the most fucked up NYE package, ever? Of course you do.

What would you say to round-trip air from NY to Miami with 5-star accomodations, a cheuffer-driven Rolls to the three hottest shows and parties in town (Lady Gaga, John Legend, and Brody Jenner) for the mere paltry sum of $100,000.

What if I told you that it also includes a fucking boob job? Told you it was a fucked up package.

Speaking of fucked up, I must share something really funny I came across in my searching for tasty info for this article. Please enjoy the beautiful insanity that is Google …

click for full size and a good laugh

And, one last parting shot …

I hear, according to tradition in Bolivia, you really want to choose your NYE and New Year’s Day undies with care. Apparently, the color of your drawers will determine your fate in the coming year. Red will give you love & passion, yellow is happiness and money, green prosperity, pink for friendship, and white for hope.

Wonder what it means if you fly commando …

Whatever the new year brings, hopefully it’s all good!
It’s been a kickass year, sharing all the news of Lip Service with you all. 2010 looks to be an even more exciting year, with lots and lots of killer events and goodies to celebrate our 25th year.

Thanks for helping us get there and being part of our Original Cult of Fashion Freaks!

Mich
your friendly neighborhood webmistress

The Reaper

(Or “Reaper Stripper” if y’all please)

The name’s Candy. When I first entered the adult cabaret biz, I tried goin’ by Licorice and work the whole dark ‘n’ delicious angle, but my boss couldn’t spell none of ‘em big college words over five letters, so I was christened “Candy”.

see full size in gallery below

Walkin’ into my former place of employment, the Shake N’ Squeal (just a spittin’ distance from Goose Creek, Kentucky) was like fallin’ headfirst into a Jerry Springer episode after a weeklong meth bender.

Sister-on-sister chicken grease wraslin’ every last Friday of the month?

Check

Sixteen year olds in their third trimester liquored up on Wild Turkey rollin’ around on the stage?

Check

Multi-generational granny-mother-daughter triple threat “feature dancers”?

Check, check, and check.

Let’s say that my childlessness, lack of Tony the Tiger caliber stretchmarks on my rear and my unwillingness to swap spit with my blood relatives for a shiny new penny always made me the odd woman out.

I spent nearly ten years of my life entertainin’ the crème de la crème of the Bluegrass State who happily pissed away their welfare checks either in this here ole’ dump or at the racetrack. Sometimes the high rollers who just got done holdin’ up a 7-11 in town would pass through our humble gates. It would always be a glorious day for all us hard workin’ gals, since we’d actually be seein’ cash money that day. Nearly daily someone would try to pay us in WWE ticket stubs(“Come on baby…they’re good till next July”) and deer jerky. My greatest admirer even tried to gift me his dentures, before passin’ on to the great NASCAR track in the sky this past summer.

see full size in gallery below

There had to be more to life than Cletus Toothless III shouting “Hey Elvira, I’ll give you 5 dollars for a l’il extra sumfin’ sumfin’” in my general direction. And if that don’t bother you none, just imagine the local preacher stumblin’ in come Saturday night, tryin’ to give you  grief for not bein’ a frequent visitor to the house of worship on Sundays. Tryin’ to scam free lap dances, since he’s a man of God ‘n’ all. Yes, Jesus himself told him that it was his moral duty to exorcise the demons out of me in the privacy of his pickup. I was pushin’ 30 and here I spent the best years of my life grindin’ on hill jacks reekin’ of Jim Beam and failure in a peach-colored lace thong. A quarter does not a sufficient tip make, and a girl can stand hearin’ the details of Billy Bob’s latest ploy to rip off worker’s comp, by means of fictitious injury, only so many times before bein’ driven to madness. Could you shake your ass to Lynyrd Skynyrd four times a week while some inbred yokel named Bubba tossed nickels and dimes at you?

So wouldn’t ya know, one day I decided that the grass here just ain’t blue ‘nuff no more and I did what so many folks done did when their bar tab climbed too high – skipped town.  So, I had never really been too far from town before and I must admit, the country was lookin’ mighty fine to me. I had nowhere to go, so I just plain drove the ol’ ’83 pickup ‘til she couldn’t drive no more. Eventually, she conked out lazily on the side of one of them back roads (how can ya tell ‘em apart?). Seems that lady luck was smilin’ her golden smile on me that day ‘cause what-da-ya-know, there was a couple o’ nice old-lookin’ shacks, or remnants thereof, not far from the road that hadn’t been lived in for years. This seemed like as good a place as any for a retired exotic dance professional to set up shop.

They say you can take a girl out of Kentucky, but you can never take Kentucky out of a girl. Well I’d let you know how true that is, if I could ever manage to get out of here. I thought I’d be able to live the nice quiet life in my shack, alone, but you know how these parts are. All the Billy Joes and Cletuses just can’t seem to mind their own damn business.

see full size in gallery below

See, one day I’m sittin’ on the porch scrapin’ mud and spider guts off my heels when I notice a couple of good ol’ boys approachin’. These didn’t appear to be any of my dear ‘fans’ per say, but they looked as broken-down and depraved as they come. I imagine that they came out this way in search of some poachin’, or perhaps just a bit of gropin’ each other’s genitals out-of-sight to get ‘em roused up for stickin’ in one of their foul-smelling hogs later. The sight of these greasy, half-retarded bumpkins made my blood boil.

I knew that if they saw a woman their jaws would go slack, dripping saliva and god-knows-what-else as they fantasized about bending my fine ass over next ta’ one of those aforementioned piglets. Ugh. Well, shit, I don’t need ta take anymore comments nor stares from worthless sacks a’ horse dung anymore. I told you that I was staying in a shack. What I didn’t mention was that the previous resident was some kind’a butcher o’ sumthin’ ‘cause they left all these big hooks and pitchfork lookin’ things everywhere. I fig’er if it can waste a cow, it can end a braindead, moonshined-up ‘man’…

It didn’t take long, but they spotted me.  I could’ve written the whole conversation before it played out, because it was so nauseatingly typical. “Hey there hunny, whatcha doin’ out here by ya lonesum?” “Wouldn’t you like sum company? You look like a stripper or sumthin’, I bet you could show me a reeel good time”. Oh, and what a time I would show them.

I acted lady-like enough to convince them to drag themselves into the innards of the shack, nearly as dilapidated as the men entering it. After that, well you know how that rage gets ya’ acting like you ain’t even the same person no more. “Hey boys, how much do ya like hooks?” Figure I could lure ‘em in with the promise of sum’ a dat ‘kinky shit’. They were practically foaming at the mouth at that premise. Well, I led them into my ‘special room’ and let the fun began.

see full size in gallery below

I let the bigger one, I dubbed em Cletus A, sit in an old wooden chair and tied him down with grubby rope. I was even so kind as to let the other one, Cletus B, watch as I took a giant meathook to his friend’s face. It was like Hellraiser in 3D. His mottled skin peeled off like an orange peel, or like the wrapper of a condom. Blood shot out everywhere like one of them big geysers. I guess his friend was so gone from years of moonshine that he thought this was some kind of magic trick. He hooped and hollered and even gave a little clap at the demonstration.

His crooked teeth and the reek of pigshit were infuriating enough, but this last bit put me over the edge. I grabbed one of the heels I had just finished cleaning and jammed it right into one of his dead-fish-like bulging eyes. With a sudden ‘pop’ sound, the blissful hooping mutated into shrill screaming. He was on the floor sputtering jibberish and vomiting what was probably raw deer meat, while his friend was sputtering up the last bits of blood and mucus that would ever pass through his filthy body.

I was tired of this yokel crawling and grimey-ing up my floor, so I reached up and found some sort of weighted club waiting for me. It looked like something they used to bash in the heads of cows before people cared about that ‘humane death’ shit. Well, unfortunately for Cletus B, humane death didn’t live here, and so the bashing begin. Some number of minutes later I noticed that the far wall had a lot more chunks on it than usual. I was surprised to find that any living matter came out of his head. I wondered: if I left this here would a stray deer maybe wander it and eat this up? That sure would be a time saver. I had to get my shoes cleaned up.

Well, wouldn’t you know it, but the brothers Cletus weren’t the only ones dumb enough to venture out here. Fortunately, a girl can really get used to killin’, especially when everyone reminds her of past clientele.  I’ve done lost count by now, but I’ve used almost every implement in the shack. But there are still some untainted cleavers which beg to cut again.

The name’s Candy.

But you can call me “The Reaper”.

see full size in gallery below

Embark on a wave of brutal butchery…without becoming a fashion victim yourself.

Notorious Hollywood franchise villains come complete with a signature look; Michael is a fan of Shatner chic, Freddy has been rockin’ the Christmas- sweater- and – Dick Tracy- headwear combo since the year I was born while Pinhead prefers shopping for accessories at Home Depot. Even when a girl is busy converting her town’s redneck population into ground hamburger she needn’t look like she just pilfered Jason Voorhees’s wardrobe.  Lest not forget that you’re a lady first & foremost, and that “style” makes up 50% of “execution style” indeed.

Beauty meets beast in ultra feminine tops, contour-hugging pencil skirts, extreme waist reduction and footwear likely to earn the seal of approval of Vlad the Impaler himself.

Get hooked on Lady is a Tramp II One for My Baby Stretch Poplin Cap Sleeve Top in the red/black colorway. The juxtaposition of the seemingly wholesome retro- flavored “girl-next-door” cut of the shirt, paired with traditionally “adult” fabrics like PVC is a seductive mix of sweet and dirty. Who doesn’t love a good girl doing bad things?

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The addition of a perennial fetish favorite, like a black PVC underbust corset, spices up almost any outfit, instantly transforming it from so-so to supersexy.

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When it comes to the fine art of showcasing your assets without lettin’ everyone and their half-retarded cousin Bud ogle what you’re working with, don’t skirt the issue. Gangsta Pranksta Bettie Bruiser mid length skirt in the black/white colorway is right on the money, honey.

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Sleaze up the pencil skirt’s conservative silhouette with fence net stockings for that authentic “I moonlight at the gentlemen’s club to pay the bills” feel.

Stripper shoes, modded with killer spikes, guarantee that wasted fratboys will be less likely to get fresh with you, as none will be too eager to be on the receiving end of a groin kick from one of these puppies. Bonus points for being the most popular girl backstage at a Gwar show. Provided you can actually walk in them.

Maniacal Mane

Gravity defying tresses that splice Nikki Sixx with Nivek Ogre.

I confess. My hair arrived in a tan colored standard shipping envelope directly from Hong Kong. Alas, fear not. You‘re only a few steps away from rockin’ the frazzled rooster look yourself. Provided that you meet the following conditions:

-Your hair is cut into choppy layers ( No amount of teasing will make layers magically appear on top of your head).

-You’re not one of ‘em hippie granola types who worry about strippin’ the Earth of its ozone layer. Or cry about the insects that will meet an untimely end upon landing on your ‘do after you’ve shellacked it into submission.

Alright, let’s get this show on the road:

1) Despite seeming somewhat counterintuitive, straighten all of your hair using a flatiron.

2) Apply a good quality root lifting spray directly to your scalp.

3) Alright! Time to divide and conquer! Separate the back of your hair into sections. Then proceed to grab any of the sections on the top of your head, spray it with a liberal amount of hairspray and proceed to backcomb the ever-loving fuck out of it. No, this isn’t good for your hair in the slightest. Tease your hair starting at the ends all the way to the roots. Secure with freezing spray.

4) Continue upon this path of teasin ‘n’ sprayin’ until you look like a pissed off porcupine.

(You might want to leave the front alone.  Just sayin’. That way you can sweep your pin straight bangs over your eyes for that ever popular Old English Sheepdog look all the “alternative” kids are sportin’ nowadays)

DEATH BECOMES HER

The 80s gave rise to two very important cornerstones of popular culture: high-impact, boldly-colored makeup and slasher films with minimal character development, over the top kills and gratuitous nudity. Give nod to iconic camp that defined the decade of excess with technicolor eyes, maximum cheek definition and Barbie-pink lips slicked with more gloss shinier than a mirrored strip club stage.

General Prep Work
You will need:
Moisturizer ,Primer, Concealer, Matte liquid Foundation, Foundation Brush, Translucent Powder, Powder brush, Eyeshadow primer

1. Wash your face with a cleanser formulated especially for your skin type. Rinse thoroughly and pat dry with a soft cloth. Prep your skin with moisturizer before applying concealer in order to ensure a smoother, flake free application.
2. Before proceeding any further allow your skin to properly absorb the moisturizer. This should take about 10 minutes.
3. Since foundation worn alone often has a nasty habit of settling in the fine lines around your mouth, near your eyes and on your forehead, I highly recommend using a primer after you’ve moisturized your face. Utilizing a small amount of primer helps to fill in unflattering expression lines, pores and scars, thus allowing foundation to actually do its job!
4. Nix blemishes and skin discoloration by gently patting concealer over the trouble area. Follow by blending with your ring finger.
5. Apply a matte liquid foundation that best matches your skin tone to your face and neck with a foundation brush (A full dome shaped brush works beautifully). Start by applying small dots in the center of your face and then moving outward.
6. Set everything in place by finishing off with a thin coat of translucent powder. Use a full, round shaped powder brush for optimal results.
7. Prep your lids with eyeshadow primer, whose job is to neutralize the colour of your lids which in turn makes for brighter more vibrant shadow. It also prevents said shadow from creasing.

Eyes:
You will need:
Eyeshadow Primer, Eyeliner that matches your hair color if you draw your eyebrows in, Makeup sealer (optional), Teal eyeshadow, Shimmery medium purple eyeshadow, Frosty off-white eyeshadow, Eyeshadow brush with a round/tapered edge, Blending brush, Fluffy eyeshadow brush, Eyelash curler, Black Mascara.

Prep your brows by filling them in with a pencil and softening the lines with a small brush or drawing them in if you don’t have them. Eyebrowless ladies like myself should make sure to use a pencil that matches their hair color. After you’re satisfied with the shape of your brows, feel free to seal them with a single coat of a makeup sealer. Last but not least, lightly coat your entire eyelid area with an eyeshadow primer, to build a smooth base for your shadows, pigments and liners.

Using a brush with a round/tapered edge apply teal eyeshadow across your entire eyelid from lashline to crease. See Figure 1.

Figure 1

1. Hold down your lower eyelid. Using the same brush dot the teal shadow you applied in Step 2 directly underneath the eyelash line of your lower lid, beginning at the outer portion of the eye. Apply shadow to the outer three quarters of your eyelid, only. Otherwise you run the risk of making your eyes appear smaller than they actually are. This defeats the purpose of puttin’ on makeup to make yourself appear prettier.
2. With the help of a blending brush add some shimmery medium purple eyeshadow to the outer crease of your eye and bring it down to your lashline on the outer corner of your eyelid. This is also known as the “outer V”. Continue contouring the crease of the eye by blending more purple shadow up into the lower portion of your browbone and into teal eyeshadow from Step 2. See Figure 2
   

   Figure 2

3. Sweep some frosty off white shadow directly under your eyebrows [doesn’t matter if they’re drawn on or natural] with a small fluffy brush. Blend the frosty off white shadow into  the shimmery purple shadow that you contoured your crease with that Step 4.
4. Curl your eyelashes with an eyelash curler and top off with 2 coats of black mascara.

Cheeks:
You will need:
Blush brush, Rose-red blush , Bronzer

To achieve faux capillary dilation:

1. Swipe some pressed bronzer onto your blush brush .
2. Starting mid-cheek, going towards your ear apply the bronzer into the hollows of your cheeks using short, up-and-down vertical strokes.Darker shades will give the illusion of the hollows of your cheeks receding.
3. Now using the same technique add a rose-red blush to the apples of your cheeks, which will cause them to protrude. Use translucent powder to blend between the two colors in order to avoid obvious lines.

Lips:

You will need:
Shimmering light pink lip liner, Most obnoxious shade of pink lipstick you can get your hands on(preferably a color favored by cock rock groupies of the 80s), Small tapered lip brush, Iridescent pink lip gloss.

1. Filling in your entire lip area puts an end to fading, blurring and feathering lip color. Use a shimmering light pink lip liner to fill in your lips starting at the center of your natural lip line and moving toward the outer corners.
2. To get lost in the neon glow of electric pink lipstick apply the color to the center of your lip and then proceed to distribute it over the entire lip area with a small tapered lip brush.
3. Finish off with a coat of iridescent pink lipgloss.

[Show as slideshow]

Credits

Photography:

Bill Tracy Photography

Model

Vanity Kills

Location:

Abandoned building in Otisville, NY.

<3

Vanity Kills

see full size in gallery below

My ambitions were always bigger than what the shitty suburbs of Maryland could hold. I got my first hat at age five. I don’t mean a stupid baseball cap, I mean a replica soviet-revolutionary cap. I got my first sword at age 10 – again, not a medieval broadsword as most children may have interest in, but something more akin to battle in the U.S. Civil War. I built my first podium at age 13 – to give uplifting speeches of progress to my peers. Well, not that I had any actual peers of course; a great leader has few equals.

Some years later, as the cacophony of continuous Techno Body Music smothered the airwaves, telling me who the bitch was and asking how I wanted her, I decided that the only thing a true leader could do was to start a music project of his own to fight against the stagnant monotony of contemporary club music. Suicide Commando was due for a successor and who better than myself? I had spiky hair, a long evil coat and a copy of Cubase…the choice could not be any clearer. Terror EBM would live again.

Now, I quickly realized that no normal recording studio would suit my project. Anyone can sit at their home computer and write a masterpiece, but a true leader would need something more fitting, more…grandiose. Which brought me to Pelican Island, the home of a massive abandoned bunker (or, as I had already nicknamed it, Bunker Gate 7). I decided that this place was the only fitting home for my studio. Imagine: 10 rooms of old world glory, with no purpose but to reverberate the evil and terrifying sounds of terror. And to seal the deal, any blood in these rooms was totally legit. I knew it would be difficult to set up shop here (I’d have to transport the laptop and midi controller all the way out here), but it would be well worth it.

Once the studio was finished there was pretty much no reason to leave the glory of my fortified haven. Months went by, filled with not but the synthetic sounds of digital synthesizers and the clanking of drum machines. Not a day went by that lacked harsh, pounding beats and a fistful of slamming synthlines. I even ordered a Boss SE-50 for my pitch-shifted vocals, but it seems the mailtruck can’t make it out to the bunker…so I haven’t recorded any vocals yet.

see full size in gallery below

Several more months went by and my album progressed. At last, all it needed was vocals. Apparently I would have to leave the bunker at last to find the lost mailtruck which held my precious package…the very package containing the future voice of the world’s most powerful and influential terror ebm artist! Upon exiting, however, I learned the world had suffered from a dire fate. Apparently the mail truck wasn’t the only thing that was not making deliveries on time. The smell of charred corpses in the air brought visions of a great war into my head. What was the cause of this destruction and chaos? Surely the world was be ensnared in a global conflict! Unfortunately, there was no particular evidence to prove this theory. Where was the sound of bombers flying overhead? The distant thud of tanks and mortars firing on the enemy? The screams of soldiers dying? Well, in any case something had gone wrong…on a massive scale. People were gone; buildings were broken and decaying; the air reeked with a strange putridity. What the hell was going on?

Actually, “this is fantastic” I thought to myself. It seems that in my time alone, shielded from the outside world (literally!), I had risen through the ranks to become, in fact, ultimate dictator of the world!

—

Walking through the ruins of the world, I stop to observe my territory. I climb the ruins of an old house and survey all that lies before me (aka my dominion). The world is desolate, and more than ever it needs a strong leader. I raise my hand and give an uplifting speech. We must not fold, but carry on and rebuild! With me at the helm, we will refurbish this build into the ultimate club! It will be nothing but Terror EBM, seven days a week. I could never tire of Tactical Sekt and TV screens showing Hellraiser 2.

The journey is long and the goal is vague, but I will prevail. Along the way, even the most glorious of leaders needs to eat. Unfortunately the local grocer seems to have been demolished. Fortunately, a leader must possess skills that allow him to remain stalwart even in uncertain times. I am a seasoned woodsman, and so I easily forage for delicious berries to keep me alive until I can find some mortar to patch up these ruins.

Each night I dream of progress and the future of my dominion as a sprawling sanctuary of glorious terror ebm. In my dreams, I see myself standing above the masses; beside me a cute blonde haired girl in a red vinyl dress who is beautiful and strong enough to be my right hand. What sort of omen is this? I must not give up the struggle…the wheels of progress will turn once more!

World Domination is serious business. Dress accordingly.

Pay homage to your inner megalomaniac with an updated rendition of propaganda poster fashions.

Dictatorial by design Chick’s Colonel Uniform Jacket in the red/black colorway from Lippy’s 2005 Achung Playtime line redefines power suiting for a post-Apocalyptic future. The coat’s strong shoulders and sleek cuts blur the gender line while commanding attention and power.

Note:  Our decidedly male hero is of rather slender stature (Read: I want that skinny bastard’s metabolism), thus he can get away with fetishistic militant androgyny. For your big, burly men may I suggest the Coat of Arms Long Coat from Division LS III (currently on closeouts) instead?

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The club is a battlefield! Crush the enemy (and absorb their power) to the tune of Tactical Sekt’s “Give me Violence” in buckled boots.

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A basic black stretch poplin top conceals the coat’s peek-a-boo front, thus allowing for more male friendly wear.

see full size in gallery below

Hair Victory!

The key to styling Dan’s hair lies in:

-Wetting it

-Rubbing it with a towel.

-Spraying it with a freezing spray that promises “screaming hold” and comes in an airhorn shaped container.

-Haphazardly trimming the ends that are too long to stand up on their own.

And then washing it all out in order to adhere to the business casual dress code of his government IT job.

see full size in gallery below

Real Men Wear Guyliner (and Manscara)

Drop the macho bullshit, boys and get kohled out. Alas please DO resist the urge to draw vines, inverted crosses or anything previously seen in a motion picture starring Brandon Lee on your face.

Face

You will need

Moisturizer ,Primer, Concealer, Matte liquid Foundation, Foundation Brush, Translucent Powder, Powder brush.

1. Wash your face with a cleanser formulated especially for your skin type. Rinse thoroughly and pat dry with a soft cloth. Prep your skin with moisturizer before applying concealer in order to ensure a smoother, flake free application.
2. Before proceeding any further allow your skin to properly absorb the moisturizer. This should take about 10 minutes.
3. Since foundation worn alone often has a nasty habit of settling in the fine lines around your mouth, near your eyes and on your forehead, I highly recommend using a primer after you’ve moisturized your face. Utilizing a small amount of primer helps to fill in unflattering expression lines, pores and scars, thus allowing foundation to actually do its job!
4. Nix blemishes and skin discoloration by gently patting concealer over the trouble area. Follow by blending with your ring finger.
5. Apply a matte liquid foundation that best matches your skin tone to your face and neck with a foundation brush (A full dome shaped brush works beautifully). Start by applying small dots in the center of your face and then moving outward].
6. Set everything in place by finishing off with a thin coat of translucent powder. Use a full, round shaped powder brush for optimal results.

Eyes:

You will need:

Black eyeliner

Line your bottom lid starting from the outer corner of your eye, slowly making your way toward the inner corner with your favorite brand of black kohl eyeliner. Smudge slightly with Q-tip for a pseudo disheveled look. You’re a man after all!

[Show as slideshow]

Credits:

Photography:

Umbriel Finite Images

http://www.modelmayhem.com/umbrielfinite

Model & Guest Writer:

Dan Barrett/Worms of the Earth

http://www.myspace.com/wormsoftheearth

Article:

Vanity Kills

http://www.modelmayhem.com/vanitykills

Location:

Long Pond Ironworks State Park in Hewitt, NJ

<3

Vanity Kills

click for full size

My ambitions were always bigger than what the shitty upstate New York town I was born and raised in could hold.

At the tender age of five, I decided that I wanted to take over Hollywood. Nothing and no one would stop me. Not even the end of the fucking world. I was spoon-fed horror stories about how Tinseltown eats aspiring starlets alive, but I didn’t let it deter me. Not in the slightest. Matter of factly, the more naysayers seemed to come out of the woodwork, the more I was determined to make it big. Saying “FUCK YOU” to hordes of “well meaning” disbelievers so eager to write me off me as just another self absorbed, delusional, naïve teenager with pie-in-the-sky fantasies of stardom would make victory so much sweeter in the end.

I took my craft as an actor seriously: conscientiously fine tuning my method acting and reciting monologues; holed-up within the depths of an old subterranean bunker, conveniently located in the seedy underbelly of Albany’s generally vacated, boarded up ghetto.  Most dared not to come here, so I was free to indulge in perfecting my thespian techniques, completely uninterrupted. In silence and solitude I relentlessly pursued my dreams.  Often taking refuge in my underground chamber for days on end(maybe even weeks, but who’s counting), I’d eat, sleep and breathe my art, blissfully unaware of the outside world.

Alas, resurfacing for the purpose of obtaining food was in order from time to time.

Reluctantly, I opted to rejoin the drab society which scuttled-about above.

click for full size

My best laid plans quickly went awry as I discovered that the world I seemingly re-entered was nothing more than some cruelly ironic Twilight Zone -esque joke.  I wandered the streets littered with partially charred corpses, crumbled remains of once-majestic concrete structures and crushed, overturned automobiles. Except this wasn’t a rerun aired on the SCI-FI channel’s annual Fourth of July marathon of a mid-century television series…this was my life! Welcome to Earth: Population- ME!

Befuddled, I attempted to piece my shattered sense of reality together. What could’ve caused such destruction and loss of lives on a global scale?

Nuclear holocaust?

Surely the radiation would’ve roasted my skin by now.

Mutant strain of the fierce and dreaded llama flu?

That didn’t explain the human BBQ which surrounded me.

Godzilla?

Actually, that made the most sense.

As I sought solace to hone the skills that would propel me to fame, fortune and a luxurious lifestyle fit for a queen, the world came to a crashing halt.  “Be careful what you wish for”, forewarned a cautionary tale we were all told as children. Here amongst cadavers, dust and ashes I was the most important woman on Earth.

I didn’t need Hollywood anymore, as my aspirations had surpassed it as well.

All the world was my stage.

It’s been said that limitations cause creativity to prosper.

And luckily, corpses are a forgiving public. I have my eye on a particular semi-smoldered gentleman who resembles Brad Pitt, from the still partially intact left side of his face when the light hits it the right way. I might just ask him to be my date to the Academy Awards. He’s a little stiff, but I’m really hoping that he’ll warm up to me once he lays his eye on the red vinyl dress I plan on making my Oscar acceptance speech in. Being under-dressed is the worst feeling, so I’d rather overdo it. Even if the legions of my adoring fans have been in various stages of decomposition for quite some time.

My mission was to lead a camera-ready Hollywood existence. I’d say I accomplished it with ease. I was Vivien Leigh today, Joan Crawford tomorrow and Milla Jovovich whenever I fucking pleased. Always in my party dress, my status as the eternal “It Girl” has officially been solidified. It’s truly good to be queen. It might be lonely on top but it sure as hell feels glorious to look at everyone else at the bottom.

Here in these abandoned places, amongst ruins and decay I have found my way home.

[Show as slideshow]

Mix modern fabrics and silhouettes with vintage screen siren glamour from the golden age of Hollywood for a scene stealing look that rolls out the red carpet for the Apocalypse.

Patent Vinyl and Vegi Leather Classics’ Torture Gown

“In Tinseltown, aspiring starlets were a dime a dozen and this city chewed them up and spat them out”

Stand out from the pack of wannabes with Patent Vinyl and Vegi Leather Classics’ Torture Gown in the candy apple red colorway. If you rock a complicated frock, keep the jewelry minimal; you want to avoid looking as if you piled on every accessory you own, which tends to make the wearer look juvenile.

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A black veiled pillbox hat adds a hint of vintage chic to this “Fetish meets Old Hollywood” ensemble.

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Chunky platforms rise to the occasion and prevent your crazed mob of fanboys from stomping on your Sunday’s best. Naturally, a hot bodyguard helps as well.

Optional:

A black, fur-trimmed cardigan keeps the revealing cleavage in check.

Sleeve Savvy:

Did you know that the Torture Gown’s sleeves are removable and could be worn separately as gloves?

Try them with these currently in stock styles for a new twist on a classic favorite.

#38-576 (Hardcore Racer Back Cami Top from Patent Vinyl and Vegi Leather Classics)

#38-559 (Fainting Room Corset from Patent Vinyl and Vegi Leather Classics)

#38-86 (Lippy’s classic best selling Sleeping Beauty Corset from Patent Vinyl and Vegi Leather Classics)

#69-10 (Buckled Cincher ) paired with #38-180(Add Two Cups of Sugar Bra) both from the Patent Vinyl and Vegi Leather Classics line.

#38-575 (Side Strap Dress) from the Passion Killer PVC line.

Making waves:

1. Prep your slightly dampened tresses with a quarter sized dab of gel.
2. Blow dry as usual.
3. Wind two–inch chunks of hair around a curling iron.
4. Hold for five seconds each.
5. Gently brush out the curls using your fingers.
6. Finish off by adding a quick misting of a glossing spray.

Red She Said
Remix retro lips by pairing them with muted brick eyeshadow instead of the usual “liquid eyeliner cat eye and crimson lipstick” routine.

General Prep Work
You will need:
Moisturizer ,Primer, Concealer, Matte liquid Foundation, Foundation Brush, Translucent Powder, Powder brush, Eyeshadow primer

1. Wash your face with a cleanser formulated especially for your skin type. Rinse thoroughly and pat dry with a soft cloth. Prep your skin with moisturizer before applying concealer in order to ensure a smoother, flake free application.
2. Before proceeding any further allow your skin to properly absorb the moisturizer. This should take about 10 minutes.
3. Since foundation worn alone often has a nasty habit of settling in the fine lines around your mouth, near your eyes and on your forehead, I highly recommend using a primer after you’ve moisturized your face. Utilizing a small amount of primer helps to fill in unflattering expression lines, pores and scars, thus allowing foundation to actually do its job!
4. Nix blemishes and skin discoloration by gently patting concealer over the trouble area. Follow by blending with your ring finger.
5. Apply a matte liquid foundation that best matches your skin tone to your face and neck with a foundation brush (A full dome shaped brush works beautifully). Start by applying small dots in the center of your face and then moving outward].
6. Set everything in place by finishing off with a thin coat of translucent powder. Use a full, round shaped powder brush for optimal results.
7. Prep your lids with eyeshadow primer, whose job is to neutralize the colour of your lids which in turn makes for brighter more vibrant shadow. It also prevents said shadow from creasing.

Eyes:
You will need:
Eyeshadow Primer ,Eyeliner that matches your hair color if you draw your eyebrows in, Makeup sealer (optional), Black eyeliner, Cream beige eyeshadow, Reddish brick pressed eyeshadow, Frosty champagne eyeshadow, Eyeshadow brush with a round/tapered edge, Blending brush, Fluffy eyeshadow brush, Eyelash curler, Black Mascara

1. Prep your brows by filling them in with a pencil and softening the lines with a small brush or drawing them in if you don’t have them. Eyebrowless ladies like myself should make sure to use a pencil that matches their hair color. After you’re satisfied with the shape of your brows, feel free to seal them with a single coat of a makeup sealer. Last but not least, lightly coat your entire eyelid area with an eyeshadow primer, to build a smooth base for your shadows, pigments and liners.
2. Using a brush with a round/tapered edge apply cream beige eyeshadow across your entire eyelid from lashline to crease.
3. With the help of blending brush add some reddish brick eyeshadow to the outer crease of your eye and bring it down to your lashline on the outer corner of your eyelid. This is also known as the “outer V”.
4. Sweep some frosty champagne shadow directly under your eyebrows.
5. Line your bottom lid starting from the outer corner of your eye, slowly making your way toward the inner corner with your favorite brand of black kohl eyeliner. Most of the color should be concentrated in the outer corner. I find that it’s easiest to put on eyeliner after eyeshadow and before mascara.
6. Curl your eyelashes with an eyelash curler and top off with 2 coats of black mascara.

Cheeks:
You will need:
Blush brush ,Peachy pink blush, Bronzer

1. Get cheeky with gorgeously sculpted cheekbones! Swipe some pressed bronzer onto your blush brush .
2. Starting mid-cheek, going towards your ear apply the bronzer into the hollows of your cheeks using short, up-and-down vertical strokes.Darker shades will give the illusion of the hollows of your cheeks receding.
3. Now using the same technique add a peachy pink blush to the apples of your cheeks, which will cause them to protrude. Use translucent powder to blend between the two colors in order to avoid obvious lines.

Tip: To attain the much sought after illusion of having a statuesquely chiseled face, dust bronzer along your jawline and hairline.

Lips:
You will need:
Red toned lip liner, Red lipstick, Small tapered lip brush

1. Filling in your entire lip area prevents your lip color from fading, blurring and feathering throughout the course of the day/evening/night. Use a red lip liner to fill in your lips starting at the center of your natural lip line and moving toward the outer corners.
2. Reds can be tricky. For a softer, more precise look apply the color to the center of your lip and then proceed to distribute it over the entire lip area with a small tapered lip brush.

Credits
Photography: Danielle McGraw Photography
Model: Vanity Kills
Location: Port of Albany, Albany, NY