Romance

The Romance Was Born kiddies have been snoring on our floor this week. Yesterday we introduced Anna and Luke to our favourite happy hour haunt to speak romance…

GS: What brings you to the city of love?
Luke: To visit Gail and Atlas and to do a Harpers Bazaar shoot tomorrow.
Anna: We’re here for happy hour.

GS: What have you loved most so far?
Luke: A really hot guy in the Comme des Garcons store gave me his phone number whilst Anna was buying Chanel shoes. We both scored.

GS: Luke, you’ve been singing a lot of Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston. Who else inspires you?
Luke: All my women. Madonna, Britney, Bjork, Bat for Lashes but definetly not Lady Gaga. We are meeting Natasha from Bat for Lashes this week in London. She’ll be wearing our clothes on stage.

GS: Current inspiration?
Luke: Dinosaurs on You Tube.

GS: Favourite thing on You Tube?
Luke: Tree man
Anna: Britney stoned

GS: We watched some Project Runway series two with you last night. What did you think?
Luke: Just weird
Anna: Fucked up

GS: Ok Luke’s gone to buy himself a Fluffy Duck, Anna what’s the most annoying thing about Luke?
Anna: He complains all the time. One minute he’s hot, the next minute he’s cold. One minute his shoes are too big, the next they are too small. I can’t keep up.

Luke: What do you love most about me?
Atlas: The fact you speak before you think.
Gail: You make me laugh.

* Interview abruptly ends when a rock dinosaur and friend of Iggy Pop and a lovely girl that designs for Balenciaga join us.






atlassorronda*

Robot

Conversation in the Sorronda camp this week has been of the impending collapse of internet neutrality and dehumanisation…

Hermes stings chaffes skin, shaved against the grain.
The blood congeals thicker than the traffic.
I reach the office in time to talk reality tv by the coffee machine.
At my desk I’m a machine for the system, creating waste.
The view is beautiful; I fill the river with concrete.
Finger-paintings colour my walls with guilt, and adjacent, a framed piece of paper; the New World Order has trained me well.
Welcome to the occupation.




atlassorronda*

Bologna

We’ve just returned from sweltering Italy, our bodies melted with the burnt sienna walls into a hot puddle of Bolognese sauce. ss09/10 production is on track and development for aw10 is now almost complete. To feel this organised and to have some free time is such a strange sensation. Gail has gone to a "fashion barbeque" near the Tuileries in pursuit of some free sausages. I’ve opted to indulge in reminiscence with the complete series of Voltron and to google Gail Sorronda images in hysterics. I’m dead meat when Gail gets home…




atlassorronda*

Cruise

Dear Riccardo

You didn’t reply to my MySpace message so I posted you this letter. I hope you don’t think that to be creepy of me. Some people say I am creepy from time to time...
Do you remember me? We were introduced outside the Givenchy store in Paris and I was a stumbling, mumbling, fumbling, awkward mess. You are my idol. Like seventeen Kelly Clarkson’s crushed into one. I have an image of you as my desktop background, and when my fiancé isn’t looking I minimise the screen so I can dream that one day I’ll be like you.

I LOVE your Givenchy Cruise 2010 collection. I feel like I’m aboard a luxury yacht with you in the Mediterranean.

We sail today...
Tears will drown in the wake of delight.
There's nothing like this built today.
You'll never see a finer ship in your life.

But what I love most is that you and I must be channelling the same spirit with your spiked headband. I did it two years ago but that’s ok. A part of my spirit probably rubbed off on you when we met. My spiked headband is called Ghost of a Shark. We appear to be on the same wavelength with the ocean theme! What’s your headband called?

I’ve included a couple of images from my aw08 collection. I hope you love them. I look forward to your reply!

Kind Regards,
Gail Sorronda xxx

Ps do you hate dolphins? I do.




Givenchy lookbook images: Fashionologie

pps this is fiction

atlassorronda*

Henrik

Henrik Vibskov always places a fanciful hat on the title of his collections. Big Wet Shiny Boobies, The Fantabulous Bicycle Music Factory, and The Human Laundry Service to name a few. So when we unravelled Henrik’s invitation from Madonna’s toothpick for his Paris Men’s Fashion Week show, we weren’t surprised with the title for his SS2010 collection, The Solar Donkey Experiment. Somehow I don’t think he was inspired by the hashish induced study I conducted in Morocco concerning a donkey tangled in rope and a goat coerced with mandarin peel.

The show was full of graphic colour and pattern, and outlandishly wonderful headpieces; oversized Benny and Cecil helicopter hats that propelled the collection into another solar system, and eerie nose pieces and long wigs. Like a donkey, these models had great peripheral vision.








ps R.I.P. MJ. We first knew of his passing when at Henrik’s after party the DJ was mixing everything Michael. Gail feels she’s lost a part of her heart, they share the same birthday.

Runway images: NY Mag. The final image is Gail holding one of Henrik headpieces over Diane Pernet.

atlassorronda*

Cairo

Gail Sorronda is currently thinking about: Sarah Moon, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, shaking paper, white chalk, cocoons, letters to aliens, promptings of nature.

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Ateliers

We just moved into our new Margiela-esque asylum. White painted ceiling, walls and floor with camouflaged white décor, blunt knives so we don’t harm ourselves and a Jesus Christ action figurine. Gail has me in a straight jacket. We didn’t know too much about our new arrondissement except it was a touch conservative. But when you see plaques everywhere including on the wall outside your front door, your curiosity tells google to translate. Within a minute I’m an infinitive drip of wisdom.

In the early 1900’s our road Rue Campagne Première was the creative enclave of Paris. 40% of artisans were foreigners who had made the journey searching for a poorer but creatively richer existence (sounds familiar). Still today the ateliers at number 9 have white bed sheets draped over the large windows cocooning the artisans works. Man Ray’s atelier is right outside our bedroom window. Marcel Duchamp and photographer Eugène Atget were also close to the Passage d’Enfer (Passage of Hell) and Arthur Rimbaud amongst other tortured writers also lived in this now sympa road. Picasso’s atelier was just around the corner during his synthetic cubism years. The plaque on our building says something about Van Gogh, I’ll google him later…






atlassorronda*