The Unknown Hipster

Listening to Glenn

Posted in Art by unknownhipster on March 16, 2012

At the opening of  « Dressed For Art » at fi:af, Glenn O’Brien arrived with a large bag, from which he pulled out a bullhorn to read some of his poems.


Give me a plain.

Make it a medium plain.

No, I don’t want anything in it.

You don’t have any medium ?

Only large, extra large,

But don’t fill it up all the way

 Glenn is the only poet who understands the relationship of Fashion and the commercial world. Once I heard he read « Beatnik  Executives », one of my favorites,  inside the Barneys store.

I saw the best minds of my generation

Depressed by lawsuits, dieting, sober, all dressed up,


Angelheaded hipsters renegotiating the social contract,

Trying to renegotiate the lease on life

And cool this microwaved world.

Excerpt from « Beatnick Executives », in Soapbox, Imschoot Uitgevers

Besides having been photographed in his pants by Andy Warhol for the cover sleeve of Sticky Fingers, he is the only poet who has been writing on the subject of « How to Be a Man », a philosopher’s take on sartorial subjects that extend unto questions like « the correct insult » or « what to do after death and how to deal with eternity. »

Most poets try to bring you down to make a living, but Glenn provides workable solutions for life:

When I get confused or dismayed or bored I always think : but what if this was an art movie.

In « Toward a More Bohemian Lifestyle », Soapbox, Imschoot Uitgevers


A color pencil interpretation of “The Happening”, an oil painting by Jean-Philippe Delhomme echoing Glenn’s reading. 

Front Row (A portrait of Grace)

Posted in Fashion by unknownhipster on March 5, 2012

It was night at JFK, and the boarding of the giant A380 seemed to never end, when recognizing the silhouette of Grace Coddington seating front row reminded me that Paris Fashion Week was about to start.

For all who saw the The September Issue, and fell under her charm, Grace seems to possess the disillusionment of a true philosopher, while being more of an artist than most photographers, more of an artist in fact than most artists who’d rather have their new summer house featured in Vogue than their last show reviewed in Art Forum (although, of course, both are necessary).

I was lost in my reflections on Grace, assuming that under these conditions, a First class solitude must be complimentary, when I was suddenly brought back to shared reality by a  “Can I see your invitation ? ”. I was then urged with the herd to the standing row, by a flight attendant who had the fierce insensitivity of a PR assistant.