don’t get all excited, I doubt I’ll be doing this for long.
I can’t help but be amazed that anyone still reads this. It defines endurance. give yourselves a slap on the back. and then across the fucking face WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING I AM SO FULL OF SHIT I AM PRACTICALLY A COPROPHILLIAC PINATA GRAB A STICK AND BEAT ME DOWN A FEW NOTCHES.

I swear that didn’t turn me on. those are bleach-spots on my crotch.

at the moment I am combining atkins and anorexia. I’m losing a stone in a week by hook, crook or kidney failure. I’ve seen steel magnolias and julia roberts was BONE THIN when she collapsed. admittedly she had bad hair but still a coma would be the perfect way to drop those last pesky fifty pounds that keep my organs functioning I mean get with it clarice this is the eighties no-one breathes on their own anymore.

I am pioneering a new diet fad. scatkins. get thin – eat shit... LITERALLY!
it’s big with the juicy couture girls.

nasty.
and it is just me or does scatkins sound like an eighties children’s cartoon character? think teddy ruxpin - god remember that? jesus christ it was shit.

I can’t remember when I last wrote in this properly so let’s start at the beginning.
new york was incredible, although mainly spent whining and dining. I am a bad sick person – and am fairly convinced all illness I have is psychosomatic. I saw no sights, but every shop (besides bloody balenciaga).
saw ground zero. and as predicted, it does look like a slightly-charred car-park.
amanda lepore didn’t show up, but I got thrown out. I mean a two-hour open bar? you americans have evidently never seen the way english fags drink.
yes I called someone a capitalist peeg (albeit sans castro cigar). yes I heard the word ‘gringo’. yes I bought a bad fake multicolore vuitton on canal street and ten I heart NYC t-shirts for sreven dorra (type it like they talk it). yes a mad seventy-odd year old hobo got on the subway, informed us ‘I considers myself an entertainer’ and sang a medley which segued seamlessly from ‘let it be’ to ‘hot in herre’, complete with tramp-dance and new year’s greetings in chinese (in mid-december). and yes I gave him money – because he was WORTH IT.
speaking of which how excited is everybody about flowerbomb? I am creaming my culottes with excitement. luckily they’re leather so it wipes right off.
yes I bought dior. and the dior homme changing rooms are the seventh circle of hell. for those who haven’t experienced the horror, they are checked black-and-white with a mirrored door and overpowering soundtrack of serial killer breathing and NOTHING ELSE. very chic. in fact, I was chicing my fucking pants.

I saw lagerfeld gallery stovepipe-collared thermal underwear. which I didn’t buy because I am a dick sometimes. it would have been perfect with my russian medals, drainpipes and white cowboy boots.

this is what new york will probably always be to me. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

keep me off ebay. with a muzzle if you have to. I’m addicted to buying, and am rapidly become addicted to selling. on the plus side, if any of you want a westwood mini-crini ‘deep sky’ blazer, tampon-tasselled pirate scarf read up on your history if you don’t know what I’m talking about or grand hotel gold leather Bettina jacket yes it is as foul as it sounds then I’m your boy. and the proceeds will go direct to the tsunami appeal.
well, the appeal of me in a tsunami of dior homme I will have that bastard tuxedo jacket if I have to kill every member of franz ferdinand and give Kaiser karl oral sex. oh I know hedi’s hardly how he used to be, but I’m wearing it so get over it.


I was heckled by builders on friday. and it brought a tear of joy to my eyes – it’s been far too long. admittedly, they misidentified my handjob princess cracked-out jackie blow circa ’65 white leather wrist-gloves as Michael Jackson (probably mentally spelled ‘micheal’), but that wasn’t entirely incorrect, or unexpected. just wait until they see the studded red bottega venetas. helena christened them my shamo motherfucker gloves – and to be honest helena has single-handedly (pun intended) reintroduced the word cunt into the public vocabulary so her influence cannot be underestimated.

well, I haven’t dyed my hair despite all the backchat, but I did paint highlights into it with emulsion paint. and they looked pretty fucking hot – and stayed motionless. next step is to backcomb like madame de pompadour, plaster the whole thing pistachio and stick brooches in it. think lacroix. although I did accidentally cut it adam ant style – I swear I’m looking more like a teutonic tourist everyday.

spring is uninspiring. thus my lack of a retort. the best show (by far) was the coked-up blacked-out bloated and under-quoted saint laurent shtick. I love those tasseled stack heeled loafers. and the super-wide patent belts. and the polka-dot blouses (valentino said he couldn’t think of spring without polka-dots), the slightly-retarded bustle flounces, the velvet ribbons. I mean VELVET RIBBONS! fucking eschelles in prêt-a-porter! I’m all about bows and domestic violence. fist-kisses in wrist-gloves. and they brought back the old cassandre ysl logo in gold.
I know I will be dying to wear this in two years so drop it like it’s haute.

yes I am writing this at 5am atkins gave me gulf-war syndrome I’m currently in litigation.

love,
Alex.

p.s. okay, let’s get this over with...
1. what did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before? college, coke, seen and scene, actually got i-d (not the magazine, although I was in it) and travelled outside the country. bought seriously bad roland mouret white leather. and love it unconditionally.
4. did anyone close to you die? I have the perfect funeral outfit, but my relatives never die. selfish peasants.
6. what would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004? petar petrov, wendy and jim, cloak, sebastien meunier, siv stodal, kim jones. basically, names that mean nothing to anyone not in fashion. and bernhard willhelm chernobyl sleeves.
9. what was your biggest failure? Alexander is a sociable and enthusiastic student, active in group discussions, but must learn to apply himself to his studies and ensure his attendance improves if he wishes to achieve a final mark indicative of his talent. or something.
11. what was the best thing you bought? russian brides and dior. just like donald trump.
15. what did you get really, really, really excited about? central saint martins. would you believe it?
17. compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? sappier.
ii. thinner or fatter? DROP IT LIKE A HOT POTATO I WANT TO WEIGH LESS THAN KATE’S AFTERBIRTH.
iii. richer or poorer? emotionally richer. with many, many more clothes.
19. what do you wish you'd done less of? justifying the expense.
22. did you fall in love in 2004? watch this space.
25. do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year? god, I hate people I didn’t hate this time last week
27. what was your greatest musical discovery? the soft pink truth.
29. what did you want and not get? an oscar sulyeman medal-strewn leather placket jacket. bestill my ‘bating groin.
33. how would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004? falling apart at the seams.
34. what kept you sane? cynicism, seconal and jackie fucking stallone.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? pope john paul II
39. tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004: you can’t clean white leather with clinique scruffing lotion.
40. quote a song lyric that sums up your year: please don’t confront me with my failures. I have not forgotten them.

p.p.s. never let anyone take your picture when drunk. ever.

and yes, I got a little carried away with that addendum.
but I know you all see a large addendum as a challenge above anything else. if only to defy lockjaw one more time.