Superman.

// British icon Topman (masculine variation to it’s sister Topshop) has gone filmic. In collaboration with Laurence Ellis, the store has decided to initiate their new AW10 line of denim with three exquisite short films.

A step away from your typical telly advertisment or fashion video, the films are shot on Super 16 film stock and focus on three central characters aptly named Louis, Henry and Sid. The films intimately interweave in a journey capturing youth spirit and identity.

Topman is setting up an interactive web component whereby consumers can access interviews and behind-the-scenes footage with the characters, ultimately leading to said consumer purchasing a brand spankin’ new pair of AW’s.

Clever, and undoubtedly effective. Bravo!

Trailer for the film collectives below:

// Dan Z

Parlez Vous Gossip?

// Oui Oui! The Season 4 trailer for Gossip Girl has just been released!

While Dan nurses his firstborn in Brooklyn, the rest of the shimmered-up ensemble are out of the city and onto the cobble-stoned streets of Paris in true ‘Carrie’ style. 

Let’s be honest, bb. While the show is visually pleasing (hot cast + hot clothes = good times) their lackluster attempt at creating ‘conflict’ and ‘drama’ has critically and commercially failed. If it’s not careful, the show will begin to enter the quick decline into TV syndication. Alas, the season’s entry in Paris is hopeful. I’m actually creaming at the thought. 

Check out ze trailer ‘ere:

// Dan Z

Splendour up my ass, in my tent, down my shorts.

// Money buys experience, that’s for sure. $445 for the actual ticket, $188 to have my tent conveniently prepared in Tent City, $160 on alcohol. $9 per vegie burger (x3), $4.50 per organic donut (x4). Fuck me, it’s all worth it (x1000). 

Having never even sniffed the entrance of Australia’s staple music festival Big Day Out, I was a touch apprehensive about whether I would appreciate the various elements of Splendour In The Grass, the largest festival to grace our shores (although I did manage to sneak into the Hilton’s main bar after Big Day Out one year, without even attending the actual event – had a cute chat to Bob Evans about pot). Would I despise tent living and stink mercilessly as a result of avoided shower queues? Would I resent the invention of hopps and yeast as an ingredient for which my fellow festival-loving-peers use as juice to invariably turn them from usually just annoying wasps into downright douchy-dickheads? Would I lose my mind and get incredibly lost in a sea of tents and cars and gumboots? Jesus, man, get a grip. And a map. 

Given Splendour’s new location in Woodfordia, Queensland (home of the smaller Woodford Folk Festival), majority of the crowd consisted of Gold Coast beach babes + friends. Everywhere I turned, I bared witness to the tiny dresses and big cleavages. Think bleached blonde meter maid, if you will allow me such a generalisation. Having said that, the Melbourne hipster fold was also well and truly accounted for. Let’s face it, Splendour’s a place to see and be seen. And seen dead unbathed or disheveled would have been festival suicide. The electrical space for Tent City residents to charge their mobile phones was mainly a source of power for beforementioned beach babe/hipster to connect her/his GHD and set about straightening her/his long luscious extentions/quiff for forty minutes (note that given the humid weather, curls began to resurface in less than half that time). 

But enough about the crowd, who were more often than not quite lovely and honestly in attendance for one thing and one thing only: the music. Because when push comes to shove; when hipster meets beach babe, when bogan meets braun, when skank-slut meets flower child, we are all one when singing in a 20,000-person unison to The Dog Days Are Over. And that’s all that mattered. The music is the only thing that does. 

Mumford & Sons (right before the crowd dramatically clear as The Pixies take the stage)

Kate Nash: A cunt is a useful thing.

So, you wake up. You climb out of your balmy, sun filled tent. You stretch in the long, dry grass, sit down with a triple-choc biscuit in one hand and a vodka-orange in the other, and you plan your day. Will it start at the Mix Up tent for Bluejuice, a quick sprint up the hill to the amphitheater to catch The Drums and Tame Impala? Will you grab a quick dippy-dog while walking back over to Mix Up for Kate Nash, before catching the last few minutes of Laura Marling at the GW McLennen Tent and quickly back up to the amphitheater (before a much needed dash to stock up on drink tickets) for Florence and The Machine and The Strokes back to back? Every night wraps in any number of on-site clubs (Ibeefa, anyone?) dancing to an array of local and international DJ’s, or one can opt to chill out back in Tent City and begin the way you started, of course with your carefully stashed vodka. Now, decisions are made factoring in a few annoyingly frustrating clashes, and your always aware that a prime position is not going to be possible for each and every act. But hey – the main amphitheatre is surrounded by a sloped hill which offers optimum visability from even the back corner. 

What? This is what a musical festival is like? As above and repeat for three days straight? Where the fuck do I sign up for more and how on earth have I missed out on this festival experience until now?

Dame Florence positively had the crowd in the palm of the perfectly manicured hand. I’ve never seen an audience as captivated. 

Sir Casablancas. 

To be a part of the ‘couldren of humanity’ (as the Splendour crowd was so accurately labeled by The Strokes’ Julian Casablancas) was amazing and delightful and inspiring. Get your priorities in check and get on the Australian festival band wagon. We do it well. 

// Dan Z

Another day, another Daniel Radcliffe photoshoot.

// Remember when photos leaked of Daniel Radcliffe’s peen for his Equus stint? That was fun. But even fully clothed, Potter effing shines once again, only this time for L’uomo Vogue (naturally). 

D-Rad has got to be the most editorially photographed celebrity in Britain by far (soon to be taken over by R-Patz, his obvious arch-nemesis). Who knew when they cast the sucker at the ripe ‘ol age of 10 years old that he’d turn out to be such a stud? Check out more of his sex-eye shots here.  

// Dan Z

Swopshire!

// You only have to watch UKTV to realise Britain’s television industry is well established, but watch out Absolutely, there’s a new breed of Fabulous in town. 

Is it just me, or is Britain emerging as a fantastic source of series television? Just in this last decade we’ve had a few obvious successes from Skins to Extras and the extraordinary cult following of Doctor Who (I’ve got some relatively normal people in my life that turn into psycho Who fans at the stroke of midnight). But it just keeps getting better! If you haven’t heard of these two stand-outs, get on it ridiculously quick. 

Misfits (E4)

The Inbetweeners (E4)

Why do we like British television? Okay, so it’s not American television – fantastic start. Secondly, they have addictive, mesmerizing accents (I basically fall in love with anyone with a British accent no matter how tooth-less). Lastly (not because it’s actually the last reason but more because I can’t be bothered continuing the list) the witty, terribly-British humour. Laugh a minute, every time. Although that last point probably ties in with the second point, so we can basically surmise that British television is good because they have humorous accents that aren’t American.

That basically sums up this post quite neatly.

// Dan Z

Burqa? Oui oui.

// Not often do I get outraged by politics. I am the first to admit that I’d rather read about Lindsay Lohan and her SCRAM bracelet than hear about mind-numbing political brap-brap. Watching the news makes me depressed and angry. Give me Perez Hilton over the 7.30 report any day. Bare this in mind before continuing. 

I was reading News.com a few months ago (yeah, not the most reliable news source but it works for me so nuuuh) when I stumbled upon an article about Muslim women being banned in France for wearing burqa’s. Excuse me, but whaaaaat? I know that a lot of people believe that this somehow masquerades as progress for women’s rights, but before placing this ban, did the French government ever stop and remember that these women choose to wear burqa’s and that it’s actually a huge part of their religion? I understand that in some instances Muslim women are forced to wear the garment out of fear of abandoning their religious upbringing (yeah, that gets up my goat), but is it really necessary to completely forbid women to wear it? Why not opt to give women the option instead of threatening them with a monetary fine? What happened to democracy and freedom, maaan.

Burqa’s have been banned in French public schools since 2004. Nicolas Sarkozy (President of France) defended the law by saying it was because ‘France cannot accept that women be prisoners behind a screen, cut off from all social life, deprived of all identity’. Yeah, yeah Sarkozy. The feminist side of me agrees. But depriving people of their religious freedom is just as wrong and I hope to GaGa that other governments don’t follow.

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And Australia’s stance on the issue? Douche-bag Tony Abbott (sorry, slip of the tongue) stated; ‘I think a lot of Australians find the wearing of the burqa quite confronting and I wish it was not widely worn. But the point is we don’t have a policy to ban it and we have always respected people’s rights in this area’. At least he got something right. However inarticulate he chooses to voice it. 

If they are going to ban something, please at least make it the Bieber-religion that some 12 year old twat made up (No I kid, I kid. Love you Biebs.)

// Bear-Z

Another blow for Paris.

// Paris Hilton inspired by The Triangles? It seems so. 

Nah, check it out. Melbourne band The Triangles have been in heavy competition with the likes of (Dame) Gaga and Ke$ha to be the sound of Spanish beer brand Estrella Damm. They’ve jumped to the top of the commercial chart in both Spain and Australia with Applejack, a song penned over 5 years ago without any intention of it ever becoming a chart topper. Seems unlikely that Ms. Hilton (or her musical camp) would have been exposed to an independently produced EP by tiny Australian label Half A Cow Records, but the obvious similarity between Applejack and Paris’ Nothing In The World (recorded in 2006 – and featuring vocals from the then unknown Ke$ha) is fantastically noticeable.  

The Triangle’s have and will reach more success with their *insert generic indie/pop tune description* than Hilton every did. Granted, Hilton was arrested for driving under the influence shortly after the song was released, so she may have lost motivation to generate heat by promotionally touring with the single. Are we shocked? No. Angered? Of course not. Paris’ musical talent certainty doesn’t warrant any sort of focus, unlike that of Coldplay’s various plagiarism claims. Hell, Hilton needs all the help she can get. (Her first single Stars Are Blind was albeit quite catchy).

// Dan Z

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