I made this dress for a college formal. I cried every day I made it. Bless you, Oscar de la Renta, for executing beauty and radiance in every design. This video of Carrie Bradshaw reading the Vogue in Season 6 is a beautiful tribute as well. I mean, I didn’t even line the darn thing. He’d hate it!
Sometimes art is Stevie Nicks. She has an exhibition opening later this month at the Morrison Hotel Gallery in New York.
Happy birthday, Alicia Silverstone! Thank you for gifting us with calling someone a Monet and falling for Paul Rudd. Even now, whatta Baldwin.
Being in Washington, DC, I’m pretty used to walking into museums and walking straight out just because they’re free. But sometimes, when I’m feeling like money is no object (which seems to occur one business day after the 15th and 30th of each month…), I do swanky, suave things like unnecessary online shopping and paying admission.
No, but really: One of my most favorite destinations in our nation’s capital is the Phillips Collection. Turns out their Chief Curator stepped down earlier this week — Eliza Rathbone, pictured above, said the following in response to announcing a successor:
No; I don’t think the museum is looking to hire a chief curator, per se…the Phillips is well prepared to carry on with wonderful shows, and I’ll be very much involved in its future—just in a slightly new capacity.
Coy, ‘Liza. You know I’m just gonna go ahead and wait for my phone call.
Read more about the Phillips’ darling, Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party, here.
Happy birthday, Julie Andrews. I hope it’s supercalifrageli…uh, grand.
Girl, I see you and I hear that. I wouldn’t wanna be about that “painted by Gauguin” life either.
Read more about how much I loathe Paul Gauguin here, here, here, here, here…oh!, and here.
I decided there’s no better way to start a Tuesday than to share another one of Mallory Ortberg’s masterpieces. Read the full article here.
i like dont want to be rude or anything
but me and this dog are kind of hanging out right now
so
this isn’t really doing it for me anymore
do you want me to tell them to dance faster
no
i want them to dance better
jesus
this is a nightmare
i didnt say stop
youre the only one i can trust
you and this leopard skin on the floor
the only ones i can trust
Mallory Ortberg, just hang out with me already.
In high school, I bet Franz Kline was the kid who said, “The point is you didn’t,” as a curt reply to anything he showed during Friday’s art critique when the football moron taking the elective said, “Uh, I could do that.” I’ll also bet he put plaster gauze all over packing styrofoam to create Louise Nevelson sculptures.
I mean, that’s what I did. And I loved it.
Today marks the 266th birthday of Jacques-Louis David. I almost named my dog Jacques, but I went with Omar. Sorry not sorry.
This is the Death of Marat. Marat was part of the group that wanted to execute Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette that then became the Reign of Terror in 1793. Charlotte Corday was on the other side and one of his political frenemies. She sweet-talked her way into his bathroom (the man often hung around in the tub to soothe his eczema) using a fake note of a counter-revolution. She then fatally stabbed him, hung around, was arrested, and then executed for the crime.
Way to own your actions, girl.
When this painting came out in 1964, Roy Lichtenstein was profiled in LIFE Magazine. The article’s subheading said, “Is He the Worst Artist of the US?”
Sleeping Girl sold at auction in 2012 for almost $45 million. So, uh, LIFE? I’m gonna go ahead and say, “Or nah.”
arthipstory 
