TT: Window Displays
Wednesday, March 19, 2008, 7:49 PM

So this week it is window displays. Most of them are from Los Angeles and have a story, so settle back with your glass of wine or cup of joe.

You're obviously not going anywhere if you're here, right?

This year, Thursday, March 20, 2008, is the first day of spring. And what could be more perfect than a window display that spells that out so flowerily? (If you click on the photos, you can see them FULL SIZE!)

Last month it was dandelions in the Marc Jacob's window displays for footwear for ladies. Why they call it Dandelion, I'll never know. I guess it's just another of life's mysteries.

In any case, this store has a number of windows in which to do their displays. The women's store is on the south side of the road. The men's-slash-casual wear is across the street.

I've also heard rumors that le Jacobs is going to take over the alleys and Manhattan. I saw a photo of him in one of the Los Angeles magazines and he looks like a scruffy guy in his early thirties. I thought at time: Sheesh, you make how many million a year, and you can't even comb your hair?

Anyway, I walked into the Marc Jacobs store on the south side one day because they always have the BEST window displays. I found so many tops to salivate over. They have the cutest stuff if you're into casually eclectic funk, which is how I describe my style.

Only I can't afford the Marc Jacobs CEF. I can barely afford the life to which I have gradually grown accustomed to.

And here we have the exclamation points. I tried to get the mannequin in the shot (she's wearing a two piece bathing suit in peach, with what looks like a mosquito net cover-up). Alas, you'll have to make do with the head and shoulder. Life is full of its disappointments. But consider this: that mannequin is as skinny as a squashed pancake and white as Len Goodman's teeth (judge of Dancing with the Stars). I love Len, but his teeth are too friggen white.

And here we have the red amoeba of hell, otherwise known as the rich man's dining room chandelier.

Er, well, maybe the red hot momma boudoir burst of flame?

If it falls, you're going to bleed. This thing is made out of glass. Look at all of the points. I sure wouldn't want it hanging over my bed, not with the way my world wags.

And the photo to the right is from a coffee-slash-tea knitting school. It's just a wee place, but they have the neatest window displays, always homey and inviting as grandma's place when mom's mad at you.

See the foot? It's a PLANTER. With artificial flowers stuck in the hollow ankle part. And someone's painted mock-Henna on the top of the foot. I loves me some feet. It's so me.

Okay, so that's not an actual Henna design and I doubt it came from a plant commonly found only in Iran, Pakistan, Syria, Persia, Morocco, Palestine, Yemen, Egypt, Uganda, Tanzania, Afghanistan, Senegal, Kenya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, or India. This is just a small family-run shop.

Mr. Flower Head, might I have some of your sweet smelling, tasty nectar?

This is what you'd call a gay man's store, but don't go turning up your nose. Nobody dresses (or smells) better than a West Hollywood gay guy. It's disgusting, really. As soon as I see a sexay, well dressed man, I automatically think: Hunh, he's probably gay.

But it's not always so. I know it's not. I've seen good looking, well dressed men in a serious lip-lock with females in WeHo. So they can't all be gay. They just can't.

The psychedelically funky photo to the right is from a shop on Santa Monica. You probably can't tell from the photo, but it's someone's impression of a face surrounded by men's ties. Yeah. Ties. The photo doesn't do it justice. This was really scary-cool looking. It also had to be inspired by someone on meth or crack.

To the left we have a Mary specialty. It's not exactly a window display, but if you've ever been to Mary's on Santa Monica, then you know every inch of the place is on display.

Even the restroom. I took photos of the restroom because the ceiling and three walls were all mirrored. (Um, I just had a rather disturbing thought that maybe one or more of those mirrors could be two-way.) (Chit.)

Everything about Mary's restroom is fascinating. It's a one-toilet-only room with red lights, a disco ball, and two wooden chairs--I guess in case you have a couple of friends who won't mind sitting beside you while you go pee. (Yes, I have a photo, I'll post it soonish.)

The next photo is of a wicked-cool shoe that I would break my neck on if I wore such a thing. But I love it. Don't you? It must be five inches high and cost half my monthly rent's payment, but that's pocket money to someone like today's reining celebs.

I don't know what this is. Well, it's me making a dopey sign of peace in front of what looks like an alien in a breathing apparatus. I think it was a music store. Or maybe a salon.

Who knows? Only the Shadow.

To the right, we have again the shop of horrah, the shop maintained by guard dogs who don't like passersby to snap photos. Ho-no, they come out after you and demand that you erase the photos you took because they don't allow photo-taking.

I've been in a howling, raging rush these last few mornings, getting to work a few minutes past starting time. So no time to take the REALLY GOOD photos.

I'm still adjusting to the time change. Yeah. That must be it.

Can you guess what the photo to the left is about? Those are wee mannequin bodies about six inches high, wearing necklaces of designer eyeglasses. $700 a pop. Dare to stop?

Not me.

This last photo was taken in San Juan, Puerto Rico, during my southern Caribbean cruise. I was just baaaaarely tall enough to stick my head up over the steel mannequin's shoulders.

What she lacked in head and hair, though, she made up for in nippledge. One of the most tacky mannequins I've ever seen! So of course, I had to get a photo.

Thank you, WeHo-Californication, Mary's and P. Rico, for sponsoring this week's TT bit o' amusement. 'Til next time.


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