I have long been a fan of Milk, France's ultimate children's fashion magazine. They recently extended their publication to Japan, and the results are both inspiring and hysterical...and way better than most adult fashion magazines. Here's a look at my favorite spread. When I have a kid, I want a little Hockney...

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Date: Thu, 1 May 2008 07:51:46
From: [name deleted]
Subject: Thurdsday
To: [name deleted]
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Dear Shep Collidus,

I can't take this anymore. I am writing to tell you that if there is no packet in my P.O. Box this afternoon, I might do something dramatic. Do you think that people who fart on subways do it on purpose...as something "dramatic"? Because that's kind of along the lines of what I was thinking. How's your day?

Back to the Box for a mo'. I think I'll be checking it sometime around 2ish/3ish or something like that. Sound good? I'll call you on all the fancy numbers you have. We can either scream and/or cry together...

What you see above is the very last Percy. I put him in a plastic bag and locked him in a cupboard because I took down the rest of his pig brethren in a swift and total masticating massacre earlier this afternoon (I figured I should chew them instead of my fingernails during the Great David Blaine Breath Stunt on Oprah--see below). Sadly, now Percy's time has come. To honor his great sacrifice, I'm making a pact with myself to steer clear from gelatin-skin-n-bones products from here on out. I'm doing it for the love of Percy.

God speed, li'l fellow. Yum...that's a good pig.

Dear David Blaine,

Gettin' excited about your appearance on "Oprah" today? It's gonna be crazy! Holding your breath for more than 16 minutes?! Wowzers. You're so tough. Really. I used to practice holding my breath in the bathtub all the time. It's totally hard. I saw that movie The Big Blue and decided to be a free diver and a marine biologist when I grew up. The bathtub became my Olympic pool training facility. I'd put my watch on the toilet, shove my Sea Babies and their flower sponge boats aside, and fully submerge myself as soon as the glove of the red Mickey hand hit the big number 12 on my Official Disneyland Timepiece. The key is to let little bubbles of air escape every 10 seconds or so. I'm sure you know this already. Anyway, my best time was 1 minute 58 seconds, and when I couldn't top that time, I knew that I probably didn't have a future in the world of free diving (or as the wife of Jean Marc Barr, mon amour). Luckily, I saw Young Guns II a few months later and decided that being an outlaw was much more suitable for my desert location...as was Balthazar Getty post-Lord of the Flies.

Anyway, good luck! So, um, when are you going to get back to the ol' abracadabra?

Why not pair them with Bjork's new 3-D video?

You know who I miss? Pippi Longstocking! She's my style icon of the week. "There's no one like her!"

"Please, please, please can I borrow your ticket? My girlfriend is stuck in STANDING ROOM. Ohmygod, you're a life saver!"

I was "Gabrielle" last night at the Alice Temperley show. I've been keeping it light this Fashion Week so I can swizzle my sticks in other cocktails, but being back in the ol' circus tent made me miss the soul sucking pandemonium of it all. There's something thrilling about ascending those concrete steps, flashing an embellished invitation, getting the nod, then being bombarded by girls in shaky heels brandishing the latest issue of The Daily.

When you get to the doors of the Bryant Park tents, you can already feel the energy pulsating on the other side. There's a two second check you do before going in. A quick sweep of the bangs, a secret tug on the skirt, one delicate smack of the lips. Once the door is opened, that's it. You're sucked into a twittering vortex of flashing bulbs, cacophonous chatter, swirls of colorful advertising, and a multitude of eyes all staring at you.

see them on their big bright screen
tan and blonde and seventeen
eating nonfood keeps them lean
but they're young forever
if they must grow up
they marry dukes and earls
i hate california girls

i have planned my grand attacks
i will stand behind their backs
with my brand new battle axe
and when they taste my wrath
they will hear me say as the pavement whirls
i hate california girls

And since we're on the subject of California, please AMPTP, for the sake of my friends who are out of work and for the rest of us who are plagued with soul sucking reality television, please give the writers what they deserve. And please start giving young viewers more shows like Ugly Betty and less shows about girls who spend most of their time modeling, talking about nothing, and getting wasted at beach bonfires.

Just got back from Japan and boy am I tired! The jet lag is insane but so totally worth it. It was like living in the future over there. Like living in a dream world where everybody is polite and every toilet sings you a sweet melody. I can't wait to go back. Stories and pics soon...

Check out my recent interview with the lovely Philomena Keet, author of the Tokyo Look Book (awesome book, BUY IT) up on BizBash.

T minus 5 days until Trip Tokyo 2007!!!!

My dear pal Jeff turned me on to the music of Nico Muhly recently, and now I'm obsessed. It sounds like dancing black bears in Sgt. Pepper clothing. Patterns of bumblebees flying at night. Lonely hearts skating on cracked ice. Sometimes you'll envision a Cherokee chief wrapped in a woolen cloak puffing on a wooden pipe. Other times you'll hear a cello and feel like curling into a ball. Or rolling piano keys will will incite solo, living room twirling...which I'm always up for.

Basically, you need to hear it to see it. Check out Nico's album Speaks Volumes on iTunes.

Heard about this strike but don't really understand what it's all about (other than no Daily Show right now)? Then I urge you to read this. Pamie, you are what I like to call a FANTASTIC WOMAN! You know that I feel this way about you already, but seriously dude. What you wrote made me emotional. It also made me want to ride out there on a blazing stallion (by blazing I mean that my horse would have flames on his flanks) and be your 2nd security guard. The one named "Snipa". Keep fightin'.

It's been years since I've seen The Raveonettes (easily one of my favorite bands of all time), and their show last night at Southpaw was sultry, pulsating PERFECTION. My heart trembled. The heels of my weathered oxfords clicked uncontrollably. And golly, by golly, people danced! If you haven't checked out this band before or ridden their molasses waves of 50's tinged melodies in awhile, I urge you to do so today. Their new album will wash ashore very soon, and from what we heard of the new stuff last night it's gonna be snazzy.

But this is the one that I LOVE:

Please check out Wes Anderson's new short film "Hotel Chevalier" for free on iTunes. It's absolutely lovely.

Sigh. I miss Paris. I could board a plane RIGHT NOW and spend a few days snuggled up in the hot pink carpeted gloriousness that is the Hotel Amour. I'd take my petit déjeuner at the Rose Bakery and then walk around for hours until I made it to the Palais de Tokyo for some art browsing, book buying, and a tidy salad at Tokyo Eat. I'd then wander aimlessly again, maybe stopping for some macarons (pistachio, anise, and rosewater) at Laduree before finding my way to Deyrolle where I'd hang out with a lion or a cougar...or maybe the zebra if he's not tied up. There would absolutely be a stop at my favorite bookstore on the planet, Shakespeare & Company. I would make sure not to leave before typing a poem on the ancient typewriter hidden up the stairs. Dinner would then be three courses at Astier followed by some selections from the biggest cheese basket in the world (a basket three times the size of your head!!!), and then a long walk home in the twinkle that is Paris after dark. Oh, Paris. J'taime.

Check out our pictures of all of the above right here.