Duncan and the Big Dog
Everything falling: today’s theme. The unusual sound of rain falling over Hollywood, Luna falling off of the bed at 3am and having to be helped back up. The little dog burrowed beside me. I think his dewclaw has fallen off. He looks more comfortable. As for claws or nails or rain or cats and dogs falling-the little fingernail that fell off after my Big Dog was killed has finally grown back. A full seven months it took.
My therapy session yesterday with Jill cleared my muddy mind.
People ask all the time about the clothes I wear on the show Sex Rehab. The sunglasses I wear are either Paul Smith ($65 on sale) or Tom Ford ($350 not on sale). Let me put your minds at ease: I usually spend NOTHING on clothes and keep them forever (I still wear a Romeo Gigli suit I bought 25 years ago) wearing them well after the moths have eaten them. The secret, of course, is buying beautiful pieces and developing a specific style. I love the cut of my Dior pants, the theatrical kick of a Vivienne Westwood jacket..and her accessories-my favorite sweater full of moth holes is a Westwood classic. I used to wear tons of Helmet Lang before Gucci fired him. I bring out the Lang for special occasions. I have a beautiful Helmut bondage cardigan that I am going to wear today.
I love talking to you because you remind me..
Duncan and Clare
My favorite designer is Rei Kawakubo for Commes des Garcons. Oh Rei, how I worship you-I worship Japanese designers: Issey Miyake, Yohji Yamamoto, Rei. REI! Every time I wear the navy cardigan I bought in Paris from your hidden store on the Rue Saint-Honore people jump out at me! They notice the elegant detail, they want to know where..who..how.
Well people, the secret is in the search and the timing. I never buy anything unless I LOVE it. Every season I buy just one item at the full price to enjoy the experience, having it served properly, having it wrapped beautifully. Then for delicious bargains, getting to Barney’s or Fred Segal at just that moment when sale items crash from 40% off to 70% off.
If you arrive in Hollywood with a suitcase and a dream then you have come for one thing and one thing only…the film industry. The most handsome boys and the most beautiful girls from all over the USA. The prom kings and queens who sparkled in their High School musical all end up here. From all over the world writers, directors, producers they too turn up in LA sooner or later. Some of them end up leaving as fast as they came, others become waiters or waitresses looking to be discovered and for a select few there will be a place at the table. It’s the same thing in Paris. The streets jammed with hopeful, hopeless lovers of fashion. As I would arrive in Hollywood years later in search of the studio-I arrived in Paris aged 17 totally in awe of the big fashion houses, worshiping at the iron gates of St Laurent as I would the gates of Paramount.
Paris! What an amazing adventure. Apart from reinventing myself as Lord Anthony Rendlesham I also illustrated for fashion magazines, styled for photographers (where r u Jim Greenburg?), formed opinions about haute couture, prêt-a-porter and ‘tendance de la mode’, I went to every show every season, met every designer: Karl, Yves, Chantal, Emmanuelle, Angelo, Thierry, Jean-Paul…I watched elderly women with soft voices cover an entire couture frock with 14 lbs of tiny jet beads. I learned how to sew a cuff onto a sleeve, a collar onto a blouse, a placket, a peplum, to drape, a toile, organza, interfacing! The language of fashion became my language.
These are the languages I learned during the past 45 years: fashion, cuisine, film. I can speak all of them fluently.
It was in Paris that I met Fred Hughes, elegant mercurial Fred Hughes. His slicked back hair and beautiful apartment on the Rue de Cherche Midi, his paintings by Girardot , his linen sheets, his vetivert. He showed me how to take cocaine and heroin. You know, I was such a prude. I didn’t have sex ever with any of them. Now they are all dead.
Fashion, take it as seriously as you want to take it. I love it as much as I love cooking and film making.
Within a few years I would learn an altogether different language: the language of prison. I can speak that fluently too but I seldom get the chance. Thankfully.
Little Dog asleep in suitcase Paris 2009 with Comme
I read about Bernie Madoff in his medium security prison yesterday. Harlene Horowitz, who lost her Brentwood, Calif., home and other assets in Mr. Madoff’s Ponzi scheme.
“For someone who lived so high, he can’t be happy in his surroundings,” she says.
It struck home forcefully. Not because I agree with her but because if Bernie is anything like me then he’ll be doing just fine. He’ll be making the best of it. He’s a survivor. Bernie Madoff is cushioned from the reality of prison by fantasy. The same fantasy that persuaded him he would never get caught. I know what that feels like. I know what it’s like to be in prison, treading carefully, never looking anyone in the eye or speaking unless spoken to.
Dunacn, I love the way you write. Great blog.
lol, my dog does that ever time I am leaving for a trip. She thinks that is a sure fire way I will bring her along.
Loved the blog, as usual.
My dog follows us around when he sees we have suitcases and gets a bit nervous. He’s too big to try and fit in any ’cause he’s about 60 lbs and a lab. The only “big expense” recently has been some Oakley Sunglasses because I had just sold a print and it blew my mind that anyone wanted to buy any of my photography. It still weirds me out a little.
Little Dog. I love little dog. I think your description of your choice of clothes is called discernment. You display this in your choice. A beautiful sense of style. Maybe with men, there was a relief in letting your impeccable taste go to the wayside. Relief for me in the tawdry sometimes. This is what I am trying to understand at a late age. My attraction to the tattered.
Interesting Bernie M. insight. I guess we wish him pain. Maybe he will awaken and repent, like Chuck Colson, born again slayer of all that be impure. Madoff is the ultimate empty man.
choices, I meant.
love reading your words Duncan, and when you are soft and vulnerable in your memories.
I don’t think you are at all like Bernie Madoff, Duncan. You know Anthony is a construct. He still thinks he IS Anthony. If he realizes there’s no angles left to play and he’s in that cage until he gets let out by the reaper, it will be painful. However, I try not to underestimate the endless human capacity for self-delusion. Bernie may never grow up.
BTW, I love well-made designer clothes too, but I never buy new OR on sale. Here, and in New York you can always find wonderful items in the consignment shops and even thrift stores. Granted, it does take more time in looking. I live on a small income, which provides incentive for bargain hunting for all my needs.
Your style is elegant, practical, understated but still beautiful. I think you look terrific.
as someone who does nothing but write technically all day, everyday, i appreciate the frankness of your writing…and your relate-ability. quite conversational.
“My therapy session yesterday with Jill cleared my muddy mind.” Very nice gift. Enjoying Sex Rehab a lot, emotional roller coaster every week I go from sobbing like a baby to laughing out loud. Glad I stumbled upon your Blog you have a way with words. Peace.
Love Vivienne Westwood. She was always 5 yrs. ahead of the curve back in the day. Nobody wears her clothing better than Pete Burns and his BF. (no offense D)
Wondering if U.S. prisons are more brutal. Did you experience brutality where you were? Because U.S. prison horror stories are what we so often hear. It seems a place to be feared, not where one can easily escape into a dream.
Your writing style is amazing, and vivid. I always look forward to reading your blogs.
Duncan..so poetic and genuine…I haven’t seen you in ages, and yet still remember clearly the last time,it’s utterly amazing to me how perfectly perfect you make your life to be….Malibu, the Hollywood spot lights,
the fashion and the stories…those wonderful life experiences that you allow us to see a glimpse into, yet..skillfully holding back all that is still most important and secretive…secrets are hard to let go…I know, I have few…they warmly embrace ever so bitterly tight our soul, they are, after all, the only witnesses still remain…to a tragic incident which we protect within with profound secretacy. Be well! Wishing you the very best in Paris!
Hy, Duncan. Just caught up on all your posts 🙂 very well written and enjoyable. btw i love your CDG orange sweater 😉