Once upon a time I wanted to be a fashion designer...I bought and studied fashion magazines religiously, and even attended a couple of classes at a local fashion school, where I learned the essentials of millinery and fashion illustration among other arcane mysteries. It was something I was serious about, and dovetailed well with the study of makeup artistry and hairdressing which I undertook later, as well as with the photography that came after that.
All of this, of course, was prior to the rise of such designers as Marc Jacobs and Hedi Slimane, back when Isaac Mizrahi was still fat, and it didn't matter what fashion designers looked like.
Chased away from my dreams by the looks fascists I settled briefly in hairdressing and makeup, before being driven out of there; I was then driven out of photography by the same forces, and soon I'll be driven out of writing and blogging as well, the way things are going.
Nevertheless, by capitulating I'm as much to blame as the gay men I continue to meet who tell me that I'm 'so disgusting I don't deserve to live', which gives me a laugh now but really hurt when it started occurring (as it will) immediately following my 24th birthday.
New York City native Zac Posen's reputation is built principally upon the fact that he is the pet gay of such renowned fashion-plate actresses as Natalie Portman, Liv Tyler, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Claire Danes. Honestly, it's been so long since I studied fashion now that I couldn't tell a Zac Posen dress from the schmatte run up by the late Alexander McQueen; I just like looking at him.
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