The Dirty Thirties vs. the Nifty Fifties

In dreams, we drive nothing but super cars down the Vegas Strip, Miami's Ocean Drive, to the supermarket and if we could, to take out the trash even. In reality, super cars like to be babied, driven every blue moon and you won’t fit anything more than yourself and your ego into one. So which vessel shall you pilot when you’re not dreaming and how will you manage to compliment your sense of style? While there are a handful of performance packing full sized sedans on the market, just ask yourself one question. For what? I’m not planning to take on the world of racing in my $50k F1 family sprinter. I’d prefer beauty, comfortability, ease, and simplicity AND at a reasonable price—since I’m not gonna need all that space aged aluminum, carbon fiber and aerodynamic business. I think $30k sounds reasonable for such requirements and here’s what it’ll get’cha.

If anyone ever labeled me to be any sort of snob, they’re probably right. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t know effort when I see it and I do see it in Honda’s 2008 Accord Sedan and Coupe. The Accord is your run of the mill sedan starting at $21k and therefore is in the driveway of every other nuclear family home across the states. This is why I’m here to tell you, DO NOT buy the cheap version that doesn’t include an engine or steering wheel. Buy the full featured masterpiece with shiny door handles, navigation and yes, a time machine. I know, though this car is kinda attractive—especially for a Honda—it doesn’t carry the prestige of an Audi or even a low end Lexus but trust my word, if this is your exact price bracket, you’ll be satisfied with your selection and pleased by the extra zeros on your bank statement.

This next one is a no-brainer. The one thing I’ve said most to average car consumers this year is “Buy a BMW 1 Series!” For two reasons. First, it has one door on the left side. Second, it has another on the right. That’s right, COUPÉ. Don’t fret, it’s still a 2+2 situation, so you’ll fit all your “stuff” into the back seat. Yet, it’s sporty, functional and confident. Need I say more? It’s a damn BMW you bloody bastard! You know you’re gonna get a plush cabin with durable leather, great handling and if you don’t have any already, groupies. So if you’re not currently in the market for a superb grocery-getter, put the 128i on your Christmas list or even make up a holiday in an effort to quench your cravings.

“Hop ya ass out that S Class” and lay back in THIS! Mercedes-Benz’ newest entry level creation, the C300 Sport Sedan. Complete with oversized badge and aggressive stance, this is the Superman Benz meets a soccer mom favorite. You’re not gonna find more prestige in this class in any other vehicle. While I hate to be typical when speaking of vehicular status and then point the world toward a German created automobile, all I can tell you is “it is what it is.” The cream of the crop doesn’t get there by imitating but by innovating. While Toyota, Honda and Nissan put forth their best efforts, Mercedes proves it can be done a lot better for a little more change. With that said, save on your reality and splurge on your dream. If you feel the need to have donkey booty hand stitched onto the seats of your daily driver, at least your persona matches your car's interior. Otherwise, reserve the fancy for Ferraris and Phantoms!

Generally unamused,

T Royal

"You niggaz ain't know about a Robb Report
Bout a high speed Porsche, i.e.
You niggaz ain't know how to floss 'til I came through the door
like "Eric B. for Pres," respect me in this BITCH!"

–Jay-Z, The Watcher 2

Generally Speaking

Though I am a highly intelligent individual and it is a fact that I could teach the world a thing or two, I never like to go on rants like the one that lies 3 seconds into your future—that is if you continue to read. Lu(St)yle is not the end all be all of all things stylish. It is simply just as opinionated as any other blog you’ve ever encountered. So you ask, “Why should I even pay it any attention?” Shit... As far as I’m is concerned, you’re free to follow every weak ass trend that intercepts your clouded vision. While you’re at it, go ahead and rely on your poor judgement too! Just know that the staff here at Lu(St)yle will be laughing on your behalf. Nope, we’re not shallow. YOU just look hella stupid!

It is officially official! Check back regularly for updates filled with advice, adverts and adornment.

Always right, never satisfied,
T Royal

“my corrupted is conducted through ghettos sippin’ Amaretto

hand on the metal, foot on the pedal, never settle

we wear Carolina Herrera, dirty Donna Karan sweaters

wrapped over leathers and seudes, gold plated guns and grenades”
–Fredro Starr(Onyx), Last Dayz

'Mane, them draws comin' off when she see the two-seater!'

Aight, Disclaimer: This is some grown man shit. This ain’t about how super fast your weak ass rice rocket can go or how many TVs are in your scraper. This car review is about class and quality... And, for the record, NO I’m not gonna be p.c. about this or any other article.

In bachelor life you ain’t gonna impress any classy woman with just any ole' Mustang or Camaro unless it’s a restored old school or some newer, higher end version of the norm. Listen up! Let's not get a Chrysler 300, Lexus or anything of the sort. Two words, BOR-ING. Oh and here’s two more words, TWO-SEATER. Yeah, that’s wassup. And you ask why? OK, then stop reading ‘cause this ain’t for you, LAME. Two seats, plus sporty and luxurious. This description exudes intimacy and that’s the point. But what YOU wanna know is what are your options. Nah, don’t front. You wanna know.

Numero uno. This should be a no-brainer. THE Chevrolet Corvette. There’s no car in it’s class. And know this! It’s base model is faster and cheaper than your new Shelby GT500 Cobra Mustang. Do not try to refute this statement. I know the the GT500 has 505 horses and the Corvette is rated at 400. The Corvette is lighter and more aerodynamic, which gives it much advantage over the beautiful yet horribly engineered Uber-Stang. While the Corvette doesn’t sport the best innards. It puts all BS to rest.

Next up, Porsche Cayman. I could never figure out what the hell the attraction was to those little round-esqe Porsches. But as I’ve matured, I have also grown to learn that a Porsche is a renowned painting and an epic symphony. Now everyone loves the exceptional Carrera GT but I must admit that I’m not too big on the Boxster and I don’t take kind to the Cayenne. On the other hand, the Cayman has the P's: plush, power, price point, and pure passion. Starting at 50k, it handles like nobody’s business and it’ll give those competing Mercedes and BMW coupes a run for their money. Guess what else? Suicide wrist red interior IS an option.

The Audi R8. What can I say. This is the shit that shuts down the block. Every “boss” wants to pull up in a Lambo, Ferrari or Bently. Fine, it’s expected. While you could easily buy a Dodge Viper and get the exotic super car stamp, you may as well invest a bit more and get some quality Euro leather under your ass. The masses can’t comprehend, they cannot calculate. The R8: the example of superb engineering. I’ll tell you this much. If YOU see ME in a R8, don’t talk to me. Chances are you’re gonna ask me some amateur question about cars while not realizing that you ain’t on my level. Angel-eyed headlights, engine in the trunk, track certified and two seats. One for me and the other for her.

The one... and the two,
T Royal

The Magic Party Flute

Last night I went out to a friend Giovanna's birthday bash at an Argentinian bar called La Zerza. The crowd was LA looking, partying hard to Ministry of Sound remixes and showing a lot of skin despite the ridiculously frigid temperature outside. Yeah well I guess I fell into that category too...so sue me!

My friend Grace and I were drinking champagne, contemplating dancing to the non-commercial music when, out of the blue, this spirit appears:

A seventy year old man in a red velvet jacket and Santa Claus beard. Playing his flute. In the middle of the dance floor! At first everybody gave him some room, but as the night wore on he made quite a few friends. People took pictures with him, and one girl (Asian) actually danced with him. He used his flute as a fence while they danced so she wouldn't get away. I was revolted and shocked, and a little upset that the flute was being used in such a sleazy way.
I've played the flute since I was nine, and I would never exploit it in a nightclub, no matter how fly the fellas are. Now I've witnessed some peacockin' in my time...a sweet/foine friend of mine paints his nails black when he goes out to clubs. But the flute?! The flute?? Mackin on hos with your flute is not whats up. Old ass relics of the Russian Ballet think they can bring that flute game to attend the same club as me? Outrageous!

Hatin' On My Man Vuitton

The weirdness of it all.

I was at Angelika, this artsy film theater in Soho waiting for my semi-political movie, Persepolis, to begin. By now I'm used to seeing ads before movies, but at this particular theater they usually show granola-ish commercials instead of your typical Fandango jumpoff.

That's when I first saw the new 90 second Louis Vuitton commercial. Let me tell you that after this commercial ran, the whole audience began cracking up out of incredulity. As an avid fan of Louis, I gotta say I was dissapointed the commercial is on some ol' cultural montage 'the journey of life begins with a single step' bullshit. What is this, a Lexus commerical from '98? Really though. If I see one more commercial with some white bitch looking wide eyed through the window of the back seat of a car I'm going to scream. (No offense to whites, I actually love you guys and dyed my hair blonde to join your ranks. One love.)

But seriously? We don't need to see white people world traveling through peasant India, talking about LV bags and other madness. This reminds me of the racist advertising in the earlier part of the century. I'm sure you've seen those ads of the white people flying over Cuba, or paintings encouraging Europeans to visit colonialist Africa. Oh the shame. As a rocker of Vuitton, I'm turned off by this blatant promenading of difference of the haves and the have-nots. How dare you remind me of my privelege. Shame on you for making me feel guilty! Your job as advertisers is to make me want more more more! Now I want to hide my LV goods under the mattress (where I keep my stacks and yay).

Oh boy. Here are some screen shots I took of the commercial, available on Youtube for further research. And while you're at it peep the hip hop Phantom of the Opera Vuitton ad your boy Pharrell put together for their jewelery line. Like I've always said, the richer you get the more eccentric you become. Not a critique necessarily, just an observation.

What gets me the most is the corny script that appears throughout the commercial. It reads:

What is a Journey? A journey is not a trip. It's not a vacation. It's a process. A discovery. It's a process....of self discovery. (Shit is deep. now...cue mysterious Andalusian ambient music) A journey brings us face to face...with ourselves. (Droppin bombs on us right here) A journey shows us not only the world, but how we fit in it. Does the person create the journey, or the journey create the person? (Dammn...will we ever know though??) The journey is life itself. Where will life take you? (To the LV store, if I'm lucky.)

And Now: Gaybashing

But not from me. From the gay himself! Let me explain:

The downside of the blog is that people who shouldn't be heard are heard.

Enter Bryanboy. Check him out at www.bryanboy.com (or save yourself the pain and don't check him out at all). You can just trust my synopsis of the shit.

Bryanboy is this young gay Filipino guy who is the epitome of the gay stereotype. He runs this fashion blog that is pretty boring in content, and he's tacky as all hell. He basically is on the whole 'Marc Jacobs is amazing' hype that is a big ass mystery to me. Marc's clothes are ugs, period. But whatever, he's rich and I'm not so I'm not going to talk any more shit on Marc.

Anyway, so this kid Bryan gets a lot of attention for his wack blog (read: non-industry involved "critics" who have no expertise to offer) and Marc ends up naming a bag after him. What annoys me is people like Bryan get rewarded for being such characters. People want to believe in the superqueer because it reaffirms all their own stereotypes about gays as silly, bitchy, trifling fashionista's that wish they where Madonna or someone "fierce". Often times I feel these lames try to behave or emulate women, but just end up making a mockery of gays and femininity. Its not cute and I actually hate it quite a bit. Do you remember that guy Jay Carroll who won the first Project Runway and then got thrown away? Everybody laughed at him. He wasn't taken seriously as a designer because he behaved like such an unprofessional joke: a mere cartoon character of a person. Why does a gay man like Bryanboy have to make a joke out of himself by posing as some cheap gossipy queen? His tag line for his site says "I'm so gay I sweat glitter". Boo to you, Bryanboy. Not even I would say something as silly as that (and I'm the most feminine person who walks this earth, you dig?). You get a lot of attention as a gay and you rep em real bad.

Miss Squared Loves the Misters…

I sure do, but on this Valentines Day, there are two men in particular, that just twitterpate and put my lil heart into an all out tizzy… Costello & Tagliapietra. This beautiful, burly, Brooklyn-based design duo are among my absolute favorite dressmakers. C&T seem to understand the fine sensuality that fuses the true and arguably endangered artistry of woman’s dressing. Their careful and deliberate marriage of classic, structured form and tailoring with the suggestive art of draping and use of texture is like the perfect rendezvous that one never wants to end. The way their cuts sit on the bodice, the subtleties in lines, everything lies/curves/arches where it should… just like the perfect lover…

So, whether you have a valentine or not, whether it’s John Doe or Jimmy Choo that makes you tick today, whether Marc is your mac or Vuitton your daddy fat sacks, fashion is always passionate.
Fall in love today and marvel in the beauty, I know I have…
xoxo,
MissSquared

Valentino For Valentines

"I rock stilettos but still I keeps it ghetto
Flossin' gold chains rockin out to heavy metal
I'm ecclectic dialectic in two dialects:
One girl that's for the cause and one bitch that cause effects"
- A page from Caviar's rhyme book

I had to buy these for a photo shoot last Monday and I want to keep them! If I had a rich valentine to drop $750 on a pair of stilettos for me that would be cool. Do you know any rich/handsome/Asian men who are into chubby girls? Let me know.

I was dissapointed the model didn't fit into my dress the way I wanted. She was too short (so the dress looks too long) and her chest was ginormous, so it sits too low. Next time, I will insist on getting the model that I want.