I'm not sure what timetable drives the publication of City AZ Magazine, it just turns up sometimes. It's more an "occasional" than a "periodical," heh, heh. And it's hard to tell from inside the Valley of the Sun whether it really is provincial or just the local variation of a national norm. Like local news teams--are local audiences proud of them? I watch their promos and think, "How hard could those regional Emmys possibly be to win?"
So I flip through City AZ, which has a substantial cover, good color, and nice glossy pages, and appreciate the money and time that went into its production. On the other hand, look at what they did to my brother! Partick invited me to the City AZ wrap party, and I was curious to see the culprits. The scene was like Sex in the City, only most of the guests were fatter and didn't dress so well.
Now I'm the first to admit I have trouble distinguishing the latest fashion from the perpetually ridiculous (please see "The Return of the Parasol"), but I'm pretty confident the picture above right is an example of the latter.
Another was the funk+fashion showcase for local designers Partick and I attended a week or so ago. Part wasn't in it, due to a contractual problem with his agency (Ford, if you want to use him for something), and that was strike one against the event. His ex-girlfriend Alyssa was in it though, looking as if she had a couple of Grandma Marge's little wigs attached to her head. That wasn't strike two because it was so funny to see. Strike two was the clothing served up by two of the designers, which reminded me of nothing so much as the fashion show from True Stories, minus innovation and wit. One favored sparkly fabrics with feathered trim, stretched tight over the models' bodies. The other pushed a dollbaby look, with gigantic flowered hats and lingerie looking dresses made of translucent material in a bold flowered pattern, and more feathered trim. The designs were too slutty to be taken seriously, and too stupid to be sexy.
Fortunately, the show was saved from a strike out by Nicole Maletta's Minimal Clothing line. Her designs, which book ended the show, were classic without being stodgy, conservative but with flair, and I could actually imagine them adorning my self or fellow citizens. And I'm not just saying that because I've been to her house or because her brother cracks me up. She has a talent to make a local citizen proud.
And I think her clothes would look great with a parasol.