Simon Doonan

Does one’s level of stylishness increase as one goes off one’s trolley?

John Waters, film director and my own personal Erma Bombeck, has always philosophized that breaking the law can make people more beautiful. The more crimes a person commits, so goes the Waters hypothesis, the more beautiful that person becomes. I’m starting to wonder if there might not be a similar relationship between madness and fashion. Don’t recoil in horror: We’ve all had the experience of spotting a disheveled homeless person staggering toward us on West Broadway only to realize, on closer inspection, that the individual in question is our old artist/gallery owner pal who is attired, as per usual, in Comme Des Garçons.  read more »

Stop it! Stop asking me about Hillary’s pantsuits, or any other aspect of her personal style! If you persist, I swear to God I will stuff Mrs. Clinton into a Balenciaga bubble dress with matching gladiator spike-heeled boots, and then you’ll be sorry.

Every 20 minutes I get a jangling call from an earnest hack looking for quips about the fashion choices of the presidential candidates. These content generators are hell-bent on viewing the current political jousting match through the lens of la mode: What do I think of Hillary’s pink blouses?  read more »

Being a professional celebrity look-alike is not nearly as tawdry and pathetic as it sounds. (That would not be possible.) I know whereof I speak. Having imperson­ated Queen Elizabeth II on numerous occasions over the last 30 years—and been undercompensated to do so—I consider myself something of an expert on this subject.

As I look back at my slightly spotty but otherwise long and happy celeb look-alike career, I am filled with a warm glow. A montage of images, mostly featuring me opening nightclubs and hosting events wearing a tiara and a sash, flits through my brain. Ah, the pay may have been lousy, but I would not trade in those squishy memories for anything! And I certainly would not trade in being a look-alike for being the real thing. Why? Because to be the impersonator of a particular celebrity is much, much, much more fun than actually being that particular celebrity.  read more »

Last week I wore a pair of six-inch Lanvin sling-back stilettos while hosting a fashion show in Dallas. They looked great with my new Band of Outsiders jacket. I told the assembled crowd of socialites that it was the only way I could see over the lectern, which was true-ish. It was all fairly transparent. Anyone could see that I invented this excuse in order to walk the runway wearing those insane shoes and have my Linda Evangelista moment.

I’m a big believer in excuses. The more baroque, the better. I see them as a form of politeness.  read more »

Juicy Plum, Orange Blossom, Tiger Lily! No, these are not the names of Eliot Spitzer’s favorite tarts. Au contraire, they are the top notes of Fabulosity, the new fragrance—arriving on shelves this week!—from Kimora Lee Simmons.

Glamour-obsessed, entrepreneurial and hilarious, Kimora, the star of the Style Network reality show Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane and creative director queen of Baby Phat clothing, just might be the most insanely unpretentious person in fashion. Last week I called her on the West Coast and we examined some of the burning issues of the day.  read more »

Best Supporting Actress winner Tilda Swinton nuked the fashion competition at the recent Oscars. With her 70’s Bowie hair—remember the cover of Low, the brilliant 1977 album?—and her black velvet Lanvin one-sleeved toga, La Swinton made all those other gals in their fussy bustier glamour gowns look like a bunch of Republican drears on their way to a constipated night out at the local country club.

Finally, courtesy of La Swinton, we got to see a bit of real individual style at the Oscars.  read more »

Here’s my prediction for this coming Superfrock Sunday: Valentino! Valentino! Valentino!

I’m betting that the retiring couturier will dominate the Oscar red carpet (red is, after all, Val’s signature color!) with creations from his archives and from his final couture and ready-to-wear collections. Sunday, Feb. 24, will be Val’s day. There, I’ve said it.

Now let’s talk about this so-called “retirement.”  read more »

When I was young and wild and kooky, I always imagined that I would grow old gracefully. I saw myself sitting contentedly in a rattan peacock chair—looking like a cross between Quentin Crisp and Golda Meier—dispensing bon mots to a group of rosy-cheeked acolytes clustered at my feet. Attired in naff sweats and polar fleece, I would reminisce about my long-lost fashion heyday.  read more »

I just flew in from Las Vegas. I was there for the caucuses. With my citizenship interview looming, I felt it was high time I got a firmer grip on the American political system.

O.K., I admit it. That was a lie. I have no time for the American political process at this particular moment. I’m much too preoccupied with the upcoming battle between Cashmere Mafia and Lipstick Jungle to follow the race to the White House.  read more »

Karma’s a biatch. Delighting in other people’s misfortunes is terribly naughty and will always end in tears. I once laughed unsympathetically when my mother’s best friend broke her thumb putting on her girdle, and now, lo many years later, God has seen fit to punish me. I’m laughing on the other side of my face, for I too have incurred a FASHION INJURY!  read more »

What will 2008 bring? Tumult? Mayhem? Who can predict? Having no clue myself, I decided to enlist the help of somebody vital, dynamic and young, someone who, in addition, just happened to be the most compelling new celeb of ’07.

Who was the year’s brightest star? Which young Tennessee whippersnapperette shot out of obscurity and changed the way we think about fame, life and double-snapping?  read more »

Eco Windows on Madison.  read more »

Not complaining—they can be quite charming! But it doesn’t seem quite fair that offspring of the rich and famous are sucking up all the glam media jobs.  read more »

Yes, I know there's a glut of awards—so I'm presenting my own.  read more »

Al Gore, I implore you: avoid plastic surgery, or risk being mistaken for a member of the ‘Muffia.’ Not that there’s anything wrong with that....  read more »

How I adored this scarf-swathed, crystal-clinking New Age doyenne, petite purveyor of luxury objects to Jaggers and Vanderbilts.  read more »

Give up, get out there and buy yourself a pair of tights (and heck, a handbag too).  read more »

Fashion Week's clothes too gauzy—give me grubby Britney  read more »

You can get a chai latte on every corner, but it’s increasingly hard to find butt plugs, Ben Wa balls and black latex in New York, even as Fall 2007 fashion bristles with sadomasochistic references.  read more »

Whatever happened to the Members Only jackets, clown suits and low-rise pleather loafers that so clearly marked molesters of yore?  read more »

Snorting piles of cocaine, driving at 90 m.p.h. and running pell-mell into the surf is exactly what famous people should be doing! It beats standing blank-faced on a red carpet promoting something.  read more »

You may remember that famous chest-waxing scene in The 40-Year-Old Virgin—Yee-ouch! And yet the hetero fellows of New York are taking it one step further.  read more »

A manly Mr. Fix-It who would tear up at Maria Callas, Terence Sydney Doonan was the ultimate anti-bourgeois parent.  read more »

As the model got ready to install her clothing collection at Barneys, yours truly tried to get himself out of a journalistic jam.  read more »

I have absolutely no desire to mentor the latest generation of up-and-comers.  read more »