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They're coming ...
There are parts of this large republic where people do not wear trucker hats to be ironic, or because they saw Ashton Kutcher doing it on Entertainment Tonight. Those are the same places where people chew on long blades of grass, and go to tractor dealerships to buy or lease rather than look at cool machines on their way to California. Or New York. But speaking of ET, perhaps the reason that alien sightings come from the real country is because those people are not jaded. Were I trying to infiltrate Earth from, Planet X, we’ll say, I’d go straight to New York. Go to a coffee shop with free wireless and scheme and phone home. No one would bat an eyelash extension. Example one:  Aliens have been landing nightly at Washington Square Park. The damn thing is so wired up for production of some Will Smith action flick that I won’t tread near the place during rain. Exploded and burnt out cars line the streets for filming and the atmosphere machines and lights during the night should make New Yorkers nervous about the rapture. But we aren’t because we all know it’s just another film set. And maybe I’m just reiterating the reason that Men in Black (the first one) was so clever. But I didn’t make the connection until I mentioned Will Smith. Come wade in our stream of consciousness, but wear aqua socks, perhaps due out with VANE’s '92 summer collection.
The work never ends
The past couple of days have been real crazy. We just been runnin' around tryin to get shit done for the spring. We def' got some ill items coming out. here are a couple of images of whats been goin on. Cant be showin this tee yet, but when it drops its gon be fire.   The new tag, sizes are gon' run from 0-6  Watch out for this pattern..   One of a kind vane, lola, pornstar, de la vega collabo tee..haha. Nah its just Pauls test tee.  Fuck stars hoodie in brown...  We ended last night with Stereo's 1 year anniversary party.  Some exclusive shit. Only one made!  
Vane hopes.
 The Super Rich Laundromat forced a dream and reality that it was not. It is ironic, and kitschy, but there is a 97 percent probability that the owners were not, and are not being ironic on purpose. Though, their children probably catch the irony as do a few friends, and now perhaps even the owners are in on the joke. "Super rich, har har." Etc. They're making it work, just like William Shatner. But that is part of what New York is. We come here looking for something, saying we just want to make it, be in the center of it, but always catching a glimpse of fame and fortune out of the corner of our eyes. And sometimes, that glimpse is there. I mean, sometimes my glass may be a little too half full, a trick of the light, but that's what the Midwest bred in me, whole milk and the like. And so far, it seems to be working. Brooklyn, holla back.
R.I.P. Happy Meal Boxes
 So yesterday we had a Vane outing to Mickey D’s on a mission for Happy Meals. It was an attempt to rekindle the nostalgia over our childhoods when we would get that shit like every other day. We walk into the one on 2nd Ave an 96th Street, order, and are presented with some stupid looking tall bland bag of food posing as the cool colorful box that we were in search of. We felt gypped. Maybe this location had run out? Later on we went to see Jackass 2 in Union Square and just for argument’s sake we visited a McDonald’s in the area to see what the deal was with the Happy Meals there. And gasp! Sure enough, they didn’t have the boxes either! This makes me feel two things: 1) really really old. Its bad enough that I can now say: “When I was growing up, Pluto was still a planet,” but when I can now add “When I was growing up, McDonald’s used to serve their Happy Meals in these really cool boxes that were colorful, sturdy, and had really fun games on them, not the bags that you see today.” it causes me to hallucinate graying hairs in the mirror. 2) concerned at what lengths corporations are willing to go to save a buck. Come on now, the extra enjoyment I get out of being served my Happy Meal in that freaking box is so worth the extra couple of cents it takes to make it. . And imagine what it must do for the kids if a grown adult can recognize the added value in this. It makes me happy and proud that I work for Vane, and that I know we will never compromise quality or enjoyment to make/save a buck. I’m switching to Burger King. At least there I can still get a gold crown on my birthday.
Smudges on the UES
New Yorkers flinch when we hear about planes hitting buildings.  But apart from the above photo (and higher quality more copywritten photos) to ground all the chaos happening ground level, 40-some stories below the actual crash site, the chaos was all just chaos. There were equal crowds of police and media. The police kept the media out, and let some in. Firefighters walked in huge lines, scene upon scene like cinematic intro sequences. And though two deaths and several destroyed apartments is certainly tragic, I think the island breathed a sigh of relief that this accident was really nothing more. The rain fell, and fell, and fell.  And the coverage went on, and on, and on.  And so did the response.
Shadows in Vane
 Flawless curves fall against Brooklyn’s boxy imperfection. These arches represent all that Brooklyn is not. Brooklyn is tough, and Brooklyn is home, and though its landscape is not the Midtown skyline, it is what it is. Boxy and all, it is beautiful. People love Brooklyn for the same reason they love goofy-looking dogs: heart and originality. And sometimes, they are more cost effective. In most Brooklyn neighborhoods, like mine, where Starbucks and Duane Reade have yet to creep, fast food giants are really the only places open past midnight aside from the bars. And the bodegas, but Vane doesn’t hate on bodegas. We love breakfast at all hours of the night. Brooklyn is not shiny. An elevated loud and dirty highway snakes through it. There is an oil spill underneath my neighborhood, seventeen million gallons strong thanks to an Exxon flub in Newtown Creek. But Brooklyn doesn’t give up. If we survived the BQE, the ‘80s, the oil spill, we’ll sure as hell survive MacDonald’s.
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