image via Artintune

Last night I went to see "Bright Lights, Big City: New York in the 70s" at a gallery space near Fairfax and Beverly. There's something about New York in that era that seems so raw and reckless, and photographer Allan Tennenbaum's pictures capture the weird confluence of art and music and wild abandon that blossomed at CBGB during those days. (Tennenbaum also documented John and Yoko heavily. But I care far less about that.)

I've always loved punk history, and this exhibition told that story in pictures just as well as any book or documentary I've ever read or seen. Patti Smith--all sharp angles and ambiguity--crouching on stage. A perfectly pomp'd Joe Strummer emerging from a car outside The Clash's first American show. Debbie Harry peeking out from behind a veil of over-processed, sweat-misted bangs. I'd recommend checking it out if you like experiencing sharp pangs of jealousy for a nostalgia you can't own. I love that feeling.

On a sidenote, I'm always mesmerized by Iggy Pop's eyelashes:

-Have you ever been, like, this champagne would taste so much better if it was wearing a fur hat? Me neither. (Born Rich, pictured)

-Gawker mourns the shut-down of the Beatrice Inn as "a tragedy for the entire City of New York, which relies heavily on the Beatrice to each night safely stow away some 125 of its most fucking annoying citizens." (Gawker)

-A writer experiments by walking around in a new Balmain jacket for a week and--surprise--now loves shoulder pads. Why aren't there any Craigslist posts looking for people to participate in this kind of trial? I would sign up. (Sunday Times)

-JC Obando's supercool cruise collection drops anchor at Fred Segal (Blackburn + Sweetzer)

-The Rodarte sisters are making Miranda July's wedding dress. I'm sure David Bowie will be the wedding singer and Mark Bittman will cater and Bjork will build them a honeymoon igloo. Bastards. (WWD)