• Vogue's 'Scripted Content' Video Breathes Life Into The 'Revealing' Celebrity Profile
    There are fashion dilettantes, there are fashion fans, there are fashionistas and then there's me. In my closet as in my soul, every week is Fashion Week. I possess no fewer than three distinct species of footwear. My epaulets have epaulets. That person you saw wearing sweatpants in public this morning, yesterday morning, yesterday afternoon, all weekend and maybe five or six times last week? Clearly not me, even if the person told the barista that his name was Larry and was overheard exclaiming, "Yo-ho-ho! What a delightful brand video! I should totally put that in MediaPost's Video Critique, a …
  • Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" Video Is Both Technologically Impressive And Gimmicky
    For the longest time, the snare-drum clap that launches Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" has served as my phone's ring tone. I don't share this in an attempt to paint myself as a being of unimpeachable musical taste - I prefer brain-worm pop trifles to anything imprimatur-of-cool acts like the Velvet Underground or the Replacements ever put to vinyl - so much as to say: I effin' love "Like a Rolling Stone." The melody, the lyrics, the vocal sneer, the snaky deployment of Hammond organ - nearly half a century after its arrival, the song remains a singular achievement …
  • Disney Moves Out Of Comfort Zone With 'Disney Side' Videos And Succeeds
    I live among prudes and pedants. After weeks of planning, my "One Night In Bangkok" theme for the little guy's second birthday party was nixed by a concerned group of community leaders. "Inappropriate," they chirped, questioning my ability to concoct a palatable Siam Sunray for the kids and stating that the pachinko parlour attendant costumes "hit the ignorant/racist/culturally condescending trifecta." I still don't know how I'm going to break it to the one-eyed croupier I engaged especially for the occasion.
  • Waldorf Astoria Is Too Pretentious With 'The Stories Begin Here'
    I've enjoyed many scandalously frolicsome evenings at luxury hotels. There was the time a visiting uncle treated me to a beer and a salad. There was the time a porter informed me that the oak-paneled stalls in the bathroom lobby were reserved for paying customers and their guests. I'm as at home in that rarefied milieu as I am using words like "rarefied" and "milieu." They might as well leave custom-embroidered LARRY bathrobes in every suite.