Gothic in Fashion - A Fascinating Exhibit at the FIT

Update:
For current exhibits at the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology, please check this site.

I found myself Saturday afternoon killing time after a friend failed to show up on time for a late lunch out. We had to move the meet-up later at 4:30, and I took the opportunity to go to a nearby church and pray. Minutes after, I still had far more time to spare, and I ventured out to walk further south from 34th St on 7th Avenue, close to where I used to work doing sales, plants and floral arrangements in the Flower Market District. It was way more than chilly, and soon I was struggling to convince myself "I wasn't really freezing" but it was turning hopeless. I saw the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT), and recalled seeing the museum in it every time I walked past by the campus on my way to buy some lunch somewhere in the vicinity. I thought it's not a bad idea at all to get myself warm; I hastily got myself inside, and heard the staff inside directing me downstairs to view the current exhibit. And what an exhibit! Take a view on it online as well!

I saw the "no photo taking allowed" notice at the entrance. I saw a number of visitors, with one very knowledgeable lady doing a guided tour. I didn't join the group at once, preferring to view the fashion creations just by myself, as other visitors mill around the small space for a museum. Think "Vampire, Decay, Fabulous, Eternal Youth, Death, NYC, Funeral, Black, Bad Dreams, Intriguing, Secrets, Dungeons, Mysterious, Captivating, Blood, Outrageous, Vanities" and you'd have a better mind approach to one of the best curated shows I've seen todate, unpretentious yet enthralling, given the limited space and resources, with FIT being part of the State University of New York, so I'm amazed at the level of creativity and resourcefulness displayed in the exhibit. I remember one of my massage woman clients, a South Korean, who highly recommended the FIT to me to do advance studies in the creative fields while we're having a conversation during a session; she herself came from Parsons, but thought FIT is better (I didn't ask more about the details why).

Took some pictures using the limited lenses of my SonyEricsson celfone surreptitiously. I knew I'd be caught anytime soon, as the security were on the lookout; I think they must have seen me through the CCTV system in the area. Here are the blurry photos I managed to shoot (they are numbered in order of appearance, from top to bottom):

[Picture #1 = Alexander McQueen's "Corset and pants"]

[Picture #2 = Comme de Garcon's Rei Kawakubo - "Dress""]

[Picture #3 = Hussein Chalayan's "Blog Top and Skirt"]

[Picture #4 = Kei Kagami's "Anatomy 2 Ensemble"]

[Picture #5 = "Assembled mannequins wearing various unidentified designs"]

[Picture #6 =Alexander McQueen's "Prosthetic Corset"]

[Picture #7 = Kei Kagami's "Anatomy 1 Ensemble"]

Farewell for now, Fr John

We met four months ago, in a party hosted by GAPIMNY, the night of the Queens Gay Parade, where I got invited by my friend, Claudio. In the party, I saw a number of Asians, plus a very young African American baby sleeping soundly in a crib. The hosts who graciously allowed use of their house were a couple of a Filipino and a White guy, who turned out to be lawyers, as I got to learn more about those who were around to attend the party. Claudio was busy with the other guests, so I kept most to myself, except to some interesting fellows I met that night. I soon felt like an outsider, as I realized these fellows are just the same type of fellows I got to meet back in the Philippines.....very condescending in a subtle manner towards others of different upbringing, social class, profession, race, or other inconsequential matters.

Thankfully, I saw Fr John, who I noticed wore that blackshirt with an unmistakeable collar, so I readily inquired if he's priest. He took an instant liking of me, for some unconfirmed reasons. We got to talk about religion, and about spirituality. We soon continued talking, and we exchanged business cards, or could have been phone numbers if I recall it right. I got curious about the church where Fr John serves, the Sts Sergius and Bacchus Parish. I thought I have to attend it so see if this Church will help me serve God's purposes for me.

I soon found myself attending the Church which turned out to be way nearer to my place than St Barts in Park Avenue, in Manhattan where I used to be active in attending its 11am liturgy services. Sta Sergius and Bacchus Parish is much, much smaller, more personal, and more community based church, where I noticed most of the parishioners belong to the large GLBT presence here in NYC. I felt home, and have since then tried to attend its regular 11am services.

Fr John and I soon became more closer to each other, as we shared some intimate, fun moments together. I would always ask him to pray for me, such that he once replied perhaps in exasperation that he always pray for each one of the parishioners of Sts Sergius and Bacchus. I remember being in his apartment during the period when his sister was dying of the ravages of lung cancer, as I tried to assuage him of the painful thought of the impending death of his sister. He was just calm about the whole thing, and was then over with denial stage. I told him, as I soon found myself crying, over my own grief, which I have yet to overcome, over my own Father's death of lung cancer nearly 3 years now. I now realized, Fr John's known me quite better, more deeper, than most people I've met here in the US todate. However, we lost regular contact, as we've followed different groups and interests, and personal circumstances. He's remained in touch with me, though, despite the drift. Actually, he even called me up that week of his death, on Sept 18th, a Tuesday, while I was killing time for my next massage client somewhere in Chinatown/LittleItaly/EastSide vicinity. I was then in the annual San Genarro's festivities on Mulberry Street where I thought of calling Claudio who's also Italian, just like Fr John. I remembered him encouraging me to eat a "canalli" in the said festival; but I never tried, as I found it too sweet for my taste. To be more candid about my state in mind then, I was surprised that Fr John called me, of all people; I never thought it could be his last phone call to me as we were talking a week ago on the phone one cold evening. That Tuesday, I promised to call him up in the following days. Apparently, it was his gentle way of saying "goodbye" to me, as he passed away that Thursday. Goodbye, Fr John; I know you'll be praying for me there in heaven.