Big Whup

Yeah I've not been around, big whup. Not done much writing in a while, had no money to splurge on fresh pick-ups, however I've done a couple of articles for the always amazing Halcyon Mag.

So if you want to see my musings on the near business collapse of Bape, or my opinions of Jeremy Scott, then click the links above.


(If you can't find the links then shout, I'll come round, give you a biscuit and a hug, then find them for you before leaving silently whilst mocking you mercilessly in my head)

- V.H.

Airbored

21/06/2011 – 14:35

The airport is a strange beast. Its the only place in the world where everyone is on the same page, where rules are adhered to and time waits for no man. It seems like a thousand years ago that I was last in ASDA, cursing the day evolution caused us to stand upright. Cacophonies of shuffling brainless arseholes hogging the oxygen and getting in everyone's way. Not here though. Everyone seems comfortable and at ease; behind me a small child sleeps across five chairs, whilst in front of me there is a group of teenagers eagerly awaiting their flight to become part of Camp America. I sit here decked out in a Supreme hood, Adidas three stripe track pants and my Nike AirMax 1's (or as Emma calls them, 'Netto shoes') people watching like a seasoned veteran. 99% of the people here are attractive, therefore a boring viewing spectacle. I have an hour and a half before my gate opens, my ears already exhausted from the likes of Adam and Joe talking absolute jibberish. I am bored. Think I'll go for a poo, it'll pass up at least 10 minutes.

19:45/14:45 (US)

We're flying like fucking sparrows now and my back feels like it's been punched by Asterix. Of course the bloke behind me is twitching constantly and annoying the piss out of me, but that aside the flight so far has been fairly theraputic. I demolished some alleged chicken mush and listened to Gustav Holst's 'Mars, the Bringer of War' to give rise to the occasion, and , more importantly, to make me feel like some kind of bad-ass sky captain. If I had the money I'd be doing this voyage by Zeppelin, wearing a monocle whilst doing so and brushing up on my sword fighting skills, but hey-ho this is the real world and as such I have the back of a sponge and the leg room of a school hall seat. Again, if time permits (which it shall, considering it's a near seven hour flight) I'm going to unleash another turdule and revel in the fact that I am releasing the beast at altitudes only accomplished by Superman... and the other thousands of planes which fly around the world each week.

00:30/19:30

Final preparations before landing. My legs have barely moved in seven hours and as such I'm starting to feel like a sea anenome, but with shitter hair. I've been sitting by the wing the whole flight, window seat an' all. The urge to do a Shatner and shout “There's something out there, on the wing!” is unbearable, at any moment you could look at me and see me trembling, using all my might to not launch into an unprovoked Twilight Zone reference. I don't think it'd go down well.

01:45/20:45

Landed, breezed through immigration like a hero, and am sat here waiting for my bastard case to arrive. To get me in the mood I'm listening to 'Illmatic' by Nas and getting into the New York State of Mind (if anyone dares correct me with 'Empire' then I will hunt you down and rip your face off with my teeth). The other passengers are gathered at the foot of the carousel, seemingly worshipping it like some kind of Incan God, giving praise for the gifts bestowed upon them. “A Samsonite business case! Thank you oh omnipotent one, I am not worthy.”

02:50/21:50

Sitting in the cab en-route to my hotel for the night. The driver is a cheery Indian bloke and the radio is as bombastic and crass as you'd expect, it practically borders on self-parody. The driver's accent is welcoming and made me ponder, as he sounds exactly the same as an Indian male in Britain. I expected some kind of different tonal inflection, or different slang but nothing. Its pretty cool. Also being a huge geek, I can't help but get GTAIV flashbacks from everything, a true testament to the guys at Rockstar's artistic visions and skills. When we were exiting JFK I couldn't help but think “Wow, I've massacred innocents with an M-16 there!” A tear was shed, it was a beautiful moment.

02:52/21:52

And then it dawns on you. The entirity of the Manhattan skyline in one eyeful. It is fucking massive, makes Liverpool and London combined look like a glow-worm, a dead one at that. America, your new favourite son has arrived.

Smorgasbord

Right, we all know I'm a crap blogger alright? It's not my fault that all my free time is spent fighting crime, sleeping and somehow getting chocolate on my neck, because with great power, comes great responsibility....

...so yeah, how are you and stuff? Really? Neat. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty; me what has been bought by the Hooligan for the last few months, neck chocolate aside that is.

TEES.

Above: 1 Seal tee, £15 - Lazy Oaf sale (January)

Below: 2 Popeye tee, Supreme, £35 - Dover Street Market (December)

Oh right, what a boob I am, turns out i don't have any photos of me in the other tees I blagged, and trust me there're some fucking beauts in there. But don't fret, I have a camera, and at least one friend with opposable thumbs so they'll be up soon. DON'T CRY BIRD.

So yeah, moving on...

1 How much of a beast is this please? Always got to show some love for Lazy Oaf, amazing designs on display on everything from tees to packing tape. This one was a no-brainer for me, let's run through the checklist;

* White tee? CHECK

* Fresh colouring? CHECK

* Ecstatic seal with tiny hands? CHECK

2 I don't need to tell you how hard Supreme is to get hold of. Seriously, it's a fucking joke at times, but then I'd rather it be that way than the average pleb bombing round town in a Supreme tee to match their G-Star Raw/Hollister combinations. Twats. But yeah, sourced this out way before release as I just full-on love everything about it, I mean come on, who doesn't love Popeye? The old drunk. It'll look even better when I lose my Christmas boobs though (yep, still here, damn neck chocolate...)

KICKS.

Above: 3 BAPE Roadsta88, £165 £99 - A Bathing Ape Pirate Store, London (January)

Below: 4 Nike + Stüssy, All-Court Black, £70 - The Hideout (December)

            5 Nike + Stüssy, All-Court White, £70 - The Hideout (December)

Above: 6 Nike AirMax Light, £90 - Foot Patrol (December

Below: 7 Nike AirMax 90 Infra-Red, £90 - Kixclusive (January)

The coming months are very strong in terms of sneaker releases, from the Nike Dunk Liberty and ?uestlove, to the upcoming new season in the Adidas/Star Wars range. However, before I get carried away I need to remember that I only have two feet and have to save up to go see Voodle in New York this summer (where I WILL finally snag the elusive Ueno Panda...)

3 BAPE opened up their first UK Pirate Store in Shoreditch from January 22-30th and offered rarities, factory seconds and limited quantities of fresh items at discounted prices. Naturally I was there on the sunday, met with a medium sized, but healthy queue outside the main doors, flanked by three huge guards decked in the finest Ape-wear. Inside was more of the same, with racks upon racks of goods surrounded by hype-bastards, clueless turds and general riff-raff. I copped a pair of red/gold Apesta88 (basically the Air Jordan 3 but for twice the price) discounted from £165 to £99. It was a no-brainer.

4 & 5 I previewed the Nike + Stüssy All-Courts back in October and impatiently awaited the drop. Learning my mistakes after the Nike Supreme 94 debacle I was all over tis release like a tramp on discarded chips. This time when I rang the Hideout, after exchanging pleasantries, I was hit with the million dollar question;

"Do you want to reserve a pair in white, in black, or do you want both?"

I shook, softly at first, but with each tremor my movement became more violent. Weighing up the pros and cons in my mind (Cons: Would barely afford to live for a month, christmas would be a struggle. Pros: I'd look hella bad-ass) I took the plunge and opted for both. Lucky I did though, as they sold out in a day, and considering that the Hideout was the only stockist of the kicks in the UK I was a very lucky boy indeed. I'll say this though, I didn't eat properly for the following weeks, but by God are my shoes beautiful.

6 Following on from my first AirMax gamble in August, I felt the time was right to get more. Well, that's a lie, I just happened to be in Foot Patrol with a fresh paycheck burning a hole in my pocket and had to buy them, mainly to fill the Infra-Red sized hole in my life...

7 ...which I plugged not long after. I wanted the Infra-Reds upon release back in August, but couldn't afford them due to moving down south, so when I finally got some pennies rolling I hunted the internet for a pair. As usual though, the only sizes available were in the region of size 5 (buy nice shoes you tiny footed pricks or I'll cut off your limbs). Luckily, New York dealer Kixclusive got some in to their web store, and the price, including postage, worked out roughly the same. Like all AirMax they're very comfy and seem to go with anything, despite the unorthodox colouring. Emma can't stand them though, but screw it, they're comfy and swish, and came in a stupidly fast amount of time.

So yeah, that's what I've been up-to for the last few months, aside from lucha-libre, Fanric, tee jaunts and music video making, but they're stories for another time....

...oh go on then. Here's a music video I made with my boys at Fungunt Productions for the Eurythmics' synth classic 'There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)'. Enjoy, and if you genuinely DO enjoy, then please let me, or the boys know through the above links *looks up two lines*

Tales of Interest!

Things have gotten a little slack here on BLHB, and I for one am not happy about it. Sure I can blame work, or the fact that all my free time has been spent either religously playing the latest Smackdown game or in the bank exasperated, but those would be the actions of a coward. Lucky then that I am a coward, so the answer is simple;

"My dog ate my computer."

* Recent Purchases

Money has started to flow into my bank account now so some inspired fashion purchases have been made, from the recent Nike Stüssy's (sold out in less than a day, I picked up two pairs), Nike Infra-reds and a pair of AirMax Lights, to one of Supreme's amazing Popeye tees, courtesy of DSM, bypassing a long awaited ensnaring of a 'look at me I go fox hunting/killing plebs for a gangster' Barbour jacket. It's safe to say then that I am loving my wardrobe at the moment as my collection of all things rare and exclusive is starting to blossom in this city that we call London.

*Noddy Holder-fest

Of course you don't need me to tell you that it's been Christmas recently, you've been constantly reminded by shops, television, radio and state sponsored propaganda films since mid June. This Christmas was a strange one for me peronally, as it was the first time I've been away form home in the build-up to the festive period and as such I was feeling a tad glum and bored. In true Steve Martin style though, I got home on Christmas eve (via train, not plane nor automobile unfortunately) and bounded straight to the pub dressed as a future sex offender to be greeted heroically and groped by a myriad of friends and relatives that I have not seen in months. Christmas itself, as ever, came and went extremely quickly and before I knew it I was back on my way to London bashing out my thoughts on my netbook. Ah well. The missus was up for a few days for the New year/January sales and my boys were up at the end of January for an ill-advised Fabric and shopping jaunt. As expected, several bass related injuries occurred.

*Odds and Sods

I'm obsessed with Nicolas Cage. I never thought it would happen seeing as I hated him as a child (despite never have seeing any of his movies until my teenage years). This recent worship was brought on by the incredible YouTube video of him losing his shit, which led to me shouting "VIVA LA FUCKING FRANCE MAN" at any opportunity, whether warranted or not.

Finally saw Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World and it is truly an awesome film. Combining the visceral talents of Edgar Wright, the subtle comic turnings of Michael Cera and enough American garage rock and dorky references to keep overweight fanboys like myself salivating, this film rocked my socks. Whilst being a comics mark, I've never read the Scott Pilgrim series (due to really hating the artwork, which, seeing as it's a visual medium is a biggie) but have always heard good things from friends and various internet based dwellings of the friendless virgins we call 'geeks'. The strength of this film, however, has made me reconsider my stance on all things Pilgrim, and will probably be dabbled with alongside the Walking Dead and my ongoing catching up of Transmetropolitan.

Being tipped out of a wheelchair hurts, especially if not 20 minutes earlier you were punched in the testicles.

I really wish I spent my childhood learning kung-fu instead of doing nothing all day except playing with Star Wars toys and watching the Simpsons. Actually wait, scratch that, I wish it was socially acceptable for me as a 22 year old man to do nothing all day but play with Star Wars toys and watch the Simpsons.

Viva la fucking France