Father Christmas comes early

Yesterday, while eating breakfast. The photographer for this week's shoot walks in...

As I sit at a table full of Brit's and one other American; one by one, whispers scatter around the table in "hush hush" manor, until one girl loudly debates her neighbor "THAT'S BRUCE WEBER?! He looks like FATHER CHRISTMAS!! I thought he was a young thin man!!"

While I'd seen photos of Mr. Weber and heard of him as if the bible was strictly about fashion... he'd be someone who'd be one of the hierarchy closest to god. The pretty British girl was right. He does indeed give off that "Father Christmas" vibe in person.

He's got a calm and happy presence, he's kind of quiet, and physically meets almost every characteristic that one might list to describe Santa Claus himself.


Although, you'd subtract the red hat with a bandanna, and the red suit with lots of khaki and natural colors.




one of my favorite spreads in W Magazine was shot by him a few months ago:




[ today, is a down day. We were told to go around Providence and explore, and get some color, because we're all looking a bit "pale". But, I chose to stay buried in my over sized bed, and let the sunlight kiss my face through the window. ]

The Island of Rhode

this blog has NEGLECT written all over it.


I sit in a fancy shmancy hotel, alone, atop my california king with bedding for Royalty- which sits parallel to a duplicated bed, with no one to sleep on it. In front of me hangs a flat screen, way bigger than could ever be necessary, yet can't provide a damn thing to hold my attention for the life of me.

Ive spent my day with really really ridiculously good looking people, who at a majority, i found really really faulty in stimulating conversation. If only I spent 10 hours a day in a gym..

I contemplate life, passion, and room service.

Skinny Love

Bon Iver manages to drain out every last tear. Go ahead, give it a try.



Come on skinny love just last the year

Pour a little salt we were never here

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer



I tell my love to wreck it all

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Right in the moment this order's tall



I told you to be patient

I told you to be fine

I told you to be balanced

I told you to be kind

In the morning I'll be with you

But it will be a different "kind"

I'll be holding all the tickets

And you'll be owning all the fines



Come on skinny love what happened here

Suckle on the hope in lite brassiere

My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my

Sullen load is full; so slow on the split



I told you to be patient

I told you to be fine

I told you to be balanced

I told you to be kind

Now all your love is wasted?

Then who the hell was I?

Now I'm breaking at the britches

And at the end of all your lines



Who will love you?

Who will fight?

Who will fall far behind?

Hank and Shirley

Meet Hank, and Shirley.