Why, hello. I didn't see you there. Yes, it's me, your long-lost Felt Up blogette. I am compelled to blog again today. There's no rhyme or reason to it, believe me. Sometimes I am swayed by my Muse, like today, and sometimes I hit the snooze button on the Muse over and over until it shuts the hell up.
Today I wanted to point your attention to a sale I read about on The Village Voice website--an auction at Christie's of punk memorabilia. Take a look-see, and weep! Weep as you realize that all those fliers of Black Flag and the Big Boys are probably the only valuable thing you've ever owned, and were destroyed years ago when a box of papers got wet during a move to California! Cry bitter tears as you realize your Misfits orginal-pressing single of "She" was stolen from your record collection during a house party! And of course, sob uncontrollably as you see punk anti-commercialism sold to the highest bidder--and realize you won't get one red cent!
This auction comes hot on the heels of an existential crisis after experiencing the shocking transformation of CBGBs in NYC. The venerable punk club was finally evicted a while back in the face of escalating Manhattan real estate prices, but I had no idea what had become of the place. I was in New York recently and walking along The Bowery, and felt certain that I was within a block or two of CBs, and then I found myself inside this giant fancy-but-trying-to-be-cool men's clothing store and...my blood went cold as I noticed the framed swatches of graffiti and torn fliers and filth on the walls. A menswear designer named John Varvatos has transformed CBGBs into a high-end boutique, but in his attempt to preserve some remnants of the space, to pay homage to the punk spirit embodied there, I think he actually made it much, much worse than if, say, a Baja Fresh or Dunkin' Donuts had just moved in and gutted the place. Varvatos sells very expensive, almost entirely black-colored, hilariously ridiculous "cool" men's clothing, and in this store, he puts his military-esque $3500 coats right next to vintage rock t-shirts and used amps and old vinyl. Gag. To give you an example of the insanity, a vintage Iggy Pop t-shirt was marked $750. Iggy Pop himself probably can't afford that shirt!
On the one hand, it's cool that what used to be considered a bunch of scumbag loser lowlifes are now enshrined as high culture; on the other hand, it sucks. The whole thing is oddly depressing to me, although I'm not sure why. Oh, wait, yes I do: BECAUSE MY ENTIRE EARLY '80S FLIER COLLECTION TURNED TO MUSH IN 1990!