Ought to be required reading for anyone looking to buy a suit or a tie—or, for that matter, a workshirt. (16-page color...
A lively, confident memoir seriously explores the realities of the fashion industry, leavening its nuts-and-bolts acumen with personal warmth and just enough of the trade’s time-tested potshots.
Although not neatly divided, Threads does contain two basic strands. The first presents the fruits of the well-regarded designer’s wisdom after more than 30 years in the fashion business. Abboud starts at ground level, with the feel of fabric, “the beginning, the heart, the essence of my clothes.” There is nothing airy about his opinions: he explains just how a knobby knit or one as smooth as cashmere fits into his designs, how each and every one takes its meaningful place in that season’s line, be they primitive patterns or ethnic textures. He talks about how to coax a mill to produce the exact shade you want. And if Abboud is known for anything (other than being a few gratifying steps left of Ralph Lauren), it is the qualities of his earth tones: dusty and melancholy, smoky or veiled. He also offers quality advice on such nitty-gritty issues as how fashion schools should integrate business elements into their curriculum and how to pick models for a show. The second narrative strand unfolds, at reasonable length, the Lebanese author’s personal journey through the fashion world. He paid his dues in an almost feudal manner, working his way from the floor to the coveted position of designer. For each step, he offers words to the wise (don’t trust your friends, be aware of the importance of trunk shows), and throws a host of caltrops into the path of the self-important: “ . . . he was more Calvin than Calvin, which must have had an interesting effect on Calvin,” or, “I hate pony tails on guys.” Excuse me? Would that be . . . Mr. Lagerfeld?
Ought to be required reading for anyone looking to buy a suit or a tie—or, for that matter, a workshirt. (16-page color insert, not seen)Pub Date: Nov. 1, 2004
ISBN: 0-06-053534-2
Page Count: 256
Publisher: HarperCollins
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2004
An autobiography as toxic and addictive as any drug its author has ever ingested.
The legendary booze-addled metal rocker turned reality-TV star comes clean in his tell-all autobiography.
Although brought up in the bleak British factory town of Aston, John “Ozzy” Osbourne’s tragicomic rags-to-riches tale is somehow quintessentially American. It’s an epic dream/nightmare that takes him from Winson Green prison in 1966 to a presidential dinner with George W. Bush in 2004. Tracing his adult life from petty thief and slaughterhouse worker to rock star, Osbourne’s first-person slang-and-expletive-driven style comes off like he’s casually relating his story while knocking back pints at the pub. “What you read here,” he writes, “is what dribbled out of the jelly I call my brain when I asked it for my life story.” During the late 1960s his transformation from inept shoplifter to notorious Black Sabbath frontman was unlikely enough. In fact, the band got its first paying gigs by waiting outside concert venues hoping the regularly scheduled act wouldn’t show. After a few years, Osbourne and his bandmates were touring America and becoming millionaires from their riff-heavy doom music. As expected, with success came personal excess and inevitable alienation from the other members of the group. But as a solo performer, Osbourne’s predilection for guns, drink, drugs, near-death experiences, cruelty to animals and relieving himself in public soon became the stuff of legend. His most infamous exploits—biting the head off a bat and accidentally urinating on the Alamo—are addressed, but they seem tame compared to other dark moments of his checkered past: nearly killing his wife Sharon during an alcohol-induced blackout, waking up after a bender in the middle of a busy highway, burning down his backyard, etc. Osbourne is confessional to a fault, jeopardizing his demonic-rocker reputation with glib remarks about his love for Paul McCartney and Robin Williams. The most distinguishing feature of the book is the staggering chapter-by-chapter accumulation of drunken mishaps, bodily dysfunctions and drug-induced mayhem over a 40-plus-year career—a résumé of anti-social atrocities comparable to any of rock ’n’ roll’s most reckless outlaws.
An autobiography as toxic and addictive as any drug its author has ever ingested.Pub Date: Jan. 25, 2010
ISBN: 978-0-446-56989-7
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 1, 2009
IN THE NEWS
This is not the Nutcracker sweet, as passed on by Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa. No, this is the original Hoffmann tale of 1816, in which the froth of Christmas revelry occasionally parts to let the dark underside of childhood fantasies and fears peek through. The boundaries between dream and reality fade, just as Godfather Drosselmeier, the Nutcracker's creator, is seen as alternately sinister and jolly. And Italian artist Roberto Innocenti gives an errily realistic air to Marie's dreams, in richly detailed illustrations touched by a mysterious light. A beautiful version of this classic tale, which will captivate adults and children alike. (Nutcracker; $35.00; Oct. 28, 1996; 136 pp.; 0-15-100227-4)
Pub Date: Oct. 28, 1996
ISBN: 0-15-100227-4
Page Count: 136
Publisher: Harcourt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 15, 1996
BOOK REVIEW
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