le cool issue # 136

Please Adjust - Corban Walker

Link to complete issue -HERE-

Rabble Issue #3 Queuein' For a Bruisin'

It’s true that all sorts are on social welfare. They practically let anyone sign on. Which, is often wonderfully amusing. Never a dull moment at the dole office as Georgia Corcoran finds out.

In the Cabra offices a few weeks ago I found this blonde dolly bird, waiting to sign on. Practically galloping in circles outside a booth in huge, ginormous black heels. Shifting frantically from one quivering leg to the other- ‘Sorry, I just-really-need to go to the toil-let’ she apologised loudly- not to me... I guess to everybody. On top of the shoes she was wearing sheer tights with stars on them and an oversized black sleeveless fringed woollen coat, polka dot sleeves poking out which a large shiny brown bag swung from. She wasn’t a Penneys princess, it was more of a River Island vibe but with something else I couldn’t place. Forever 21? Bershka? Dunnes? Whatever I was sensing overall I found instantly endearing. With my ticket I sat down outside the information office and, almost immediately, there was a perilous roar.

A lady who had previously been faced into the booth was squaring up and over Dolly, balanced on the toes of her dirty runners, really impressing her attack. ‘Do you have an issue? Are you going to take me on?’ They were well able for each other. ‘I poxy will-wait-till I get you outside ya poxy English slut.’ Runners lady took great offence to being called an ‘English slut’. To be honest she did have an English sounding voice but, understandably, wanted justice for the outrageous statement. The whole thing escalated. ‘Wait till I get ya outside-I need to get my card. Kick ya outta here ya dirty English. Ya poxy schizo’ and then she wiggled up to the booth and goes ‘sorry about that I just need to get my card - I’ve a taxi outside.’ She actually had time to elaborate that she had a child waiting to go to the hospital in a taxi outside before Runners interrupted. ‘Well let’s go. C’mon, lets go.’ In an astounding instance, a flash, Dolly had changed into a pair of silver flats and was considerably smaller, if far more furious. She had transformed into one of those terrifying short people. I was called in for my turn in the information office at the worst possible time and missed out on all the action. When I came out word was that she was waiting outside. Sticking to her guns, pacing up and down. Runners, dressed in a dreadfully gloomy, shapeless coat, was getting everyone’s compassionate attention. I didn’t see quite how it started but she was definitely very rough towards darling Dolly. They had both been hysterically and passionately volatile. Yet...everyone huddled protectively around Runners. Listening to her side of the story. Probably offering her cups of tea and sympathies. I left disgusted and disenchanted at the injustice.

Outside there was no sign of Dolly but whilst waiting for the 39 I saw her leave McCafe across the road- I figured she’d finally got to go to the toilet. She seemed relatively calmer and appeared to have a tissue scrunched in her hand. Ah god, I thought, she feels dreadful about the whole thing. She was back in her heels though, definitely, and when she walked on a bit further I could see that the tissue was actually, it turns out, a double cheeseburger held within its wrapping. The bus arrived and we caught up with her jauntily walking through Stoneybatter, smoking, and I hoped that she wasn’t having to walk be-heeled all the way into town. All though to be fair we know that she has flats in her bag if she needs them ever, god forgive her if she does. The taxi comment was clearly a lie. I got off along the quays and as I stomped over Ha’penny bridge I definitely saw the lady who plays Mrs. Doyle.

Rabble Issue Number Three

I've another little something out in the latest issue of Rabble. This time it's a flash fiction piece.

Here's a link to their site and a list of pick up points - http://rabble.ie/pick-up-points/

le cool issue #129

Sett Food Club

Out of the seven courses for this meal I think the one I'm most excited to try is the turnip sorbet with prosecco. I'm a huge sorbet fan and supposedly this unity just works. There's also the big attraction of table smoked mackerel with lemon floss - If you went to Tom Lynn's edible talk, you may have seen his demonstration of how to 'table smoke'. Either way, you'll be amused. This will be my first dinner here but I've actually been many times to the Supafast building for other events, so I have a fair idea of what to expect atmospherically. The walls are crumbly and all those in company sit around one long banquet table decorated with white table cloths and candle sticks. The event is BYOB and you just have to ring to reserve a place if you want to be a guest. This is purely charming dining.

 Margaret Corcoran

My mother. The artist. The artist is my mother. As a result I can tell you a thing or two about her and the work. One thing is it's notable how much drawing features. Leading up to this exhibit she really returned to the practice of drawing and consequently there are some really fine charcoals and watercolour has even been used. Shockingly indulgent. Studies were a huge part of all her earlier works, though rarely shown, so this is really back to basics, a return to her beginnings. The imagery, on the other hand, is more complex then ever, lessons learned, ideas and issues layer together all set into representations of classical imagery that is the starting point, visually and consciously, of so many of her pieces. Also new are indulgent delights. The canvasses hold diamonds and peacocks and other items that should make you happy to look within them.

Full issue #129 - HERE -

Rabble - Fashion Whores

The Mourning After


AFTER WALKING PAST LONG, CREAMY BLONDE HAIR EXTENSIONS ABANDONED AND BEWILDERED AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, GEORGIA CORCORAN GOT THINKING ABOUT THE MAKE UP HANGOVER.

Scuffed into a drain. Shambled bewichery lost in the heady darkness. Ever seen someone peel their false eyelashes off? It's grim. Like a lipstick bullet to the heart. Why can't everything be beautiful all the time? Often I delay removing my make-up at night as doing so slightly deflates me. I have happily been pretending that face is as published. Then it becomes something less. It's a dreadful thing. Similarly I'd rather not wear a padded, push up in the first place if I know I'll be taking it off (hello boys). The difference between on and off is too striking and I'd hate to mislead anyone.

Beauty isn't genuine. It's a pretence, but thankfully it lets you pretend with it. Isn't it horrific, seeing just a crease of liner left, lopsided lip-gloss or visible brush strokes laid into thick foundation. As if the world is falling apart slightly. Santa Claus isn't real all over again. It would be too discomforting to mention the sinister false eyelashes detaching from one corner. To give up the game and admit deceit. Much nicer to just go on pretending. There's refuge in the magnificent.

Speaking of Santa, around now you may notice make-up brands have introduced special Christmas products. This year Chanel has an inspired black, red and gold palette, Dior introduces us to a 'flamboyant collection' - also gold - and Lancome came up with 'The Golden Hat Collection'. Beautifully embossed pressed powders, blushes and shadows in enticing mirrored compacts - glitzy things. Why? Why do women care for make-up so beautifully presented? The packaging gets thrown out and the soft, shimmery layer on of these palettes (called 'overspray' believe it or not) wares off within a couple of uses whereby you are left with a crumbly square of pigment. Once touched it's forever imperfect. Some do collect them and psychotically never use them. To prove a point? 'My untouched make-up compact and pure, virginal skin. I'm perfect and it's perfect.' Everything's perfect. It takes a lot to maintain this illusion though. I'd rather wallow in my grubby, glittery epic party make-up until the hangover's gone. Like a grandiose building with peeling wallpaper and mould gathering around it's ornate stucco. It's outwardly  exactly how I'm feeling inside, I deserve it and to wash it off would be cheating.

Again, I'd rather not mislead. 'Effortlessly beautiful' is only ever written or dreamed about. Sometimes being reminded of this can be quite haunting though. Like false nails that have flicked off onto cubicle floors.

http://rabble.ie/

Rabble

Check out my 'Fashion Whore' column in the latest issue of Rabble magazine. You can pick a copy up for free in various places throughout Dublin.

http://rabble.ie/

I'll post up the piece here within a couple of days.

le cool issue # 121

Cyclorama

Wait until it's dark then walk down the alleyway beside Vicar Street. See how many empty vodka bottles you can count but don't get too distracted. Keep your eyes keen for a door propped open that leads inside a large warehouse containing a screen that shows a continuous video of an even larger warehouse than the one you have walked into. You can walk behind the screen. I was surprised at how mute and secretive it felt there. Within the larger warehouse within a warehouse there is a wrap-around screen stored. The innermost warehouse is used to film scenes for films and the screen to create an illusion of infinity. The scenes are filmed there and transported to cinemas and homes around the world, onto laptops, potentially endlessly. The video doesn't show this though. It's just a space filled with harmonious parallels and tensions.


The Lynette Thing

A yearly pre-christmas event run by Amber Miles who has the honest intentions to let everyone who wants to come along have a drunken, jolly, green and black party. She says 'last year was really just a party. I'm very excited about this being more.' What do you mean by that, Amber? How much more? She means a whole new venue (one I've personally never been to) the three story big old Supafast building on Capel st. WNot satisfied? Throw in loads of DJs- Eberhart, Kevin Bacon, A.W.O.L.(live), James Mcloughlin, Ladies of the Night and more, loads of fun people, BYOB, some art that I imagine will act more as decoration and a colour theme. Do follow the colour scheme. Amber's a fun, fun girl but if you turn up wearing orange and pink you will be fined extra at the door. Strictly green, olive, lime, emerald, jade, moss, sage, mint, viridian... spinach... brussel sprout?

See where this pieces were first - HERE -