What I Have Learned From...The Mighty Boosh

I know, I know. You ALL know I love The Mighty Boosh. (Some might say wait- what is this Boosh that you speak of? You say it's mighty? I don't know, I just got here. And to that I say check this shit out- it's tasty.)

But here's just a little homage to what I've learned from that beautiful fashion freak Vince Noir, and yes, Howard Moon and Naboo too. There really is little to be learned from Bollo unless you're a nudist, and I think it's best if no one emulate Bob Fossil, but nonetheless they add to the complete package. Enjoy, Floyd.

The wonder-dress is 2cute2trendy, the white cropped leather jacket is Doma, Current/Elliott supplied the drainpipes, Modcloth the poncho (which certainly has the power to inspire joy), the turban is Forever 21, the ring Alexander McQueen (god bless), and the tribal bracelet is Forever 21.

I Like You, You're Catchy.

The Tings Tings to the left with lead singer Katie White, or as I like to call her, the White Funk. She has a modern-day Blondie look going on, which I applaud, loudly, like the last man in the theatre. Then down there underneath my word-candies there's the Sex Pistols, which I think have a certain "nuff said" quality about them, so I'll simply say the Gods of Punk, and that truly is 'nuff said.

Here is my favourite funny woman right now, Becki Newton off of the amazing show "Ugly Betty" (Don't diss it 'till you've tried it, you cynical TV whores, i know what you're thinking) She's a funny, sexy bitch. I love her, and her fashion choices. Down there she's attending some fashion thing with riff raff. Above, Mr. Austin Powers, the leading proponent of free love, and look at him, the sexy beast, no woman can resist him. That suit is no longer far-fetched, invest in one much like it, boys.

There's that ridiculously cool hip-hop world monster M.I.A., good god, she can pull off anything, do anything, sing anything and I'd follow the trend as gospel. What a cool chicky.

These Bad boys are Andrew Van Wyngarden from MGMT and his hirsute band-mate, of which I cannot be bothered to look up his name. He's just not got the charisma of Van Wyngarden, and by charisma, I mean looks. I very much respect the musical talent of these two.

Ke$ha: a woman with true balls, who else could turn the whole hip-hop genre on its head by saying such typically male things as: "Don't be a lil bitch witcha chit chat, just turn around boy, let me hit that!" and likening herself to P. Diddy. What an inspiration. She makes me wanna dance wit no pants on. And there in the corner is Iggy Pop, an old school inspiration- The Stooges, anyone? he's with his friend Handsome Dick Manitoba. The guy with the whafro. They make a handsome couple, don't they?

Noel Fielding? Noel Fielding? Can you hear me? It's me, Rose Behar, can I have a little of that funk shake?

That's right, I do pray to this man. If he wore a toga, he would be a God.

And here he is with Julian Barratt, another comedy genius, and with a style all his own. Mostly it's his brilliance that inspires me, but there's something about his profound muffin cordouroys, hawaiin print shirts and brown felt fedoras that are intriguing, or maybe it's just his legs, Reoww. Those babies drive me crazy.

Russell Brand, a complex man, I have come to find out after reading his memoir, My Booky Wook. Don't let that title confuse you there's nothing booky-wooky about it, it's an insane, tell-all, only semi-humourous autobiography. But it's not depressing, it's just real, like Brand. You come to realize he's not joking really, ever, all the outrageous things he says are REAL, the fashion-pirate. What a man!

Barratt again, riffing like a motherbitch on an electro-keyboard.











I am in no way able to resist squealing over Faris Badwan like the rest of his obsessive fans. The sex-appeal of Badwan, often inexplicably referred to as Faris Rotter, is magnetic. Just ask all the girls on his fan pages on facebook. And that one guy. He was pretty into Badwan as well. And who can blame him? Look at him, that cheeky, punky, young bastard, staggering around on stage.

Here's good old Lily Allen, always hip, always partying, always saying weird shit and flashing her boobs. I approve of all. Boobs are meant to be flashed, not hidden away in those great wire-fabric cages that they're always in. Have you EVER heard a breast say it wanted to be in there? No.

It's Pretty Electric, Really.

"Come with us now on a journey through time and space" lures the first line of the sexual, sparkling and psychedelic British comedy hit The Mighty Boosh, a show which sums up perfectly the current electricity felt in the trend-setting world.
Fashion, music and wit are eloping in a funky vegas threesome, transforming into an unpredictable explosion of sheer unadulterated celebration. There are no barriers between the three any longer, each inspiring the other. The Funk Pop movement has no definition, but a feeling.
We're half-sarcastically, half-earnestly returning to the groovy '60s, (that era in particular, but any real moment of fun and rebellion will do to emulate), wearing neo-nerd glasses, lustrous colours, tight pants and big, big hair. We're casting aside the conformity that has attempted to hold us in its grips and expressing our true, gloriously imperfect, slightly odd, selves. We're having big loud fun, and those who don't like it, can sit dumbly by grumbling and perplexedly wondering what the hell this is all about until it's their bedtime.
We're pranking, we're grabbing life in its private areas, partying, using funkadelic drugs and leaning out on that outdoor terrace with the lanterns on it when the sun comes up over the city and we're looking at the person next to us, all a rumpled mess, thinking, "Boy, I think I'm in love". Or alternatively, "Who is this douche I've managed to get stuck to me?". Either way, it's a careless feeling, and we're looking good, good as you can after a night like that, cause it doesn't matter if your hair is out of place, and your eyeliner is smudged and where-the-fuck-are-your-shoes, because our art, our perfection, our art, is in our lifestyle. And it's pretty faboo.
We're wearing the stars out at night and consuming sunshine for breakfast.
And who could ask for more than that? It's pretty electric, really.
Quite frankly, it's a new time. A new era. And this blog here, this is gonna take its place as a fashion crystal ball in the seedy Esmeralda -type fortune telling booth that is the fashion world. Sensing psychic trend vibrations and feeling joy in imparting a nugget, perhaps, or grain, of true on-the-ball and inspired fashion wisdom, the way you only can with your bejewelled finger on the pulse.
What qualifies me, Rose Behar, to preach style gospel? Well, nothing really, I've just read a few magazines. I mean, it's really easy, anyone can get a blog, I bet that monkey that can do sign language has one, only thing is, I bet it'd get a bit repetitive after a while, ya know "Did some sign-language today, that went pretty well. Don't know why they're still so amazed, I've been doing this shit for twenty years."
No, all I really am is just a girl with a deep irresistible love of fashion, who likes to spread the joy.
So follow me now, and come with us on a journey through time and space...