BlackBook Magazine

Who better to ask what the future has in store for us peons than forward-thinking Japanese designer Issey Miyake? The man known for his marriage of technology and fashion has directed the third exhibition at Tokyo's 21_21 Design Sight, "XXIst Century Man." In addition to photographs from his sartorial oeuvre—is this perhaps the most pretentious pairing of two words ever?—the exhibition features installations from a number of local Japanese artists, best among them, Naoto Fukasawa's Chocolate Box Tower, which looks just like it sounds.

The Diesel Denim Gallery is set to unveil "Arrojadoa" on May 19th, a collaborative exhibition created by artist Jaime Hayon and design firm Moooi. The title of the show means "audacious" in Spanish, but it also refers to a cactus. As such, the theme of verticality is thrust into the foreground, with totem sculptures made from stools, tables, and mirrors. The exhibition coincides with the release of Hayon's first monograph, Jaime Hayon Works.

The Sundek surf trunk returns for another ride.

Before surfers began wearing “jams” that ran to their shins, like so many beach-going basketball players, wave riders favored a shorter, knee-high, butt-hugging, hip-hanging look (along with their feathered hair).

The brands and their labels were legend, and whichever you chose, you had to own every color. That is, if you were a part of surf culture from the ’70s through the ’80s (or your parents owned a beach house and you were trying to fit in with the local rats).

Rogan Gregory, the eco-friendly designer behind Rogan—think natural fibers and hoodies, American Apparel without the ambiguously underaged exploitation—celebrated the release of his Target collection with a three-day shopping event at Barneys New York. The 60-style line, which ranges in price from $15 to $45, will be available in stores and online May 18. Celebrity friends like Amanda Peet, Diane Kruger, Alan Cumming, and Waris Ahluwalia came out to toast the collection. We wanted to make a joke about Rogan sounding like Rogaine, which makes us think of Hair Club for Men, and then segue into, "I'm not just the president, I'm also a customer." But it's Friday afternoon, so instead, we'll just show the video after the jump.

As my favorite season approaches, despite all the amazing summery things I look forward to, there are three inevitable occurrences I dread. The first are those sudden thunderstorms that ruin suede loafers ("But there was no rain in the forecast!"). The second is when, as you're waiting for the subway in the sweltering heat, the train pulls up and you notice a car with only one or two people in it, and think, "Score!" only to be met by a rush of disappointing, equally hot air, realizing this car's air conditioning is broken. The third, and this is, by far, the worst, is the dawn of what I like to call, "window-screen shoe season," when the little abhorrent gems (pictured left) make appearances all over the city, on the feet of the most variable wearers.

Whether your running shoes merely act as slippers for your morning commute or fulfill their destiny blazing the trails of Central Park, they should be as influenced by your personality as the rest of your wardrobe. And with thousands of options in thousands of colors, you'd think the ideal color combo would be out there. Well, now it is—check out NikeiD, where you can choose from a whole slew of kicks, from basketball to dance to running, and customize every part of the shoe, from tongue to swoosh. After you've played fashion designer, a brief wait, and they're delivered right to your door.

Seeing as how the best part of spring is what nature provides—the leaves on the trees, beautiful flowers, and fresh foliage—I was inspired to seek out a more natural approach to skincare. Now, don’t get me wrong—when it comes to heavy results, a little ‘tox here and a little squirt there does a complexion good, but on a day-to-day basis, when city girls breathe in enough pollution on the way to work alone, it’s time to pay more attention to what we put in our bodies. And on our skin.

On a recent trip to Paris, I noticed something that never quite caught my eye before, at least not in the last 10 years. Rollerblades! These quintessential accessories/modes of transportation of the '90s were ubiquitious, in every color, and donned by every type of person, from the grungy Parisian underbelly to a pantsuit-clad doyenne of Avenue Montaigne. I almost felt outnumbered, left out. Does this mean I'll pack lightly next time, accommodating my archaic, silver and black blades? And risk leaving behind those gold burnished Dolce & Gabbana loafers I've grown into? Not very likely.

Jared Leto stole my jacket. Yesterday, while readying myself for a magazine photo shoot, I came across the leather-and-plaid number seen left. I asked to borrow it for the afternoon, but it turns out they had already sent it over to Mark David Chapman for some event. What about my event, Leto?

Amanda Lepore, born Armand Lepore, year unknown, has been a New York nightlife fixture for quite some time. She has worked with flamboyant designers like Heatherette and has long served as legendary photographer David LaChapelle's muse. Here, in an exclusive fashion story, she takes her throne for photographer Helena Cristina Henriques.