Monday, November 26, 2007
Stussy is still super sick with it
by Pamela Bryant, [X]press Online
Stussy used to be a brand that was associated with a Rasta cartoon caricature that I, along with everyone else, wore in junior high. They produced M.C. Hammer type parachute pants and focused in on the “hype” of the hyper-color movement (which I heard is making a comeback).
Currently, Stussy is more than just clothing. It’s a name henceforth built by popularity with attachments to hip-hop and rock music, collaborations with famous graphic designers, and grand creations with world-renowned artists.
Stussy has become a staple among the skateboard, DJ, and artist community as was relevant at their latest in store endeavor.
Graffiti artist Ghost, a.k.a. Cousin Frank made his mark inside the Stussy San Francisco location with an opening party Saturday, November 17th.
Ghost, born in the 60’s, made his début in the graffiti word by “bombing trains” in the Bronx. Those familiar with graffiti have seen its prolific movement from the streets to upscale gallery status.
Stussy has housed many artists of the like; deeming Saturday’s shindig no different than any other soiree they’ve thrown.
A crowd of what appears to be 20-year-old skateboarders, huddled by the front door, eyes half closed, glancing at each arriving person’s attire. Clouds of smoke blew past the entrance, as track bike after track bike were locked up at any and all available parking meters. The crowd consisted mainly of boys, but after an hour passed, the maidens were soon in tow.
Ghost remained, well, rather ghost-like as he drifted from outside to upstairs, where he could view the crowd without interruption. He was later joined by his friend Lupe Fiasco (plus entourage), which caused a slight buzz among the patrons/ art go-ers. I, of course, had to be told whom the commotion was about, since my cable was cut off last year, leaving me to fend for myself by reading Big Rich logos plastered on SUVs.
Everyone just kind of clumped together in small groups of two or three, each examining the art hanging around the store at their leisure, in between sips from their Dixie cup. (Yes, the infamous red Dixie cup reared its ugly head containing liquid for the legal adults in the room).
The show lasted until 11 p.m., the keg tapped, the lingering conversations of invitations to after parties died down, and everyone piled their drunk, yet culturally enlightened minds onto Haight Street.
All in all, the art was super sick, the patrons thought they were super sick, and I’m sure a few people actually became super sick from the chilled air of the night.
Stussy used to be a brand that was associated with a Rasta cartoon caricature that I, along with everyone else, wore in junior high. They produced M.C. Hammer type parachute pants and focused in on the “hype” of the hyper-color movement (which I heard is making a comeback).
Currently, Stussy is more than just clothing. It’s a name henceforth built by popularity with attachments to hip-hop and rock music, collaborations with famous graphic designers, and grand creations with world-renowned artists.
Stussy has become a staple among the skateboard, DJ, and artist community as was relevant at their latest in store endeavor.
Graffiti artist Ghost, a.k.a. Cousin Frank made his mark inside the Stussy San Francisco location with an opening party Saturday, November 17th.
Ghost, born in the 60’s, made his début in the graffiti word by “bombing trains” in the Bronx. Those familiar with graffiti have seen its prolific movement from the streets to upscale gallery status.
Stussy has housed many artists of the like; deeming Saturday’s shindig no different than any other soiree they’ve thrown.
A crowd of what appears to be 20-year-old skateboarders, huddled by the front door, eyes half closed, glancing at each arriving person’s attire. Clouds of smoke blew past the entrance, as track bike after track bike were locked up at any and all available parking meters. The crowd consisted mainly of boys, but after an hour passed, the maidens were soon in tow.
Ghost remained, well, rather ghost-like as he drifted from outside to upstairs, where he could view the crowd without interruption. He was later joined by his friend Lupe Fiasco (plus entourage), which caused a slight buzz among the patrons/ art go-ers. I, of course, had to be told whom the commotion was about, since my cable was cut off last year, leaving me to fend for myself by reading Big Rich logos plastered on SUVs.
Everyone just kind of clumped together in small groups of two or three, each examining the art hanging around the store at their leisure, in between sips from their Dixie cup. (Yes, the infamous red Dixie cup reared its ugly head containing liquid for the legal adults in the room).
The show lasted until 11 p.m., the keg tapped, the lingering conversations of invitations to after parties died down, and everyone piled their drunk, yet culturally enlightened minds onto Haight Street.
All in all, the art was super sick, the patrons thought they were super sick, and I’m sure a few people actually became super sick from the chilled air of the night.
# posted by [X]press Staff @ 3:15 PM 