January 21, 2014 • Culture


Just in time for Martin Luther King Day, Russian socialite, Garage Magazine Editor-in-Chief, and privileged white person Dasha Zhukova was busted in a picture sitting on a black lady wearing panties and tranny shoes in a shoot for Miroslava Duma’s Buro 24/7. I mean, she’s not literally sitting on a black person. This isn’t like that scene in Bruno when Paula Abdul (American Idol host and signer of my once favorite ‘80s jam “Straight Up”), for some shameful amount of time, was coaxed into using a Mexican man as a settee. But still, whether made of epoxy resin or skin and bones, it doesn’t matter. White ladies, you are not allowed to sit on black people. Never ever ever ever.

The Internet has thrown itself into a proper shitstorm – and rightfully so. This is a Dumb Move with a capital “D” and “M,” respectively. The last time I felt this uncomfortable being white was while watching that scene in 12 Years a Slave, when a hammered Michael Fassbender and his c*&! of a wife woke their slaves up to dance in their nightshirts around the parlor room, cruelly rendering them both court and jester. So I’m not going to go on about the obvious: the cultural insensitivities, the degradation, the total and utter need for a PR consultant to smack the shit out of people who do things like this.


No, let’s talk about the furniture, which, when it’s not of a black woman, is fucking brilliant. (Note: All furniture should be equal opportunity. There should 100% be S&M prostitute furniture out there in a black make and model (and brown and red and green), just like there should be black Barbie, black Santa, etc. But you absolutely CANNOT be of another race to purchase it. White people buy white shit. Red people buy red shit. You get the idea. With vulgar, cheeky pieces such as these, it is always best to stay within your race, lest something akin to this meltdown happen, destroying people’s faith in your judgment and insuring that Rihanna will not be playing at your next birthday bash, no matter how much money you throw at her.)

The chair in question is a twist on midcentury pop artist Allen Jones’ soft porn furniture-sculptures from the late ‘60s, which, in its original inspired form, used white lady mannequins dressed up like naughty little sluts in bondage regalia as tables, hatstands, and chairs. Useful and utilitarian objects that you still want to fuck. Kind of like women! This of course is a degradation of a purposeful, social-commentary variety that, unlike the anatomically correct dolls sad little men stick their dicks into, is revered within the highbrow communities. Like, the art world, for instance.

Whether or not you want your kids to be drawing in their coloring books using a woman kneeling on all fours like an agreeable dog is one thing, but these pieces actually command a hefty price tag. That and, unless you’re Peter Brant Sr., you probably aren’t going to come across this interior decorating conundrum. (Hmmm… the emotional health and well being of my young children… or… this really awesome plastic whore in the dining room! Decisions!) In 2012, at the sale of photographer Gunter Sachs’ collection, the audience got riled up like prepubescent boys at a strip club, blowing their load like they had dollah dollah bills to burn. “Hatstand” sold for $1,185,711. “Table” racked in  $1,533,943. And “Chair” – in its original, only-offensive-to-gender-not-race version – commanded $1,321,591.

It costs a lot of money to look this cheap. And if the chair-heard-round-the-internet Dasha Zhukova stupidly sat in commanded an equally high price tag, it certainly costs a lot of money to look that racist.

Read more:
On “Je Ne Sais Quoi” and Louche-Baggery
The Perfect Coat Cut For Fall

All Aboard.

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