A stylish gamergirl forwarded this link to me...colorful leather PSP cases, for a very reasonable price! All the colors are tasty, and I am fond of the orange.
Thanks, Amber!
Forza is a new racing game that is blowing people away with its realistic physics and amazing blah blah blah. I don't care about that. What's awesome is the level of customization possible (if you're an incredibly dedicated customizer). Check it out.
Some of these can be acquired through Amazon - if you choose to get them that way, we get a few cents! Happy shopping.
"It was a dream of extreme romanticism," said Miuccia Prada about her fall collection. "The idea of eighteenth-century painting, with video games. A romanticism between past and future." As part of her research, Prada reportedly observed players in arcades.
One wonders which she saw. While the romanticism is fairly evident in the soft silhouettes and the flourishes blooming in trim and accessories - although there does seem to be some debate in the press over whether this is nineteenth or eighteenth century - I fail to see the influence of video games aside from the use of "techno fabrics" (whatever that means), some vague prints that look like they might be badly blurred screenshots, and cute little robots showing up in decals and as plastic toggles on belts.
Although the collection is as technically proficient as all her work is, it is disappointingly evident that Prada hasn't understood the fundamental premise of video games. Video game aesthetic isn't just about tacking on some shorthand evocative visual details. I actually do agree with Prada that there is an element of extreme romanticism in video games currently - they are naive, idealistic, ever-optimistic; but, as Ernest Adams opined in his talk at the Game Developer's Conference [free registration required], the mode of discourse is much much more primitive than nineteenth-century Byronic elegance. Or even eighteenth century pre-Revolution nostalgia.
The work as a whole is boldly theatrical, but in a much more simplistic - almost atavistic - way than, say, the work of John Galliano, who tends more towards coy playfulness. Galliano's women are role-players, teasers and strippers and cabaret dancers; but McQueen's women are heroines and goddesses - remote, powerful, and outrageous. They could crush Prada's refined ladies with a single kick of a delicate high-heeled boot.
The form, the movement, the energy of the collection is breathtaking. As in modern video games, there is nothing subtle about either the conception or the visualization of the themes. Every stroke is bold and unhesitant, every line is confidently executed. If video games are about power fantasies - which, with a few unusual exceptions, they still are - then this collection embodies the superhero quest: iconic avatars against the world.
