Gagavision

Bow down, bitches. Sasha Fierce must be flipping her shit right now because her majesty Lady Gaga is about to out-fierce her.

Usually it's quite normal to see origami cocaine crystals cascading (isn't that the best alliteration you've heard all year?) down the side of Gaga's face and dress, but much like with her latex catsuit and shoulder pads look she was rocking months ago, our dear friend Gaga has moved on, taking the cocaine motif from the white, life-styles-of-the-rich-and-famous form to its heavy-metal crack form. This is from her London club show at G-A-Y from a night or two ago:


This outfit is also comes with no pants:


I've come along way from thinking Gaga was the tranny version of Donatella Versace. Now sometimes at night I imagine that I too will wear drug-inspired outfits and side-ways walk down the street in pursuit of the disco stick:



Lately my informants from across the pond have tried to draw a lot of Gwen Stefani comparisons: white girl in a giant musical game of Twister (right hand in pop, left foot on hip hop, right foot in rock) with expensive shades and a knack for fashion too expensive to buy, too labor-intensive to make yourself. And although Gaga has yet to parade around a group of Japanese twenty-somethings, am I the only one who noticed all of her dancers and much of her band in the Leno performance were black?

With the exception of race-casting your crew (I'll never be a part of the Haüs of Gaga at this rate), I fail to see a problem with more Gwen or Gaga in the world.

Fortunately Gwen decided to cut the dance party a little short to make adorable, adorable babies, so I don't have to choose between them. Can you imagine that? I'd be going Rumplestiltskin on that shit, tearing myself in two.

But Gaga never stops the party. In the words of my favorite physicist, Kate Jones-Smith, "Sometimes you have to party round the clock, sometimes you have to take the party home with you at night. Sometimes you have to stay up, all night, maintaining the party. You gotta be able to party even when there's no one watching over your shoulder. No 'party deadline' looming."

Case study: look at what she wears during the day. And to the airport, no less! Talk about taking the party home with you. At least she didn't have the origami crack poking out the side of her face. I'd have to give up my coveted aisle seat to make sure my eyeballs don't get poked out, provided I hadn't already been blinded by the light reflecting off her bangs.


And for those cold winter mornings in London? Flesh-colored tights!


Fun fact of the day: Gaga's middle name is Stefani. And that sound you're hearing? It is the sound of the stars aligning.