Thursday, November 11, 2010

Appetite for Destructed Chic



So yeah. We all think Axl Rose is just an angry redneck with cornrows now. Which, y'know, he probably always has been somewhere deep inside, if Truth be told.



But none of that matters to me. There's never been a prettier face in Rock, and when Axl was young he was that perfectly potent mix of pretty and bad; the ferociousness lurking just beneath the surface, the potential for truck-stop trashiness just barely tempered by a wickedly original sense of style and androgenous bravado.



I'm not sure that Axl's ever really been given his fair dues as a style icon, (maybe because he's become such an unlikeable asshole) but I think he was truly an original:

The Night Porter-esque hard rock fetishism of the Live at The Ritz '88 era....







....the mash up of Grunge meets Bumpkin'-Rock-Raver of the early 90's: plaid, big sneakers, mesh, hill-billy leather and those iconic spandex shorts.



The "LA Cowboy goes vaguely Cosby" period of November Rain and Stephanie Seymore- oversized blazers, collegiate sweatshirts, silk shirts, snakeskin boots


The kilts.

The bandanas.

And the hair.


Oh, the hair.

I'm quite sure my lingering preference for redheads has much to do with Axl's wispy auburn mane.



Uh huh kids, I think I just let the cat out of the bag; this chic girl loves a bit of honest-to-goodness badass trash. But that's ok, Axl may have fallen a long way since his glory days, but I will always consider him the original and BEST angel-faced, styled-out, whiny-assed Devil in rock n' roll.

And in the words of Mr. Rose, if you don't like it, why don't you just... FUCK OFF!

;)