#italien style

[beautyandtheuniverse]

#street style #fashion week #mens fashion week #milan fashion week #milan #milan style #italien men #italien style #italien fashion #menswear

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Ford Thunderbird Italien Show Car, 1963. A one-off custom third generation Thunderbird is to be offered at auction. The car was built for Ford by Dearborn Steel Tubing for their Custom Car Caravan and has been fully restored to original condition

auction listing

#Ford #Ford Thunderbird #show car #custom car #coachbuilt #1963 #cars for sale #auction #RM Sotheby's #1960s style #Italien #prototype #Custom Car Caravan #Dearborn Steel Tubing

[whereismyhat5678]

Been meaning to ask this for awhile-

Have you ever drawn any of the mario brothers? I just feel like your art style would be nice on them

I won’t lie (I’ll answer this now) I have tried, it’s just the way I draw them I don’t like- 😭

My brother once asked me to try and draw them and I did! But I refuse to show anyone else cuz I think it looks baddddd

I’ll try in the future, since I think my art style’s been getting increasingly better <:] But for now I think I might put them on hold, I really gotta get a grip of how they’re drawn, cuz I’m STRUGGLING 🙏🙏

(When I do draw them I’ll reblog this post!)

(Also I got a free period right now which is why I’m active if you’re wondering -w-)

#Super Mario bros #I can draw the anxious Italien but I can’t draw that plumper guy #A little mad about it >:( But I’ll get it eventually I know I will! >:) #Thanks for the encouragement tho! I’ll try my best for you and my brother ❤️❤️ #Ask #Mario and Luigi in my style? 👀 #I mean I already did Sonic- it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t do them <x] #Mario #Luigi

[chicinsilk]

"Coquelicot"

Marc Bohan for Christian Dior Spring/Summer 1961 Haute Couture Collection. Sophie Derly wears "Coquelicot" (poppy), a red silk pleated dress and matching coat ensemble. Photo Rolf Lutz.

Marc Bohan pour Christian Dior Collection Haute Couture Printemps/été 1961. Sophie Derly porte "Coquelicot" un ensemble robe plissée en soie rouge et manteau assorti. Photo Rolf Lutz.

#christian dior #marc bohan #collection haute couture #french designer #french style #spring/summer #printemps/été #1961 #fashion 60s #coquelicot #rolf lutz #sophie derly #silk dress #robe en soie #la donna #italian magazine #magazine italien

[roxxgoof]

NEAPOL

#neapolitanstyle #neapolitantailoring #travelwithlove #traveler #italytravel #italylovers #pompeii #street style #italystyle #italy #beauty #czech #crazymoments #photography #italien

[nedgis]

Lampadaire Mezzaluna réédité par DCW Éditions Paris : l'élégance redéfinie d'un classique des années 80 de Bruno Gecchelin !

Le lampadaire Mezzaluna, conçu par le célèbre designer italien Bruno Gecchelin en 1975, a marqué une époque avec son design iconique en forme de demi-lune. Malgré son succès initial, son utilisation de l’éclairage halogène l’a écarté du marché moderne. Cependant, la maison DCW Éditions Paris prend l’initiative de raviver cette légende du design en lui insufflant une nouvelle vie ! L’alliance de…

View On WordPress

#l&039;icône du design des années 80 : le lampadaire Mezzaluna #lampadaire au style industriel #lampadaire au style rétro #lampe vintage design #le célèbre designer Bruno Gecchelin #le designer italien Bruno Gecchelin #le lampadaire Mezzaluna #le lampadaire Mezzaluna réédité par DCW Editions Paris #un luminaire made in France #une lampe iconique des années 80 rééditée

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna smut

[zetsubonoheishi]

Loft-Style Library (Berlin)

#Example of a large #modern #loft-style family room library with gray walls #a tv stand #a concrete fireplace #and a concrete floor. san giacomo #italienisch #library #italien #design #interior #wohnwand

[itsirritating]

when in piemont…morning runs are the best…:)) _________ #mornings #sunday #sundaymornings #morningrun #justdoit #love #sonntag #italien #piemont #dolcevita #dolce #gutenmorgen #goodmorning #run #hoscos #style #gay #gayzurich #sport #outdoor #activewear (hier: Piemonte, Italy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjN4e4Sq8jH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#mornings #sunday #sundaymornings #morningrun #justdoit #love #sonntag #italien #piemont #dolcevita #dolce #gutenmorgen #goodmorning #run #hoscos #style #gay #gayzurich #sport #outdoor #activewear

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Outside the AMC Box: 1966 American Motors AMX II Concept

Posted on March 19, 2024 by MCG

To create the AMX II, AMC design chief Richard Teague reached outside his own styling studios and brought in independent designer and builder Vince Gardner.

In his long tenure as vice president of design at American Motors from 1964 to 1983, Richard A. Teague earned a reputation for working outside the box. This constant drive to be different could be seen, for example, in the four Project IV concept vehicles his design staff prepared for a 1966 promotional tour, with displays in six major American cities. For one of the Project IV cars, the AMX II, Teague reached outside the box a little further and brought in an independent designer, Vincent E. Gardner.

Among car designers, Vince Gardner had a remarkable skill set. In addition to being a talented stylist, he was also a highly capable clay modeler and fabricator. As a kid fresh out of high school, he prepared the clay model for the 1936 Cord 810, working alongside designer Gordon A. Buehrig. His own design credits include the 1947 Gardner Special, the 1953 Vega sports car, and the 1964 Mustang III, while the 1962 Thunderbird Italien and 1968 Dodge Charger III are among the concept vehicles he constructed for the automakers.

While the AMX II was Gardner’s creation, it didn’t look at all out of place among the other three Project IV concept vehicles, integrating nicely. (See our feature on the Project IV Cavalier here.) According to the American Motors press materials, the AMX II was intended to expand on the theme of the AMX sports car concept, which made its public debut in the Project IV program

Eight inches longer than the AMX, the AMX II included room for four passengers and a generous trunk. (AMX stood for American Motors eXperimental.) Though it almost doesn’t look it, the wheelbase was a full 110 inches, with a shape that could remind you of the 1967 Mercury Cougar, though it’s slimmer, less chunky.

Features included hidden headlamps and windshield wipers, while an automated circuit locked the doors when the AMX II was moving. At the rear was was a safety tail lamp arrangement with green, yellow, and red segments for driving, slowing, and braking. However, it seems many of these features probably existed only on paper.

Like the other Project IV cars, the AMX was not a running vehicle, but merely a fiberglass studio glider with no drivetrain or running gear. There was no real interior, either, only a black sillhouette panel inside, just under the beltline, to fill the cabin volume. Like so many pushmobile show cars, the AMX II served no real function once its display career was concluded, so it was more than likely scrapped soon after.

#amx #amc amx #car #cars #american motors #AMX II Concept #AMX II #concept

[lounesdarbois]

Avec sa gamme de vêtements de sport et sa gamme de vêtements de ville, Lacoste est la seule firme qui ait le potentiel de concurrencer les marques italiennes de sport d’un côté, et les marques anglo-saxonnes de ville de l’autre côté. Lacoste est la seule firme qui détienne en propre le savoir-faire des deux branches complémentaires du casual, le casual-sport et le casual-chic, totalité que les italiens et les anglo-américains maîtrisent de manière parcellaire. En effet un client a le choix entre le vêtement de sport italien de Sergio Tacchini, Fila, Ellesse, Diadora, CP Company… ou le style anglais smart de Fred Perry, Hackett, Ben Sherman, Barbour, Aquascutum, Hilfiger et Façonnable. Mais c’est l’un ou l’autre. Ellesse ne produit pas d’imperméables et Barbour ne produit pas de survêtement. Cette continuité du casual n’est disponible que chez Lacoste dont le catalogue couvre l’intégralité du spectre casual. On pourra objecter que Fred Perry couvre aussi tout le panel, du survêtement au butcher coat. Vrai. Toutefois la marque Fred Perry, issue du mouvement skin, très ancrée dans les sous-cultures du rock, n’a jamais réussi à englober les nouveaux publics rap émergeant à partir des années 90. Seul Lacoste a su le faire et vendre tant à Dave Hewitson qu’à Clint Eastwood, à Damon Albarn qu’à Arsenik, mais encore à Jacques Chirac, à Richard Nixon, à Michel Audiard, à Hunter S. Thompson, à Dominique Venner, Marcel Bigeard, Lino Ventura, Bourvil, Liam Gallagher… En 1995, on pouvait voir les fameux survêtements portés tant par les personnages du film La Haine que par Jean-Marie Le Pen.

Lacoste est porté par des notaires et par des dealers, par des hipsters et par des hooligans, par des yuppies et des tradis, par des enfants et des patriarches. Lacoste est plébiscité dans le monde mais sous-évalué dans son propre pays, paradoxe typique d’une universalité toute française dont d’autres gloires nationales ont souffert dans le passé : la diplomatie parallèle de Philippe Berthelot, les intuitions algébriques de Poincaré, les principes économiques de Frédéric Bastiat et de Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, les trucages graphiques de Georges Méliès… nul n’est prophète en son pays.

#Lacoste #Nixon #richard nixon #liam gallagher #damon albarn #bourvil #Michel Audiard #clint eastwood #hunter s thompson #casualwear #smart casual #Chic #France #mens style #street style #streetwear #classic style #classism #classic #ellesse #Sergio Tacchini #Ben Sherman #Adidas #Sneakers

[verdiesque]

A rant and an abuse of your gaping ask box but... there's a tight-knit Konzern of italian opera enthusiasts here on tumblr who go on and on abt nothing but necrophilia, incest and gatekeeping old style opera singing from the american hordes. so where's the equivalent francophile intelligentsia to complain abt les italiens and lay the groundwork for an anti-italian operatic movement called très grand opéra? if operablr has nothing half as classy to offer im deserting the site

FINALLY...... our own konzern-type callout

#SKDGFGDHDJRJDKD HELP #made my morning thank you <3333333 #responses #anonymous #also sorry to break it to you but there are so many french opera enthusiasts here😔 you've just been looking in the wrong places

[leseigneurdufeu]

ok question time

si je voulais rejoindre ton savoir encyclopédique de donald duck

où faudrait-il que je commence

est-ce que ta bibliothèque municipale a l'intégralité (ou au moins une partie) des intégrales de Carl Barks (qui a inventé la plupart des personnages du duckverse, comme Picsou lui-même, Géo Trouvetou, etc)

(ça ressemble à ça, c'est aussi épais qu'un livre de 300 pages)

et, encore plus important, est-ce qu'ils ont l'intégral de Don Rosa, qui a pris tout ce que Carl Barks a hinted at sur la jeunesse de Picsou (du style quand Picsou disait "ridicule, j'ai acheté ce chapeau en 1920 à Saint Louis, il est comme neuf", Rosa écrivait "ok en 1920 il était à Saint Louis" et ensuite ne contredisait pas ça dans ses propres histoires)

ça ressemble à ça : même format que le précédent mais couverture et tranche grises. En deux parties, chacune sur plusieurs tomes : "La Jeunesse de Picsou" et "La Grande Epopée de Picsou" il me semble.

enfin, une fois que tu auras les bases bien en main, et selon ce que tu trouves à lire en ligne et irl, vois si tu peux te procurer quelques Fantomiald. Une fois que tu es familier avec le personnage, tu peux t'attaquer aux Fantomius, plus ou moins spin off de Fantomiald. Et bien sûr, il n'y a pas d'étape précise à laquelle tu peux lire les classiques mis en BD (essentiellement par les italiens et les danois, mais pas que), aussi bien Casablanca que Moby Dick ou "Duckenstein", mais ce sera peut-être plus difficile de te les procurer. Les Trésors de Picsou, périodique, est égalemnt une bonne source masi il risque d'y avoir des redites, avec des histoires que tu trouveras là-dedans que tu auras déjà vues dans l'intégral Don Rosa, des choses comme ça.

Si tu as un budget énorme et pas mal de place, je peux te conseiller aussi de t'abonner/aller acheter régulièrement Mickey Parade Géant, qui a pas mal d'histoires par périodique, qui ressemble à ça:

ou même les "collector" qui sortent de temps à autre avec toutes leurs histoires sur un seul thème et un petit dossier, comme ceci :

et bien sûr si tu tombes sur un Journal de Mickey de temps à autres, c'est un piètre substitut au reste étant donné le faible nombre d'histoires, et surtout d'histoires longues, mais ça peut être sympa.

Archive.org a quelques vieux mickey parade ainsi que la version anglaise scannés (si je les retrouve je te les linkerai), et ta bibliothèque fait peut-être partie d'un réseau avec un site internet sur lequel tu peux accéder à d'autres périodiques scannés.

#duck comics #frenchblr

[frenchcurious]

Fiat Tagliero est un bâtiment situé à Asmara, la capitale de l'Érythrée. C'est une station-service de style futuriste, achevé en 1938 et conçu par l'architecte italien Giuseppe Pettazzi. À cette époque, l'Afrique orientale italienne était une colonie italienne, l'Érythrée n'existait pas. - source Wikipédia.

(Print by Eric George)

#fiat #asmara #érythrée #giuseppe pettazzi

[processes]

Le lampadaire Aldebaran est une véritable épreuve de style.

Nous sommes en 1992 et pourtant, les codes stylistiques sont bien plus propres au Space Age des années 70 qu'à l'anticonformisme des années 90. Alessandro Mendini reprend ici le code couleur du mouvement Memphis, les matériaux métalliques et la verticalité des années 1980, mais aussi l'aspect purement sculptural des années 1990.

Loin d'être porté sur la fonction, ce lampadaire est une véritable œuvre d'art en verre polychrome. Fabriqué par Venini à Murano, cette pièce nous montre tout le savoir-faire des verriers italiens, avec des éléments en verre soufflé, bullé ou texturé. Aucun détail n'est laissé au hasard, tant est si bien que la rareté de cette lampe, numérotée sur 50 exemplaires, induit un grand savoir-faire d'artisanat.

Aldebaran est une étoile orangée, la plus brillante de la constellation du Zodiac. Alessandro Mendini rend hommage à cette dernière par son génie créatif, en melant une lueur orangée lorsque la lampe est allumée et un camaïeu de bleu, rappelant le ciel étoilé.

pulpgalerie

#furniture #lamp #épreuve #design #light #blue #pink #texture #sculpt #alessandro mendini #space age #1992 #sphere #astronomy

[whencyclopedfr]

Leon Battista Alberti

Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472 CE) était un érudit italien, un architecte, un mathématicien et un défenseur de l'humanisme de la Renaissance. Alberti est l'auteur du célèbre traité "De l'architecture", dans lequel il décrit les éléments clés de l'architecture classique et la manière dont ils peuvent être réutilisés dans les bâtiments contemporains. Ses écrits sur la peinture et la sculpture, qui transformèrent les pratiques théoriques des artistes de la Renaissance, eurent une influence encore plus grande. Alberti mit ses idées en pratique et conçut de nombreuses églises dans diverses villes italiennes, la plus influente étant sans doute la basilique Saint-André de Mantoue (1470), le premier édifice monumental de style classique de la Renaissance.

Lire la suite...

#Histoire #SebastianoSerlio #DonatoBramante #AndreaPalladio