NYLON - March 2008 - (Page 92) WINGS OF DESIRE WHAT’S THAT RINGING IN YOUR EARS, YOU ASK? JUST A LITTLE SIGNAL THAT FACTORY GIRL DANI STAHL HAS RECEIVED HER WINGS COURTESY OF VICTORIA’S SECRET, OF COURSE. PHOTOGRAPHED BY RONY ALWIN As proven in a number of previous Factory Girl jaunts, I’m no angel. So when the opportunity presented itself for me to become one, if only for a day, I figured this was one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities I simply couldn’t pass up. The only earth angels I’m familiar with, and frankly the only kind I would want to be transformed into, are those from my favorite lingerie emporium Victoria’s Secret. And everybody knows an angel is nothing without her wings. So the people at Victoria’s Secret thought it best that I begin this episode of Factory Girl in the studio of, as I like to refer to him, the “wingmaster.” The wingmaster, a.k.a. Martin Izquierdo, has been creating costumes, sets, and props for theatrical productions, musicians, film, and fashion shows since opening Izquierdo Studios in Chelsea in 1981. So, needless to say, there could be no better man for the job. I arrive at his studio and immediately feel like I’ve jumped down the rabbit hole. The entire space is crammed with a cornucopia of random stuff––stacks and stacks of hats, an enormous fish tank brimming with turtles, and rows of every material in every color you can imagine. Besides a number of Chihuahuas running around the studio, the place is full of assistants dutifully focused on hand-dying fabrics, and stitching sparkles and weaving feathers into countless sets of wings. (It seems I’m not the only one getting a pair!) It’s like Santa’s factory, except in place of elves there are grungy, pierced art students, and all the gifts are being delivered to some of the planet’s most beautiful women. Just like no two toys created in the North Pole are exactly alike, neither are the wings––each one is unique, and requires its own specific process to craft. And I have a hand in many of them, including my own! For one pair I affix layers of white “Like a Virgin” lacey tulle, while another requires me to create metallic designs by taking a glue gun to some gold leaf (my very favorite plant). Wing-making, as it turns out, is tiresome, and, at least for me, dangerous––I burn myself with a glue gun, pretty embarassing considering the fact that my NYU degree happens to be in art. The most exciting part, of course, is working on the pair of wings that I could soon, albeit briefly, call my own (after I don them they are destined to go to Adriana Lima). Inspired by Salvador Dalí, my wings are a painted, glittered Surrealist delight, complete with a melting clock. Although they look grueling to wear, the wingmaster explains that the backs are simply made to look like wood, but are actually painted canvas so they remain light, you know, in case I should need to take flight. The following week I am off to L.A. to test-drive my wings on the runway. It is the day before the televised Victoria’s Secret fashion show, an event that happens to attract no less than seven million viewers, eager to see their favorite catalogue cuties in action. After making it through a security detail that would put most airports to shame, I finally arrive backstage at the Kodak Theater for the dress rehearsal. It is a whirlwind of humming hairdryers, signs with SEXY spelled out in neon and, of course, leggy supermodels being fitted into all kinds of lacey underpinnings. While I would love to be able to report that the models are in fact totally average in person, I would be lying––they are all, well, out of this world. After selecting a silky black mini robe and push-up bra to wear with my wings––I’m all about showing off the legs and boobs––I settle in a chair next to Karolina factory girl clockwise from top left: the wing workshop; the glue gun incident; i wasn’t allowed to do this; gabbing with stylist charlotte stockdale’s collaborator todd thomas.
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