The Trixie Label Diaries

Who Shot Patrick Hoelck? 

By Trixie Label 

Trixie booked into “Room Editions” to find out more.

Many moons ago, I think I shot with Patrick Hoelck.

Or was I flipping through a Patrick Hoelck book and a complete stranger took my picture at a festival? That’s right, it was all a dream I had whilst up in the Welfare Barn at Glastonbury ’05. It’s so hard to keep track these days… anyway a couple of weeks back I found myself in Stephen Webster’s upper gallery in Beverly Hills, for the launch of Patrick Hoelck’s “Room Editions”. Which gave me a good chance to partake in my favorite past time – spotting the baby menses.

When I first arrived in Vivian Ward’s favorite neighborhood, both me and my Brit counterpart started to panic slightly. We looked very boring compared to this crowd and why is everyone so bloody good looking?

“God if only I had worn my turquoise fashion turban.”

After a lovely hostess crossed us off the list, the first thing I saw was an 18ct white gold, lobster finger-ring! Set with black and brown diamonds and a red coral center. I don’t know much about jewelry, but I am a bit of a magpie – pretty, shiny, spark-lees distract me. I have never seen such a dazzling bejeweled crustacean. So that’s why they call Stephen Webster “The Master of Glam Rock”. Granted the price tag was a ‘lil out of Trixie’s range, but remember I live in LA2DAY’s back office on the sly. His appeal to rockers and artists is understandable, that’s why celebs like Johnny Depp, Christina Aguilera, Jlo and the real Queen of England – Elton John – can often be seen wearing Mr. Webster’s work. They can afford to. That’s when “Hello” mag regular and It girl about London town, Lady V. (Herley) walked by. Yep it’s official – I’m the riff raff!

Up the winding steps we went, to the soundtrack of “The Gotan Project” and the muffled chit-chatter of the pretty people. Once we got there I felt much more at ease, this was an eclectic and fun bunch, tatted temptresses, the quirky and the cool, the rich and – me. There was also a gorgeous tanned gay gentleman who appeared to have been personally kissed by the “Gods of The Sun” – or at least holidayed often in St. Tropez. I was terribly jealous – damn him for taking to the rays so well!

Now for once I actually knew a bit about the artist in question beforehand, I already liked his work. Patrick Hoelck is that rare breed, a real Los Angeles native. This celebrated photographer (and director) has been shooting life as he sees it, since his early teens. Technically you just can’t fault him, I particular like his dark, beautiful, humorous and at times ominous portraits. Take a gander at his version of Will Ferrel golfing with fruit and veg and see what I mean. He also can photograph black folks really well, which to me is a true talent. In my immediate family alone we range from tepid beige to Djimon Honsou and no group shot has ever done us justice. This dude shot Christina Ricci next to Samuel L. Jackson! That’s impressive. He’s also that special kind of individual that can shoot the most well known, photographed, human beings in the world and still create a stand out image. The Clint Eastwood portrait immediately comes to mind. Patrick’s an interesting cat – calm, chilled and very friendly. Unlike the screaming banshee that is yours truly. Even if you just met him, you kinda wanna scratch his beard and maybe nibble on his chin a ‘lil bit.

Curated by Daniel Salin “Room Editions” consisted of hand picked, framed, limited editions prints from the book “Polaroid Hotel”. Carefully placed around the upper gallery area so we could all peruse at our leisure. Did I mention there was an open bar to aid in my perusing? We also found a velvet sofa, ooh I love a good Chesterfield under the buttocks. And kids can I tell you there were beautiful baby menses as far as the eye could see. A plethora of soft skins, full lips and long lashes, and a lot of ’em probably around that ripe 25 age mark – my favorite number. Unfortunately there were also at least 3, statuesque, female creatures, for every one. Which in my book equals far too much hard work. Besides I was sitting on a deep purple, velvet, Chesterfield, I wasn’t giving that up for anyone. So me and Miss H did what we do best, had a couple of G&Ts, people watched, gossiped with strangers (and the strange) and frequently got complemented for our accents. To most Americans you are as good as Kate Middleton if you have an English accent.


Of course I’m suppose to tell you who was there and what they wore, so here goes. Robert Behar stylist and costume designer extraordinaire enjoyed his window installations and the general milieu. David Long of Dirtee Hollywood had a really cool T-shirt on, Lawrence Bender chitted and a chatted with CC Sheffield and Brit Indie producer Julia Verdin. Hayley Marie Norman’s gravity-defying afro was also in attendance, but her #25 briefcase was a no show.

A gaggle of photogs; Tyler Shields, Randall Slavin and Brian Bowen Smith shared in a rather adorable group hug, and Brent Bolthouse cheerfully snapped away with his vintage Fuji Rangefinder. Yada, yada, SparahTM stunning, yada, yada, Jordi Molla, Angela Featherstone, Kat Von D, Lady V – very tall, yada, yada, Katherine Moennig has a really hot body even under a baggy sweater. Christopher Masterson’s curly-curls (awe curly-curls) and a really sweet child was watching “Rio” on his iPad. The End.

I can also confirm that everyone was indeed wearing clothes.

Towards the end of the night I saw my childhood crush/icon/wish I was her person – Persia White. Or as I hear it in my head Purrrrrrrrrsia.Growing up in 90s Britain I didn’t have too many role models. Whereas in the 80s my sister had “Flashdance”, “The Cosby Show” and 2- tone’s Pauline Black, I had sweet f#@k all. That being said one day I stumbled across a really weird Canadian program called “Breaker High” about kids on a boat – one of those kids was Ms. White. So over the years I’ve felt a weird kinship. That and I really like “Girlfriends”. The crowd parted, the sirens sang and there she was glowing before me.

Honest. That’s what happened. She’s ssssssooooo pretty she made my eyes bleed! Such a pixie-esque face you just want to grab the cheeks and eat the brain. Or maybe that’s just me, anyway I told her. Don’t worry I didn’t mention the brain eating part – or at least I don’t think I did? Well the way I remember it – and for me how I remember things IS what happened – in passing I just whispered “I love you” and that wasn’t weird at all.

“If you have a milkshake, and I have a milkshake, and I have a straw.

I’ll  lean across the room and eat that pixie brain, I’ll eat it right up!”

Needles to say as I pitter-pattered along the cobblestone lane homeward, I was left wondering “so who bought that tomato ketchup picture – and where did they hang it?”

Stephen Webster jewelry is located at 202 North Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, CA, 90210 To learn more about Stephen visit The “Room Editions” exhibition will continue through Sunday, September 18th.

To learn more about Patrick visit, to preview or purchase “Polaroid Hotel” go to

Trixie Get’s Night-clubbed at Voyeur!

By Trixie Label for LA2DAY.COM JUL 6, 2011

I have no bid-ness in a nightclub, but I am Trixie and as the tagline proclaims “I am here in L.A. – so you don’t have to be!’ Last week I promised that I would go to club Voyeur and attempt to get my kitty punched – I lied.

For those less imaginative amongst you, that doesn’t involve slapping a kitten. There was a time all it took was my doe-eyed glance and the simple words “You are beautiful” to pick-up. You know I accosted a YSL model that way once in 2001? However it’s 2011 and men and sex, takes a lot more effort than I’m willing to muster. Somewhere along the way I became less Daisy Does Dallas and more Liz Lemon Likes to Lie In. Basically I rather have cake than c*#k. So the other night I went out with a bunch of British broads to see what (if any) Mojo I had left. Where better to test this then L.A.s latest nightlife offering from David Koral and Matt Bendick. Some names have been changed to protect the despondent, but the club remains the same – I give you Voyeurrrrrr! The broads, Miss H, Dread-Y and M.I.A clone whose names have relevance to only me and make me feel like I’m in a band, so we’re going to stick with them for the duration. Thanks to Miss H’s apartment associate (roomie), we were able to forgo the usual velvet rope scenario. The one where a Lindsay Lohanalike stands on guard with a protective Samoan, making her melodramatic decision as if it were Sophie’s Choice.

Praise Jesus that was not the case at Voyeur!
Considering sex kittens Justin Timberlake, Chris Pine and Drake have been spotted here, the door was very relaxed. Or maybe it just seemed that way because I didn’t wait in line, it’s hard to gauge after half a bottle of Pinot. Immediately we were greeted with the main theme of the club, 6,000- SQUARE- FEET of SEX!Lovely ladies clambered in S&M gear on stage, masked heroines balanced on glass cases and topless dancers dangled from ceiling nets. Two dancers were enjoying each other to such a degree, I was convinced they were in a long term relationship. Chesterfields, chandeliers and cha chas, just a few drag queens short of club heaven! Now I’m not a fag-hag (I prefer the term homosexual supporter) but this was one area the club was severely lacking. Club queens would have added to the already exquisite design architecture. Where modern mingled with old-fashion erotica and filmstrips from 1920’s soft porn effortlessly morphed into decorative wallpaper. As I tip-toed through the spiked lighting and leathered drapery I wondered, is it easier to find a baby-man at a club who’s theme is sex?
Once the drink tickets arrived I decided to investigate, fueled with the fake bravado of Tony the handsome barkeep’s damn strong Margaritas. This lasted all of 10 minutes, as dancing in 4-inch wedges makes Trixie’s ankles swell. I found the perfect spot at the bar (shocker) where I could peruse Voyeur’s signature cocktail list. They had Jalapeno, blueberry mint or cucumber olive shots, organic and sugar free offerings, for both the adventurous and the healthy drunk. In the distance my all girl band continued to stomp the dance floor like it was a gang initiation. Three margaritas later I thought I should lean here FOREVER! Tony’s brilliant! In fact after a particularly lecherous Slovak wouldn’t take the hint I told him Tony was my brother. Due in part to the fact that Tony looks a bit like Bradley Cooper and I’m black, the Slovakian promptly cursed me and stormed off. That’s when I spotted a baby-man. “Why Trixie, who was he?” you inquire. Well first and foremost he looked 18, which never fails to gain my interest. I had stumbled upon Whitey McWhite-White, the king of “preppies”. However his Chord Overstreet sized lips overshadowed his overt caucasianess. Very abruptly, I came to the conclusion that a swimsuit – although a fashion-forward silhouette under lace – is a bit of a problem when you need to pee. After the awkward ladies room visit, I decided I had imagined the boy, the lips and couldn’t quite remember who I came with, or how I got in. One thing I did know, my bartenders name was Tony!
Voyeur started to melt into a menagerie of skin, boobies, eyes-wide-shut capes and performance bondage. With large Somoans’, older gentleman, models, baby-mens, preppies and Slovakians. Did Baz Lurhman design this place, oh no that was Mark Zeff. More importantly, how long can I watch these dancers scissoring before I start to feel a bit weird? As the smoke parted the “preppie” emerged telling tawdry tales of my Welsh gypsy DNA ancestry. This is when I completely lost the plot. I was drunk, I was lost and now as far as Voyeur clientele was concerned – I was a gypsy . It turned out my new found “preppie” bffn (best friend for the night) was a male nurse. So I wallowed in his comforting glow and pondered the evening’s events. In the smoking patio at 1.30 am, with my large-lipped, fresh-faced bffn, I didn’t as much want to jump his bones as curl up with him in the fetal position. Maybe even burp him? Not because Voyeur doesn’t lend itself to lovin’ (as evident by some of the couples in the smoking section) but because it was me. Who cares if I can, or can’t still pick up males blessed by the cheekbone fairy?
Me, my Mojo and my handles of love have no place in one of the hottest spots in Hollywood. However if you want to dance your socks off, savor fine cocktails, hook up with the pretty people and watch a bit of a show, I highly recommend it. For the Liz Lemon’s of the world, like myself, you KNOW you shouldn’t be in ANY nightclub in L.A. Though I must admit, the night nurse’s kiss goodbye was well worth a few Slovakian curses. Looks like Trixie wants a snuggle bunny, not a punched kitty after all. One things for sure, the next time I go out at night I’m leaving my swimsuit at home!
Voyeur is located at 7969 (that can’t be a coincidence)Santa Monica Blvd, open Thursday through Saturday. Reservations for dinner or bottle service are recommended.


Who Is Trixie Label?

By Falene Nurse 

Trixie Label‘s impromptu arrival to America was purely accidental. As a Cruise Ship worker in the early 90s/mid 2000s, she was left behind after a weekend hiatus at a Miami port went terribly wrong.

Wondering the Lincoln Road Market she found Vintage aficionado Ann “Je La” Wendy-Darling (a vintage clothes icon in Britain) who was in dire need of assistance. Her strict hiring policy was solely based on how you envisioned yourself as a candy bar, Trixie without hesitation replied “a Twinky” and was hired on the spot. Soon after Trixie joined The Wendy Darling family, a collective of herself, Ann, 7 beautiful homosexual artists and an Israeli DJ. These were good times, so good in fact that both Trixie and Mrs. Wendy Darling forgot that neither of them were actually legal.

Ann “Je La” Wendy-Darling

After Wendy-Darling’s deportation, “the family disbanded” and Trixie hightailed it to the West Coast. She was discovered squatting in the LA2DAY offices by a prominent British staff member — and the rest is history.

Trixie – Out on The Town

T.O.TT kids! The sometimes lecherous, always tipsy Trixie reports twice a month on art house happenings, WeHo late night dance parties and Tinseltown myths. You might even spot her returning to the LA2DAY offices (where she still resides) in the wee hours of the morning. She’s always open to posted queries and assignment suggestions, so feel free to tell her where to go.

Patrick Hoelck Gets Down With Dirtee Hollywood

by Trixie Label 

From Miami to Milan, London to Los Angeles, it was “Fashion’s Night Out”  on Thursday September the 8th. As always one of the fashionista’s epicenters RonRobinson/Fred Segal , was holding it’s own after hours soiree on Melrose Ave from 6 to 11p.m. Models, artists, musicians and more mingled amidst the cutting-edge labels, as resident host Kimora Lee Simmons  introduced L.A. designers to the fashion forward. The full schedule of events consisted of around 27 brands in total, astrologists, live music, special guest appearances, bloggers, trend setters and tarot card readings for all those willing to reveal their star signs – and true date of birth.

One of the highlights of the event was the launch of cult brand Dirtee Hollywood ‘s new line of T’s, in collaboration with celebrity photographer Patrick Hoelck . The limited editions featured intimate portraits and urban landscapes from Hoelck’s private collection, who was also on hand for signings along with southern charmer (and Dirtee Hollywood owner) David Long. Together they created quite the media frenzy early on in the proceedings, as Hoelck’s work and exhibitions have a reputation for strong support within both the Angeleno art community and entertainment industry.

Live music set the background mood, as Paper mag’s J. Everette Perrytook a closer look at the pieces on offer. Chief funkadelic officer of“Conquistador”  and L.A. performance artist Alexander M. Antebi posed for onlookers sporting an electric blue spandex unitard and handlebar mustache, while painter extraordinaire David Thomas  took in all the color and spectacle. One of “The Glee Project” winners Samuel Larsen  was both extremely handsome and genuinely friendly, as many flustered young ladies took advantage of the photo op.


Supermodel Mini Anden  looked stunning towering above the crowds, while director Alex Beh darted through the display tables like a whirling dervish. I had a witty chat with “Heroes” hottie, actor Milo Ventimiglia , who admitted he was just having dinner up the street and “it all seemed like so much fun” so he thought he’d just swing by.

So glad you did Milo – so glad you did.

“Don’t look scared my pet, Trixie’s harmless really. Now let’s discuss you living in my shoe closet over a glass of Pinot Rufio”

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