Twelve Night: Nick McDonell's Sexy Teen Thriller Twelve Comes To The Big Screen!

How exciting that they’re making a movie of Nick McDonell’s contemporary cult classic Twelve! This novel was a teen favourite and led to my discovery of Bret Easton Ellis when I learnt that the book had been compared excessively to Less Than Zero.

Twelve follows a bunch of wealthy teenagers as they prepare for a party, deciding on outfits, seeking drugs, and lining up their intended sexual encounters. Written with an incredibly fast and clipped pace, regularly featuring one paragraph chapters, the story races blindly towards an absolutely devastating and unforgettable ending. (
Read the full plot and character descriptions here)

Famously written when he was only seventeen the novel came out in 2002 to a very mixed critical reception. I didn’t stumble across it myself until a year later, in fact, I found it in a youth hostel’s otherwise empty bookcase on a Duke of Edinburgh walking expedition!

Nick McDonell (pictured in the montage above) apparently received some stick in the media at the time with accusations of nepotism, due to the fact that his parents are both big dogs in publishing and media. Also - authors aren't meant to be attractive and Nick McDonell nods towards the Romantic period almost in that he is a beautiful young writer from an overly privileged background. Orange Fiction Prize eat your mank face off. Only 25 now, the good looking author has received moderate success with two other novels since, and there’s still mileage in him yet.

Despite being post-millennial Twelve is very much a Generation X novel with every page reminiscent of that Bret Easton Ellis pace and that gritty Martin Amis obsession with materialism and American dystopia.

Where as Bret Easton Ellis’ homosexuality bleeds into most of his literature, Twelve has a much manlier Guy Ritchie-esque edge. The drug dealers in Twelve are hard-edged baby gangsters where as Bret Easton Ellis’ tend to be blond fifteen year old gays.

The film will star
Nico Tortorella who is perfect for the part considering he’s already played a supermodel in The Beautiful Life, and generally fits into that evil macho but kind of gay-candy box. Other Twelve cast members include Kiefer Sutherland (Jack in 24) Emma Roberts and Chace Crawford.

Sadly rap-star 50 Cent has been given a role, which worries me slightly.

More to come on Twelve...
Below: Nico Tortorella - the new Robert Pattinson?

Jack IS BACK: Alright?

Call off the search! Thanks for your emails guys, and no - I’m not dead, although my hair today could pass as that of a corpse. The reason the Jack of Hearts has held his silence for a couple weeks is because I’ve been absorbed in learning the ropes of a new job, and have only just set up the internet in my new flat.

Here are four observations on living in central London:

1) Constant low-level violence.
Walking across London is a contact sport. Nintendo should make a game out of it, like House of the Dead meets WWF. From falling over wheelie suitcases to being smacked in the face by a Balenciaga handbag – the streets are punctuated with belligerent luggage.
When I’m in a hurry I seem to find myself stuck behind a slow person, mumbling slowly to themselves, rummaging slowly in their bags, probably looking for some Sloe gin.

2) Song lyrics
The Soho equivalent of scholastic achievement. Nobody on Old Compton Street did a real degree but everyone knows the words to every pop song ever. Before the first trumpet toot of Madonna and JT’s irritating song 4 Minutes has even sounded, you’ll see a room full of writhing figures with bags under their eyes, all brandishing four fingers at each other’s faces. It’s their way of saying ‘Yes, I know this song, I’m a committed Madonna fan’. When really they know the lyrics because they go to Ku bar every night or they sit at home revising on YouTube.

3) Drinks prices
They’re either free, because you let somebody think they can potentially sleep with you, or, if you have integrity, drinks cost a lot of money. And Boris wonders why there’s a drugs problem? In Leeds it was roughly £2 for a pint of beer, but often half. In London it’s roughly £4 for a pint of beer, and sometimes triple.

4) Staring
On public transport the citizens of London just stare at you as if you’re a poster. The escalators travelling in the opposite direction are effectively endless lines of people staring.

Channing Tatum Naked And Armed

I just found this bizarre photo of Channing Tatum, standing naked in a pond, and armed with a gun! Does anybody know where it's from? Or how old it is? There's some small text at the bottom right corner, but I cannot read it on my phone. Probably a French gay magazine, or male fashion/style/beauty mag. I found the image on a French site.

The Step Up star is going to star in this year's The Brotherhood of the Rose. He's married to Jenna Dewan, who's also a model slash dancer slash "actor".

Desigual: Can They Pull Off Kandinsky? (and can ANYONE pull off their clothes?)

Paco Rabanne and Manalo Blahnik know how to do Spanish and do it well for a British market. Desigual are like a crass Glastonbury-chic Elmer the Elephant in a nightclub.

Have Desigual become Spain’s answer to Paul Smith? Admittedly there are some crucial differences. Firstly, Desigual are more high street than Paul Smith, despite not really appearing on any high streets outside of Spain. Secondly, Paul Smith tends to offer his customers a light and airy shopping experience where on pinstriped staircases hang signed Patti Smith LPs, covered in a generous coating of good old English dust. In contrast, Desigual stores are more reminiscent of nightclub cloakrooms, with shiny black everything and spotlights trained on specific items. Musicality is evident in all of Desigual's designs, but not in a Paul Smith Beatles-mania band way, but in a "gra-ta-ta" castanet way.

Patriotism is the first major similarity. Where as Paul Smith is generally seen to be a patriotic designer, always nodding towards Mini Coopers, Union Jacks or that classic and unbeatable stamp of Britishness – just beautiful plain boring. Desigual’s patriotism is borderline autocratic, a bit of a Franco fruitcake. They’re probably only two collections away from giving out omelette and jugs of sangria in their foyer. Desigual make Zara and Mango look like Anglophiles at the height of fashion treachery. The main tie, however, between Paul and Des is the loud shirt. The classic Paul Smith shirt with its loud reiterative patterns, and probably some distant homage being paid to Laura Ashley or perhaps the later paintings of Bridget Riley.

Fine art has always been the henchman of high fashion. Last year we saw obvious examples in Nike’s exclusive Mondrian trainers, McQueen’s obsession with Georgia O’Keefe’s skeletal fixation, and of course Harvey Nichol’s Andy Warhol t-shirt range. Desigual’s current Autumn/Winter collection practically plagiarises the Russian artist and thinker Wassily Kandinsky, as illustrated here on The Jack of Hearts. We have a shirt which at once embodies the legacy of Smith, the painting of Kandinsky and the alleged vibrancy of Spain.

Who’d have thought Westfield shopping centre could provoke such academic discussion. I’m not sure if I like Desigual yet. The word Desigual means uneven or unstable in Spanish and this neatly sums up my bearing on the store. Yes some of their stuff looks good on the rack, but would you want it hanging from your body? Who is Desigual’s target market? Who fits their imagined customer profile? Paco and Manalo know how to do Spanish and do it well for a British market. Desigual are like Glastonbury hippy chic meets Elma the Elephant.

Check out Nike's Mondrian sneakers here

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