Mo Lappin, the designer behind Howlpop, lives and works in a big loft space one rickety flight up from Franklin Avenue. A San Franciscan until 2001, she’d never been to New Orleans, but she was hearing good things so she packed up and went. Her clothes perfectly embody the spirit and traditions of New Orleans, where fashion and costumes meet. At her occasional bad-ass parties, the free beer flows thanks to a connection at a big brewery…
How has New Orleans influenced your work?
Mo: It opened up my ideas about fashion. I’d never made costumes before. It’s fun and liberating. I can make whatever comes into my mind. In SF I never actually made my own pieces. I designed and then somebody else did the actual sewing. After moving here, I decided to learn to sew. I’m no seamstress. I attach things so they stay on and then it’s done. I try to put a message in my clothes. I hope people will start talking about what they’re wearing or what they see someone wearing. There’s a lot of crossover and collaboration between art forms here, too. Like if I put on a fashion show, I’ll get some local bands or DJs to provide the music.
Tell us about your new line, New Model Army?
Mo: It’s partly based on Target (a budget department store) advertising that a friend of mine pirated out of there when he was working there. The people in the pictures are engineered to look appealing and nonthreatening and attainable and sort of familiar. New Model Army is about mixing reality and image. I recently did this fashion show and had 18 people moving about, dressed in images of other people. It was like a surreal collage. I like to think about what images are and how and why we react to them. How you can change the response by changing the context. Like, what’s that little toddler doing in that sexy black dress? That’s weird.
What does the future look like for Howlpop?
Mo: Howlpop is made of recycled things, so the supply of raw material is endless. It’s really not necessary to ever buy anything besides groceries in the United States today. If you just have patience, everything you need will end up on your doorstep or in the garbage on the sidewalk. But I’ve started branching out. Stores in Philadelphia and New York are now carrying my designs, whereas before I was strictly local. And Ebay…I’ve been lazy about it, but it’s fun to sell a re-worked French frou-frou dress to a French girl on the web.
The last person I spoke to for this article is Jude Matthews. He’s a true New Orleanian — born and raised in the Crescent City. He’s also the lead chanter and keyboardist for local sensations Skin of the Buffalo, the it-boy around town and The Chaplain of Decatur Street. I chat with Jude in Zotz Coffeehouse, a favorite downtown spot for gossip and fuel.
Why are you called The Chaplain of Decatur Street?
Jude: One day I walked into the Spellcaster and just saw my picture on the wall with that title underneath. Quintron and Miss Pussycat never called me that. I used to go to parties there an dance like crazy all the time, and then Quintron and Miss Pussycat just came up to me and asked me to go on tour with them. They were like, We’ll pay you $200 a week and you don’t have to pay for food. That sounded like fun, so I came along. I didn’t really do anything except carry some equipment every now and then. They just thought I was fun.
How would you describe the New Orleans underground scene?
Jude: It’s very close-knit. The city is pretty small and people are good friends. I know a lot of people. New York, where I lived for a while, is big and anonymous. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here. Except maybe Tokyo.
What do you see in the future for the music scene here?
Jude: Bands are starting to get signed. World Leader Pretend got signed. And Macrosick is being scouted. And that’s good. Maybe if the labels see that there are a few good bands here they’ll come down and get them.
Cover: This article.
In the reviews: Gran Turismo 4, Napoleon Dynamite, Death From Above 1979 – She’s A Woman, I’m A Machine
On our mind: “One member (who declined to be named) even spoke of the zoo as ‘basically a giant dating service, with the tapirs frequently acting as middlemen.” – Arran Henderson’s kind of mental zoo dating feature.
