The Avanti, designed in 1961 by Raymond Loewy. I would wear my lobster swimsuit while I drove this around.

A pamphlet advertising the City of Lakewood — L.A.’s first planned community. Speaking of which, if you haven’t read D.J. Waldie’s Holy Land: A Suburban Memoir, then get on it. He covers this very subject.

Wish they’d had these in the gift shop. I’d look so grand in a pair of 1940 hostess pajamas designed by Addie Masters.

I would wear them while lounging in front of this 1941 sombrero textile. I mean, seriously! This is making me covet a little Spanish revival architectural number to go with.

And guess what I’d have parked in the driveway? This little 1936 Clipper courtesy of Airstream.

And when I wasn’t wearing my pajamas, I’d be wearing this little number: The 1942 “Swoon Suit” by Margaret Fellegi.

Or perhaps this two-piece dress from 1950 by Gilbert Adrian. The sort of thing that goes with some sort of citrus-and-rye cocktail.

Okay, so maybe California design wasn’t all retro cool. See Evil, Hear Evil, Speak to the FBI by Fujiye Fujikawa, c. 1942.

California Design, 1930-1965: Living in a Modern Way is on view at LACMA through June 3, 2012.

A graffiti/street art tribute to historian and Museum of Modern Art director Alfred Barr, by Daniel Feral. See it in the old Donnell Library windows across from MoMA, as part of the exhibit Pantheon, starting this Saturday.

The L.A. Times is reporting that the Museum of Contemporary Art in L.A. is in the process of working on a new logo. (You can find the old one here.) In his item, Christopher Knight describes the new design as a “post-Bauhaus/neo-Minimalist affair.” But, I gotta confess. The only thing that comes to mind when I see this is “toy company.” In fact, all of a sudden, I’m experiencing an unrequited yearning for a King Kong Barbie and a Snowtrooper Battle Pack. Perhaps the museum is considering revenue streams I hadn’t considered?

[Update, because I'm a crackhead: This isn't a new logo. It's a logo that was designed for the museum 30 years ago that they appear to have dusted off and used on a press release. Boy, did I just majorly blow it, or what?]

After the jump, a few comparisons to the logo I thought was new, but isn’t really. Sheesh.

My favorite, not only because of the uncanny resemblance, but because it belongs to the company that makes supermarket gumball machines — which is where I do all my gift shopping.

This one’s got a little more motion, but it shares the MOCA color scheme, along with the shapes.

I think the MOCA designers might want to take a cue from this one. The three-dimensionality of the objects makes this a more complex and interesting logo to admire. Overall: clean and elegant.

I’m not someone who is known for her fashion sense (my entire closet is one long, jazz-like riff on jeans and sneakers). But that doesn’t mean I can’t drool over a beautifully-constructed frock when I see one. And the American High Style exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum, dedicated to chronicling the museum’s costume holdings, offered plenty to salivate over: Christian Dior, Elsa Schiaparelli, Cristobal Balenciaga, to name but a few. Of particular interest is the extensive collection of pieces by master cutter Charles James (1906-1978), whose Diamond Evening Dress (shown after the jump), made for heiress/philanthropist Dominique De Menil, is truly a wonder to behold.

Overall, this show is a winner — beautifully and cleanly presented (unlike its sister show at the Met, which is supposed to be a hot mess). The only bummer is that the curators decided to pipe in a lite music soundtrack of operatic ahhhhhs that seem to have been taken from a Disney musical (from the part of the film where the princess wakes up). It not only made me grit my teeth, it made me want to commit random acts of violence on small animals. My advice: if you truly want to enjoy this exhibit: pack an iPod.

The show is up at the Brooklyn Museum through Aug. 1.

From left to right: frocks by Bonnie Cashin (1945), Charles James (1955), and Norman Norell (1970-71).

At rear, an organza and lace evening dress by Balenciaga (1945) and a fiery red 1952 Dior ensemble that was made for Eva Perón (though it is not known if she ever actually wore it).

Making my inner girly-girl drool: a row of Charles James gowns. His sculpted Diamond Evening Dress, from 1957, is at right.

Best in Show: Being olive-skinned, I’m no fan of beige-y shades, but this dress was just spectacular — from the cut to the creamy fabrics to the dainty black ribbon at front. And that Dominique De Menil…she had quite the bod.

A little more Charles James: His Four Leaf Clover Dress from 1953. See another version of this dress here.

A Jean Dessès evening gown from 1956, crafted with coral and gold Lurex and trimmed with mink. To the right: No capes, but fantastic sleeves, courtesy of Madame Alix Grès.

What does one wear to admire couture? Plaid pants, naturellement.

A 1959 evening gown by Marguery Bolhagen (who once served as an assistant to Charles James), made for socialite/reporter Austine Hearst, otherwise known as Mrs. Randolph Hearst. She wore it to John F. Kennedy’s inaugural ball in 1961.

Now for a little Elsa Schiaparelli. The ensemble at left is from 1938-39, while the one on the right is from 1940.

A trio of gowns (left to right), by Valentina (1938), Jessie Franklin Turner (c. 1930), and the shimmering Diamond Horseshoe evening dress by Elizabeth Hawes (1936).

Arnold Scaasi (1951) and Norman Norell (1955).

Okay, so the designers didn’t always hit it out of the park. Here we have a little couture gone Robin Hood: a 1942 design by Vera Maxwell that is all about the bloomers.

I didn’t bother with too many photos of the dresses from the Victorian era because…well, just look at her.

And the award for most flamboyant goes to… Arnold Scaasi! — for his 1983 evening ensemble made out of an entire 99-cent store’s worth of silk and taffeta flowers. The best part of this is the wall text: “This walking garden would have added a festive note to any of the many social events that Austine Hearst, the owner of the ensemble, attended.” For reals.

…the Obama/Hope poster…

…which was created by Shepard Fairey…

…who was influenced, artistically, by Constructivism…

…a movement that was born in Russia, just after the Revolution…

…which was led by Lenin, who once reportedly said, “a lie told often enough becomes the truth” — which makes Glenn Beck a…

…a card-carrying big-C Commie.

There you have it, folks. Now everybody run around like chickens with your heads cut off.

Image credits, top to bottom: Screengrab by C-M, Thomas Hawk, Strifu, Alki1, LLlyxep, Délirante bestiole, John McNab.