THIS IS HOW IT USED TO BE

But now, it’s reborn. Rawer. Louder. And wholly untamed.

The Printer and Alishba

It wasn’t just a machine—it was alive. Whispering secrets in ink.

Lost in Tibet

Twisting roads, the hum of a cat-led motorcycle, and the infinite horizon.

Lost in Tibet

            The motorcycle purred beneath me, its headlight cutting through the mist. Somewhere, a cat’s eyes glowed—watching.  Alishba was ahead, always ahead.        

            We weren’t looking for enlightenment. We were looking for an escape. The roads twisted like ancient veins through the mountains, and every curve whispered:  “Turn back.”

But we couldn’t. Not with the cat leading us.        

He pointed to the back row, shadowed in neon and smoke: “You think you’re safe in the shadows? Wrong.”









     Lost Angeles Apparel 2025 - Birds of a Feather
LOST ANGELES APPAREL 2025
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
WE FOUGHT THE LAW, AND THE FABRIC TORE.

Audiobook with a totally original format, setting a new standard.

By Arik Seidenglanz.

20 years of Gonzo journalism inside American fabric manufacturing.

“Lost Angeles Apparel is not just a brand. It’s a weapon.”
“A battle hymn for the seamstresses, tailors, and radicals who dared to dream in color.”
“Music that cuts like a needle through silk, searing, unforgettable.”

© 2025 Lost Angeles Apparel. A revolution in every thread.








Lost Angeles Apparel 2025
Birds of a Feather


WE FOUGHT THE LAW.
And the fabric tore.


An Audiobook with a totally original format, setting a new standard in storytelling.
By Arik Seidenglanz.

20 years of Gonzo Journalism inside American fabric manufacturing.
A tale of defiance and creation told through the lens of a fighter-pilot hummingbird: Dov Charney.


Part memoir.
Part manifesto.
Part revolution.

It’s a story stitched with sweat and dreams, defying every thread of oppression.
A battle hymn for the seamstresses, tailors, and radicals who dared to dream in color.


“Lost Angeles Apparel is not just a brand.
It’s a weapon.”

The audiobook unfolds in cinematic chapters
a narrative woven with neon threads, roaring machines, and whispered revolutions.

Soundtrack by the Saints of Los Angeles.
Music that cuts like a needle through silk, searing, and unforgettable.


Coming 2025.
For the rebels who wear their stories as armor.
Radical Textile
Lost Angeles Apparel: Found.  

セクシュアリティは文章性。

Voici nos vies, nos rires, nos règles.

This was their America.

FREEDOM IS FABRICATED
Fabric Chaos
SEXUALITY IS TEXTUALITY
Disco Factory
RIOT ON THE COURT
Riot Court        

© 2024 Radical Textile. All Rights Reserved.

Radical Textile

Lost Angeles Apparel: Found.

セクシュアリティは文章性。

Voici nos vies, nos rires, nos règles.

This was their America.

FREEDOM IS FABRICATED
Fabric Chaos
SEXUALITY IS TEXTUALITY
Disco Factory
RIOT ON THE COURT
Radical Textile
It’s that twist of the truth, that bend in the road, where nothing’s quite what you think it should be, and everything’s off-kilter. Fast feeders? No, they’re more like the rascals who’ve thrown the rulebook out the window and then stomped on it in their mismatched boots. Picture this—half tall tale, half crime scene: Trix, those bloody little paws, Sinsotle scribbling his doom like it’s just some doodle, and Holiday—oh, Holiday—slipping through the cracks of fate like a shadow with wings. All of it? A universe, but squashed into a single, warped story. Roman Holiday, now there’s a duo that carries weight. They’re not just names, they’re legends, even in their tiny, flapping forms. And poor Trix, the cat, caught in the center, wide-eyed, dodging these forces that whirl and spin with no rules, no mercy. Roman and Holiday—those names don’t just sit pretty in the scene, they own it, like they’re king and queen of the chaos. And Trix? Oh, Trix, the silent observer, staying low and wise, keeping his paws out of the storm. And that? That’s a whole new level. Roman and Holiday turning the place into an all-out, Jedi kitten brawl, while Trix? He’s hiding, ducking behind whatever he can find—like a witness to a madcap disaster in the making. It feels like this: It’s frantic, it’s wild, like they’ve cracked open a whole new world to run at light speed, while Trix? Poor Trix is just trying to survive, eyes wide, watching the mayhem unfold. It’s like a battle, but it’s scaled down—just a cat, two birds, and an entire universe of chaos. Ti-tittitit! Tititit! Ti! Vroom! Zoom! Vrooooom! There it is—the sound of it all! A hum of speed, a screech of wings, a clatter of claws. It’s like jet engines in the air, screeching at full throttle, while Trix just watches from the shadows. You’re there in the middle of it, feeling the storm in your bones. Two birds—near sonic speed—spinning and darting, swooping and diving, like they’ve got nowhere to go but everywhere. Meanwhile, Trix? He’s just trying to dodge the wind, staying out of the way like it’s all a game of survival. Zing-zing! The madness! It’s everywhere—those birds moving like their own private whirlwinds, and all you can do is duck, scream, "Stop!" like they’re ever going to listen. No way—this is a race between forces that refuse to be touched. It’s chaos. It’s the kind of speed that makes your head spin and your heart race. And the whole time? You’re stuck in the middle, hand in the air, feeling the magic of it all, feeling the pulse of the storm, feeling like you’ve been shaken to your very core by the untamed energy of it. That’s the kind of chaos that’s alive, raw, real. It’s the kind of thing that makes you wonder how you’ll ever explain it when it’s all over.
LOVE
LOVE


sex  as a
sub
limation
of tennis

Beneath this necular silo 89a
the foot print of war left flooded with water  cemented under this tennis court  behind the VA Hospital  in the Persideo National Forest  San Francisco CA  near15th and LAKE Robert Indiana Tennis Court  Conceptual Artist: Erik Seidenglanz  
executed with the expertise of Dain Johnson  2/10 gang + Seahorse Liberation Army


e

Consulara