Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
My dream Halloween outfit, though I'd fain wear it every other day of the year - ears and all!
Loosely inspired by Hepburn and Anne Hathaway's portrayal of Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
- Tortoiseshell cat-eyed sunglasses: I'm not a Ray-Ban girl, nor do I suit Aviators. The solitary style of sunglasses I would ever dare to don are these mid-century darlings. Parfait for keeping that blinding Irish sun (yes, it actually exists) out of my eyes.
- Charlotte Olympia Kitty slippers: Myself summed up in shoe form. I feel like these are a smidgen out of place, considering a cat's disdainful attitude towards water but I couldn't resist. I much preferred the navy pair but finding a photo of them in full proved fruitless.
- Woolen Miu Miu cardigan: For those evening strolls along the beach, parallel to the brilliant orange sun dipping beneath the sea's horizon. To drape around the shoulders when it get's a little "nippy" to aptly quote my mother.
- Lanvin shell bag: Simple, compact and would effortlessly compliment any outfit. I am also a sucker for anything clam-shaped.
- Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov: It is a mortal sin to neglect toting a good book along with you on holidays. I'm determined to get the "classics" read. This, alongside The Catcher in the Rye, feature at the very top of my list. I'm open to extending my list so suggestions are more than welcome!
- Chanel Mademoiselle: Recently, I have been catching whiffs of this distinct, girly, summery scent everywhere, sending me reeling into bursts of nostalgic yearning for another bottle. No perfume compares - the same can be said about their concrete price tag. Christmas it is, so.
- Versace starfish ring: Tieing back in with the sea theme, I have been voraciously searching for a starfish ring for years only to constantly be acquainted with disappointment. Polyvore tells me that H&M does a knock off of this which I'll have to further investigate.
The deep pain in my heart caused by the realisation that none of this wishlist shall be mine is partially being soothed by the beautiful weather Met Eireann has just promised! Until the next quixotic list of wants...
Friday, May 4, 2012
Believe me, s/s 12's palpable obsession with all things sugar, spice and everything nice and irony-laced, Courtney Love-esque prom queen prim has been my favourite theme of any season since my fascination of the world of fashion engulfed me. However, like I've said before, I'm no slave to trends but my god, those powdered blues, sherbet yellows and princess-fairy pinks are enough to make my mouth water. I want nothing more than to embrace my four year old girliness with open arms.
Consider this outfit as a transitory step.
My sister's Confirmation (they grow up so fast) proved the prime event to crash test this baby. It was typically Baltic out and my legs suffered to say the least - in fact, you can see the formation of a cold-induced scowl on my face. It could be my subconscious desire to be Cecilia Lisbon, floating about in her short duration of the Virgin Suicides in her ragged, slanty-hemmed lace wedding dress, or how the innocence of white and lace together seems to suit my equally innocent nature - as I've countlessly been described as by others.
I'm not partial to dressing to the nines, I quite detest it actually. I prefer simplicity; scuffed brogues over heels, Levi's jacket over a polished blazer and daring to go au naturale. 17 years old and I embody a pre-pubescent child - I love it.
Levi's denim jacket - Vintage
Lace dress - Zara
Brogues - Office
Frilly socks - Topshop
Friday, April 13, 2012
A model's job description, since the inception of the profession some time ago, has always been someone employed to wear and display new clothes - a human coat hanger, if you will. It never mattered if they dressed as bland (or as unnervingly bizarre) prior to their induction to their occupation as the designers the walked and worked for rewarded them with complementary offerings of their work. Impossible for a model to be seen dressed atrociously when they were being styled by the crème de la crème, no?
As a result of this "auto-styling", models have fallen victims of unable-to-style-themselves-osis (awfully contagious, so I hear) and have been confined to the oh so dull off-duty uniform of standard bootleg jeans, a basic tank top and utterly unadventurous heeled footwear, à la America's Next Top Model hopefuls.
However, with the emergence of individualist models (like Charlotte Free, the new face of Forever 21 - notorious for her neo-grunge style), models the fashion world over are beginning to take the plunge and break out of this shell, rapidly becoming regulars on street-style blogs and magazine columns alongside their celebrity counterparts. Step forward, Frida Gustavsson, now a regular on the catwalk despite her 19 year old youth.
For over a year I have admired Gustavsson from the safe fortification of my laptop screen, for her unmistakable beauty and seamless assimilation to le monde du mode. But it is only after coming across this image of an off duty Gustavsson that I realise that I need to sit up and pay this girl's style as much attention as I do her aesthetic physicality.
Effortlessly killing two birds with one stone, Frida incorporates two major trends du jour in her ensemble - pastels (which, unless you have migrated to under a rock, you will know dominated the entirety of the s/s catwalks) and a punchy red lip (beauty staples at Julien MacDonald, Erdem and Dior). Frida adds signature flair by injecting a tough, boyish statement to her prim and pretty, Valentino sorbet sweater, with the inclusion of a T-Bird-esque leather jacket and a pair of jeans that scream "older brother's hand-me-downs".
Accessories are as minimal as Frida's makeup, with a burst of bright colour, namely a studded oversized fuchsia clutch the model totes everywhere with her.
The potential of a burgeoning Pink Lady spiced up with an essence of Danny Zuko.
Here's to a new addition to my interior bookmarks of style crushes.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
In order to ease myself into this post smoothly, I'm going to inaugurate with a disclaimer; I like Rihanna and if you have had a wee gander through this blog's archive, you would get that impression. Also, I do not feel that it is anyone's place to give critic on what others wear - it's not called "self expression" for nothing, right? I don't believe in these Sack the Stylist columns that crop up time and time again in magazines - let those who are without fashion sin cast the first stone and whatnot. However, with the availability of free speech, I feel the need to vent my distaste of a particular mode that is beginning to flaunt it's ugly head. This "trend" in question being the donning of a trend from head to toe.
There is no doubt that Rihanna's style has soared since her, erm, rather risque Rated R era. With Talk That Talk, her style has flirted with grunge and underground trends that, due to this affiliation with influential people like RiRi endorsing them, have sprung forth from their commonplace underground and made the transition into the mainstream.
Boy London, a 1970's punk brand founded by Stephane Raynor and a typical example of the above "underground trends", has, as of late, received this elevated status. As seen on the likes of Jessie J, Cher Lloyd and Rihanna, herself, you can only sit and ponder how long it will take for Primark to contrive a series of knockoffs. But the issue doesn't lie with the commercialisation of underground brands that would have remained, well, underground had they not have been scouted by A-list stylists. No, the real issue is when people (just like you, Rihanna) fail to remember that you can indeed have too much of a good thing.
Rihanna appeared on The Jonathan Ross Show tonight (3rd of March for those of you without a calendar or awareness of the year that is flying in), presumably to promote Talk That Talk and, coincidentally, talk that talk. Decked out entirely in Boy London, her skirt and blouse were adorned with the brand's eagle symbol and name. She topped off the look with black ankle boots and a, surprise surprise, Boy London peaked-cap with the brand name emblazoned across, inspiring many a dud joke like this one I whipped up just now: "What's black and white and Boy London all over?" Queue a badum tish, the croaking of crickets and more embarrassingly, a wandering tumbleweed. Tasteless jokes and digressing are my specialty.
Whether the "in your face" use of the brand was to ensure Rihanna didn't forget who designed her outfit if quizzed or as a bold declaration of "I'M WITH THE TRENDS, GUYS!!!!!!" she managed to get her point across. I find it incredibly tacky. On saying that, I'm going to retreat to my original statement to protect myself from any viral whiplash (and/or umbraged feedback from Rihanna's Navy devotees) - I like Rihanna, I truly do, but there is nothing stylish in overdoing something like this, a trend or any aspect of an outfit. And Rihanna is most certainly NOT the only one.
Nicki Minaj, a major culprit in this department. Again, I like Nicki but an entire getup (weave and all) in leopard print is hardly chic, or aesthetically appealing. In fact, it reeks of laziness. Rewind a good few years back to the early Noughties, the seeds of matured Mouseketeer romance blossoming in the form of matching triple-denim ensembles for His and Her. Sometimes I wonder whether this was the real reason behind Justin and Britney's bitter split and not all that "Cry Me a River" jazz. How they even wormed their way back into red carpet events is beyond me. And for the sake of his future children, I hope JT has had that rhinestone-ridden cowboy hat burned.
So, Rihanna, sometimes less really is more. Maybe the next time consider Mademoiselle Chanel's wise words the next time you feel the need to don your brand du jour from head to toe: "Always take the last item you put on, off" - and possibly the second and third too. Everything in moderation.
Friday, March 2, 2012
The hankies were whipped out for the end of an era at the Jil Sander f/w '12 show at Milan Fashion Week, showcasing the curtain call on Raf Simon's 7 year term as creative director of the fashion house. Simons redeemed the label back in 2005, when it's future appeared hazy. Simons proved successful in his appointed task of allowing the line to develop yet conserve it's original minimalistic streak. So much so, that his final show for the company earned him a standing ovation as led by Anna Wintour.
The scene was a reflection of Simons' work - simple, artistic and with a hint of femininity. The immaculate white runway bared glass-enclosed floral arrangements propped up by bases that complementing the room's feng shui, that the band of models weaved through. Sonic Youth's eerily transfixing cover of the Carpenter's 1969 hit, "Superstar", superseded by the aptly-chosen Smashing Pumpkin's "Tonight, Tonight" filled the room, demanding the crowd's emotions and reverence. The lyric "You can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth" holds relevance and determines the carefully chosen soundtrack as more than just a runway playlist.
Simon's final offering for the Jil Sander name began as it meant to go on. From the soft on-trend romantic pastel-hued pioneer ensemble to the contrasting black dresses towards the show's close, the entire collection was spot on. Not a hair out of place, not a hemline that could have been altered. Simons achieved his zenith with ease, this was not a collection that gave off the opinion of "try hard", that the creative director had given in to OCD qualities in order to get every detail just so. It was natural and believable, following in the footsteps of all of the past collections from the man who had taken the moribund label under his wing and revived it, without disregarding it's original philosophies.
Structures were soft, retained form as opposed to strident silhouettes. The boxy, male tailored coats were without any sort of fastening assests and took on framework of capes. Many of the models clutched their coats to their chests in a modest and respectful way, whether that was the intention or not. Alongside caped outerwear were dresses that glided over the model's figure, in such a manner that didn't seem to be asphyxiating the physiques nor hang off too loosely. The nude colours, materials (including silk) and unstructured shapes insinuated images of 1930's women's lingerie and nightwear. Silky nightdresses and slips that clung fittingly to the body with a sensual modesty about them. The soft materials of the coats lead me to believe that perhaps the attire of the bedroom was indeed the inspiration for this collection, a la Stella McCartney's s/s '12 pyjama luxe that is beginning to see the initial stirring of a trend following.
The harsher feedback spiralling ending to "Superstar" coincided with a similarly harsh contrast in the clothing. Black ensembles began to amalgamate and interrupt the pale, feminine colours, as would be expected from a fall/winter collection! These blacks gave way to bursts of reds and more daring colours and fabrics. PVC, leather, cable knit and metallic elements adorned dresses. Footwear was pointed and, too, included this metallic disposition. On the beauty front, low key was the word: lacquered, side-parted ponytails hung down the backs of the models with a neutral face bar a soft rose-pink lip.
The show's finale, roused up further by the climatic ending of "Tonight, Tonight", brought spectators and models, alike, to tears. Simons, who also couldn't conceal his emotions, met his much deserved standing ovation and praise with a few waves and kisses and dipped backstage again. And as I sit here rounding off this post, refreshing my memory through my profuse scrawled notes and replaying the video in it's entirety for what seems like the millionth time, I can't help but share the emotions as the audience in Milan last week, as if I was among them celebrating the work of an artist and, at the same time, mourning the end of his career with his patron.
Can someone please pass the Kleenex?