It's clear to see where this wishlist derived its inspiration. Summer by the seaside has been a permanent feature of my summer holidays, as it is for most people. Despite it's annual predictability, being whisked away to the ever-sun-drenched beach town of Castlegregory, Co.Kerry never ceases to instill any less than utter excitement in me. This particular wishlist is allowing me to pack my fantasy tan, leather, sticker-adorned suitcase for this year's trip, deliberately excusing my barren bank account.
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...
The tail end of Ireland's winter weather (characterised by that delectable stretch in the evenings - the basis of many a conversation) is requiring me to abandon my trusty uniform of black and heavy layers for the looming summer months. Yes, the beginning of May plagued the country with a monsoon to rival those of India, but I know it's finally time to ditch the familiarity and reliability of chunky sweaters and jeans in favour of the less-forgiving world of bare legs, flowing materials and light colours.
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.
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.
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?
As the hoo-hah of the consecutive Fashion Weeks prevail, my religious and consistent following of it have resulted in my more "general" posts taking a backseat. This is half of the excuse for my delay in manifesting this particular post. The other half is down to the fact that the subject matter is something of a, well, controversial nature. It is a more recent debate, which has divided opinions right down the middle - the Marmite effect. And no, I'm not distributing my views on whether or not the wearing of fur should be deemed acceptable or if Marc Jacobs took things too far by permitting 14 year old models to walk in his f/w '12 show last week. No. The hot topic I am addressing in this post is the enigmatic Lizzy Grant, alias Lana Del Rey.
Over the years there have been many celebrity folk who have been filed under the "Marmite" section of the filing cabinet in the office that is pop culture. Some self-confessed, a la Lily Allen, and others, like Lana, are automatically chucked in due to the whirlwind of mixed opinions that seems to arise out of nowhere regarding them.
Lana propelled to stardom after the video for her song Video Games (a home-made video montage of herself and other miscellaneous clips soundtracked by the wounded love song) went viral on YouTube. The song continued to provide the musical accompaniment for Christopher Kane's s/s '12 show at London Fashion Week last September and now, she adorns the cover of the March 2012 issue of British Vogue. Alexandra Shulman, Vogue editor, says of Lana's acquisition of such a, to many, prestigious honour of gracing the cover: "She is probably one of the newest stars in her field that the magazine has ever had on the cover".
So why the controversy?
Like a bully in a school yard, there are bands of keyboard warriors skulking around their natural habitat (the internet) in search of new victims (in this case, Del Rey) to latch onto and devote the best of their time to trying to drag said victim down - be it to boost their, possibly critically low, self esteems or simply for their own sadistic amusement. On my own Twitter timeline, I've witnessed crude variations of the singer's name being tossed about in a carefree manner but for no reason whatsoever other than the people in question don't like her. They don't even bother specifying as to why that is. Some claim they don't like her music or the intense hype revolving around her. Fair enough, but is childish and, frankly, ridiculously nasty name-calling necessary? I don't particularly like Bucks Fizz but I wouldn't spiral off into a fury of malicious insults - partially because nobody would know who on earth I was talking about.
There is no doubt Lana is a beautiful woman - a reincarnation of the sultry, seductive pin-ups of the mid-century era who blew flirty, playful kisses from their photo on the page of a young army soldier's Playboy magazine, stuffed at the bottom of his mattress to avoid confiscation from the General. Her barrelwaves of fox tail-auburn hair that tumble loosely down her back, the sparkling sapphires behind the extravagant lashes and those lips (the lips - the Jolie-esque smackers that fuel the ongoing quest of the internet trolls to prove they are pseudo) all contribute to create this captivating, sad-eyed siren, crooning tales of heartbreak in that hauntingly endearing manner of hers.
From the point of view of style, Lana's Vogue shoot accentuates her pin-up image. A lemonade yellow sleeveless blouse and complementing collar from Louis Vuitton's impossibly girly, pretty and appropriate s/s '12 collection serve as the cover shot's ensemble. Lana's subtle, yet flashy, diamante jewellery are all her own, as are the elaborate, red-tipped talons at the ends of her fingers.
The remainder of the shoot is very feminine and I found it to be very Valentinesy which may have been the approach as this was all in the run up to V-Day (I also included this shoot in my Valentine's Day 2012 Inspiration post) - the pinks and reds that made up the basis of the shoot's colour scheme, the use of luxe textiles, clothing and decor, of satin, silk, fur and glitter, right down to the handwritten signature on the double page spread in her flirty, curvy print: "Lots of love, Lana Del Rey xxx".
The garments in question are, primarily, from the s/s '12 collections of Prada, Viktor & Rolf and Meadham Kirchhoff - overly girly, emphasising Lana's femininity and coquettish charm. Not forgetting, of course, the trademark wreath of flowers that crown her head.
Lana describes her look as a fusion of "Lolita got lost in the hood" and my personal favourite, "I live in Monaco but don't fuck with me". She insists that this image in which the world perceives her is how she naturally is - however, she doesn't see it as tangible, that she doesn't dress to fit a certain image of herself. Her ethos on clothing is that "If I'm going on television, I guess I should wear something nice, but that's as far as it goes". Interviewer and fashion editor of The Guardian, Jess Cartner-Morley observes Lana's inability to think of someone who she believes dresses exceptionally and offers Grace Kelly when pressured. She also includes her theories as to Lana's reluctance to reveal too much, and that it could relate to "the internet trolls who have it in for her".
As it would seem, the haters are the driving force for Lana's ascending success. She was chosen to supply the musical entertainment for SNL on the 18th of February (I was aghast at the vindictive tweets that are still surfacing in response to this when I scanned through her name's tagged tweets on Twitter this morning) and as an even bigger middle finger gesture to the Anti-Lana mob, Mulberry has launched a new bag, the Del Rey, in her honour.
"I love the design" Lana mused, "A perfect mix between old school Hollywood and contemporary style. It's such an honour that such a classic and prestigious brand would name a bag after me".
2012 will be the year of Lana Del Rey - whether you like it or not. The world is her oyster-studded knuckleduster.
What do you associate with spring and summer? What images does your mind conjure up, even if somewhat generic. Is it the re-emergence of pastels following their long winter hibernation stuffed at the back of our closets that never cease to lose their appeal and charm notwithstanding their predictability? Is it the sound of waves thundering against the shore filling your eardrums, the wispy, fine upper layer of sand spilling over the gaps between your toes while the heat of the sun gently toasts the back of your legs? Or is it simply being confined indoors, watching in utter dismay, as the annual monsoon of summer, overly-familiar to Ireland and the UK, pummels to the ground?
Despite this Siberian weather we've been experiencing these past few days, we are now officially inaugurating the spring/summer 2012 season.
SS 2012 campaigns and lookbooks are cropping up all over the place like the blossoming buds of baby daffodils, poking their canary petals out of their green cocoons. The homegrown image of a commonplace English (and Irish) summer's day spent at the seaside indulging in pierside cuisine, flaked out in those deckchairs passed down by your grandparents, is captured in Mulberry's season shoot starring Lindsey Wixon and Frida Gustavsson shot by Tim Walker.
The Amazonian height of the models is overshadowed by the life size monuments of beach delicacies (99 cones in the process of melting under the summer sun, shattered shards of stick-of-rock candy and the very informal container for a meal of fish and chips - newspaper) almost tower over the models. The apt location of Brighton Pier, famous for it's connotations of seaside holidays and it's equally as famous fairground delight boardwalk, provides the backdrop for the shoot.
The clothes themselves are the epitome of the warmer months; not a harsh, bold berry tone in sight! Bright, feminine, fresh was the key with this collection, light textures and and short hemlines to soak up the warmth and sunshine but the precaution of lightweight coats and jackets because you never know when the rain will decide to spew itself all over your picnic.
The colour scheming is so very appropriate - just look at those sunny yellow mackintoshes, with complenting platform sandals and Holiday Bayswater handbags. Is it just me or does the colour palette remind you of ice lollies and ice creams? The soft chocolate browns that reoccur throughout. Especially the striped colour block dress worn by both models - the similarly patterned and coloured ice lollies that you begged your mother to buy you as a child (e.g. Twister and Loop the Loop) immediately sprang to mind. And if you have no clue what I'm referring to, click here for an insight.
During the process of writing this post, I paused often to dwell on the occasional instillation of nostalgia that a mere look at the images gave me; sand in your sandwiches, collecting bucketfuls of pearlescent shells only to be distraught when told you would return home without them as they would, and I'm paraphrasing here, "stink up the car" and lounging for hours on a sandy landscape submersed in a book, pausing every now and again to listen to the buzz of people doing the exact same thing as you or the jingle of the passing ice cream van followed by hoards of people or the gulls squawking overhead.
To be quite frank, I never thought I'd see the day where "Amy Winehouse" and "haute couture" would share the same sentence, but the late Back to Black singer was the clear inspiration for Gaultier's Spring Summer 2012 collection in Camden this week.
The collection collaborated and captured Amy's style signatures and the catwalk was awash with beehived bouffants, winged eyeliner, above-lip beauty spots and the inclusion of several models indulging in a cigarette mid-strut.
Retro silhouettes and attributes, such as cinched waists, elongating pencil skirts and flaring rockabilly dresses were prominent, as were typical Winehouse staples: an array of tropical colours of which she was so fond, peek-a-boo bras, pencil skirts, hooped earrings and even a Fred Perry-esque dress all tailored to accommodate the singer's style flirtations with a manifold of past generations and urban thrift-chic.
Gaultier's own signature was brandished among the collection, merging his infamous corsets via luxurious silk, hourglasses dresses and long, billowing trench coats as a seal of self designation.
The tradition of ending a couture show with a bride was altered, and allowed each model to be transformed into a bride; donning black veils, as the barber quartet in the background chorused Winehouse's hit "Rehab" evoking the spectator's emotions.
However, the collection has resulted in a strict division in opinions between those close to Winehouse and celebrity peers. Front row onlookers, Beth Ditto and burlesque icon Dita von Teese, were collectively moved by the show while Mitch, Amy's father, has abelled the usage of Amy's image which he feels "glamorises some of the more upsetting times of her life" and is in "bad taste". Kelly Osborne, a close friend to Winehouse, took to Twitter to voice her opposition to the collection, declaring Gaultier as "lucratively selfish and distasteful".
Despite this, the clothing has shown a much more wearable side to haute couture - a turquoise sequined pencil skirt isn't too extravagantly out of the blue, now is it? And due to it's controversy and mixed opinions, has effectuated a talking point - is that not the overall aim of a designer? To have their creations on the lips of the world, whether it be in a negative or positive light.
What do you think? Do you feel "No, no, no!" (I couldn't resist) that Gaultier gone too far and "stolen" Amy's look for his own personal gain? Or do you feel his tribute was saturated with nothing but affection, celebrating the life of a musical and style icon?
Natalia Vodianova is the model of choice, representing Stella McCartney's Spring/Summer 2012 collection in McCartney's new campaign. The beautiful contrasting black and white snaps of Vodianova, who opened the complementing S/S show back last October, dressed in the unmistakable pretty paisley and quirky "dad's tie" prints are bordered by a burst of Technicolor flora and foliage that seems to be slowly swallowing the images.
Is it just me or can you hear a symphony of spring birdies singing?
Rihanna's fashion reign is showing no signs of coming to a halt. No matter where she's headed (LAX in this instance), the paparazzi posse lap behind her, eagerly snapping her up. Monochrome simplicity was the word as Rihanna strolled through the international airport after taking a well deserved break in the Bahamas following, what can only be described as, a successful as hell year.
The look consisted of a plain white tee bearing the Céline brand name complete with rolled up sleeves for added "DIY", a maxi skirt as figure flattering and light as a sarong but in a colour less "holiday" appropriate, simplistic gold jewellery, modest open toe sandals and thick rimmed glasses that look like they've been taken right off the face of Wally (from Where's Wally fame) and further shrouding his whereabouts in a cloud of mystery. The cherry on top (pardon the pun) is a pop of pillarbox red on the lips breaking the black and white theme.
The logo tshirt hails from Céline's 2012 Resort collection and would set you back $405. According to rational Sian, a tshirt is merely a tshirt and is not worth but thankfully rational Sian is not as dominant as the fashion adoring Sian who, although lacks in sufficient funding, would rather go the whole hog and wear the real deal over some knock off.
There must be a triumphant air of pride that fills you up, in knowing that what you're wearing is genuine. I often wonder, on my quotidien travels, whether or not the bags, adorned with the infamous interlocking double-C symbol of Chanel, that I see girls toting around with them, are real or simply a counterfeit souvenir from a back alley market in Spain on a random holiday.
But for now, I'll just have to sit back and drool in a state of envious lust.
Now, I like a bit of androgyny as much as the next girl or guy (delete as appropriate) but I honestly never pictured myself writing anticipating a menswear show, nay writing about one for that matter, as I had for Prada's F/W 2012 show at Milan Fashion Week the Sunday just gone. Punctual as usual, Sian.
Maybe my negligence of the men's side of the fashion spectrum has never held much significance to me as they never gain as great publicity as the womenswear shows - but this is where that one exception comes along and breaks the mold.
My Adrien Brody tag on Tumblr (I am a sad little girl with a sad little girl crush) was ablaze with news of the man himself and some of Hollywood's finest banding together to appear on Prada's MFW catwalk. Well, you can imagine my utmost excitement and if you can't, here's a very close representation.
And onto the pièce de résistance...
Even before the multitudes of models emerged, the scene was already set. A bold power combo black, red and white - the favourite colours of Hitler when it came to Nazi propaganda, propelled me back to pre WW2 times where the clothes themselves would not have been too out of place.
These strong colours remained throughout the collection's entirety; red tinted, round lensed spectacles were a staple as were decorative insignias adorning nearly every coat pockets. The polo neck (which is being forced upon the world by the fash pack at the moment) was taken under Prada's wing too, underneath a crisp white, buttoned shirt, coat collars were spiced up with fur and pinstripes and other eccentric patterns (including pistol patterns) were to be seen.
The show concluded with the eagerly awaited catwalk debut of acting greats: Willem Dafoe, Gary Oldman, Tim Roth, Jamie Bell, Emile Hirsch and Adrien Brody (so good I mentioned him twice) - some less capable of hiding their amusement than others!
A kooky take on post 1920's in my opinion and has truly made me realise how much more attention I need to pay to menswear shows.
