denim blues

 




Funny old thing, denim is: I go thru stages - in the winter, for some reason - where I don't feel like wearing denim. It makes me feel sad, long for warmth and sun. But then, when I'm tan.. I love worn, soft, faded denim, with tan skin.

The darker the skin, the better faded denim looks.  Which is why, I'm sure, Ashish chose Leomie Anderson (as before, 'little leomie, all grown up'), for this look. Which isn't an easy look to pull off, but it's just gorgeous against her mahogany skin, don't you think?





And while they're saying that it's all about flats this season (I've always been all about flats), let's face it: when you're wearing denim overalls, nothing else, no jewelry, nothing, pretty white kitten pumps, not too high a heel, are just the ticket.




Grey's the same, for me. I don't like grey when it's grey outside, but in sun, with a tan.. and flashes of white, and fun thick gold jewelry, like a gold choker chain I'm on a roll with.. anyway, I was putting together this post, playing around with music - wanted to find some kind of blues song to go with it, and found a nice one, Eric Clapton live playing Rob Johnson's Kind Hearted Woman Blues, which led me to thinking about Cat Stevens for some reason, Hard Headed Woman. That's a nice combination to strive for: Kind Hearted, Hard Headed.

But God knows why this showed up on youtube, on the right hand column, along with suggestions for other Blues songs: a video for making and cutting black raspberry Alaska Soap Cake. It's twelve minutes long, and the colours are the opposite of denim, or grey, nothing to do with the Blues, but so inspiring for spring. I could eat this soap cake, it's so yummy looking.

Rainy snowy spring morning, husband's back from an indoor swim - I just couldn't do it, couldn't get up and out by 8:00 a.m., go out in the cold, the thought of going into cold water, no matter how much it's heated.. just felt like hanging at home, being lazy. Wishing you all a lovely lazy day, wherever you are, and if you're singing the blues, hope it's something good.

backstage after bora

This brevity series is really fun. I'm going to take it to the next level and start being mute at social gatherings. Let's see how long THAT one lasts!

Shot at Somerset House after the Bora Aksu show, Day One, 16.09.11. But this is nothing: wait til you see the show!

best foot forward

Before I run out for Day Three (no.. Day Four!)I'm uploading and there's just so much I want to show you, so much and so little time. And that perfectionist head wants to get it just right, tell you about what it said in the press release about the theme behind the Ashish show, but there will be other Ashish posts from me, I promise. Instead of selecting my three 'best' shots, I simply closed my eyes and clicked on these three. And they all turned out to be the legs (I promise, I shot heads, too).

I know each season I think 'this is my favourite' but this time, I really think this is my favourite.' He had everyone in Doc Martins, strutting this great walk, with flowers sticking out of their boots that would fall onto the runway. So effortlessly cool.

Sometimes when there's a lot on my plate, I just try to put one foot in front of the other. Baby steps. I'll get there in the end.

we had faces then: LFW D2

Can't believe I'm sitting here in no clothes, wet hair, when Holly Fulton starts in under an hour and ten minutes! And I'm cleared for backstage.

Altho the guy at the backstage door before Jaeger, when I had the option to go backstage but I didn't dare, time wise, told me - totally deadpan - and I quote:

'It will start late.'

'You know that for a fact?'

'They always start late.'

But it's like with flight times: you just can't take that chance.

Four beautiful faces. Descriptions later. Must run. Hope you're having a lovely Sunday everyone! xoxo

tali ho!

When I first met Tali Lennox (her model name: her dad is Israeli film and record producer Uli Fruchtman, and her mom is Annie Lennox, so she goes by both), it was at a fashion week, and I took her photos and she liked them so much she used them as her facebook profile, so we became facebook friends.

I didn't know who she was, just thought she was really nice.



Now she's like, everywhere: Burberry campaign, blah blah blah, but the thing is, she's still really, really nice. Normal: a real girl's girl. The other thing about her is she is an absolute chameleon: she looks totally different all the time. So you might think you don't know her, but you do, trust me.

I saw her at Vogue's Fashion Night Out last Thursday night, at the private Juicy Couture party: she was guest DJing, along with a guy who seemed to be an actual DJ. (I have just been informed by Elise @Juicy Couture: that regular DJ was Johnny Borrell, lead singer of Razorlight. KICKING MYSELF for being such an idiot, ignoring him, not taking his photo, and so on, but I was too busy chatting with Tali).







'Do you have to learn how to do this?' I asked. 'Not really,', said Tali, as she kind of wiggled the thingys on the board around, to show me how easy it is. Not rocket science, clearly.






Champagne and killer Cornish frozen yogurt in rose or elderflower, by HedgeRow: as Sabine said, those Juicy girls really know how to throw a party.

holly go lightly

I don't know whether it's the sunshine here in London, or the flowers (this is the most sudden gorgeous spring, it is KILLING ME with gorgeousness) or maybe it's just time passing since recent current global events, but I'm suddenly getting into fashion again. I don't mean I'm IN fashion again (I never was) but I'm INTO it. Oh, never mind. Hopefully you know what I mean. I'm just really excited about my clothes again: wearing bare legs and little socks with flat shoes and little sixties dresses, and the idea of killer heels with bare legs.. just love love love it.



Last night we were watching Zen on DVD (thank God for LoveFilm) and on the bit on the making of the series, Rufus Sewell was talking about his style influences: Cary Grant, North by Northwest, sixties romps, and I started watching Breakfast at Tiffanys. Thinking about how Truman Capote wrote the Holly Golightly character for his sad tragic friend Marilyn Monroe, and how differently the character became when inhabited by Audrey Hepburn.



Which got me started thinking, before I went to sleep last night, about that difference between the Good Girl type (i.e. Hepburn) - the ladylike female - and the naughty, sexy type: the Elizabeth Taylors, the Marilyn Monroes. And then this morning in the Sunday Times Style Section - I wish I could link it for you but I can't- the brilliant Shane Watson wrote her piece on the BGD (Bad Girl's Dress) 'otherwise known as the pulling dress'. She used the see thru number Kate Middleton - our future Queen - wore when she caught Prince Charming's eye. And how the same dress on a different woman might look, uh.. a bit slutty. And how some women can wear anything and make it look like a BGD.



So here, for your viewing pleasure, some of my shots from Holly Fulton's recent A/W 2011 show at Somerset House. Just like I wish I could show you the article, I wish I could show you every shot I took, but that would be a bit obnoxious. So just a few here, a few more tomorrow.. maybe a bit of street style after that, then back to more Holly.. you don't mind, do you?



Hope everyone had a gorgeous weekend. We had a blissful day in the park. There's something about spring that makes me want to cry. All those little yellow daffodils. All the cherry blossoms.

don't you know who i am

On Day Two of LFW, I was running to the loo, camera in hand, when I saw a nice shot of a girl sitting (crossed legged, actually) with two older women. I was about to take it - just off the cuff - when the more Alpha Female of the group moved ever so slightly to block the shot.

That caught my attention. It was so subtle, but didn't seem like an accident. So I asked the girl, politely, if I could take her photo. Alpha Female said she'd rather not. It all seemed a bit.. weird. Alpha Female didn't seem like her mum - she just didn't seem a mumsy type - and I realised the girl must be a model. But models, even big models, don't normally have minders. I mean, sometimes they do, but normally they're just running - late for something - alone or with other model friends.

Sorry, said I. I didn't mean to.. 'It's just, her hair, you see.' (No, actually, I didn't. And besides, like I started out saying, I REALLY HAD TO GET TO THE LOO.)



But the girl took charge of the situation and smiled at me and said, it's fine. I guess there was nothing Alpha Female could do about it, apart from smash my camera. So I took two quick shots and as I was running off (crossed legged, I might add) I asked her name. Alpha Female glared at me with a look that clearly said 'You idiot, you want to take her photo and YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO SHE IS?

The girl herself told me her name. Just a first name. That clearly was enough to go on. I must have written it down somewhere because a day or so later I did google 'model, famous. Xxxxxx', and turns out she is hugely famous. But now I can't for the life of me remember who she is.

Help! SOMEONE out there must know. Anonymous? I'm counting on You.

. . . .

NOT BAD: less than half an hour later, thank you AG! It's Imogen Morris Clarke, model and 'IT girl of the moment'. Now it's all coming back. And she's absolutely lovely, I might add. Deserving of any success that rolls her way.

Hope success is rolling your way today, too, Dudettes.

i know just how she feels

Backstage at Kinder Aggugini's AMAZING show.. was that only last night? Feels like years ago. I can't wait to show you the photos, from where I sat it's quite different than the end of the catwalk shots. I am seeing such incredible shows.

I'm so excited to show you all these images I've been gathering - like beautiful memories. It's like this gift I know I have for you but I can't give it to you yet because I'm SO FREAKING TIRED. We all are. I mean, there are some people who are just hanging out, watching, enjoying this amazing week in the miraculous warm sunshine, but among my blog-friends.. we were in the press room today @ tea time and they brought out free scones, gorgeous cheese, fruit, quince jelly, and Jennifer East and I were scoffing it down and Shini and Kit were just so tired they weren't hungry. It's like jet lag: things like hunger hit at the strangest hour. I had 'dinner at midnight: cookies and corn chips and apples and cheese and chocolate. While uploading photos.

But all that's NOTHING compared to how these girls must feel.

being julia

This is Julia Restoin Roitfeld, the 29 year old daughter of Carine, editor of Paris Vogue. I ended up a sitting between her and Olivia Palermo yesterday at the Topshop Unique show. By accident.


Granted, I was sitting on the floor. And I was invited to the show, held this year in old Eurostar part of Waterloo Station. But as this year I have the special photographers' pass this year, I thought I'd try to be one of the guys in the pit: I'm entitled, after all. There were actually some girls there, too, especially a tiny cute one with a tripod but no camera. These bodyguard type guys in blue ties were being great about reigning us into area behind tape, and one pointed out that the fence we were leaning on wasn't secure (the train tracks were 10 inches past the fence). Then he announced that the little girl with the tripod was the only one with the 'Topshop camera', and to clear her view of the show. And I was basically standing in front of her: if I moved the way I tend to during shows, the Topshop streaming would consist of a big hot pink blurry torso that was me.



So I asked someone in charge, politely, if I could sit in the aisle and pointed to the first space. She was lovely and said sure.

Then it turned out that I was sitting between the front row seats with Olivia Palermo to my right, and Julia to my left (more about the sweet Olivia who I met last February in a future post: I got some great shots of her, too, but this is Julia's post, and it's taking forever to tell this story as it is). It was surreal, yet normal, to see them politely greet each other and chat: 'Where are you going after this?' 'Paris'. Of course.





The show was fabulous, by the way. Lots of ethereal seventies influences, fabulous shoes and hair: really gorgeous setting, fun retro music that I was actually singing along to. I'll post more shots next time, promise.



These are Julia's hands: so graceful and well groomed. I watched her clap and in the midst of all that was going on, thought about the Zen line.. something about one hand clapping.




My father used to say, we don't choose our families. I was very lucky with mine: in our own way, in our town, we were held in high esteem as a family, and we understood the responsibilities, and the privileges, that come with that. We don't choose the situations we are born into.

Or, perhaps we do. The Hindus say we do. Feel we're here on this earth, with our own set of challenges, and our family and place of origin of course informs those challenges. Today I saw firsthand what it must like to be someone like Julia.








Don't get me wrong: I'm sure she loves her life. When I asked to take her photo after, she was sweet and polite and patiently waited while I tried to figure my own camera out: I forgotten to turn it on. She's clearly a happy, well brought up girl. It just started me thinking, waiting quietly for the show to start, that someone like Julia Restoin Roitfeld's life is no easier, or harder, or happier, or sadder, than the girl serving the champagne, say, or the girl with the camera in the photographers' pit, or the girl running around in a maxi with a walkie talkie device in her head.

It's just different, that's all.



I left her - and Nicola, and Lilly, and Olivia - as they were being swallowed up by the circus, and went outside, into the sunshine.

p.s. All photos are mine: if you'd like to use them, please ask me first. Thank you.

street stalker: first shearling aviator jacket sighting

As Ellie Jane said: they're here. The aviators have landed.

It happened last week: actually come to think of it, the same day as Vogue's Fashion Night Out, and the day I got caught in the rain (see previous post). I was coming out of the tube and you know those really loooooong escalators? This girl was on them but it was really crowded. I started thinking, Jill, this is getting nuts. Maybe it's time you give this street style business a rest.

But, Reader: I couldn't help myself. I was running up the escalator like Matt Damon in The Bourne Identity, the music playing really loud in my head, heart pounding.. innocent bystanders getting knocked down right and left, while I'm pulling my camera from my bag, shooting as I go.

She did eventually give me the slip so I don't know if she purchased it (or, where) or if she borrowed it from her brother, boyfriend, father, or a genuine aviator. But the point is, they're here.

Predictions: London Fashion Week. What percentage do you think will be wearing one?

three little birds

Yesterday when I was on the street in Knightsbridge, I had to pee and went into Starbucks. There was a little queue for the downstairs loo so went upstairs, where there was a notice that it was broken, sorry, and to try the one downstairs. After a while I gave up and went to Wasabi, where I had lovely sushi, but while I was queuing at Starbucks, Bob Marley was singing: Three Little Birds. And it's been playing in my head ever since.






Just spoke with the delightful Will at the British Fashion Council and he confirmed: it's not too late. It really is a more the merrier thing. Just go to the LFW site, click on REGISTER, apply for a press pass here. Don't be put off by the need for accreditation, the LINK TO WEBSITE is your own blog. He said there's even a special blogger's press pass with a bloggers' bar.. you really are welcome. I know everyone got a bit freaked about the Tavigate thing, and a few snide pieces by a few disgruntled old hacks but really, long as we don't eat ALL the free pastries - hell, even if we DO end up eating all the free pastries.. your collective passion, your enthusiasm, your time and professionalism and energy, are really an important part of the industry.

Really, what are you waiting for, a written invitation? : )



Some more street shots from yesterday. I was really into the self portrait thing. Everywhere I went, I kept seeing me, me, me.



Oh and something else Will said: I know the first time, I didn't quite trust that I was actually registered. But you'll be amazed when you get there, it's really easy. Just bring some ID. If you've got any kind of business cards, that's great to have in general especially if you're going to take photos of people (I get my cards printed by GOODPRINT: they're great value, quick turnaround and very user friendly).







(Oh and for what it's worth: once you're in, you won't necessarily receive a confirmation. Don't worry about that either. Just show up. And don't worry about what you're going to wear, just be comfortable. I'm including these shows to show that no matter what we wear.. well let's just say we're not going to look good at every angle. The secret to fashion week, like life in general, is to not take any of it too seriously).






Truly: don't worry about a thing. Cause every little thing's gonna be alright. You'll see.

boats against the current: my fashion forward crystal ball

'So much for your global warming', says my husband, Mr. Dot.

He was a good sport about driving to Surrey to swim at the outdoor heated pool, but when we got there, at 11:00 (having had a lovely chat with one of my closest friends, Natayla, editor of 'it's fashion week'), it was really cold. I mean, I could have done it like on Saturday, but then I paid the price on Sunday. We just turned around, went for a drive, found a BRILLIANT pub for lunch (The Old Bear, in Cobham), as good or better than the one on Saturday (called, coincidentally, The Bear - more like the New Bear, in Oxshott).




Then we drove home, sleepy as Dorothy in the Poppy Fields. We are determined, in principle, not to turn the heat on in August, so stayed alive instead via hot cups of P.G. Tips. And as I almost dozed in front of the TV, shivering under my first birthday present from the future Mr. Dot (a thick white terry robe from Abercrombie & Fitch), I stumbled on a fabulously naff British film from 1960, The Time Machine, based on an H.G. Wells story. When it got to the part where they were in the 'future' - 1966 - what got me, besides the hilarious 'special effects' as the world ended with a lot of paint and model cars and screaming, was how they envisioned the future, style wise.




I mean, it hit me: they had no concept, in 1960, of the Beatles with their little suits and ties. No Twiggy, or Courreges, or Mary Quant, no mini skirts, or Biba.. NOTHING. The people were dressed just like they were in 1960, men in suits and hats and women in shirtwaist dresses to their knees, running and screaming. Oh and of course, the obligatory man in a tin foil jumpsuit.

So I pose to you: how do you see the future, fashion wise, in 2020? Or for that matter, simply this fall?



I've been trying to console myself this week, letting go of summer and trying to look forward to fall. Pulling from my past, from the clothes I've already got, honing my style, composing combinations in my head in the same way I like to play around with foods I love. The magazines are no help: the Sunday Times Style section tell us it's Fifties - or is Eighties? And we've got the Boho (Seventies) to look forward to - which is actually backwards. Other experts tell us it's Sixties again! (Hooray. I've always loved the Sixties). I'm sure we'd be channeling the Nineties, if anyone could figure out what people actually wore that decade.

It almost makes me wonder if The Industry, this season, hasn't a clue, and is looking to us to tell us what the trends will be.



I mean, let's see, we've got lace, especially in unexpected combination with more masculine materials. And boots, we've got boots. We've got black: how new! And aviator leather jackets lined with shearling, as every designer AND high street have their version. Chris Bailey @ Burberry has already moved on to pea jackets (which I love, too) and of course, everything will be in camel, the Colour Formerly Known as Tan. (I must say, I love the 'rebranding' of a colour: when beige became nude, we somehow saw it in a new light. I've always worn tan, so calling it camel works for me! And while some insiders swear camel will feel 'new' with red, I keep remembering Natalie in camel and hot pink last fashion week, a combo I've always worn anyway, and will, in the future. Apart from shoes, I'm just wondering: is anything in the fashion world new these days?

Self portraits shot in Joshua Tree, California, before many of you were born. Rust suede jacket, my father's, which I still have, and love, and will continue to wear, shot on David, my ex's, ranch in New Mexico (he's still a friend to both of us). That black fine ribbed knit mini dress, I have no idea who made it, but I still have it.

So, how do you see the future? I keep thinking of that magnificent last paragraph in The Great Gatsby: about being ceaselessly borne back into the past. Or something like that. Ah! Here it is, in my dusty old vintage copy, with the rose pink cover:

'Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther... And one fine morning ---

So we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past.'

See you at fashion week. What are you wearing?