This year, Topshop held their Unique catwalk show in a truly spectacular space in East London. It's hard to convey the contradiction of these kind of events - I know this from my brother's world, the music world- you get this kind of 'insider' moments and then suddenly it's like a feeding frenzy - the Papps - who are just, after all, doing their job. There's something about the lightbulbs going off: it's freaky and a little scary.
I really hate flash. Even as a kid, birthday parties, it made my eyes tear, and mainly, for me it doesn't produce the kind of photographs I want to create. It's.. hard. Sandra (5 inch and up) was explaining that I need a proper kind of flash, one of those attachment thingies, or to put a card in front of it, but it was kind of dark in the space before the show started, and everything was so blurry, so I needed it (altho I love the blurs: I was more fixated on getting a shot of the girl in the red tights and possibly Christopher Kane skirt, than the celebrities). Alexa and the others were so kind about posing for flash and all, but later, after the show (and I can't WAIT to show you shots of the show - later and tomorrow) I happened to find myself in a quiet space in the entrance, and it was just Pixie and me, each texting our friends along the lines of 'where are you'? 'I'm here, where are YOU?' and I said to her:
'It must be so weird, being you. I mean, don't you just sometimes want to tell everyone to just STOP IT?'
And she glanced around to see that no one was listening and just gave me this sheepish smile of relief, and kinship, and said yes. And with that, I didn't take her photo, I simply left her alone.
For the past hour or so, I have been quietly sitting with my laptop, lost in the world of photo images. My husband saw me quietly working away and said 'Enjoy it while you can.' You might recall I was leaving for the dentist on Monday. Well when I got there turns out altho said husband was sure my appointment was for 3:25, it was really 2;25, and I had to reschedule. Yes, I'm walking back in the snow today, for 5:15.
While I'm sure no one has died from two shots of novacaine - have they? - in case this is my last post, I want it to be about Toby Jones, whose work is shown here. He lives and works in Sydney, Australia, which immediately has captured my imagination, as my musician brother has been there many times and believes I would love to live there, because of the swimming and everything.
I love the way he has taken the most ordinary household objects - a band aid, the little plastic fish that the soya sauce comes in with take away sushi - and cast them into the most unique pieces of jewellry. (And while we're at it, how DO you spell jewelry? Neither word is right).
Photographed these at the Robinson Pfeffer press day. I loved the way they presented everything on a light box: these images remind me of Man Ray photograms. Oh! And my friend Stephanie, of Style Odyssey, had just tweeted a day or so before that she believed she was a knight in a past life 'because of my obsession with chain mail'. That struck a chord with me. I remember my grandmother, Anna, from Russia - who I never met, she died right after I was born - she had the most beautiful chain mail purse, which I hope I have tucked away safely somewhere here in London. I'm fascinated with chain mail and I love this bracelet and fingerless glove.
You can buy some of Toby Jones' pieces at OKI-NI, altho much of it is sold out. Hopefully, he's in Sydney as we speak, making more. Or if you get really stuck, check with the lovely folk @ Robinson Pfeffer.
I could spend hours lost in his website: and ironically, I was going to frame all these photos in black, as I've done here - before I realised that was the design of his site.
Now off to get some more metal in my mouth. It costs extra for white fillings, so I shall be wearing my jewels in my teeth this holiday season.
It feels like ages since we did a fun little impromptu photo shoot in the rain after lunch with Jennifer, aka the Style Crusader, in Covent Garden (same day as Eskimo kiss - more on that later), but I just realised Jen's great post was only the 13th ('resurrected'), anyway she's said it all better than I could. It seems like ages since then: press days will do that to one.
Anyway: I want a snood. But I don't want to buy one. I keep thinking with all the jumpers I've amassed over the years that I can't seem to part with there must be ONE that I'm ready to take the plunge with and somehow DIY it into a snood. I always think people that do DIY are so brave. But then again, so are people who GIVE THINGS AWAY and aren't pack rats or even, like Jen is known to do, sell stuff on eBay so as to buy new stuff. If I do get the courage to make my own snood, you'll be the first to know.
Mrs. Crusader is wearing: Wearing: Cabbages & Roses jumper, Jigsaw snood, Made in the Shade leggings, Mentor wedges, and Alexander McQueen bag.
One of the lovely press events I went to this week was Jaeger, and there's more that I saw that I want to show you but this post is focused on a specific detached HOOD that I loved from the catwalk show in September. It was great to see and touch the actual stuff, and besides obviously the black, cream and camel tones that are so classic and to me, so iconically Jaeger, what I especially loved was the colours that had so inspired me this summer in the Dominican Republic ('let's do lunch') which they got so perfectly, I felt ('jaeger sings the blues'). Mustards, navy, purples, forest green, bit of jewel like ruby.. Kit got it so right yesterday (photos coming, haven't uploaded yet, lazy cow, which is because...)
Yesterday I was the only one of us not wearing a hoodie or a snood. This is a case where FASHION DOES MATTER because I popped out in my leopard coat, gloves, got everything right except the weather report. It rained. I thought I wasn't chilled but woke with that same damn sore throat. Drinking copious amounts of my homemade remedy of sliced fresh ginger root steeped in boiling water with lemon and honey.
Which leads me to the purpose of this post: at Jaeger's press day, looked around for The Hood I loved and couldn't find it. Asked Tomasina, in the Buying Department (great job or WHAT!) and she said they're only selling six this season. Six? As in less than seven, more than five? WHY??? Anyway she went and found me one and I made her pose next to the catwalk shot and doesn't she look like that Dutch painting? The Girl with the Pearl Earring?
Sabine asked a great post recently, The Cinderella Complex, which pair of shoes you'd marry. I could never commit to one pair of shoes. BUT, I'd marry this hoodie, if it would have me. (Since there are only six, my chances are slim). It's cute, flexible, durable, soft yet strong, reliable, dependable, and it would keep me safe, warm, and healthy. I could travel with it, in fact I could take it anywhere: it would be there when I needed it, yet seems really low maintenance. And, I assume, it's not cheap. Yet it's certainly cheerful. What more could one ask in a husband?
I believe that there are certain places, at certain moments in time, that have a gravitational pull, a sense of magic. Artistic souls feel drawn to these places. Florence during the early Renaissance, for example, or London in the Sixties.. Paris in the twenties and thirties, when Gerald and Sarah Murphy connected their friends Picasso with Hemmingway and the mad Fitzgeralds.
New York City goes thru waves of it. I sat with a blase young male photographer, from Canada actually, during September 2009's glorious, sunny first Somerset House London Fashion Week - the anniversary, the one that everyone still raves about - my first as well - as he pronounced to me, with disdain, that 'London is over, Berlin is the only cool city'. I haven't yet been, so I can't say, but for me, London is still pretty darn cool, and there are some moments, like last week when we - just a bunch of blog friends, of various ages, from all round world - were hanging out at the Breakfast Club in Hoxton and Kit just leaned back on the couch at the moment that I snapped her and Daniella snapped me, which she then posted ('time'). ('Jen said, of my shot, that I looked like Mick Jagger in the 70s, and you'd have to know Jen to know that's a compliment).
Just one of those moments where somehow the sum of the parts is greater than the parts. Or something like that.
During one of the days of London Fashion Week, while I was taking photos of my friends, I realised I was in the middle of a fun little shoot so started snapping them, too. I know that the taller girl in the gorgeous grey and nude leather dress is Poppy Delevingne, but I was busy shooting my friends and didn't ask who the other girl was. And now I can't get that Cyndi Lauper song out of my head. The Killers did a cover of it, but call me old fashioned: I feel the original is the best.
p.s. Well what do you know! My 'anonymous' source came thru in a matter of hours. First Almina tipped me off that she's done some modelling for ASOS. Then Anonymous filled in the missing puzzle piece: they are, indeed, sisters! I just think it's so cute to see a sister, who model, shooting her younger sister, who also models (both for Storm btw) at fashion week. Just being normal girls. Read all about it here on Vogue.com: Sister Act. Which is what, had I known, I've have called this post..
Before shutting down, I thought I'd finally take a look online at yesterday's Chanel show. Obviously everyone knows Chanel is the best show in the best city in the world: the icing on the cake, the grand finale of the whole fashion thing.
And obviously, I don't know what I'm talking about.
But as I carefully clicked through each shot on style.com, I viewed it as if I was back at the Earl's Court London Gala fashion student's show last spring, standing on the end of the runway in the photographer's pit. And, from that angle - imagining it was a student show, and not Lagerfeld - I found the whole collection all over the shop. I mean, these two are the closest to a similar theme.. It looked like some kind of weird parody of Chanel clothes. Unlike what Coco was known for: making clothes that made women beautiful, instead I was watching the most beautiful women in the industry, looking.. not so hot. In my humble opinion.
Maybe I'm totally wrong. I must be. Yes granted I liked the little tweed suits with hot pants, that's cute. And it must have been incredible to see this show, with the shrubbery laid out like Versailles (were the bushes really black?). The whole theatre of catwalk shows, whatever music was playing, the buzz and energy of all these beautiful, famous, powerful people.. there is no question, for me, having just come off an intense round of excellent shows in London, that currently, the catwalk, as theatre, is channelling (sorry!) some kind of cross between the best rock concerts of the sixties, or the height of opera in previous centuries.. but just looking through those photos, silently, as photographs.. sorry mate, wasn't doing it for me.
I had planned to do a post about how excited I was, and pick my favourite outfits. I do like the white dress, above left, but I saw so many shows I preferred right here in London - by designers I haven't even yet shown you. And while the model with his real son are both cute as a button, well let's just say I wouldn't want my husband going out in that outfit.
Maybe it's one of those 'you had to be there' situations. God knows, I wasn't. And with this attitude, I'm unlikely to be any time in the near future.
(Thank you to style.com for letting me steal your photos. Thank you to YOU, dear Reader, for letting me rant. And PRET, I do agree: Ines's return IS a big thing! ; )
LFW: Day 5. Who is this model? It's like a give-away contest but there's no prize. Just the satisfaction of being right, and knowing that, in so many ways, you are smarter than me.
. . .
And the winner is... Anonymous! My wise old Anonymous! Apparently it's her friend Tali Lennox. Thank you Anonymous!! Once again ; )
Hang on... she's Annie Lennox's daughter!!?? Funny old world.
Okay, it's time for the Olivia story. I know it's going to be so stupid and anti-climatic: it was just at the time I did the Julia post ('being Julia'). It was all at the same event, Day Two (Saturday), at the Topshop Unique show at Waterloo Station, and there were just so many photos and stories from that day I said I'd tell you the Olivia story another time and then I just got so busy... and I just can't tell anything simply, but I'll try.
Last February, I met and photographed Olivia Palermo ('deer in the headlights') but I didn't know who she was. (I'm always meeting famous people that I often don't know are famous: one of these days remind me to tell you the Hugh Grant story). The City was already on one of the channels here but it wasn't in our listings.. I eventually started watching the show and I saw what people meant about her character but frankly, I didn't think she was bitchy. Maybe it's because I met her and liked her so I"m biased, or maybe it's because that other one - the big blonde - the one who's actually supposed to be nice.. but I don't think she is. I think she's kind of manipulative by playing the victim. But that's just me. I haven't watched the show much, frankly.
Anyway, because of the strange situation I found myself in (as explained in the Julia story) I found myself just kind of hanging around because I hadn't gone to the little party that Shini had gone to (I had a ticket, I just had gone straight to the photo pit) so I'm just standing around, waiting for it to start, taking photos of people, shoes...
... watching Olivia talk to the famous Telegraph fashion journalist, Hillary Alexander (that's another story)..
and finally I introduced myself again, said we met last February.
She seemed really pleased to see me, seemed convincingly to have remembered me (or it could be good acting), and yet, like in February, it felt like this kind of friendly moment passed between us: like she was relieved that I wasn't treating her like a strange creature, an object to be Papp'd, and just that quick nanosecond moment of 'we're all just normal people' before she got swept into more photos, more taped interviews..
..then the show began, and I'm sitting there next to her (separated by one person)..
.. with a view of her hands on my right, like Julia's was on my left..
..more shots of the show, and then after, I was talking with Julia and left Olivia to the hoards and masses, and that was it, really. Then back outside to the craziness of shooting civilians and models with Shini and the other photographers (and yes, that's another post, or two, or seven).
Not really much of a story, is it? I mean, hardly worth spinning you along this long, and I apologise.
Okay, so this is where the story starts veering into Implausibility Land: my lovely friend Natayla (editor of the online fashion magazine Its Fashion Week) asked me what the 'Olivia' story was. I said I'd tell her when I saw her, it was no big deal. Meanwhile we're both running round to different shows, trying to find each other.. at one point (and this is all within like 48 hours) she ends up in Kurt Geiger, and who should she see alone in the shop with no one around apart from what seemed to be a 'minder', but.. Olivia herself. So she introduced herself and took this shot:
Now Nat also felt that Olivia Palermo, the person, is really nice, sweet, warm. So which is it? Is she a really good actress who can play a bitch well, but in real life acts nice? Or is she THAT good an actress that she's really a bitch and just acts nice in public? Frankly, I don't think anyone's that good an actress.
Anyway, enough on the Olivia stuff. Fame is such a weird thing: there are so many lovely people I meet and shoot all the time, and they could just as easily be famous, they're just not. Yet.
I think I like this shot most of all, when Olivia Palermo, the actress, the celebrity, is simply being a human being. All these shots are unretouched and if you look closely you will see it: a spot. A teeny, tiny spot, granted, but it's there. Proof that she's just as human as you or me, after all.
One of the strange and yet flatteringly lovely aspects of blogging is that, if you stay with it and your blog takes roots and grows, people start getting in touch asking to swap links, promote their clients, etc. So the other day when I got an email from someone who started off by saying 'I'm Nina from confused.com's press office' I was like uh-huh.. she was writing to say:
"Given that LFW is on I thought you might be interested in a statistic that has come from a national survey, that we have just conducted, of 5,000 people. We wanted to find out just how confusing the UK finds fashion. Interestingly one of the stats that came from the results showed us that over half of us (53%) are worried about being inappropriately dressed at big events and as much as 67% of us are confused about the term “smart/casual”."
She went on to say if I wanted to know more about the results to drop her a line. Which I did. I was laughing my head off because it's so true! What the HELL does smart casual mean anyway? Would this dress fall in that category? It's definitely smart, and it's not black tie red carpet... yeah I'd call this frock smart casual.
Apart from that what, you may ask, does it have to do with this post? Well I was sitting there with Mr. Dot, not watching Mastermind while he was shouting out the right answers and the contestants getting them wrong, and I start looking at the shots I took at Holly Fulton's show and just thought, this is insane. I can't post every single shot but I can't decide: I love them all.
Holly's catwalk paper on the seat thingy (is it a press release? is there a term for it?) says 'the look is rooted in 1960s cruise wear reworked for the modern woman..' but I didn't expect it to blow me away like it did. I feel disloyal to my other favourite designers like Ashish and Kinder Aggugini but following swiftly in the heels of David Koma, which was amazing, this show just knocked my socks off.
Still, this post is made up of six shots I took within seconds, of the same dress. At this rate, I'm going to have to start a blog and call it The Holly Fulton Catwalk S/S 2011 Blog. I mean, I am THAT wishy washy right now. Does that make me confused?
As I asked Nina, what is the difference between confusion and indecision? Because it seems to me confused means you need more information from someone else where as indecision is.. well, indecision. In any case - how cool is this - she's not asking me to promote anything, but she did tell me about a website they've built called 'confused nation' - a 'a one stop shop where people get support in dealing with confusion around a number of different topics' which will even have a 'leading psychologist' with a Dr. before his name, which will be an on-going site to help people deal with 'decision crises'.
I wonder if that applies to editing photographs.
Oh! I love this one:
"The most confused person in Britain is likely to be a 17 year old girl living in Cardiff, whereas the least confused person is likely to be a 60 year old man living in Edinburgh." You may think I'm sad to find this fascinating on a Friday night but hey- I've just come off fashion week and this is my way of relaxing.
And as Holly's handbags said on the catwalk: HOLLY SAYS RELAX. I've got some great shots of a model wearing a bag spelling it out in sequins but I don't dare go there. Tomorrow, maybe. But we've still got the Olivia post to contend with.
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.
George Craig, from One Night Only, sang at the Burberry shop last night for Vogue's Fashion Night Out in London:
I love the way this happy celebration of fashion, of life - any excuse for a party - is travelling round the world. It's struck me that simultaneously the Jewish New Year is coinciding this year with Ramadan (so my Egyptian friend Natayla tells me) and I love the way this idea of Vogue's is travelling round the world, not all on the same night, but night after night. Ana just told me it's in Madrid tonight. Again, I want to stress: these events are open to EVERYONE. Some parties, like the Armani one, or Prada, were invitation only, but surprisingly many are open to the public. So if you have one coming up in your city, don't assume you can't go just cause no one sent you a written invitation.
If you do go: please take photos! Or if you've already gone and have some, please email (compress the jpg first if you can) to jill@haybooks.com. I'll do a little global post and link to your blog if you'd like.
Happy New Year, whatever your faith. Every day is New Year's Day, in a way. Every day is a chance to begin again. In love, in life.
Back when I lived in NY, I used to share a studio (separate from my apartment), an entire loft floor in Chelsea, with five other artists, all guys, mostly named Bill. So they all went by their surnames. Patrick Demarchelier was upstairs: we'd often hear the crashing sound of what we could only assume were supermodels flying thru the air and landing with a thud. McGuire, one of the Bills, had his Three Point Theory to get thru life:
1. Don't panic. 2. There are always other options. 3. Ha!!! Forgot number three. But the first two usually get me by in life. Or have, so far.
Yesterday, at the pool, I deliberately didn't bring my camera, (wanted a day off), and all I saw everywhere was polka dots. On the towels. On grown women's bikinis. On children's swimsuits. Even, driving home thru Barnes, on a beautiful blonde mother and her three daughters. She was wearing a red polka dot sundress, they were all in polka dots.
It was like a sign.
Thank you for your lovely comments. It looks like the bank stuff will be sorted out, and we're having a great weekend. We're pretty resilient, Mr. Dot and I. Like supermodels, we always land on our feet.
Ashanti of Adorngirl wrote a brilliant comment about faith, followed by a lovely story by The Photodiarist (comments on 'you've got to have friends'). But yesterday we went to the pool outside town and had a glorious day, surrounded by happy friendly people, living their lives. I swam and I swam some more. And today, although the weather could go either way, we're going back.
What what will I be wearing? My favourite, itsy bitsy, turquoise polka dot bikini. Of course. Last season, Itzhak Mizrahi for Target, which my beautiful, wonderful mom bought me on a visit to West Palm Beach. I wish the Paul Vance video wasn't disabled, but please click here, it's fab. Or, the original Connie Francis version:
And I want to add: our bank is Citibank, and they're brilliant. They caught it within 24 hours, possibly much sooner, and shut our account down. Hats off to them, truly.
The funny thing is, knowing that we can't use credit (i.e. debit) card but still have a good amount of cash, we're having really fun spending minimum money this weekend. So far our cash outlays have been: splitting a bbq chicken sandwich @ the pool (including coffee for me, crisps & diet Coke for Mr. Dot), under £10. One Daily Telegraph, a loaf of good Paul's bread, a bottle of wine, a dvd: about £15. The pool is free, we get direct debited for the gym club. We've got enough petrol in the car (I hope). And we've got each other, and one very, very cute cat. What more can you want in this world?
This has been a strange week: besides my seemingly healthy nephew, Anders, being rushed into surgery with a collapsed lung (thank you for your notes of concern by the way: he's home and fine now), we've also had the Summer Stolstice and something my brother still hasn't had time to explain apart from a cryptic message about a 't-square' (anyone know what he means?) and of course the trilogy of Wimbledon, Glastonbury and the World Cup occurring at the same time.
We only have one television at home. And this weekend, when England was still in the World Cup, we had a little domestic conflict: Jackson Browne was playing live at Glastonbury on BBC4, and simultaneously, USA was playing Ghana in Sun City. And Mr. Dot holds the remote. You do the math.
Every time he'd get bored with the game, he'd let me see a minute or two of Jackson, but this is how the conversation went:
Mr Dot: This music is for girls who, two years earlier, would have wanted a pony.
Polka Dot doesn't reply, so he continues, pretending to be a teenage girl: 'My parents don't understand me, but Jackson does.' (pause, no reply) You can't watch your country play in the world cup, but you can watch Jackson Browne singing children's music.
Mr. Dot wanders out of the room, as Polka Dot calls out to him: 'I bet XX (an ex) would let me watch it.' 'I bet he wouldn't', said Mr. Dot. And as he walks away, he amuses himself by singing 'Oooh, Jackson, you're so sensitive, let me tell you all about my dreams...'
And you know what? He's probably right. Mr. Ex is now married and has kids and lives in Connecticutt. There was a time when he wasn't going to sell out to The Man, and now he IS The Man. Times change, we grow up. We forget that we wanted the pony, and instead, we want pony skin Louboutins. But I'll tell you this much: Jackson Browne hasn't changed a bit. He's still fit and cute as ever. (I know who he reminds me of: Jesus! : )
I mean, can you beat these lyrics: 'Everyone's trying to wait for the one who can give them the answers, and lead them back to the place in the warmth of the sun... where he'll come along, and hold out that strong, but gentle father's hand..' or what about 'I'm not trying to tell you that I've seen the plan, turn and walk away if you think I am, but don't think too badly about one left holding sand. He's just another dreamer dreaming of everyman.'
I was talking last night with my friend Lisa, in NY (the ORIGINAL Polka Dot: back in the days before God invented Blogs, she and I used to email daily: our email titles were hilarious, it will make a brillaint book one day). She was wondering why her Mr. Wonderful (that was the title of her email) wasn't acting so wonderful, hence the call. He had seemed all sensitive and understanding, and was suddenly being.. not so much. It's always a question of balance, isn't it? We're drawn to the bad boys, then are surprised when they act like bad boys. I wonder if even Jackson Browne has days when he's not Mr. Wonderful.
This version doesn't show how totally cute he was (and still is), but it's the original version, with my favourite all time album cover, an homage to Magritte:
I mean, is anyone today writing lyrics that beat this? 'I saw you thru the laughter and the noise, you were talking to the soldiers and the boys, while they scuffled thru your weary smiles I thought of all the empty miles, and the years that I spent looking for your eyes..'
After all, isn't that all anyone, in the end, wants? To be truly seen?
Photos of me, last week, outside the V&A, shot by my sweet friend Little Claire, visiting from Chicago. Top by Topshop, shorts, H&M, shoes, god knows, they're ancient (possibly Barneys NY?), ankle socks, menswear dept Marks & Sparks. Sunglasses: RayBans. Vintage, i.e., I bought them right around the time I was listening to Jackson Browne.
'You go and pack your sorrow, the trash man comes tomorrow, leave it at the curb, and we'll just float away.'
RoadTrip23 is the natural evolution from StreetStyle London, which is still here, and has been since 2009. Because there's more to the world than fashion, and there's more to the world than London. Lovely as London is.
I'll still be posting street style, if something really grabs me, but have expanded into other areas of interest, primarily travel, the arts, culture. Whatever I feel is beautiful or interesting: either man made, or a natural wonder.
Posts
