Minutes after shooting Goggle Dog, an hour or so after shooting a self portrait of myself reflected in Hedvig's shades, I met Victoria, my new friend and fellow graphic designer and photographer ('this is victoria'). I've seen some of her work on facebook and she's got a GREAT eye. She's just lovely.
In her own words:
"The dress was from H&M about 3 years ago. The helmet is by Bern, which i bought through cycle chic - they have a lovely little cycling shop and blog. Perhaps you've seen it? And the sun glasses, Fabris Lane. I'd like to say the bike is a Pashley, which will hopefully be my birthday present next year (if i'm good apparently!) unfortunately its not.. :(
Don't you love that name for a company? Fabris Lane. Has such a poetic ring to it. I really like Victoria, her style and overall sunniness. Can't wait to introduce her to the Cupcake Coalition.
It's a quiet overcast day, and it feels like no one is in town. My torso is driving me CRAZY from a heat rash I got on Sunday at our friends' ping pong party, held while Germany destroyed England in the World Cup. I stupidly 'treated' it with anti-itch cream, which only made it grow stronger, like the German team. So now I'm trying, as per the internet, ice packs and baby powder. Off to the cinema, but before I go, back, by popular demand: Goggle Dog!
Big shout out to C.GRAND LONDON: 1200th follower! Whoo-O!! Thank you all. xo
My friend Hedvig, in Hyde Park near the Serpentine last week. She had just bought these sunglasses but totally blanking from who. I'm sure my Anonymous Source will let me know (it's true: I have no idea who that person is, or if it's male, female, or just... God. But every time I'm stumped, someone Anonymously gives me the answer).
The same day, an hour or so later, I was outside Oriental Canteen in South Ken with Mr. Dot, waiting for take away, when we saw a guy get off his scooter and order take away, too (it's the best). His dog was dangling from his backpack: the goggles are for the wind when they ride.
We have a winner! My first give away is now officially over. Laura, of no blog, came up with the most convincing argument why she should get a pair of Etnia Barcelona spectacles (see comments, 'lit chic'). She chose Chelsea, in tortoise, which is wonderfully nerdy. Check out their wild & whimsical website. I've turned down every single give away offer so far but there was something about this one. And I get a pair, too. I can't decide: Chelsea or Amsterdam, both in tortoise, in clear glass just purely for fun? Or go for the sunglasses: Cabarete or Le Morne, each in bottom half cream, top the brown diamond pattern?
I've got to decide soon, if I want to get them in time to go on holiday to the Dominican Republic and end of Long Island!
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.'
Shot this last week @ the V&A (the same day I met up with Claire, come to think of it). Ran past this girl & got this quick shot. If that doesn't sum up how I remember the endless days hanging out with my best friend in high school. She was always so bored, always waiting for something: for summer. For summer to end. For college to start. For our lives to begin.
Now, time is speeding away so fast I can barely hold on and grab it and enjoy the ride.
I'm sure this girl was just waiting for someone, and I'm reading way too much into it.
It seems right now that everyone is either wearing all black, or all white. (The females amongst us, that is: males are going all peacock on us all of a sudden, and anything goes). All I want to wear is white white white. Oh and btw I love her sandals: bits of jewels on her feet. Which reminds me of an old Paul Simon song, Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes. For you kids out there who don't know it, click play: I really want to know if any of you love it as much as I did then, or am I just a sad old fart.
Sometimes I think, life is really weird. Here I am, in LONDON! Not just on holiday, but I live here. Married (which in itself sometimes feels weird) and my husband, Mr. Dot, is asleep while I, like a teenager, watch Muse live on BBC2, and go thru photos of my young friend Claire, who moved back to the States a few years ago.
Love this song, New Born:
Claire is such an old soul for one so young. She was just visiting (she's in Scotland this weekend with her family) and we hung out @ the V&A. Of course. And I do believe she's wearing a romper!
They're really good! (Muse). I can't imagine what it must feel like to be there now. They just did a great version of Feeling Good which was going to be the opening music to a TV series we created a few years ago (I was the writer). The Nina Simone version. For those of you too young to know who Nina Simone was, check this out:
I wonder how long it will take for someone to put up the live version of this on youtube? Meanwhile, here's the video:
Okay, this old new soul is gonna shut this laptop down. We're getting up early tomorrow to go swimming again in the countryside, then ping pong party @ friends' house in Chelsea. Hope you're having a magic summer night wherever you are.
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new world, and I'm feeling good. Oh crikey! They're playing House of the Rising Sun. Gotta go.
It's shaping up to be a beautiful Saturday, and we're off to a pool outside London - yay! - but first I have to talk about my current obsession: playsuits. When I met my lovely friend Natayla (it's fashion week), altho I'm not by nature an envious person, I just so wanted to be wearing what she was wearing. She just looked so comfy in her leopard print playsuit by H&M, the material is so silky soft.. I bought a playsuit at Topshop a few seasons back, but there's something about it that doesn't feel right: the fabric, while thin, feels.. hard. The pattern is black background with flowers in orange, turquoise and white.. it's not bad, but it's not perfect.
(I love her cat's eyes sunglasses, btw: must ask her where she got them! And sorry, Nat- she's a teeny tiny slim thing - the angle of the shot from where I was sitting gave her thunder thighs, but they're truly not)
I want a playsuit just like this: something soft, and silky and comfortable. Nat was all smiles when she was showing me how well constructed it is. I mean, if I had the right playsuit, I could re-create yesterday's shot because - guess what, Pumpkins, I tried that trick at home and I can still do splits in the air! With both legs.
So I tried late Thursday night, after Mr. Dot was asleep, to go online to H&M and perhaps, if the price was right, order Nat's playsuit. But I couldn't find my way around the attractive, fun filled site that is H&M. I don't care about the perfect beach - I already know where they are and plan to go there soon - I just want to buy a playsuit!
So I went to the source, ASOS, and found this treasure chest of jumpsuits. (Speaking of: are they playsuits? Jumpsuits? Catsuits? Can we agree on a word, guys?) And scrolling thru all 196, this is the one that screamed BUY ME:
It's not just cause it's polka dots, I swear (I really don't have a wardrobe of polka dotted clothing). I didn't even realise that til after I chose it in my head. The model's look, hair cut, styling with these boots... and, coincidentally, I swear: it's already one of the cheapest, AND on sale. I went online again last night, after he was asleep - after seeing Davina evict Jovan in a very similar number (I swear, it's all I'm noticing on the street now, it's all I want), and I snuck back online and played the game again. They even added styles: previously it was 187, now it's 196 (not too obsessed, am I?)
They say we're only as sick as our secrets, and I'm hoping if I post this, and walk out the door - in my current inferior playsuit, with swimsuit underneath - my obsession will be lifted. Granted, it's only going to leave when I finally cave and buy THIS ONE. Mini polka dots, on sale, for £36. I'm going there next Friday to take photos, maybe they'll have one in stock. (hint hint).
Which one is your perfect style? Or do playsuits leave you cold?
Enough chit chat: off to play.
. . .
p.s. (later) Your comments are all so great. I stand corrected; it's a ROMPER. And my wonderful friend Carry Somers, who has the BEST ethical Panama Hat company, Pachacuti, tweet photo'd me a shot of her today wearing an 18 year old vintage romper. To me, the perfect, definitive romper. Check it out here.
The Style Crusader's beautiful post today got me thinking: would I post a shot of myself in a swimsuit? How much of my soul (or my body) am I prepared to reveal to total strangers on the internet?
Where do you stand on the subject of self exploitation? How far would you go in the name of Art?
I remember the day this was taken: I was in NY, it was a hot summer day and I went to the roof of the building I lived in with my dad's Pentax (which I still use) and my tripod. I was wearing a pale pink scarf a friend had brought back from Paris as a gift, a black silk vintage strapless swimsuit/dress (WHERE is it? I bet it's in storage somewhere in the North of England for the past 10 years), a pair of coral cotton socks that I adored, and black lace up boots.
The thing about self portraits using film is the surprise element: you have to focus on a certain spot, jump into the shot on the timer, and hope for the best. But you don't know til the film is developed, what you look like. Ah, those were the good old days. And apart from a handful of (male) photographer friends, I didn't know one woman who was into this self style photography stuff. I'm sure they were out there, I just didn't know them.
It's hazy and overcast and feels endlessly summer out there.
This has been a freaky week: my brother blames the summer solstice, something he called the 't-square' (anyone know about it?) but hasn't elaborated because he, too, is too busy. My nephew Anders has had emergency surgery for a collapsed lung - he is very tall and thin and just graduated college, and apparently this freak condition happens more with tall thin young men. No one can remember the last time that Wimbledon, Glastonbury and the World Cup have happened all at once, and a cute American beat an even cuter French guy in tennis after playing for 9 hours straight, then another two.
Let's see... have I left anything out? What are you doing this weekend?
Good morning Sunshine! I came across these shots, taken recently, in June, but that gives you an idea where our heads were at when the sun wasn't out. Hedvig and I met for lunch at the V&A, and I admired her tee, by Acne. It's a very fine blend of cashmere and silk, and she said: if she spends more on a tee because it's better quality, she'll wear it more. If I think of the thousands of cheap tees I bought in my life.. it makes sense.
Further to my musings, I am fascinated with the way Hedvig's style evolves. She's like Picasso in some kind of wonderful, neutral nude and peach scented 'Blue period'. Variations on a theme.
In Hedvig's words: 'I'm wearing t shirt from Acne, necklace from topshop, blazer from Zara, velour leggings from a Norwegian high street brand called Bik Bok ( they sometimes do have amazing things in store and those leggings were my last year favourite), bag from Alexander Wang and shoes Acne.'
Title a reference to a funny scene in the sixties musical The Music Man. My sister would get it. Big shout out to her, her wonderful son Anders (my nephew) is in hospital so wishing him a speedy recovery.
Jen, Nat and I had infiltrated my wardrobe HQ recently (yet to upload, but when I do you'll be the first to see) and I was so excited at the idea of suggesting a product to Susannah, so I told her about these amazing bags from Dokkim. You might notice that I didn't link Dokkim, that's because they don't have a website. Yes, you've read correctly: no website.
In fact Dok Kim, which is his name, is from Korea, altho he's lived in the States a long time. And when I met him last year in Palm Beach, he didn't even have an email address. Just a printed postcard with his Palm Beach store location (he's also got a store in Nantucket, where he has a summer home), and a telephone number. So he's crossed the line and bought himself a telephone. A land line.
When I asked him how people buy his bags without a website, he said: 'My customers know where to find me'. He is absolutely lovely, so zen and serene.
And his bags are amazing. You might have noticed, I can get all excited about shoes, but I don't really post about bags. I don't get them, for starts. I can't tell what makes a particular designer bag special. I mean, I can understand some are real leather and the cheap ones aren't - the way I can tell is my cheap bags start peeling - but frankly, I prefer a cloth sack. Especially the big ones: it seems a big cruel to kill a whole cow just for little old me.
Except for these. They're made from the same materials and process as traditional tatami mats.
He makes solid leather style, too, but these leather and rattan just appeal to me. He showed me the inside: they've got all kinds of beautiful compartments. I don't know much in this crazy fashion world, but I do understand that these are well crafted. And expensive. The store is on Worth Avenue, which is like ground zero for shopping in the most WASPy white, richy rich city in America and possibly the world. So he is either very well connected, or he's selling these babies to SOMEONE. They sell for about $300- $500 USD, which isn't insane, and if I ever start earning serious money of my own, I want to buy one.
Meanwhile, by sheer coincidence, when I tried to see if anything was online about them, I found this. And coincidentally, the site is called WorthPoint. Everything's connected.
My American sisters: do you know anything about this brand?
Apologies for no post til now, Cupcakes. I've been stuck inside, mostly in bed, with a killer migraine, a result of heat (we've moaned about the weather long enough, and got our summer crammed with a vengeance into a few days). The problem is, I was out all day, didn't swim, got a bit of dehydration altho I really did drink a lot of water, plus hay fever, sinuses, and then, as a final straw, when we came in yesterday having watched England beat Slovenia at Angus's house with Hedvig, I stupidly fed Mr. Dot but not self, was staring at the screen for hours working my way thru photos, and by the time I ate, it was too late: headache city.
Still, I can't complain: I shot this model twice in one day, and I can just imagine how she felt. (This post is a compilation of both Gala shows @ Earl's Court: they did the same 90 minute show TWICE). These models alternated for the collections - the logistics must have been a nightmare - I think a total of six changes. I was exhausted just shooting, and I was standing still.
This look is exactly my Virgo Style. It is part of the collection by Nathalie Tunna from Kingston University, and I love everything she's done, but for some reason today, it feels exactly 'me'.
We Virgos tend towards the dull, the simple, and favour black, navy, beige. Of course I have a whole range of things I like to wear, and I love bright colour, especially in my sandals (see 'my hot pink plastic celebrity sandals'). And I've had my share of 'what was I thinking moments' - it still happens, like last fall when I bought a pair of black sequin leggings @ Zara because they were dirt cheap, without trying them on. They have yet to see the light of day, I tried them on and they itch and they hurt and I look like a hooker in them.
Today my friends, Stephanie (Style Odyssey), and sweet Pret, are having lunch somewhere in Florida, and I wish I was there. I met them in person last February, and they're both amazing women. S mentioned in a comment yesterday about the idea of expanding on our 'style evolution' and it got me thinking - while lying with a wet cloth on my head - about how even my choices as a young girl haven't changed that much.
This look, for example: the fabric, shape of the jacket and skirt (or are they culottes? Even better!), bare legs in summer, black tights in winter, platform sandals.. even tho I've been wearing mostly ballet pumps the past few years, I've owned a pair of sandals just like these in the 80s.
No matter what the trends are at any particular time, I try to find SOMETHING that fits my style. The 80s were pretty challenging, and I basically solved it by getting a bunch of good quality black tee mini dresses, ranging from loose to fitted: I could carry them in a bag and change at work to go clubbing. I left the safety pins and ripped stuff for the hardcore punks and skinheads, and the shoulder pads and bubble skirts for the Sloaneys and Preppies, and somehow made it thru the frumpy nineties and into the noughties by staying true to my quasi-sixties, Audrey Hepburn/gamine style.
My mother's beloved mother wrote in her yearbook, 'To thine own self be true', and my sweet Mom wrote it in mine. I feel it holds true in fashion, as well as, well, life.
Is there anything in your closet that falls into the 'what was I thinking' department? What looks, like Josie's fishnets and lace up boots, seem to evolve with you over time?
You've no doubt seen similar shots on other blogs: while I was shooting Jazmine in the dress, others were, too. It's just that while Josie is so lovely, I bet even she feels too warm seeing herself in jumpers: it's suddenly, gloriously summer here. And England WON! (Sorry, Slovenia).
There are so many more shots of Jazzabelle that I love from the Rare Press day, and there's more I want to say about it, but frankly, I'm starving!! Later, Dudettes.
Okay, so the previous post was last Monday (it's a bit confusing: time, and it's still hard to fathom, when it's FINALLY SUMMER this week and I'm pulling out the little print dresses). Then, two days later, last Wednesday, I'm sitting on The Couch at Cafe Nero with Natalie (yes, we've got our own couch), and we're just about to leave after hanging out for an hour or two, when who should I see thru the window: Josie and Hayley!
So this is Josie. Isn't she amazing? She's also so so nice.
This was the third time I ran into them, but the first time I shot them separately (hence the Juicy post). I like shooting random series of people (I just love coincidences, frankly). I mean, granted, all three Sightings were in the same general South Ken area, but still: if anyone has tried to form a plan to meet someone via phone, txt, email, AND twitter, and STILL you can't find each other, I feel the magic power of coincidence is something to be taken rather seriously.
I also like seeing how someone's style evolves: I mean, Hayley seems to favour prints and crosses, kind of Classic Goth with a Twist. Josie also channels a bit Goth, a bit Grunge, but she seems to like cleaner lines: solids and simple, almost sportswear knits. And note the same boots, bag, fishnets, altho I think she's got more than one pair.
I'm starting realise on what fascinates me about style: it really is a work in process, like any art form. We go thru phases. We have themes we return to as the mood strikes us. I mean, look at other animals: they don't have any choice about their markings, fur, feathers: man (or woman), alone, has that ability. I think it has something to do with the evolution of flexible thumbs.
Right. I've got to get showered and out. Meeting first Nat on The Couch for coffee, then Hedvig in the park to sunbathe, then straight on from there to a business meeting. What in the WORLD am I going to wear!??
Josie, left, and Hayley, 14th June. South Kensington, London.
For starts, this doesn't look like the way you'd dress in mid June.
I was walking home midday after seeing friends, and thinking that I hadn't taken one shot all morning. And then I saw these two walking towards me and I realised: it's Josie and Hayley! I'd spotted and dotted them once before, but hadn't posted it. (You might recall Hayley from the Juicy post). Well there's more to the story but it's late, Cupcakes. Pleasant dreams.
See you in the morning, when the coincidences continue.
First: I must start out by saying I don't like Janis Joplin. Never got it about her. But Mr. Dot found this video on youtube, a cover of her song, and I can't get it out of my head. Aren't they amazing? And so so in love. Just play it all the way thru, it's amazing.
I don't know the couple shown above: lost them in the crowd. Just hope they're half as happy as these two in the video.
What a lovely day it looks to be outside my window! Soon as I post this I'm walking to Hyde Park to meet my friend Hedvig. It might seem strange to post such wintry clothes when I'm in such a summer head (as those of you north of the equator are, no doubt, as well) but I'm really in the mood right now for that Dior 'New Look' silhouette, which Prada has done so beautifully this spring. In fact I could swear I've shot windows of their dresses but can't find the shots. You know the ones I mean: there are also some great high street versions.
In fact, I've got an old skirt from Zara, which I'll start wearing again: blue/green print, mostly white background, small waist, wide skirt. Somehow I can JUST get away with it. I wore it in Rome in 100 degree heat and felt oh so Dolce Vita (while around me, the Italians were just dressed normally).
But I've also got two perfect dresses from H&M that seemed a good idea at the time - tiny spaghetti straps, practically strapless, small waist, wide skirts - and I look ridiculous in them. I'm like a giant marshmallow, with spindley table legs sticking out. They are wrong wrong wrong for my shape. Anyone want them? Seriously: they're just taking up space. One is lemon yellow, the other brown with light blue polka dots.
These are from the recent Earl's Court Gala Show at Graduate Fashion Week. Big shout out to Adorngirl: thank you for sourcing, the designer is ALEX NEWTON of Northampton.
Speaking of gratitude, thank you so much for taking the time to find me the links! (see sidebar: indecision). It's so interesting for me to see which are your favourites and since I know some of you, or virtually, it's great to see your choices. I've got til the 31st, but it can't hurt to enter. We can't win if we don't play, right?
First, thank you for your wonderful words on my post yesterday about my father. I woke thinking there is so much more I want to tell you about him, but we've got all the time in the world.
I was also semi dreaming about the shots in this post, I have no idea why. Possibly because it is to me, style perfection. This is Jennifer, who I met last week @ ASOS (I PROMISE I will tell you the story of why I've been going there), but for now, and since I've got to scoot out the door ASAP, I'm just going to let the images speak for themselves.
Apart from one thing: note her nails. I love that grey with the cream of her blouse. It's those subtle details that keep this from being a matchy matchy top to toe black and white look.
That, and the colour of her hair. And that particular warm red of her lipstick. Okay, that's it, I'll shut up now.
Sorry, just had one more thing: those lace anklet socks with the brogues. Isn't amazing?
Blouse by Zara, don't know about the rest. Shot at ASOS HQ last Thursday. How was your weekend, Kittens?
Growing up, my parents didn't make a fuss about their own birthdays, or Mother's Day, or Father's Day (altho each parent would be really good about helping us choose gifts for the other spouse: I've got three weeks of diary entries, aged 10, agonising over whether the nightgown and bathrobe set we'd chosen with my dad for my mother would go over big on Mother's Day, and the huge relief that 'she seemed to really like it.')
And Mr. Dot's parents are the same. So I had totally forgot til today that it was Father's Day, here, and in the States as well.
Where do I begin about my father. He looked like a cross between Cary Grant and Paul McCartney, had the wit and intelligence and charm of George Clooney and Paul Newman, who he came to resemble more in later years. Oh and very much the courtesy and kindness of Michael Palin.
In these shots, with his grandson (my nephew) Anders, he's wearing a jacket that is unlike his style. I don't remember him wearing red, his colours, like mine, were usually neutral, or shades of blue or turquoise (I've got a lot of his clothes: a great rust suede classic fifties bomber jacket, for example).
His style was pretty classic, but frankly, he'd look good in a plastic bag. He was physically fit, active, not at all obsessed about his appearance, not at all vain, but his hair was always perfectly parted, and neatly combed. Which is ironic that in these shots I took of them, it was mussed: probably by the wind, or playing with Anders. He was very much a hands on dad, an avid swimmer, tennis player, gardener (he was the original 'organic gardener', importing bugs in boxes from Japan that he explained were 'good bugs' who ate the 'bad bugs' in lieu of pesticides - everything he did, I'm realising now, was ahead of his time), enthusiastic amateur cook (he'd made these massive projects, like saving up stale bread to make bread pudding), a gifted teacher, professor, author, community leader, and he taught me so much, simply by being there to listen and support me. Every time life bumped me around a bit, he'd ask what was the 'learning experience'.
My father left this world on September 14th, 2003, but he has never left our family. He is a daily presence in our lives. And I know he hasn't left the countless friends he made along the way: he's just one of those magic people that touches everyone he meets. And I know that he is watching over me, and my sister and brother and of course, my mother, because when I did a search for these photos above, somehow an image by someone I do not know, with a file name that is just a series of numbers, appeared on my laptop:
The Buddhists believe we come back in human form over and over until we get it right. My last words to my father, who loved flying and wanted to be a pilot in World War Two, but who was too young, was to please come back and visit us again, as a bird. I see him all the time: he seems to be everywhere, watching over us.
Every time I see a father and daughter with that magic bond, I feel more sure than ever that whatever that bond is, it transcends our lives on this earth.
During the time I took these shots last Thursday, on Oxford Street, I was on the phone with the Crusader. (More about that later, it was indeed a Crazy Day). This sweet girl was looking lost (I normally ask people if they need help with directions: it's such an easy way of doing my one good deed for the day, get it off my plate early on, then I can slack off in the Good Deed dept.)
I know it's my blog and theoretically I can post whatever I like and call it stylish - I mean, what is style anyway? It's so subjective. But I really need to get over my prejudice against the red, white and black combination. (I'm pretty sure I know where that prejudice comes from, or at least, when it started: my best friend growing up, who lived across the street, had this whole extension of the house as her bedroom as teens, and she made it all red and black. It was so.. goth).
Besides mix white into the red, and you've got ballet pink, and thus one of my favourite combinations: ballet pink with black and white. Especially if the white is cream. OR, hot pink with black and cream: yummy. And I love it if it's a sorbet, a warm, tomatoey-orangey ish tone, which this red was veering towards. It's just plain old black white and red: it's not for me. And yet, I like it on this woman.
It's such a mix mash of elements, anyway: that fabulous skirt seemingly made of a thousand cherry blossoms.. I don't think this was intentionally a matchy-matchy top to toe red white and black PLAN. My theory is that this girl was perhaps on holiday, and the day started out possibly hot, possibly not, and she needed a series of layers. At the moment I snapped these, it was suddenly getting almost too hot. And I was too close to get the whole girl in one shot, while talking on the phone, so I just kind of aimed and shot.
But I think this is a perfect example of a bunch of seemingly unrelated elements somehow coming together and working, in a way that might not work on someone else. All because - in my opinion - she seems to have more on her mind than just how she looks. That's what constantly amazes me about the women - and men, too - who blog about fashion. Get us together and after we've compared nail varnish colour and admired each others' shoes, the things we talk about are so beyond fashion. The sum of the parts is always greater than the individual parts. Or something like that.
It is nearly 5:00 Greenwich Mean Time, and I am typing this from the bed. I am wearing mismatched white thermal men's underwear (bottom by Hanes, top by Ann Taylor which I bought in 1980-something), and I haven't left home all day. According to reports from friends across town in East London, it's 'quiet' there, too. It is wintry cold here in London, and grey, but not raining.
It's a lounging around kind of day.
That is a funny word: lounge. I've looked it up on wikipedia: you can have an airport lounge, living room 'also known as lounge room, a room for entertaining guests, reading, watching TV or other activities', bar (establishment) or bar (counter), and that's just under architecture. There is also lounge music, a lounge singer, lounge car (on a train), lounge suit.. they don't even mention the verb, to lounge.
But my favourite part is the end: 'Lounging (disambiguation), the name of several things'
Lounging around here is the lovely Saskia, of not just medical, in a Rare burgundy velvet strapless number.
Saskia is my heroine: she was just on holiday in Mykonos, got majorly robbed their last night there (they were out, their flat was broken into, and because she was the only one who had locked her luggage, instead of them riffling thru and stealing select items as they did with her friends, they STOLE THE WHOLE SUITCASE, passport, wallet, and all). And yet, her attitude is magnificent. These photos were shot after she came back and, as you can see, she's still smiling.
I guess if you're a third year medical student, and have just finished your exams, a mere act of robbery is hardly going to throw you.
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
