jump from paper

I'm not, stylistically, a Red Person.

I like hot pink, and orange, especially in tandem - and when I feel a hankering to wear some red, I usually split it into the two tones, and wear them both (like one hand of orange nail varnish, the other hot, pure pink). And I forgot today was Valentine's Day - our dinner was all the leftovers I could find in the fridge, cause we're flying to Miami (and Palm Beach County, Florida) for a few weeks. TV on, husband watching the Simpsons. And I smiled and said 'how romantic' and he thought I was being sarcastic, but really, I wasn't. I was thinking how, for years, he'd buy me a dozen red roses cause he thought he should but really, I don't much like red. I've even been known to HIDE red things - not just at home, but at my mom's place... I prefer white, and natural wood, and some blue, and lovely pale turquoise, but not too wild about red.



But when I was sent press info from the people in Taiwan making JUMP FROM PAPER, and amazing line of canvas bags, and they said I could have one, to review - I jumped at the chance. And chose a RED one: the 'bowling bag' style. It arrived, UPS, within 48 hours, and I was blown away with the quality. It far exceeded my expectations: I LOVE this bag, so much so, I was telling all my friends. And now, I'm telling you.








You might think this is an odd pairing - streetstyle from fashion week a season or two back - a lovely girl named SIWEN JIAN, from 'DUCHANGTUAN/PARTY' but she's got that equestrian theme going. Jump. Get it? Oh, never mind. Speaking of which.. I really should start revising my 'jump' series. Well, there's time.



Great big thank you to the people from JUMP FROM PAPER.COM. And for those of you at fashion week in NY now, hope you're having fun, and for those going to London, I hope you have fun. Now it's time to start packing.

it's all a blur

I love the randomness of chance - the serendipity.

Was thinking a lot lately about photography, and art, and the idea that still photography captures a moment in time. It's like, just as photography changed and influenced painting, but didn't replace it, so does film and video affect still photography. Or if it doesn't, it should. So I went into my magic box of photos to try to find the shots of Pearl (Fashion Pearls of Wisdom - link on my blog roll, I'm too much in a rush to link it here, Lazy Cow that I am!) jumping in the air.

And instead, I stumbled on these, from last September's fashion week. I'm not sure which show this is - I can find out for you later, but it doesn't matter. What I'm interested in is the idea of motion, in still photography. I remember my friend BK and I, back in NY, when we both worked at Push Pin Studios, used to do these deliberate blur shots, at night: I was his Muse. I really wish he could find those photos!

So Pearl, you dodged the bullet, this time. But I promise, I WILL post shots shots! Poetry, in motion, with a hot pink Chanel feather boa.

dogwoof: you snooze, you loose

How wild is this: as I type this, I swear to you, I just heard a dog bark outside the window. At night. We never hear a dog in our quiet little mews!

Okay, here's the thing: I can't get emails to my phone. It's a funny problem to have - I get too many, from all the PRs and brands and god knows what - I really should write a book about the things I get in my inbox - but because I don't get emails, I didn't read the invite from DOGWOOF, the distributors, to see an intimate BILL CUNNINGHAM'S FILM tonight until I got home. One hour and eleven minutes before it was meant to start.

Across town. At MOTHER, the coolest ad agency space on the planet.

It was billed (get it? Bill? sorry) as "quite a cosy screening with some drinks and comfy sofas. Their office is pretty awesome too." And it is. Awesome, that is. I mean, for example, how cool is their loo.



Or, for that matter, their huge wall of funny framed photos of - yes, you guessed it - all the staff's MOTHERS. (I can only show you the blurry shots, for legal reasons, but I've got a wonderful private collection of shots I took before someone cottoned onto what I was doing).




Photos by me (who else) about a year or so back, at Mother, for another fun breakfast event. But not as much fun, I bet, as this screening. Which I'm missing, because I was out having a wonderful day and meeting Jessie of Fashion Limbo, who is so wonderful (you know how someone can really exceed your expectation of them - even if that expectation is high? That's what it was like, meeting Jessie - she's wonderful) and then Tom (Emma's Brother), who is also so cool, and then I saw The Descendants, which was also wonderful. And that's my point: in a day full of wonderfulness, you can't do everything.



But gosh darnit: I am going to see that Bill Cunningham film, if it kills me. Because he's the reason I started this blog in the first place. I had never heard of streetstyle, or the Sartorialist, in fact didn't really know about blogs, apart from political ones. Bill is my inspiration. But I'll save that for another post.

string theory

As before: Mark Fast, Somerset House, London Fashion Week (September, for Spring/Summer 2012), and, as before, untouched.

Creatively, I'm inspired by the notion of not fussing with photography: by genuinely seeing 'streetstyle' and catwalk shooting as journalistic photography. Not posed. I was recently photographed by a proper, professional photographer, for a group piece in the Observer (coming out tomorrow, Sunday, if anyone's near a news stand: it's for the New Review and some of my friends will be in it, too) and I was struck at how difficult it was for her to shoot what I, and my colleagues, have come to think is easy. There was a lot of 'move your foot this way' 'no, that way' - I nearly fell over several times, not to mention, was freezing! My shooting is much quicker, breezy, off the cuff. I feel that's the whole point of this movement. And it is, a movement.

Alternatively, creatively, I'm also going back to my roots of photo collage, which is the total opposite: building layers, much as Degas did, in his later years, when he started working with coloured pastels, fixing the pieces and drawing over, layer upon layer. I'm working on images now, and, if you don't mind it not being strictly 'fashion', am hoping to share with you.

Thanks for stopping by. I might not always comment back on your blogs these days, but I do visit when I can - and I am always so grateful that you're out there, and for your kind, sweet comments.

touched and untouched

Today, as almost all my days these days, was the most extraordinary, surreal day: I was at Comptoir in South Ken, met a dear friend in the late morning, ate a yummy bowl of soup, read my book, ate some baklava and drank mint tea, met a great photographer named Suki who was sent by the Observer to shoot me for a piece in the New Review.

She wanted to move a few feet up - 'there'. So we did. Once we got 'there' I saw someone I wanted to street shoot: shiny silver shoes in the sunlight, red plaid trousers. Suddenly it was all happening at once: Suki was greeting her friend Dvora, who has a blog called Fashionistable. We were introduced at fashion week in September, but we hadn't really had a chance to get to know each other. So on this cold day, after my shoot, we sat down at Paul with hot chocolate and coffee and discovered that when it comes to how we feel about streetstyle, photography, and life in general, we were essentially separated at birth.

She was also telling me that altho - like me - she loves to work on photos in Photoshop, that our mutual friend David Nyanzi doesn't TOUCH his photos! So I clicked on one shot - randomly - from last September's Mark Fast show. And decided not to even touch the colour balance. Just to set a challenge for myself, see if I can post a shot untouched.

Extremely touched by your kindness, your words of condolence: each one genuine, heartfelt. I am so lucky, so fortunate, to know you all. And tonight, my husband happened to flip the tv channels and start watching a show on the British Olympics in 1946. I heard a familiar voice. There was our Major Bobby: alive on television, laughing his delightful laugh, and talking about rowing for the Olympics, and how fortunate we all were.