29 July 2015

LSDior, or, let's all take acid in the forest

Few daydreams compel like the ideal, the idyll, the idol of Arcadia. Rural retreat, running through fields, still moments of congress with nature, motherfucken sheep - it started with Virgil around 39BC, and there’s been no let up since. This utopia, this bucolic best, this neverland of nature spirits is as compelling as it is fictional – but as some wise person once said, never let the truth stand in the way of a good dress.

Hello, Dior.

It may have been the hypnotic, pointillist-painted prismatics of the Parisian setting in the Musée Rodin, but the mood was early set with light magic.

Image: Dior

What could have been twee, seriously wasn’t – fields of flowers were taken into space via hallucinatory overtones; and given a deep, earthy sexuality thanks to slits, splits and sheers. See: the tunic split that sent Tilda Lindstam down the runway almost naked (check out her insta, she is a pun lover as well as a mega babous entity); and that deep dark deep V in inky midnight blue velvet. And we haven’t even talked about the sleeves.

Image: Susie Bubble

Raf refs were definitely there, echoes to his previous work for Jil Sander with those clutched coats, but what struck me most was the rustic nymphets on acid and the never-say-never mix of medieval miss and seventies starlet. The word contrasts finds its way into fashion reviews aplenty, but here it seems just. The medieval references were armed as much as adorned: layered chain mail bodices compelled and repelled, light and heavy, and gave an otherwise princess-feel a backstage, back off feel. Walking to Pink Floyd tunes, the 70s groupie was definitely invited to the party, but the overall mood was an altered state in which women feel simultaneously sexy, pure, earthy, spiritual, inviting and repelling, pretty and avant garde. And aren’t we all?

The clothes definitely looked best in movement: in the live stream, stuttering and starting, glimpsing wide leg pants in mid-walk; diaphanous dresses and curled-up hems in mid-curl, witnessing the floor length velvet maxi coat in fluid, deep motion…

Runway images: Dior & Style.com

10 June 2015

L.A. Witch

Holyshit YES. Tarot on the beach vibes, blissed-out reverb, lots of black. Listen/look.






27 March 2015

I Want To Identify

For a while, for me, the abstract notion of a female was OK. It was better than nothing. But now I find I crave a solid being. To converse with, to see myself within, as a woman. Not male, not an abstraction of masculinity, not, at best, a transcendence of gender. Someone who saw and spoke and could touch.

Self with Godard filter

Agnes Varda, Cleo from 5-7

Godard, Une Femme is Une Femme

(I've been thinking a lot lately about the nature of pop-culture patriarchy, how and where female pleasure comes into things - this is from a longer piece I'm working on right now.)

06 March 2015

The Case for Flares

Don't you hate your shoes? And tight gripping shit on your ankles? And clean hems? If you answered yes to any of these things, have I got some information for you. FASHION INFORMATION. They're called flares and your mum and dad probably wore them, and if you were a teenager in the 90s you probably did too. Erase those memories. (Unless your dad was George Harrison). And replace with these newer, better flared pant times to come.


Oracle foxiness.


All Emmanuelle, all the time


Refer to the above caption. I SAID ALL THE TIME


Shoe hatred: the solution.


...unless you kinda like your shoes, then pull this manoeuvre. CASUAL.


These aren't so much flares as wide leg pants but who are you, fashion Stalin? Cool off.


I said COOL OFF.


Colour is a thing they make clothes in now, apparently.


Is this your dad? Or mum? You get a free pass. Good day sir.

(Side note: street style poses are incredibly boring, oui? Phone clutched to face, striding off somewhere important. Tres puke. But let's think of the greater good and try to ignore said posery.)

19 February 2015

The Row Fall 2015. Or, why are fashion people obsessed with XXXL knits?

Unsolved mystery: just what is it about an oversized, chunky knit sweater that has fashion people obsessed? It is sixty-million degrees where I am right now – on a beach in Australia – yet the close up of those sweaters from The Row’s Fall 2015 presentation has me, like fashion people everywhere, wanting one on my body right now.

Let’s break this down:
Oversized, chunky, turtleneck (good)
Super soft cashmere (getting better)
Sleeves so long your hands both are invisible and obsolete (even better)
So long it’s almost – but not quite – a dress (bingo!).
People, we have ourselves one of the most instagrammed looks in the collection.

The magic powers of superfine purism that attract the fashion fanatic have always been the bread and butter of the Olsens at The Row – succinct but confident cuts, premium fabrication, refined palette – but for Fall ’15 there’s a shift towards an even paler shade of white. Cuts are refined to the point of austerity, the businesslike b+w is infused with flashes of oatmeal, butterscotch and seventies-era brown, fabrications are luxurious silk, coverted cashmere buttery leather. These are kinds of words that make for flutter-hearting fashion people.

The fugly summer slide reincarnates here as a simple Moroccan slipper (worn with sheer tights), spring’s 70s redux is done The Row way in early-autumn shades… tan and brown worn back with not-quite white… the leather, too, is distinctly 70s in chocolate, both crisp and warm at once with curved lapels and a belted robe cut. Felts are so boxy you could send packages in them; bags are oversized and hugged to the body; belts are double-wrapped obis. Of course there’s plenty of signature slouch by way of wide legs and cocoons, oh and geez – that blond-white silk maxi dress.

It’s no new news –off-the grid minimalism is hardly new, especially at the Row – but the mysteries of puritanism beguile here in a subtle shift of energy. The shift is in the detail, the suede slip-ons and robes that just could, feasibly, be worn at a day spa – the most luxuriant day spa imaginable which you probably can’t afford, naturally – and the quiet sensuality of slip-me-off silks.

Slanting light, modernist interiors, pant suits… It could be a more Manhatten-y mind state at work– there’s something suggestive the kind of NYC woman who shimmers out of cars hugging a leather bag and an iPhone 6+, bedroom-y and boardroom-y all at once.

There’s a compelling contradiction at play: hot/cold, puritanical cuts and sensuality in the detail. It’s a compelling contradiction, seductively quiet rather than overt. Ingénue she is not: a cool New Yorker, all polish, confidence and refinement – long live minimalism – yeah, she’s a purist, but with sensual details and depth. The effect is both gamine and gutsy: the soft power of the boss lady.

Check out the whole show at Style.com. Photos from same source.

16 February 2015

Beach life

The new Friggen Awesome standard. A few things I like and use much of, now that I am officially a beach drop out.

1/ ridiculous sunset, iphone photo 2/Lover bikini 3/ Lapis pendant, Etsy or your local hippie shop 3/ Lace kimono thing and swimsuit via Lover 4/ Instax mini aka Insta-airbrush, Amazon 5/ Excellent, excellent lace slip dress, Free People from ASOS 6/ Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express, try your local second hand bookshop 7/ Lilac phone case, Chinatown cheapie 8/ Clear quartz point, here or see 3 9/ Sunset gradient bag, I got ages ago at & Other Stories 10/ Hammock, try the hammock district

11 February 2015

Alma Jodorowsky

Hey look! It's another flawless brunette Frenchie with liquid liner skills and a truly excellent fringe situation and sick style. Oh and Alma is also the grand daughter of Alejandro Jodorowsky, no less. Am I predictable? Very well then I am predictable. But when France stops producing style crushes I will stop crushing.