she walks in beauty.

this photo made me think of byron's poem. don't you think they go perfectly together?

SHE walks in beauty, like the night 

Of cloudless climes and starry skies; 

And all that 's best of dark and bright 

Meet in her aspect and her eyes: 

Thus mellow'd to that tender light 

Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 

One shade the more, one ray the less, 

Had half impair'd the nameless grace 

Which waves in every raven tress, 

Or softly lightens o'er her face; 

Where thoughts serenely sweet express 

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, 

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 

The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 

But tell of days in goodness spent, 

A mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent! 

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LFW; Erdem, otherwise known as showing roksanda how to do it.

Erdem's show was a vision in pink. and blue. and oh! creamy white. and yellow. and lace, and tulle, and chiffon, and silk, and sequins, and applique and... In short, Erdem created the collection that Roksanda Ilincic wanted, all beautiful but quirky dresses, all stunningly created, all moving like a dream on the runway, all making the models sort of glow with inner beauty. Erdem has a gift, ladies and gentlemen, a gift, and far be it for me to deprive him of it.

The show was amazing. It was a dream to watch, a real dream. The dresses were never predictable, although the sum of their parts might have not been promising. Take one lace tiered confection in palest blue that looked like something the victorian era right left behind, but was cinched with a bright orange ribbon that ran through the bodice and livened up the colour scheme. Or another cream lace dress, simple and normal, but covered with a cocktail jacket embellished with a huge flower (roksanda, pay attention) on the shoulder, just one, that quirked up the sillhouette and made the dress that much more interesting. Or even a sheer top and a tiered skirt in... well what was it? It looked like acid wash denim, but moved like silk, but felt like cotton. The workmanship and finish was superb. The whole thing just sung of finesse, which Roksanda lacked. It was all beautifully put together, excellently crafted, even showing a couture sensibility. 

The whole collection together leapt off the screen of my computer, even though the colour palette wasn't even that bright. It was the shape of the dresses, long and sinuous, the embellishments, the accessories, the hair and make up... Together it made something that could stand individually as beautiful but together transcended fashion into something different altogether. I loved it. I really really loved it. Possibly my favourite of all of London, and i don't say that lightly because Anastase really made me want to be Valentine Fillol-Cordier. But watching Erdem made me want to be a fairy princess with a credit card. Go figure. 

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LFW; Vivienne Westwood, otherwise known as a nice show.

I don't know. Maybe i was waiting for a hot pink kilt over ripped tights, doc martens and a tiara. Maybe i was just disappointed by Henry Holland, who didn't go as crazy as I wanted. Or maybe its the antibiotics talking. I was underwhelmed by Vivienne Westwood. I know the Red Label is a more classic aesthetic, and certainly the clothes were nice. 

Nice, that is such a terrible word... Nice is just so boring. I don't mean the show was boring, how could it be? it's vivienne after all, and there were all her usual touches; the african style beaded belts, the body-consciousness in the sculpted dresses that gave them an extra kick, quite chic in some places (like sheath dresses or high waisted pants) and then cheap and odd in other places (very tacky looking metallics), the styling of some odd jackets with a normal dress, not ground-breaking I know, but still nice to see.

God, there's that word again. Can't i think of anything else to describe this show? I was just under-whelmed, i think. I wanted more. Her other Red label shows have included some very wonderful dresses, like a sculpted red number in shiered velvet, something that Burberry Prorsum then imitated shamelessly the next year in hot fuschia and aqua. But this year it was all a bit bland. A bland palette with nice clothes that of course would fit into anyone's wardrobe perfectly. but then, is that what we want from Viv? I don't know, i don't think so. 

Oh, and Alexa Chung modelled for the label, her first time on catwalk, and it shows. The make up was too severe for her, and god i love her (as is obvious from the girl-crush on this blog) but she was just awkward on the catwalk, understandably. Just give her time and she'll loosen up. I would love to see her catwalk more, her body is perfect perfect perfect for it!

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Ooh La La, and all the jazz.

Carine Roitfeld makes me quiver in my shoes. She looks like the type of woman who could kill you just by looking at you, and if that didn't work and you were some sort of death-repelling ninja... then i think her 10 inch stilletos might get the better of you. And by stiletto i mean shoes, not knives, of course. 

Girl is FIERCE!. Like so fierce. She wears Balmain, for crying out loud. And she's 50! She's like a walking advertisement for France, what with her reed thing physique, always clutching a glass of red wine and wearing this season's best from the catwalk. She's not afraid to wear black on black, and it doesn't wash her out or make her look like an undertaker. In fact when she wears black on black an undertaker is what you'll be seeing next. 

Paris Vogue just shits all over the american counterpart. Though there will always be a place in my heart for UK Vogue whom i have saved up for every month since 2004 (yeah Alexandra Shulman, that is a lot of money i have put into your magazine, start taking some of my suggestions into account), I admit that Vogue Paris is actually one of the groundbreaking magazines of our times. Vogue has become a bit of a toothless tiger of late, playing it really safe with same old same old editorials and fashion features that make me yawn. Vogue Paris always pushes the envelope. Whether it be nudity, smoking and drinking in editorials, or my personal favourite; Raquel Zimmerman's August editorial where she stomped past PETA activists flipping them off... all whilst wearing fur.

And who styled this groundbreaking editorial? None other than Miss Roitfeld herself. And that is why she is to be so commended. Whilst Wintour hovers in her offices doing little other than sipping Evian and glaring at her assistants and Shulman deigns to write an article here or there, notably the one slamming Posh spice (see hit list, below) Carine actually takes an interest in the magazine that she single-handedly made cool again. She styles editorials, she takes part in shoots, she writes articles... In short her input to the magazine is not just in a painfully short letter from the editor, like some other vogue editors. In fact her stamp is all over the magazine. 

Vogue Paris has, arguably, become a magazine for Carine. Each editorial, with its leather, lace, ripped denim, bras showing, black black black, seems like Carine just opened her wardrobe and offered it to the models. THey would fit into the clothes of course, Carine is so so so so tiny. The picks for shopping each month are things you could conceivably see Carine shopping for herself. The cover models are all people you can imagine Carine having a conversation with herself. For any other editor, it wouldn't work. I mean, who wants to look like Anna Wintour, in all honesty. But this is Carine, and this is paris. People want to be Carine, and so they buy the magazine to sample what it's like to be the most fabulously chic editor of a magazine in the world. And all for the price of 4 euros. Bargain!

Thankyou, Carine, for being so fearless. And for raising a daughter who knows how to dress. So many people have forgotten how to do that nowadays (lindsay). 

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Baby remember my name...

Fame is very fickle. You see people wanting it so much that they'll do anything for it, like take their clothes off, or betray friends, or embarass themselves and their families. Fame doesn't last long, it is notoriously ephemeral, 15 minutes, as Andy Warhol said. It is invasive, people change, they become protective, or voyeuristic, or downright criminal. Why are we so obsessed with it? Since when did celebrity culture take over our lives?

I don't want to be famous. I harbour no desire to see my picture in the papers or read about my latest exploits in magazines. But then conversely i do want to be remembered. I know you can be remembered by friends and family, but i want to leave a mark on this world. Not for being salacious, or scandalous, but for doing, well, something. I don't know exactly what, yet. Maybe writing. Who knows? 

And then this interest of mine with fashion prompts me to think that maybe i will get involved in that industry, writing for a magazine or something, and i will have to deal with fame. Lots of editors and writers manage to deal with it with the utmost class, like Emmanuelle Alt from Paris Vogue, for example, or even the dreaded Anna Wintour. 

It's always odd to contrast these feelings of mine to some of the people i admire in the celebrity world. Alexa Chung, who always comes across as witty and clever in television interviews notoriously seems arrogant and pretentious in written ones. She just gives off this vibe of loving being a celebrity and being known. Similarly with Agyness Deyn, who i think is a good model (if not great) and definitely loving being a celebrity. Or the geldof sisters, who i know take some delight in being photographed. As the saying goes, all of these girls would go to the opening of an envelope for the free booze and the chance to be photographed. 

What does that lead to? Well it leads me to wonder whether this whole obsession with celebrity culture has meant that our generation's celebrities, as it were, the geldof girls and the chungs of the world, are more into celebrity than those before. You always here our parent's generation of celebrities complaining about the papparazzi interest and input into their lives. Our generation doesn't complain, but accepts it as a fact of their famous life... but i think they secretly (or not so secretly) love it. The stupid poses they often do for the camera, the playing up for the papers, the 'rebellious' antics... I don't know anymore. 

And with the numbers of young stars in rehab on the rise, perhaps it would bode well to remember that fame is never all its cracked up to be. 

pixie geldof escaping the paparazzi with a smile at london fashion week. this photo pretty much sums it up, i reckon. 

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my first couture moment with christian lacroix

It was reading a Vogue in 2006, young and naive about fashion and seeing the ethereal lily cole from within the swathes of a tulle white confection. I was besotted with it, the dress, her face, the idea that the catwalk was selling to me. I cut it out and it went on my wall where it resides now, prime position on my mural wall. It was The Spring Couture collections in paris and the designer was Christian Lacroix. Later that year i would buy a pair of Christian Lacroix sunglasses and my love affair with this brand would begin.

Christian Lacroix is a designer well ahead of his time. In the 80s he was showing the kind of decadent elegance that now adorns the couture runways of Galliano and Gaultier, although, and it is true, it was done with a lot less finesse than he does it now. The poufs of sleeves, scalloped hems, lacy undershirts and gauzy overtops were all a little stiff. But now, and with this Spring collection, Christian Lacroix and the trends of fashion coincided and suddenly everything he was showing was bang on the money.

He was also a little older and wiser too. His brand had just been sold to the LVMH group and he had learnt a thing or two about the fickle business of 'la mode'. it can all be seen in this collection, things that i never noticed as a 15 year old ingenue just interested in the beauty of tulle. You can see it in the way he pairs his colours haphazardly together, or in the way the clothes are a little more clever, like they're winking at the audience saying, buy me, i cost hundreds of thousands of dollars... Unashamedly expensive, maybe, is the way to say it. Lacroix no longer had to deal with profits, that was the job of LVMH now. All he had to think about was the clothes.

Decorative, wild, extravagant, a feast for the eyes, this collection ties in with the rest of the past couture seasons for Lacroix. BUt it is also a standout for me, not just because it contains THE dress that first made me love couture. The collection, to me, also symbolised french history, and not in a crazy galliano way but in a really wearable way. It was beautiful, really really beautiful, and just clicking through style.com to find the pictures of the show has brought a smile to my face as i remember exactly why, in 2006, i fell in love with couture. AS i'm sure you will too.

And here it is. Beautifully finished, extraordinarily executed, lovely to see and (undoubtedly) to wear. *sigh*. don't you just love fashion?

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LFW; PPQ, otherwise known as soon to be seen on every it girl from here to timbuktu, as it were.

Fun. That's what PPQ is. It never tries to be much more than that, which is probably why it does so well. Some designers go for bold statements, and sometimes it pays off for them. PPQ doesn't try to do that. It knows its market; the it girls and shamelessly works towards that. Their clothes are fast becoming the go to for Bright Young Things searching for a quick fix for a party. Dresses, skirts, pants, and the odd choice of head gear all make PPQ what it is.

This season PPQ went for a kind of arabian theme, but then again it didn't. It's all very confusing. There was a clear palette at the beginning of pastels that then became rainbow brights in no time and then mellowed out into greys and black with structured tailoring at the end. It was fun, yes, but at the same time i thought this season it was also, for the first time, a little contrived. PPQ went for the market, and it got it certainly, the little mini dresses with cutesy collars wouldn't look out of place on their main champion Peaches Geldof, and some of the longer mature styles i could see looking great on Alexa Chung. 

But at the end of it i was left thinking, wow, PPQ really sold out. What used to be a really fun brand that had flouncy prom dresses a la Luella and cute granny style cardies went for the we must appeal to the youth and showed... well... tee shirt dresses. Why PPQ? What happened to all that cute girlie stuff of last season? Some of it could still be seen, like high waisted shorts in a luxurious rust coloured satin, or the dresses with their tell-tale full skirts. But it all looked a little too sophisticated and out of place, like a young girl trying on her mother's work suits.

I hope PPQ return to their fun-filled game next season and go back to showing whole collections of crazy dresses, wild skirts and jackets and cardigans. After all, it's what they do best. 

photos; mycatwalk

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Style. (full stop).

I am a firm believer that style changes. There is no full stop to it. It evolves and metamorphoses according to your mood, your age, your location, your monetary funds, what you've just watched/read/listened to/saw etc. Style can't stay the same, if it did life would be so very very boring. I love looking at photos of me as a 14 year old and seeing what i was wearing. It was all very boho, if you were interested, long skirts, vests, beads, head-things... very mka circa 2005. 

At the moment my style has evolved completely. I was always the one of my friends who was interested in vintage and would drag them off to the newest shop or market and scrape together my dollar coins to buy something cheap. Now everyone and their mother is into vintage, and the style of the moment in sydney is techno raver, meaning lots of bold and bright fluro, indie hipster with ripped tights, ripped high waisted denim, PVC etc etc.. I don't really like it myself. In fact, i loathe it. It's not hipster in the way london hipster is where there is lots of different types, and different personalities. With Sydney everyone looks the same.

My style is very different. It is very grandma librarian chic, it's all vintage floral dresses, cardigans, tights (always always always), high waisted skirts, overshirts in silk and chiffon, fur coats and 1940s brocade boxy jackets. I sometimes mix it up with leather jackets or army shirts, a pair of doc martens, loafers or man ankle boots and socks. I enjoy my style, it's very me, it looks like i'm off with a notebook to go write in a park with a flask of tea, which in all honesty is probably what i'm going to do.

But there is another dimension to my style. i like to think of it as the crazy rich heiress in her 80s. She's got all her pearls, and big rings and jewels, her fur coats and luxurious fabrics but she's getting old and its all going to pot. It's a bit Mary Kate Olsen when she had her blonde hair. I don't dig her tartan look at the moment. It's all turbans on the head, long dresses to the ground with leather jackets or lots of chains or beads over an old-school tea dress.

So i suppose my style is alexa chung and mary kate olsen if they ever had a love child. Interesting. But who knows, in a couple of years it will probably all have changed. And that's the amazing, wonderful thing about fashion. Everything changes. It understands people, because we change all the time, and so fashion changes as well. It is the most impermanent business out there, kind of like the industry's buddhism. 

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thou shalt not covet

Hmmm.. i hate the ten commandments, i have decided. Especially thou shalt not covet. Does God know just how hard it is to be a teenager with limited disposable and watch beautiful clothes be paraded around in front of you eyes (read; on the internet) and you cannot have any of them? Well... maybe God needs to learn how that feels and then reassess his ten commandments manifesto.

There are so many things i want right now, and as i was musing the other day, i have expensive tastes. I want the chanel flats that cost $730. I think i may put it to my mother that we can split the price for my old birthday present. I wonder how that would go down??? We'll see. I also want a proper camera, one that looks professional so that people will think i am a wildly fabulous fashion journalist. I want a fur coat in a brown-ish colour, i want a leather skating skirt, i want a mulberry bag or YSL muse and a pair of stacked lanvin shoes or miu miu heels. Lovely!!!

Coco Sumner is sitting pretty in my perfect coat. I wouldn't mind it a little darker, but this is the idea i'm going for. 

Pixie Geldof in my Hunter wellies (i need them!) and a lovely striped top that i would kill to have. 

Alexa Chung in a Barbour. This is actually my number 2 buy for the moment, i want the chanel flats first (see the post on lily allen!) and then this. Wouldn't it be fabulous to pair them together? Like a barbour and chanel? ahahaha thank god for small mercies. 

A lace dress a la Peaches Geldof. A little longer though, that's the way i tend to wear my dresses. 

Hello lover! This bag is my dream bag. Unfortunately at 2 and a half grand it's either this or Paris. 

I would like a tulle skirt a la Cory Kennedy, even though i find her a little annoying i think she looks very cute here. 

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By the Arno

THE oleander on the wall

Grows crimson in the dawning light,

Though the grey shadows of the night

Lie yet on Florence like a pall.

The dew is bright upon the hill,

And bright the blossoms overhead,

But ah! the grasshoppers have fled,

The little Attic song is still.

Only the leaves are gently stirred

By the soft breathing of the gale,

And in the almond-scented vale

The lonely nightingale is heard.

The day will make thee silent soon,

O nightingale sing on for love!

While yet upon the shadowy grove

Splinter the arrows of the moon.

Before across the silent lawn

In sea-green vest the morning steals,

And to love's frightened eyes reveals

The long white fingers of the dawn.

Fast climbing up the eastern sky

To grasp and slay the shuddering night,

All careless of my heart's delight,

Or if the nightingale should die.

By the Arno, Oscar Wilde

I love this poem. It makes me want to go to Italy and experience it all for myself. I love poems that are interested in the senses, they're my favourites.

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Wow. I have no title.

This picture came up when i was doing my rounds on the daily mail website. 


Aside from the mundane, like wow Kate Moss looks good when she smiles, i like her sort crop and her cute mini dress, looks like she's having a return to form sartorial-wise, WTF is vivienne wearing, but then, that's why we love her right? she can wear a truckie cap and a garbage bag as a dress and we all think she's a goddess. Which she is, i'm just saying... there are some fashion lines that should not be crossed. Chanel did it with the cabas bag last year, and now is Viv... 

The real point of this post is to say; DAMN! LOOK AT HER LEGS! she's 63 for crying out loud... Look at them! And i'm not being rude or anything, but her face has aged, but her legs haven't. I know she's probably wearing tights or something, but tights can't hide wrinkles.. Wow, is this what Madonna is trying to achieve? I sort of prefer Viv's look better, not to draw attention to her legs by wearing freakin' leotards whenever you step out of the house but rather wear a cool dress slit up the leg and hope the flashbulbs go off. Which, of course, they inevitably will. She is wearing a garbage bag after all. Nice one Viv, you've definitely worked for those legs, you deserve some praise. 

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LFW; Richard Nicoll, otherwise known as the small bang with large impact

Wow. Who thought minimalism could be so sexy? As the models strutted down the catwalk in Nicoll's offering to Spring and Summer of 2009 all i could think was dayummmm girl. I suppose it had something to do with the palette, which was a delightful confection of pale, almost minty blues, bright oranges, pinks and subdued dusty greys. The whole thing together shouldn't have worked, but it did, thanks in part to Nicoll's superb execution of the boxy, loose trend and his understanding of summer. 

It was all very vanessa bruno, with the sleeveless tuxedo jackets and chiffon overlay, helmut newton and also some vintage inspiration, Nicoll used a blue brocade that has definitely seen its heyday in the 1940s or 50s. Together the collection was a real statement about how less really is more, that you don't have to use great swathes of tulle (although personally i do like a little frou myself) to make a bold statement. I liked that Nicoll's clothes were understated in a very classic but feminine way, i though some of the dresses, especially the ones that closed the show, oozed a very minimalistic sexuality.

Wearable, of course, the dresses could have gone straight off the runway and onto the red carpet. The separates were simple, but the finishing was exquisite. I particularly liked on silk chiffon tee shirt with a one-shouldered satin drape finished with beading at the collar and sleeves. It was marvellous to watch a young designer who has such a clear grasp on the techniques and tools of his craft as well as a collection that was so impressively controlled, restrained but still able to leave me with an impact.

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