ou est tu

Oh Clemence. Do i really need to go into it?
Where are you... god knows we need a bit more gallic glamour in our lives.

X

You have read this article clemence poesy / fashion / france / inspiration / paris / photos / style with the title October 2009. You can bookmark this page URL http://startthefire-cafagesta.blogspot.com/2009/10/ou-est-tu.html. Thanks!

you look lovely today... just today?

This week has been cold, wet, windy and stormy. So naturally I'm feeling right in my element. Trench coats, big cardigans, tights, woolly scarves... And boots. And i never boots, only when the weather absolutely and expressly requires something to keep the rain out. otherwise it's sandals or ballet flats for me. So the Doc Martens have been getting a work out again. I'm actually rather enjoying them, even with bare legs and a skirt with this warmer weather again. how weird that little things like a rain storm can trigger a love affair with some things in your wardrobe. Other things happening this week - university finished for the semester OH YEAH! now just 1 week of study vacation, 2 weeks of exams, and the whole of summer stretching out before me. how truly marvelous. And topshop opened on thursday, but you all know that. everything in my life seems to be going so well, which seems to be a cue for it all to go horribly wrong. Ah well. Live it up, i say.


Lily Allen


Ah Lily. You just know how to pick a party dress don't you. That slinky, almost grungy 90s minimalist silhouette that nips in at the hips (the hips! of all regions), and works in only the way that truly svelte, slim women can work this kind of shape. Cutely chopped hair, a pair of leather-look leggings, platform heels. It all works really well, even the leggings, because you have the attitude to pull it off. Classy and nonchalant, very hip without really caring that way. Some people wish for you to go back to prom-dress and trainer wearing 'youf'. I say, embrace the chanel haute couture while you have the strength and body to do so! do it for us lily! Ps. enlarge the photo to see her talons painted jade green. love it!


Mary-Kate Olsen.


Maybe it's because I just watched Desperate Seeking Susan, but i really love this outfit. Even though this kind of pastel on neutral, resin bangles, ankle boot and cuffed pant kind of look would ring too many 80s alarm bells for me. But Mary-Kate works this, and she works it well. I suppose it just proves the adage that you can wear anything provided that you wear it with class. And if it's been tailored. Well. Those pants are beautifully cut, they taper to a tee, and that cuff seems nonchalant and effortless, but it's the best length for Mary-Kate's body shape and balances very well to the oversized, yet not in a 'MK is drowning in it' way, blazer. I love the satin turn ups on the jacket. I love her kooky sunglasses. I love her messy hair. 80s fabulous indeed.


Diane Kruger


Now this is how you wear chanel booties. Alexa Chung wore the same pair, and to less glorious effect, if you ask me. She made the mistake of wearing them with a complicated dress. With shoes like those, that are busy enough alone without adding any frou on top, you just to wear black. How terribly french of it all. Black, sombre silhouettes, and a knowing smile. Diane displays true european sensibility with this LBD, which is fabulously tailored to her body (and i know her body would not be a terribly hard body to work around, but it does seem to hug every curve and every movement). I also love the merest whiff of a strong shoulder, edging out every so slightly from the natural shoulder line. Her hair is relaxed, but not too messy. Her bag is cute and fuss free. I love this outfit. If only i looked that good in an LBD, all life's problems could be solved.


Thank God it's the Weekend :). Oooh, and happy halloween everyone. enjoy!
Trick or Treat!
X


PS. I'm thinking of getting my hair balliaged - in the manner of Alexa Chung, or this pretty young thing from Garance Dore. A little bit darker though, because my hair is more of a chestnut brown than hers. Thoughts?

You have read this article ashley olsen / celebrity / lily allen / photos with the title October 2009. You can bookmark this page URL http://startthefire-cafagesta.blogspot.com/2009/10/you-look-lovely-today-just-today.html. Thanks!

an education

I saw an education with the dearest of friends on monday, and the funny thing is, i could relate to the plot in the oddest of ways. No, a suave, debonair older man didn't whisk me off my feet in the months leading up to the HSC, and no, i wasn't dragged around sydney to the chicest restaurants, living a glamorous life away from the drudgery of school and work. In fact, quite the opposite I assure you.

And hence lies my comparison point. That feeling of sheer boredom, the horror of confronting the tedium of adult life in a country that seems so lacklustre to your imagination, now that feeling i know well. Australia isn't really the place for me. I love the sun (sometimes), and odd bouts of patriotism do bubble to the surface every now and then, but for most of my adult life I have dreamt of places far from my birth country. For Jenny this was France, Paris specifically, with its minimalist intellectuals and spirit of liberty. Ah, Paris is indeed beautiful, and enchanting and infectious - just like first love. But for me the allure has always been a different country, and city. For some reason, despite the grey, despite the rain, despite the warnings from countless expats who find themselves happily ensconced in summery sydney, i love London. I always have. I've always felt more in touch with the english part of my ancestry then I have with any other.




It's a romanticised, lyrical view not grounded one inch in reality, but then, neither was Jenny's view of Paris. She says in the film that she wants to move to France, speak french all day, sip double shot espressos, smoke like a chimney, wear all black and never speak a word. Just like how I've always wanted to hole up in London with vinyl and bourbon, cooking raspberry pound cakes and wrapped up in a trench coat. I love that historical beauty of the London city-scape, whether it be tenaments or towers there is something enchanting about the grit of the city. It speaks of other times, of battles past. My rose-tinted view of London also seems tied to another time in history, either the rough and tumble heyday of the bright young things in the 30s, or the pavement pounding frenetic electricity of the 60s. Both times seem engendered with that same creative fervour that is so characteristically 'london'.

It's no coincidence that I live in the one suburb of sydney that could be conceivably mistaken for London. The rolling hills, pretty little terrace houses and boutique shops seem to be lifted straight out of Primrose Hill or the back streets of Chelsea. Though of course it wasn't my decision to live in Paddington, I have the foresight of my parents to thank for that, I do feel comfortable in my area with its picturesque coffee shops and wide open spaces swollen with green.





Sometimes I think that this love affair with England is just like first love. The blinding power of first love, where you develop some kind of temporary myopia - the details are so vivid, every touch, every breath, every word - yet the big picture becomes horribly clouded. Will i get to live in London and have that dream life? The one that invariably involves a chic little apartment with antique mirrors, a fabulous career and charming boyfriend? Perhaps. Will this powerful love affair last forever? Maybe. Will the world end if it doesn't? No.

And therein lies the power of the film, An Education. Despite the heartbreak once the champagne bubbles fritter away you do not leave unhappy. Because I, like Lynn Barber (the english journalist upon whose memoir the film was based), believe that all experiences, no matter the pain they cause, are of immense importance to our lives. That is the purpose of an education, is it not? To impart upon us wisdom as we blunder through life?





One of the most resonating moments for me in the film is when David says that he has a degree in the university of life. It reminded me of a moment in the novel I Capture the Castle, upon which this blog was humbly named, where Cassandra says that all she wants to do is write, and there is no university for that except life. Cassandra, like Jenny in An Education, learnt more through living and experiencing life than their lessons in school. That sensation of life (and love, which always seems inextricably bound up with feeling our own existence, how many existentialists have been undone when they fell in love?) made them re-evaluate their position within society.

Ultimately in the film this leads to fascinating ends. I'm not going to spoil it, even though i seem to have given an awful lot away already, because I want you all to see it. It's a beautiful, beautiful film. It captures perfectly and with a bittersweet subjectiveness that idea of first love, that idea of first education in the school of life. I don't think I've quite got my degree from there yet, i still have a bit to learn.

But I'm very excited to learn it.

X

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10 things about my style - #7 think ahead, fred

flickr

When it comes to clothes, I am useless with forward planning. absolutely useless. Give me a week's notice, a month's notice, and i'll still be planning my outfit 5 minutes before i'm supposed to arrive. I'm the girl who didn't actually have her formal dress until the day of the actual formal, the girl who bought the shoes for her 18th birthday party while she was out getting some extra cheese to put in the risotto.

In every other aspect of my life I am an organised perfectionist, i never leave assignments to the last minute, i'm always trying to keep up to dates with notes and study, when i'm throwing a dinner party the menu is the first thing to be decided on and the food is always prepared with plenty of time to spare. Leaving me with plenty of time to run around the house like a headless chicken trying to find something decent to wear. I do try and plan outfits ahead in my head, but most of the time I change my mind so quickly about them that it's a pointless exercise. I'll always change at least 5 times before I go out, i'm never settled, and when i'm not settled i'm not comfortable... and then i have a terrible time.

I do find, though, that because I'm always rushing to get ready this can breed some of my most effortless, creative outfits. Because I'm not laying everything out on my bed 2 nights before (actually, sometimes i do do that, but then I change my mind anyway), at the last minute i can have a shot of inspiration and throw something together that just works, and only really does so because I was rushing, not thinking too hard, and desperate not to be late. the other day I was so incredibly late for work it was shocking, and so after flinging everything out of my closet and putting it all back again, I settled on my josh goot tye dye skirt, a brown tunic topic belted in and my sleeveless coat. It was shades of monotone for a shades of monotone kind of day, and it all worked. It took me about an hour to get there, and with 8 or 9 different outfits by the wayside. But i made it.

Perhaps it is because i'm restless that this happens. I can't settle my mind on anything, and I change it constantly. Thinking ahead seems silly therefore, when one day I'll be all over my sleeveless coat and the next i'll be back in my trench. When one day all i want to wear is jeans and trousers, and the next i remember how great long skirts are and I'm back in the fold. I think most girls are like this, even within their capsule wardrobe there will be tendencies to favour one thing over the other, and then change it around every now and again. Thinking ahead for me always means that I set things aside that i'm loving now, or saying to myself that i HAVE to wear the christopher kane eyelet sweatshirt because it's the best damn thing i own, and then waking up on the day and realising - it's too hot for that jacket, i'm bored with that shirt, i can't be bothered wearing something tricky like layered skirts, belts, crop tops, jumpers.

Those are the kind of days when, at the very last minute before I'm well beyond fashionably late, I find something simple and easy, throw it on, and everything seems right with the world. This doesn't always happen, mind, sometimes in desperation i throw things on and head out the door only to realise that it's all wrong and i look silly. The latter happens more often than the former.

If only I could work out some sort of system to make it all so much easier. But the system would ultimately be defeated by my flighty nature and inability to commit. Hmm... am i still talking about clothes here? ha.

X

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BFFs

'Champagne for my real friends, and real pain for my sham friends.'

Tom Waits

I loved reading on the Sartorialist that he was inspired to shoot more groups of friends this fashion season. There is something so infectious about the energy that you have around you friends, you laugh until you cry, you cry until you laugh, and there's this glowing aura that surrounds you, happy and carefree as you are. Friends photograph so well together too, it's like they become more comfortable in their skin when they are around someone who they've shared every inch of their life with... Even more so than couples, photographing friends together (whether for facebook or for face hunter), is a remarkable experience. There have been several lovely shots on the Sartorialist and Garance where the girls' smiles seem to reach the stars as they wrap their arms around each other.

One of my favourite stylish friendship pairs is Michelle Jank and Yasmin Sewell. In a rare bout of patriotism, they are two of my style icons, Jank because she is fearless and Sewell because she is clear. I read an interview that praised Sewell's style and called her the chic-est girl in fashion, and they asked her about how she managed to stay ahead of fashion and dress so well, all the time. She answered that she likes what she likes, she buys what she likes, and she wears what she likes. It's as simple as that. Sometimes her tastes and the wider tastes of the fashion community coincide, sometimes they don't. But hey, that's life. That's exactly how I feel about fashion, I like what I like, whether it be boyfriend jeans, drapey jackets or trench coats. Whether or not everyone else happens to like what I like too is a whole other matter.

Michelle Jank and Yasmin Sewell seem to be those rare fashion personalities who are genuine, their friendship is real and caring, and whenever I see pictures of them together they are instantly saved to my computer. I like to think that I have friendships similar to that, except the clothes aren't as cool and the hair isn't as incredible (yasmin's hair is, and always will be, the most beautiful thing in this world). The first thing I look at is their smiling, happy faces, not so much their outfits, even though uniformly they are brilliant. Here are my favourite shots of the two of them! friendship tuesday, i like it.





X

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scary thoughts

'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.'

Shakespeare, Hamlet


Uncharacteristically for me, I've been invited to a huge halloween party this year. Characteristically for me, I have no idea what to go as. Costume parties ultimately defeat me, because I never want to buy anything and thus want to piece something together from my current wardrobe. This results in the same costume over and over again, or silly ones that aren't really any good. I've been a gypsy fortune teller and Marie Antoinette more than I can tell, mostly because I have a long ballgown that can be appropriated a few different ways. This year, I have a couple of thoughts, each as silly as the last, but ultimately achievable without spending any money (the in thing for me right now).

So i've thought of three options, presented below, all relatively achievable (with a bit of playing around in my wardrobe). Of course, I don't really have exact replicas of the items in the polyvore sets, but you know, if money was no object... *sigh*. The burberry taffeta trench is just divine. I love taffeta in a jacket. Something so silly, so superfluous about it.


Killer it-girl

burberry trench coat, christopher kane for topshop gem tee shirt, kenneth lane cuff, yves saint laurent lipstick, acne leather skirt, balenciaga thigh highs, chanel 2.55, party hire plastic knife.

Sometimes life just gets you down. Having to go to all those parties is really tiring, living in a fabulous city away from your friends can be stressful, and getting up at all hours for your journalism job is just a bore. I mean, yes, you are a bright young thing and bit of a champagne bubble around town, but it takes a lot of hard to work to stay that way darling, and frankly there are a lot of young upstarts getting in your way and stealing your (hard-earned) limelight. Well, not anymore that is. All those mysterious deaths. Those aspiring chic-clique girls just keep disappearing, at parties, at their country houses, on the way to interviews with you. It's sad, isn't it, how some people just can't hold their arsenic. (inspired by alexa chung's constant complaining about how bad life is for her in new york. wouldn't it be hilarious if she turned into a killer it-girl, i hope she takes out olivia palermo first!)


Black Widow

karl donaghue rabbit fur gilet, yves saint laurent bustier, vintage veiled hat, party hire revolver, bottega veneta clutch, marc jacobs skirt, christian louboutin heels, monsoon 'engagement' ring.

You've had seven husbands, and keep 'em coming. Each subsequent death leaves your net worth a little bit richer, and you're able to buy such fabulous things like this yves saint laurent leather bustier, or these rabbit fur jacket, or those little frou frou red-soled clickety-clack heels. Of course it's sad that you're alone know, as you mourn your last hubsand's terrible passing, a robber shot him in the library you know, while you slept off a martini hangover in the bedroom. Quel horeur. You pull your veiled hat a little further over your face, hiding crocodile tears. You spy a well-suited gentleman paying his respects near the coffin. You spy dolce shoes, brooks brothers shirt, a suit that could only have been cut by hedi slimane... you bite your lip. Number 8, here we come.



Vianne Rocher from Chocolat

acquascatum cloak, moschino cardigan, basile pashmina, marni necklace, ae belt, bottega veneta dress (worn as skirt), errickson beamon earrings, pour la victoire shoes.

I'm kind of a little bit desperate to go as Vianne, because I love Juliette Binoche and chocolate, so it seems like a happy combination! For those of you who haven't seen the movie or read the book, she's kind of a benign witch, who travels from town to town (restless and flighty) dispensing ancient chocolate remedies and changing the towns folk's lives in the process. She wears these glorious colourful costumes in the movie to differentiate her from the stuffy village people with their browns and french navies. Circle skirts, shrugs, little polo shirts, colour, colour, colour. Red suede pumps. It's delicious, just like all that yummy chocolate food. Even though she's not technically scary and/or a killer (unlike the other two, macabre much?) i think she's typically magical for halloween, no?



As Arthur Conan-Doyle said, 'where there is no imagination, there is no horror'. I'm not quite sure what i'll go as yet, but i'll be sure to trick and treat. Can't wait.

X

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nail file

'The '80s were fabulous. The '90s sucked, and the '70s were just a sad, sad time in human history. Go 1980s! There's something that's just so cute about that time. And not just the yellow nail polish.'

Jennifer Sky.

jen brill's femme fatale red, peaches geldof's chipped black goth-nails, eva mendes' ice cool sparkly blue, dree hemingway's chanel mushroom polish, lauren conrad's rich purple, rihanna's neon yellow, gwyneth paltrow's steel grey and barbie pink.

I am a sucker for the nail polish. Seriously. Ever since i got out of school (where it was no nail polish, all the time), i haven't been seen with unpainted fingers. At the beginning of the year it was the ruby reds, dark bluey-blacks and rich purples of a vampy phase. Now i've moved wholeheartedly into corals, peachy pinks and jade greens - somewhat out of tune with the cool weather of spring, but completely in tune with fashion right now. Oh yeah.

This year has seen nail polish become a huge deal. We've witnessed crowds storming Selfridges in London and Myer in Sydney for Chanel's Jade polish (at a hefty $50AUD no less, i ask you). We've seen nail guru Sophy Robson have the best newcomer catwalk season in years, all from backstage of course, whipping up nail creations for Vivienne Westwood, Louis Vuitton and Alexander McQueen. I've read countless articles dissecting why nail polish has become so big, and not really reaching any clear, understandable conclusion.

For me it's pretty clear. Nail polish is the new lipstick.

You know, in recessions and depressions and anything sad, sales of lipstick spiked. the 1930s? L'oreal released 4 new shades of red lipstick. World War II? Women went without lunch so that they could afford a new stick. And now? Well, I suppose it's a sign of not only what is important for women today, but also the cross-section of society hit by the depression - the youth, with their penchant for colourful polish on their fingers, are also searching out a similar 'pick me up' to the lipstick, in these times. And for them, that is nailpolish.

With the exception of Chanel, who in my experience make incredible colours that chip like nobody's business, nailpolish is cheaper than a lipstick. And it does give you that instant boost and fashion cred that you get from a new hairdo or a new pair of shoes. Having that 'it' shade (i can't believe i just wrote that) on your fingers guarantees you subcultural capital for years. I can't count on both my hands the amount of people who have stopped me when I'm wearing Sportsgirl's Jade rip off 'Apple' and told me how much they loved it, and then asked if it was chanel. When i tell them that it's not, it's from Sportsgirl, one girl told me to tell people it's Chanel, just for kicks. Just as how, once, having Nars 'Laguna' bronzer was a sign of being in the beauty know, and carrying a Chloe paddington around in the crook of your arm guaranteed you a sense of sartorial entitlement, now it's up to your nails to do the talking, as it were.

People notice nail colour as you reach for a drink or twirl your pen around through sheer boredom in a lecture. A friend of mine was intrigued by the dark brown/grey colour of O.P.I's 'you don't know jacques' that i've taken to wearing on and off for the past couple of weeks. 'What colour is that, anyhow?' She asked me. I don't really know. In different light it looks like different colours. I painted it on because it reminded me of the gorgeous shade of creamy brown that the models wore at the Chanel SS 10 Paris show. Another friend of mine loves the rich pink I wear on my toes, another sportsgirl find (dirt cheap, never chips, and the colours are fantastic). She says it reminds her of the dress she wore to her 10th birthday party, all flamenco ruffles and frou.

For me it's got a little bit more imaginative permanence than a lipstick, or perfume. A good manicure can last 2 weeks, and even if you do your own nails (as i do, sans base and top coat, i'm incredibly impatient), retouching them means the colour can last for days. What lipstick or perfume can boast that? They are also as interchangeable as a lipstick or perfume. You can wipe the nailpolish off and start again, as I have done with 3 different colours in 3 days. Nail polish is adaptable to your moods. But it can also play off them, and add to them.

I love that scene in one of the earliest episode of Gilmore Girls where Lorelai varnishes Rory's toes a sinful lolita red because 'everyone knows private school girls are bad, and bad girls wear red nail polish'. A friend of mine without a sinful bone in her body wears the vampiest shade of black/red (chanel rouge noir, of course) on her toes, and the effect is incredible.

I suppose it's just more youthful than lipstick. Don't get me wrong, i love lipstick as much as the next girl, but a hit of shocking orange fizz, or a set of emerald green nails paired with a scrubbed clean with soap freshness and pulled back hair... perfect. It's the best aesthetic for now, where tricks come cheap and everyone knows it. The best way to update a look isn't to whack a great hunk of jewellery with it, or sew some crazy buttons on the hem, but to paint your nails a colour that contrasts and complements your outfit. Instant fashion kudos.

What are the best nail polish colours for now? a mushroom grey colour is perfect for you northern hemispherers heading into winter. I also still love the minty green of Chanel's Jade (and any rip offs therein) for summer, and sipping ice tea in a fragrant garden. A friend of mine got a manicure with the most incredible shade of pink, it was dusky, a mix of pink and grey, subdued, like an antique dress you find in an attic covered in dust, but still resplendent as ever. And for a bit of old-school glamour you can't go wrong with a purple/red that's rich, vampy and just a little bit bad.




Alexa Chung, ever the style barometer, has shown that nail polish is just as lust-worthy as acne uber-wedges. well, almost as lust-worthy. Her fashion spot thread lights up whenever she wears a particularly cool shade, that is, all the time. She's my original inspiration for sea-green nails, and her candy floss pink, coral reds, tangerines, purples and blues are all perfect as well.

X

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top shop

just a few things i'm hoping topshop sends to incu next week. come on, come on!!

In exactly a week from now Topshop will open its doors (albeit from within the comforts of the Paddington Incu store) on Sydney Australia. Joyous shouts will ring out, children will rejoice, teenage girls everywhere with a fashion conscience but no real high street output will give thanks to their sartorial god.

For you English bloggers, and some new Yorkers, the sheer bliss of a topshop store, an actual store not just a virtual online one, will be somewhat lost on you. It’s not just topshop though, you were lucky to grow up in a world where zara, h&m, cos and topshop are on every corner (bear with me on the generalisations here) and the high street was not only the purveyor of cheap, tacky gladrags for the club goers, but fashion forward and covetous pieces that complemented any wardrobe, high or low. You have high street stores that present at a fashion week, that collaborate with important designers, that do not belittle the average customer with the average income, and that don’t essentialise the teenage style.

Unforunately for Australians, this is exactly what teenagers get. Walk into any number of high streets stores and you can have your pick from a) boho-influenced maxi dresses, b) model off duty denim cut offs and blazers or c) tight, short, cleavage baring mini dresses for a night on the town. There is literally not much else in between. Sometimes you get lucky and can pick up things that are odd, quirky and very, very cool. But on the whole high street in Australia is just a huge bunch of same old, same old, and as a result as a nation our style tends to run down similar streets. I strongly believe though, that it is because we are fed such one dimensional mass-fashion that our style has turned out the way it has - for most teenager the touchstone is a mass-produced, mass-marketed beast, rather than a store that celebrates individuality and does not provide a meta-narrative for teenage style. Despite topshop's problems as a mass-chain store (the fashion spot is rife with complaints by members that something they love is 'everywhere' and thus has lost its cachet), topshop still manages to cater to a wide range of sartorial tastes and values. You can walk into topshop as a preppy, a francophile, a goth, a rockabilly... a whole manner of different cliques, and find something for you. If you don't fit into sexy surfer or slick city girl then you're left out in the cold.

Now, imagine what luxury, what joy, what ecstasy it is to witness a topshop. I was exposed young, thanks to a travelling sister and a fervent love for everything peaches geldof touched (I was 13, she was my role model, now you all laugh and we can move on haha). As such I developed premature anglophilia, that meant that as soon as I set foot in london aged 14 I descended upon topshop and bought big on sparkly tee shirt dresses and camouflage parkas. However when I was recently in London I had the fortune to watch one of my best friends have her first topshop experience.

I didn’t believe in love at first sight until I saw her reaction to Oxford Circus' flagship topshop store. She, a rockabilly/punk girl with an Alice Dellal undercut and a penchant for 50s style tea dresses with motorcycle boots, fell upon the wet look leggings, the acid wash jeans, the bodysuits and fishnet tights, the ankle boots and the leather jackets like nobody's business. While i went around snapping up crop tops, long skirts, breton tops and oversized blazers and tee shirts for my brothers. A happy day was spent trawling through those racks, and a couple of days later while I discovered COS, she absented herself and went right back, eager to just soak up the atmosphere before a return to australia's dull and predictable high street.

I suppose it's a case of the grass is greener sort of thing, and if we had grown up with topshop maybe we wouldn't think it was so great. But do you english people really not like topshop? I mean, sure everything has its bad sides, the biggest problem with topshop being over exposure. But you have to take the good with the bad. And the good is very good - what you have is a high street store that has transcended the high street label, it is that rare breed of chain store that no longer just slavishly reproduces catwalk looks, but interprets (and re-interprets) and makes their own significant fashion moments as well as starting trends in their own right. They are a store that captures the zeitgeist like none other at the moment, no longer just the haven for cash-strapped teens, but planted firmly on fashion's notoriously fickle radar thanks to stellar designer collaborations and a keen eye for what is 'in fashion'. Fast and affordable fashion for everyone. Not exclusive. Accessible. And oh so covetous.

So this time next week, thanks to a timely end of semester, and a fortuitous burst of productivity that means money is plentiful (though i am supposedly saving up for a camera), you will find me scoping the racks of incu's topshop concession store. Incu, for non-australians, is a boutique that stocks, among other things, alexander wang, opening ceremony, and a.p.c. I think it was the perfect choice for topshop's first toe-dipping exploration into the sydney market. Apparently the collection will sample the normal range, the unique, the kate moss collections and boutique as well. heavily edited, with a focus on clothes and shoes, but nonetheless, an entire level of the paddington oxford st store (conveniently about 200 m from my front door, oh yeah), devoted to topshop and topshop alone. Bliss!

According to statistics, us Aussies are the highest paying nation outside the UK to use topshop's online store service. We love our topshop, and hopefully topshop loves us right back.

X

ps. i know i said yesterday no blogging, but my brother generously let me use his computer to type this post. kindness can come from the weirdest of places, right? thanks oliver, i owe you!

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apologies...

At the moment i'm working out some technological problems - i've regressed from my shiny mac powerbook back to my baby little ibook g4, and am not sure exactly when i'm going to be able to post again. i'm also functioning on 'borrowed' internet. it seems like right now technology hates me. grrr.

sorry! hope your week has been less problematic than mine.

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you look lovely today... just today?

I have no internet at home... quel horreur... anyway i've been scavenging what little internet i can, but i don't think i'll be able to post this weekend. :( hopefully come monday the problem is fixed.. otherwise... well i think i'll go crazy. ahh!!!

Yasmin Sewell

wayne tippets

How does she do it? I mean really, how does she do it. I've been trying to recreate that infuriating effortlessness of hers, but i just come off looking scruffy. It's all in the details, isn't it, the fact that that dress is slightly sheer at the top, and a little suggestive. That gorgeous cropped denim vest that smarts just a pinch of country western (my favourite kind of western). Those beautiful calf-grazing ankle boots, the shoe of the moment, and one that i am whole heartedly embracing. And that bouncy, flouncy hair of hers. I see girls like Yasmin, and i wish fervently that i could have curly hair. The grass is always greener...


Lily Allen

big pictures

Don't ask me why, don't ask me how. but i LOVE this outfit. (har har). I really can't deconstruct it. She just looks good.


Dasha Zhukova

tfs

Oh simplicity. How I adore thee. No, really. I know it seems i can be a bit mellifluous with my prose, but deep down i'm a simple gal. Give me a tweed shift and flats anyday. Oh, and belt it over my baby bump. Don't you just love this? She looks so chic. And that can't be easy when you're pregnant. I think when I'm pregnant you'll probably find me in roomy smock dresses, leggings, and converse. And some huuuuuge jacket to hide away in when it all gets too much.


Caroline Sieber.

wayne tippets

Oh yes. Oh YES. trust Caroline Sieber, to throw together everything that is trendy and hip in fashion right now - from thigh high boots to trench coats, via little itsy bitsy chanel tweed dresses. Sure, we're not really sure what she does... Sure, she's a chanel brand ambassador without doing very much at all (except being the ex-girlfriend of Andrea Casiraghi and the ex-stylist of Emma Watson), but oh, she dresses so well. You can excuse a girl anything in thigh high boots. Even it-girl status.


TGIF!
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the last word

I like Jane Austen as much as the next woman, i love getting lost in that deliciously ironic, terribly dressed up language. Shakespeare? Just throw in a little dramatic feud and some forbidden love and i'm there. And don't even get me started on all that epic poetry that you can find me wading through on a lazy Sunday. But sometimes, just sometimes, all you want to do is read about clothes.

Books about clothes, and fashion, are often belittled in the press. What's the point of them, anyway? How can you fill an entire book with discussion about clothes... They're just clothes. Huh. That kind of thinking really gets under my skin. There is nothing wrong with being interested with clothes, fashions and shoes. Nothing whatsoever. In fact, i think that studying fashions, changing trends, and the history and currency of clothing can be a fascinating and intriguing subject. (I am biased though, i just completed an essay for history on the importance of fashion in forging social status at Versailles).

Which is why i like reading about fashion, all kinds of fashion, in books. Magazines are great and all, but sometimes what you want is books - fiction, non fiction, monographs, coffee table books, how-to guides. They can elaborate more on their subject, sure they have less photos, but what they lack in visuals they make up for in imagination and though-provoking essays. I love reading about the history of garments, elite fashion worlds, inspirational street styles and even how to walk in high heels. These are some of my favourite fashion books:


The Sartorialist - Scott Schuman


The best thing about this book is not really the pictures, even though they're lovely, but it's the size. I was a little hesitant about this, wondering if what is essentially a coffee table book could work in a small size, paperback no less, and with a dustjacket. It would be hard, i thought, to get the proportions right and to make it easy to read. I thought it would feel clumsy in your hands. No, it really doesn't, and that marks a landmark in publishing - a paperback book filled with images and commentary, essentially a coffee table book, in a small, easy to read and handle size. I know this doesn't really seem so groundbreaking, but imagine Schuman's contemporaries and idols, they all have monographs, but there's (Testino, i'm looking at you) are huge, bohemoth tomes. This, instead, is sleek and chic, just like the subjects in the book. I remember reading somewhere that Schuman wanted to see fashion students carrying it around, dog-eared and loved, with post-it notes sticking out and scribbles on the pages. He wanted it to inspire and to intrigue. He wanted it to be loved. Well, it's going to be hard not to.


The Classic Ten - Nancy Macdonald Smith


Remember that book I talk about, the one about the history of classic pieces? this is it, written by Nylon's fashion features editor, and covering the suit, the white shirt, the trench (hello, yesterday's post), the lipstick, the LBD, the pearl necklace, the jeans, the high heels... it's such a great book, it's engaging and captivating, written with that discerning eye of a wizened fashion journo. Her insights into each piece are so intersting, she provides history and cultural context, as well as personal anecdotes and hand illustrations. In fact, each entry is kind of like a blog post, not too long, crammed with info, but set out in a way that makes you want to read on, and on, and on. While you may not come away knowing everything there is to know about the Trench Coat, you do learn some quirky facts and the antecedents of the trench (military WWI stylings). And that's what i love about this book, it's easy, quick and such fun to read.


Influence - Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen

Sure, they may have cliche written all over them, but no matter what the olsen twins do it always succeeds. Actress turned fashion designer? MK and A are the only ones of their kind to be admitted to the CDFA. Actress turned Author? Influence is one of the only books written by an actress that i own and love. I think this stems primarily from the subject matter, unlike Lauren Conrad's L.A Candy, this isn't a half-baked attempt at tell-all novel-cum-memoir. It is an informed, thoughtful and beautifully presented coffee table book explicating the various influences on their life. Architects, fashion designers, authors, visionaries and each other, Mary-Kate and Ashley interview, compile, photograph, and show what inspires them and what has shaped them into the fascinating people they are today. I particularly like the glimpses into their closets, such as the first sample of 'the row' tee shirt, or the galliano vintage robe (pictured above). Liking this book isn't a matter of liking the Olsen twins, it's a matter of appreciating that most intriguing of things - what influences us.


How to walk in high heels - Camilla Morton

This book is utterly charming. Subtitled 'the girl's guide to everything', it covers, funnily enough, how to walk in high heels and how to apply cat-eye eyeliner as well as things like how to change a light bulb, how to program your computer and how to cook a roast lamb. It has a foreword by John Galliano, which basically praises the socks of Camilla Morton (and makes me wish i could meet her, she sounds like fun!) and various special sections written by designers, fabulous it-girls and musicians in sections relevant to them. For example, Anya Hindmarch writes a section entitled 'how to pack a suitcase'. Many valuable lessons can be gleaned from this book.

It's vintage darling - Christa Weil

Every girl knows that to make a real entrance you need something vintage. No-one will have the same thing as you, and you can stand out like the worldly, classy thing that you are. This book, a gift from my godmother who has excellent taste and who is a dead ringer (personality and looks wise) for Sofia Coppola, is the best guide i've ever read (and i've read my fair share) for loving, buying and wearing vintage. It covers everything from the best vintage shops (in London, New York, Paris and even Melbourne!) to how to navigate size differences. It's a book for vintage lovers, by a vintage lover, with tips on how to care for your clothes, how to mend them, how to source out authentic designer vintage, and how to wear a look with class. The best section is the book covers all the different (and favourite) vintage looks, from Victorian to 80s, and how to incorporate them into your wardrobe, how to wear them on different body types and how to rock a look from head to toe.

Bergdorf Blondes - Plum Sykes

Oh yeah. You didn't think a discussion of my favourite books about fashion could go by without a mention of Plum Sykes? One of my favourite Vogue fashion writers, she's witty, clever and just a little bit elitist, which is all the better for this kind of book. You don't read Bergdorf Blondes for realism. You don't read it for heartfelt emotion and passion. You do read it for a tongue-in-chic (but then, also wholeheartedly embracing) look at new york's socialiate fashion culture. It's not really the best advertisement for fashion journalism considering that the protagonist only files about 3 stories in the duration of her tenure, and never submits her copy on time, but she does it with the perfect chloe jeans and a boucheron cocktail ring hanging from her finger. Oh so chic.

Queen of Fashion - Caroline Weber

This is the fashion book for those who like their hats with a side of history. Charting the reign of Marie Antoinette, and one of the books that Sofia Coppola's masterful film was based on, it covers in exquisite detail the various fashion whims and fancies of Marie Antoinette, including original plans from her coutourier Rose Bertin, coverage of infamous fashion moments like the affair of the necklace, and also relates the politics of fashion to the politics of power. This is one of the first books i read that legitimized the discourse of fashion as a social barometer, validating clothes, shoes, frills and frou as worthy of discussion by historians and sociologists. She even relates it back to today's fashion industry! A must read for anyone who, like me, feels that clothes are far more than just the things we put on our backs.

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down in the trenches

'Put on a trench, you're suddenly Audrey Hepburn walking along the Seine - even if you've got red hair and you're five one.'
Michael Kors

L-R: Anna Karenina, Alexa Chung, Jean Shrimpton, Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard, Catherine Deneuve, Francoise Hardy.


I have to admit, i haven't always loved trench coats. I bought one when i was 13 and hated it. I remember staring at it in my wardrobe with barely concealed disgust, and annoyance at myself to succumbing to peer pressure all my friends wore trench coats back then, god knows why), and buying such a silly, stuffy old jacket. At that stage I was to be found kitted out in skinny jeans, rock tee shirts and cargo pants (think Lindsay Lohan in Freaky Friday). I bought this trench coat in a sheeny satin-y fabric in a rich beige. I wore it once, to a family friend's wedding. Then i gave it away to my cousin.

How are the mighty fallen. I go through coat phases, since i have so many. I'll find a coat that I love and wear it non stop for about 2 months until I move on to the next unsuspecting piece of outerwear. During the winter that just past that coat was the Trench. It was an Yves Saint Laurent for men piece I bought at my local charity shop for $10 because I was dressing up as a french spy for a party. I wore it, and then put it away. But this winter, after seeing Alexa Chung prancing around in her mini Burberry one (did she buy it from the kids section? its sooo short) and after falling in love with everything in the Vanessa Bruno store, including but not limited to Trench coats, breton tops and silk slips, you couldn't persuade me not to wear it. All winter. Every day. Every night. And then some. I even wore it as a dress once, belted with a thick black leather strap and a pair of high heels.

I'm even wearing it now, inspired as I was by all these thoughts of trench-fabulousness. And let me tell you, no other piece of clothing is quite so comforting, quite so transformative as the trench. It's instant glamour, concentrated into yards of billowing cotton and military-esque epaulettes. It's functional - warm and dry from rain. It's classic. But the most resounding thing about a trench coat is its mystery. Whenever I wear my YSL trench the most common comment i get is 'oooh you look like a spy, or a private detective'. They're so synonymous with that hard-boiled PI trudging the streets of a god-forsaken town, or a wily woman with cat-flick eyeliner clutching it to her neck as she runs to a french resistance meeting. The trench is about mystery, enigma, secrets. They cover so much that people wonder what's underneath. They reveal nothing, yet hint at everything with that beguiling tan colour. So many fastenings, so many buttons and ties, and yet you can fling it open with literally just one easy flick of the wrist.

And the great thing about trench coats, they go with everything and they work on everyone. You can wear it with something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. You can wear it with pants or skirts, dresses or shorts. They look great on willowy model-esque girls with perfect hair, but they also look great on slightly frazzled mums running to pick their kids up from school. A student tapping her pen on her lecture pad as she waits for the class to start is just as chic as the french it-girl running her errands through the marais. And i'm not exaggerating just because i like to wear them. It's a scientific fact. Short of the little black dress the trench coat is one of the universally flattering garments.

Monday

Burberry Prorsum trench, richard nicoll top, marni necklace, acne cardigan, chloe skirt, proenza schouler PS1 bag, opening ceremony wedges.

With bleary eyes and under-your-breath curses you face the prospect of another working week. Oh the drudgery! Oh the tedium! Oh the... oooh is that your trench coat? You move aside hanger after hanger of spangly party dresses to reach the tan coat, grinning bewitchingly at you. You pull it off, surveying it carefully. It's been a long time since you wore a trench coat. Too long. You slip into it over your pyjamas and it just feels right. Perfect for now, with that crisp autumn breeze filtering through the windows. Quickly you find something suitably pastel-y and french to wear with it - pleated bow tie skirt, quirky patterned top, duck egg blue sweater and a fun necklace. A pair of wedges on your feet - you couldn't possibly broach the subject of wearing heels - although you think that maybe stilettos would look better. But as you look at yourself in the mirror you see that it all goes together. Remarkable. That's never happened before. Normally getting ready in the mornings is a chaotic rush as coffee spills, clothes are flung aside and your hair hangs limp to your shoulders. But the coffee is miraculously still in its cup and your hair has an uncharacteristic bounce. It must be the trench.

Tuesday

Burberry Prorsum trench, TAO by Comme Des Garcons top, Roberto Cavalli watch, Nancy Caten chain bracelet, SCOSHA rope bracelet, intermix leather bracelet, lanvin for acne denim dress (worn as skirt), acne sandals.

This top is major. And you never say that. But when you slip into this ruffled, ruched, scrunched, tired slip of a thing you can't help but feel very, very, cool. You pair it with a beautiful rich indigo denim skirt, a cool man's watch, various stringy bracelets, and lace up sandals. You're unsure about the jacket though. Blazer? Eh. Leather jacket? too much. Then you see the trench coat, flung over an arm chair after you got home yesterday. With its shroud of mystery and ineffable gallic charm you know it'll go perfectly with this outfit. You'll belt it up, and as you stride into the office fling it open to reveal that crazy cool top. Perfect. Or, if you were in paris... Parfait. Hah.

Wednesday

Burberry prorsum trench coat, la perla bra, kenneth lane cocktail ring, vanessa bruno dress, stella mccartney boots, errickson beamon earrings, stella mccartney bag

You succumbed. You bought a pair of thigh high boots. You don't really know what you were thinking, but it was something about that creamy faux leather and the way they scrunched up around your knees. They were adorable. And fierce. All at the same time. You decide to trial them on a night out, with a flimsy chiffon dress and some sparkly jewelry. You don't need a jacket, do you. You'll be inside all the time, and drinking too many bourbon and apple juices. As you get out of your apartment you feel that crisp chilly wind and you realise that you're going to be cold after all. You rush around your house searching for something to wear, watching the clock tick over until you are just a little bit fashionably late. Huh. It seems as if nothing goes with thigh high boots. Everything looks too sexy, too silly, too over the top. In a fit of desperation (and because you can't really be anymore late or else your friends will leave without you), you grab your trench coat and rush out the door. When you get to the bar your friends grin madly. 'Oh, don't you look chic!' One of them says as you untie your trench coat.


Thursday

Burberry Prorsum trench coat, topshop crop top, errickson beamon earrings, marni skirt, yves saint laurent bag, lanvin boots.

You love it when things don't quite go together. Checked skirt? A little bit 'to the manor born', but still good. Dusky pink crop top? a little bit 'flashdance' but still good. Shoe boots? A little bit last season, but you love them anyway. Chandelier earrings? a little bit too glamorous, but who cares. These things shouldn't work together, but when you add the classic trench coat, belted and sleeves rolled up, they do. They work like a charm. And the reason for that? The trench coat goes with everything. It's like that best friend who complements you perfectly. It goes with good moods and bad, good weather and bad, bright things, dark things, short things, long things. You could wear it all the time. And this week, it seems like you are.

Friday

Burberry Prorsum trench coat, alexander wang top, chanel 2.55, chloe pants, kenneth lane cuff, chloe flats.

You do love a good chanel 2.55 on a friday. There's something clever, so quietly ironic about wearing something so classic on the last day of the working week. It's like your thumbing the nose at the establishment and ringing in days of doing nothing but drinking espressos and reading proust. This outfit is perfect for a little TGIF party. You've got these velvet harem pants on that are so comfortable they might as well be pyjama pants. The comfort theme is extended with your cute as a button bow flats in a gorgeous emerald green. A sparkly cuff sets the whole thing off nicely. You swan around the office, trench coat billowing out behind you, like some fabulous heiress about to set off on a yacht somewhere glamorous. Instead you're going for fish and chips and a huge glass of beer once the day is done. But the trench coat makes it all so much better.

Saturday

Burberry Prorsum trench coat, rochas slip, diamond by the yard necklace, donna karan clutch, christian louboutin 'love' pumps.

You're feeling very chic in this little french slip, suede pump with sparkly 'love' embellished on the toes and diamond necklace. You're off to a romantic dinner and you couldn't think of anything you'd rather way, and any other way you'd rather top it off, than this outfit and trench coat. It's sexy and sweet, and guaranteed to win hearts (and then some). You feel like some french ingenue with messy hair and a bag full of secrets, clutching the trench closed at the neck as you walk around early morning empty city streets. You feel like some fabulous thing, dressed to the nines, but still wearing something as flimsy as underwear. You feel... Oh dinner's here. Yum.

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if i knew you were coming id've baked a cake.

flickr

Weird how at the moment the two people who most inspired me are Nigella Lawson and Sophie Dahl. Both semi-involved in the fashion industry (Nigella used to write for British Vogue and Sophie Dahl as the ex-model) but now sights firmly set in the kitchen. Both veritable Domestic Goddesses. Both have beautiful cookbooks that inspire me to get in there and whip up a cake or two. Both arrestingly gorgeous in that creamy-skinned, Rubens-English way. I've been planning dinner parties, mixing up platters of brownies, serving groaning plates of spaghetti for hungry teenage brothers and reading baking books in my spare time, when really i should be studying. Maybe it's all this post-feminism that's infected my blood since watching desperate housewives for a uni assignment. Maybe i'm coming to grips with my feminine side. Maybe i'm realising the alluring power of wafting baking smells.

Or maybe i'm just hungry.

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notes on a scandal

'There was a little girl
And she had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead,
When she was good,
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.'


Every time i've done something even remotely bad I was wearing Opium by Yves Saint Laurent. It's something about that heady, musky oriental smell that dries down into a potent mix of jasmine and cloying tobacco that makes me want to do bad things. Well, bad for me anyway.

Opium is the kind of perfume that defines an era. For me it will always be the perfume of choice for my mother, the archetypal late 80s early 90s super-woman with big shoulder pads and even bigger hair, juggling career with baby. She could do it all, and she would do it all wearing that distinctive scent of bergamot, cardamon, jasmine and amber. Hundreds of other women just like her sprayed Opium onto their wrists and behind their ears and set off into the world to be the fiery temptress and do the strong, powerful things that opium made them do. I remember ads for Opium always featured nakedness in some way, as if the perfume was so powerful, and so bare (despite all the different scents vying for attention, from top note to base, i always, always smell jasmine, raw and fecund), it just made women shed their clothes left right and centre.



But, here's the catch, is it the perfume that drives me to temporary bad-ness or is it the image that the perfume conjures. They're not irrevocably linked, as one might suppose. In fact if you detach yourself emotionally from the perfume you see that the marketing of Opium contributes greatly to its power. One might go so far as to say that the perfume itself could not succeed without the publicity behind it. How many women, myself included, first picked up Opium because of something they had heard about it. How many women first tried the perfume because they were curious, and liked it because of the overwhelming sense that you should. I remember spraying it, gingerly, because I had seen the Sophie Dahl ad where she stretched out in ecstasy - wearing no clothes. I was fascinated, if a little embarassed. And when I first sprayed that Opium in stolen minutes whilst my mother played with my brother in the garden, I smelt something exotic and mysterious, adulthood, lies... It wasn't a particular beautiful smell, not like the perfect balance between wood, musk and floral in Chanel number 5.



So why do i keep wearing it? Because in more ways than one, it is the most powerful scent I've ever worn. It is a strong smell - 'heady' and 'cloying' are the two most apt descriptions of the first hit of Opium, and it inspires as much instant hatred as it does instant love. It's powerful metaphorically, considering the oriental allure of Opium to British colonialist, and the significant impact the drug had on Europe. I wouldn't go so far as to say that the perfume is akin to the drug, but it's definitely no coincidence that Yves Saint Laurent chose the dangerously addictive and overwhelming narcotic to front his latest perfume.

Though I may wax lyrical about the transformative power of perfume one need only glance at the selling statistics of the great perfumes to note its significance for women. An instantaneous, relatively inexpensive metamorphosis is the greatest attribute of perfume today. With just a spritz of, say, Opium, a girl becomes a wily woman. She becomes that woman who says so much with just one casual, supremely graceful, hand movement. The girl who exudes sexiness and mystery - that much desired combination - from every pore.



My question is, how much of this idea of Opium - of any perfume - is informed by the advertising campaigns that saturate our society? And, then, how much is informed by our own olfactory experience of the scent? Undoubtedly the exotic orientalism is present within Opium in the patchouli, the bergamot, the amber, the myrhh, but it begs the question whether the advertising images constantly reinforcing it through headscarves, reclining day beds, expensive silks and oriental patterns emphasised what was really just present. Similarly, do we identify Opium with sex because of the musk, the wood, the tobacco (favoured post-coital vice, one hears) and the earthy undertones, or because we've seen that Sophie Dahl ad, or the Kate Moss one, or the Maria-Carla Boscono one, where flesh is the currency and you're getting your money's worth.

With Opium, the kind of perfume where everyone has a story and just the merest whiff can take you reeling back to another time, I suppose the real question is why. It has been written that the reason Opium has such a potent effect is because when it was first released women wore far too much of it, soaking themselves in it and striding forth to conquer the world. The effect was nothing short of horrible, as Opium is worn by far too many people who really shouldn't wear it. And in large amounts you can only imagine the impact it would make. It's the kind of perfume that anecdotes surrounding entering lifts and being hit in the face with a huge wall of sticky scent are referring to.


I do bad things whilst wearing Opium. I sneak out of my house, I dance on tables, I flirt incessantly (which i never, never do), I fight with my friends. It's like the alpha female within me comes out to play, and I can't ward her off until the base notes, with their tobacco-y pungent-ness, die off. But do I do it because my brain is addled by the amber and I'm driven to all sorts of lip-biting insanity. Or do i do it because I've seen the advertisements, they've been absorbed into my subcobscious, and I'm forever trying to recreate that image (just as how Chanel number 5 drives me to a search for chic, and Stella by Stella McCartney inspires me to wear flirty little dresses and flash knowing little smiles). Or do I do it because I just want to, dammit?

Who knows. That's the mystery of Opium. I've written this whole blog post, and if you go home and spritz a little on you you're going to have a completely different experience to me. You'll smell things like Taragon and cloves, minty lily notes, and sticky honey. And then it begins. Well, enjoy the ride. Opium takes no prisoners.

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