cinematic style - Jake Gyllenhaal in Brokeback Mountain

screencaps

So you know how you know who your first crush was? The one whose poster you plastered all over your walls, the one you fell asleep looking at, the one you secretly (or not so secretly) planned to marry. 'My future husband' you would say. It almost doesn't matter who it is. It could be Leo, it could be a Backstreet Boy, it could be Seth Cohen (a thousand teenage girls of the noughties sigh). Well, for me, that first crush, last crush, always crush was Jake Gyllenhaal. Oh Jake. You have no idea how bad it gets. I wish I knew how to quit you. Not even when my friends tell me that his eyes are too close together (on the weekend, while in an absolute dive bar, my oldest bud said to me 'look I'm not saying that if he took his clothes off in front of me I'd say no, but seriously, on a scale of one to cyclops he's like a 7, maybe 7.5'). Not ever. I have loved him since Donnie Darko. I saw Prince of Persia three times in the cinema. And don't even get me started on Love and Other Drugs...

I remember seeing Brokeback Mountain. I remember falling in love. I remember double denim. I remember crying so hard I thought people might ask me to leave. At the 2006 Oscars I remember wanting so bad for Brokeback to win the best picture award. I remember feeling gutted when it didn't. But there was Heath and Michelle (in that dress!) and Ang's speech and Jake being hilarious. My sixteen year old self wondered how such a beautiful, haunting, overwhelming film could miss out on the top honour. A slave to awards shows even then, I had not yet realised how political they could be. I still had stars in my eyes. I'm lucky that that first realisation didn't kill the whole enterprise. I laughed along with the rest of them at 36mafia 1, Scorsese 0. I hoped, rather than knew, Ang Lee's (and Heath's and Jake's) time would come. I remember crying like a baby when Heath died, thinking the whole time of this.

What's so good about this wardrobe? it's the cowboy thing, firstly. I've always been drawn to a good felt hat and have recently adopted double denim as my unofficial wardrobe of spring. Shearling I know well. But what I am drawn to at the moment is the whole 70s vibe. I have recently watched a few movies set in the 70s (Rush, Jobs), and god, it was a sexy era. The open shirts, the tight jeans, the big belts, the big hair.  Men looked masculine. They acted masculine too - rode horses, smoked cigarettes, punched things - but most of all they looked the part in their denim and shearling and shirts. I think the normalcy of the wardrobe in this does much to advance character development. The torment of the Ennis and Jack is only heightened by their relative anonymity. They look the part, they just can't act it. That tension between reality and fiction, the tension of living a lie, is always the major theme I take away from the film. I think the costumes express that tension so, so admirably.

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so cool

the sartorialist

What made him so cool? Was it the way he carried books; gripped by the spine, resting on his shoulder? Was it the fact that he had stubble always, even after he shaved? Was it the way he would lean back on one arm and look at you and not say anything at all? You remember so much about it, you remember how it started and how it ended, you remember every glass of wine and every keystroke. You remember the sound of his door opening. You wish you could forget the sound of it closing. But when you saw him, that first time, that last time, what made him so cool? Was it the hair, the jeans, the white tee shirt, the smile? Was it the way he held a pint of beer? Was it his name, his stories, his laugh? There really was something about him. You hadn't met anyone so cool. And he really was. When you think about, and I mean, really think about it, you know it was, more than anything else, that leather jacket, the way it creased at the elbows, the little tear at the collar, the pockets you put your hands in when it got cold, the zip you played with while watching the trailers at the cinema, the smell - that particular smell of oil and cigarettes that all motorcycle jackets have - and the way it felt when you put it on.

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the trench

celebutopia

Seeing Alexa out and about in a trench coat is like seeing your first boyfriend walking down the street looking so damn good. You know it's been years but you kind of think, why did we ever break up? So Alexa, why did we ever break up? 

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alexa

Sometimes I think I don't really like Alexa's style at all. That she dresses too hipster, too crazy, too short, too 60s, too trendy, too girly, too same-old, too alexa. But then she busts out an outfit like this and I remember that even though she's not my style icon anymore there are moments when we cross over and I would wear every single thing.

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not yet

 garance dore

Thanks for reminding me I still haven't got the perfect leopard print coat yet, Garance.

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what's that jacket?

five inch and up

I keep seeing it on blogs and the gram, on my desktop and on my mind. This would be one for the ages - or at least one for Vienna - the perfect last thing to top of my packing list. I'm keeping crossed that one of these makes its way to me, or I find one hanging on a half-off rack in some lonely corner of a European H&M!

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winter wonderland

one, four and six: looks from Amy Kaehne's A/W 2013 collection: The Name is an Anagram // two and three: nidhi // five: daniella marie // seven: daniella marie // eight: nidhi

Amy Kaehne's latest collection is a dream. It's a winter wonderland, paper bags filled with roasted chestnuts, warm apple cider and empty streets, blanketed in snow. It's the kind of thing I spend my whole life thinking about: warp cardigans to tie around your middle, baggy polka-dot print pants with elasticated waists, talored jackets with batwing sleeves and pockets to rest your hands in. A murky winter colour palette of greys, khakis and beautiful, wine-stained burgundy (my favourite colour!) - are evenings tucked in the cosy corner of brasseries and bistros, drinking carafes of something red and tucking into bracing, warming plates of meaty ragus. The milky beiges of silk shirts and trousers have that white, marshmallow-y quality of winter's hour. They capture those scant few moments at dawn when winter seems truly manageable and the rain and the snow (!!!) and the cold seem supremely unimportant.

Amy just really gets winter. Her past collections of tweedy coats and baggy handknits and silky shirts are mainstays in my wardrobe and have been saviours on trips to the blue mountains and melbourne this year. I can't wait to take my favourite coat (which Amy has re-cut this season in a beautiful striped fabric!) to Paris and London and Tokyo next year. And I can't wait to make winter memories with this collection too. That's the best thing about the way our world works: it's always winter somewhere.

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cinematic style - Owen Wilson in Midnight in Paris

 screencaps

I saw this three times at the cinema. Three times. And it wasn't enough. It's one of those movies that speaks to you instantly - speaks to so many people - that opening montage of Parisian streets, those wide, far-reaching boulevards that everyone knows, without even a shred of doubt, are in Paris, the lovers kissing on bridges, those blue skies, the way the light falls, golden and honey-hued on everything. I saw it firstly for an amazing PR event put on by Katerina, celebrating a French lingerie brand's launch in Australia, then I saw it with Rachel, a fellow Paris-lover, who was as wide-eyed as me, dreaming of a world with Si Tu Vois Ma Mere as the constant soundtrack. The third time, though, was the best. With my mum - the world's ultimate francophile - the person for whom this kind of film was made. Art and history, Versailles and Giverny, Hemingway and Fitzgerald... Midnight in Paris.

It's funny how Woody Allen movies always seem to present different or even maybe idealised versions of the same self. Men in Woody Allen movies always have a crisp, J-Crew kind of look to them, they're hapless and neurotic and a bit lost, wearing their too-long chinos with thick leather belts and polo shirts tucked in. It's endearing, it's the look of a man dressed by his mother (if the mother ran the country club with a pearl-clad fist). I was watching To Rome With Love the other day, Allen's latest paean to a foreign city, and I was reminded by how much all of his more recent movies look the same. Vicky Christina Barcelona, Midnight in Paris and now this one - they all share that same summer shimmer, that same light, irreverent touch, that same nonchalant, masculine styling. The comparison between Lea Seydoux in this movie - who has a beautiful wardrobe of high-waisted denim and blush coloured shirts, but she's only in 3 scenes so I couldn't really justify doing a whole cinematic style on her, maybe something else though - and Gerta Gerwig in To Rome With Love was so striking. It's as if Diane Keaton walked out of Manhattan and into Incu or Bloodorange and started wearing Acne and K.Jacques. It's startling, and it's kind of a bit telling to look at.

But, back to Owen Wilson. I love the palette of his wardrobe in this movie - the beiges and the greys at first, and then the more daring reds and mint greens and even a bit of a pattern later. I love how relaxed it is; a true writer, solitary and simple. I love how he seems to always be wearing that one pair of chinos and that wide leather belt, and how it's so similar to what Lea Seydoux wears, you're just desperate for them to get together - even over the radiant Marion Cotillard, and the radiantly bitchy Rachel Mcadams (so spoilt for choice). And I love how the simplicity and the preppiness of this wardrobes allows Gill's quirky, slightly neurotic humour and personality to shine through. He was the perfect person for this part, he always seems to have that dazed, wide-eyed look, like he's not quite sure what's going on. It works so well in this scene (and how great is Corey Stoll, hamming it up as the Hemingway with all of the stereotypes and all of those long, grammar-less sentences that we knew existed), and really in the whole film. The slightly too-long pants and the low-slung belts have just the right amount of childishness about them to make all those stunned gazes and those disbelieving stammers work. And it's so relateable, not because we all want to time travel back to the time of hemingway, and not because everyone wishes they had met picasso. It's believable because those stunned gazes and those disbelieving stammers are exactly what we all do when we're in Paris in summer, and everything is just so, so beautiful.

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ps. don't forget to enter my Shopbop giveaway!   Ending tonight at EST 8PM! good luck!

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something for the weekend

Stine Goya leather jacket from My Chameleon, Rag & Bone sweater, Linda Farrow x The Row sunglasses from My Chameleon, Me & Ro bangle, Saskia Diez bracelet, Mociun bracelet, Araks bra, Byredo La Tulipe, Araks knickers, Dieppa Restrepo loafers from My Chameleon, Van Rycke necklace from My Chameleon, Nars lipstick in Bianca, Golden Goose jeans, Celine phantom bag

If only all weekends looked like this. 

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box

columbine smile

What I want always seems just beyond my fingertips. For ages now I've wanted a really, really, really oversized coat; boxy yet with a clean line from shoulder to hem, big enough to wear your chunkiest sweater under yet still with some semblance of structure. The kind of shape that you want in a trench coat, but in a slightly thicker material to combat the chill of Europe in January (I'm coming for you, I'm coming for you!). Columbine has one, and she looks great in it. As always there's something about the way she pairs cropped, fitted pants with boxy uppers that works so well. She's got layering down to a tee - sweater with jacket under coat and scarf - and I love her masculine, no-nonsense approach to style. This coat would be the perfect partner in crime to my Amy Kaehne tweedy number in Europe. As always, the search continues.

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furry friend

Alexandra Golovanoff by The Streethearts // Camille Rowe by Models Rock // Valerie Boster by Vogue

I've always had a thing for this Isabel Marant fur coat. It's crazy! It couldn't be further from, well me than anything in the whole world, but I've always, always, always loved it. Completely inexplicably, wholly and uncontrollably without question. Which I guess is kind of the point of love, isn't it? I think there's something about how great it looks at night - remember when Kate used to wear hers on the reg, and there were blurry paparrazzi shots of her running in and out of town cars in front of Scotts, or Nobu or wherever it is she gets her sushi these days, and it just looked so fabulous, an extravagant blur of coloured wool and matted hair - and it really does cast a lasting impression. If I had one I'd wear it, bulky silhouette and all, with midnight blue jeans and an oatmeal sweater and little ballet flats. I don't think I'm ever going to get my hands on it myself, but I'll keep an eye out for a similar vintage one. But it's gotta have the same bulk, the same swagger, the same wacky colours. So wrong it's right, you know?

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cinematic style (sort of) - the college sweatshirt in various

Kate Bosworth in an MIT hoodie in 21 // Dakota Johnson in a Stanford sweatshirt in The Social Network // Reese Witherspoon in a Harvard sweatshirt in Legally Blonde // Anne Hathaway in an Edinburgh University sweatshirt in One Day // Zoe Saldana in an Atlanta university hoodie in Drumline

So many college sweatshirts, so little time. I still haven't managed to get my hands on a sydney uni one yet, but I've got a few weeks left (!!!!!). I feel like maybe I squandered some of my best sweatshirt-wearing years, but I guess the whole point is once you've got one, there's nothing stopping you breaking it out every weekend for the rest of your life. University, you're a keeper.

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ps. let the record show that I actually think drumline is a really good movie. Anything with a musical number, a southern college setting and a hint of "boy on the wrong side of the tracks turns good with kind-hearted girl" and I'm there. And Zoe Saldana is the ultimate babe.

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we'll always have paris

 one // two // three

In street style, as in so many, many things, no matter what happens, we'll always have paris.

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normal casual

stockholm streetstyle

Brown Isabel Marant coat - I'm so glad I still own you. Nubby grey sweatshirt with the holes in the sleeve - I'm so glad you're so oversized and comfy. New denim jeans from k-mart - I'm so glad you're the perfect shade of blue. Emmanuelle Alt - I'm so glad you're keep doing your casual thing at the shows, even when everyone else around you is, quite frankly, losing their shit.

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it's here!

I want to thank all the women who have worn my clothes

I-D August 2008, Pierluigi Macor/Anastasia Barbieri

That Organic by John Patrick trench coat that it seems like everyone - well, maybe just me, Talisa and Georgia, but still - have been waiting for has finally landed at My Chameleon. It's perfect in so many ways, but here are a few. It has a beautiful line that drops from the shoulder, it's oversized, and it is that perfect, perfect trench coat shade of milky tea. What could be better? And it is on my summer shopping list, you know (it even made it through the revision!). The perfect trench coat has eluded me for so long - and I still despair that when I did have it, a vinnies find and a steal at $10 I let my trend-driven self CHOP THE SLEEVES OFF to make a sleeveless trench (why WHY did I do that, WHY?). This one is shaping up to be the long-awaited replacement, perfection personified for someone who has just been making do for so long.

In my crime history class we've been learning about the origins of the private detective, and the perils of the modern city. There are a few things that I have always wanted to do, purely for drama or image's sake. The first is to catch a train to Russia up through China and drink vodka martinis in a gilded dining carriage with a plate of caviar. The second has something to do with expensive hotels and fast cars but the third is totally achievable, and soon! It would be to wear a trench coat with the collar upturned at night-time. Sure, Sydney is no downtown New York or windy Chicago, but looking the part is half the battle, really. I used to have this book that charted the history behind 10 of the most iconic pieces of clothing - the LBD, the red lipstick, the high-heeled shoe, the denim jeans - and, of course, the trench coat was one of them. I loved reading that chapter, of mice and men and Audrey Hepburn kissing George Peppard in the rain. I'm a bit hesitant to link to this, but I can't believe that it's been almost 3 years (a long 3 years, so long) since I wrote this post about the trench coat. How things change and how they stay the same!!!! It's funny re-reading things you wrote, especially about items of clothing that you are still interested in seasons later. 18 year old me was all about the glamour, the excitement, the mystery of the trench. I thought I had grown past that, with my sensible shoes and my comfy clothes and my boring, casual style. But then I just re-read the paragraph above and it would seem that I haven't. Maybe that has to do with the trench coat itself? That it's the type of garment that inspires a little bit of imagination? And that only makes me want one more.

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always

eefje de coninck

I saw this on damn fine coffee, who in turn saw it on Prêt à Porter P, and I wanted to have a crack at it too. After I did it I thought how hard it was to think of the nevers, just because I couldn't stand in front of my cupboard and see them hanging up there like I could with the always. But it was an interesting exercise nonetheless (I mean how many synonyms for the word oversized are there, really?) and it helped me get dressed this morning. To ring in this beautiful September spring weather I've got some tapered pants with pockets, oversized blue tunic shirt and sandals on.  I really am that predictable.

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