Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts

taking stock



1 and 3 - Miranda Kerr by Alasdhair Mclellan for Vogue UK September 2013 2 - Fashion Guitar


If I still wrote wardrobe planning lists - maybe I should bring them back, hmmm? - miranda would be on the top of the agenda. Not miranda herself per se, she's a babe and all, but she's just a little bit too perfect. I mean miranda in this editorial. This summer I want an extra piercing in my ear (sleepers, natch), tousled, beachy wave, the kind of tan that glows and a pair of double strap birkenstocks - in classic black or a washed-out taupe - for wearing with everything and nothing, jeans and tee shirts, and never taking them off.

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what a lot of parties

"'Oh Nina, what a lot of parties.' (... masked parties, Savage parties, Victorian parties, Greek parties, Wild West parties, Russian parties, Circus parties, parties where one had to dress as somebody else, almost naked parties in St John’s Wood, parties in flats and studios and houses and ships and hotels and night clubs, in windmills and swimming-baths, tea parties at school where one ate muffins and meringues and tinned crab, parties at Oxford where one drank brown sherry and smoked Turkish cigarettes, dull dances in London and comic dances in Scotland and disgusting dances in Paris – all that succession and repetition of massed humanity … Those vile bodies...)"

Evelyn Waugh, Vile Bodies




Paris Hilton by Sofia Coppola in Elle July 2013

 We all seem to be drawn to star quality - the brightness and the ebullience that makes famous people so famous - like moths to a flame. We pore over the pages of gossip magazines and discuss celebrities with our friends with a very real sense of investment into their lives. Some more than others, yes, but it's something we have programmed into our DNA since we first tore out that Leonardo DiCaprio poster from Dolly magazine, or we played our 'mysterious girl' single so many times we wore it out. It's heartening - endearing even - to realise that even the loftiest of lofty idols is capable of being starstruck. Sofia Coppola, the girl crush to end all girl crushes, bought up in the foothills of Hollywood and never short on celebrity acquaintances, is as drawn to star quality as the rest of us. It's pretty clear from this spread on Paris Hilton in the July issue of Elle US. The socialite, dolled up in tasteful makeup, canoodling her dog beneath baroque chandeliers and mirrored bedheads, is a slightly toned-down version of herself, but still radiating that sense of celebrity and persona and money which is really what we talk about when we talk about fame.

 Sofia understands - as F.Scott Fitzgerald and Evelyn Waugh understood before her - that what draws us to stars (talent or no, Paris Hilton is certainly a star) is not actually the looks or the love but the lifestyle. When we see a celebrity we don't ever really see the movies they have been in or the model they're sleeping with but the parties, what a lot of parties, that they call meaningless but to us, mere humans, seem like everything. When people pose the question 'why is Kim Kardashian famous for doing nothing' they are slightly missing the point. What she 'does' is live a moneyed lifestyle that speaks of everything that money can bring. It doesn't have to be Kim K. Pick your poison. But I've seen enough Gossip Girl to know that now, more than ever, we are as closely aligned to the celebrity-obsessed, stargazing society of the 1920s as we ever were. We dream in technicolour, we look in repetition and we long for carelessness. All of Sofia's movies have, in some way or another, dealt with this central conceit of being young and beautiful and so very, very rich. Perhaps because she is part of that world she always treats her characters if not through a rose-coloured lens then at least without judgement. Don't ask me whether that's a good or a bad thing, I love her too much to be able to answer. But I know that I can't wait to see The Bling Ring because I, like every other warm-blooded human being just cannot get enough of that foul dust that floats in the wake of dreams.

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never full


I can't quite remember the first time I wanted the Louis Vuitton neverfull but I do remember the first time that I shared this desire with someone. A friend at work - a fashionista through and through, she has a Celine bag and loves Isabel Marant sneakers like it's nobody's business, and I don't have many friends I can say that about - I thought she would fuel my obsession even further. Instead, she wrinkled her nose and said words to the effect that the bag was tacky. I was dismayed. I had been obsessing over it for a while now, and once you start obsessing over something you see it everywhere. It seemed like every customer at work for a month had been toting that bag, ever woman in line at Thomas Dux had her groceries flung in there so casually, ever mother at the school I coach debating at was carrying her blackberry and planner in one. I wanted it, in the biggest size, maybe even with a monogram HRY and a navy blue stripe down the middle (why not?). Tacky? Maybe just a little. It's hard to separate Louis Vuitton now from the this and the that. But I've always thought of Louis Vuitton as the glamorous purveyor of travel trunks, of French classicism and things that you keep forever and pass on to your daughters. I spent weeks convincing this friend of mine that, paired with bretons and tapered trousers, with loafers and big sweaters, with pea coats and fine jewellery, this bag would be the ultimate in chic everyday living - the kind of thing you could just throw everything in and head to the beach in a cloud of Byredo Gypsy Water. This was a grown up's bag. Well, V, what do you think? I know that Francesca Burns and me don't exactly have the same style, but you can't deny, this bag has class with a capital C.

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the lake



Mornings at Lake Como were like waking up in the middle of a dream; hazy, eyes-squinting with sleep, slow yawns, and then starting every so slightly when you looked out the window. It's funny because I thought that I wouldn't love Lake Como, that I would find it gaudy and flashy like a diamond as big as the ritz, but instead, in our little village almost empty of people - in the dead of winter the Lake feels like a ghost town, it's only in Summer when George and his wrestler girlfriend arrive that the area starts to heat up - I felt so at peace and so well-rested that I couldn't help but feel like I was in a constant dream-state. This seriously was the view from my bedroom window, across terracotta-tiled rooftops and that shimmering expanse of water to the pale houses across the way, the mountains, the turkish delight sunrise. It was love at first sight, real, heart-stopping, gut-wrenching love. I drank it in and couldn't get enough of it. I took a hundred photographs on one morning, I fell asleep with the shutters open, I woke up to that pale morning light washing over me.

When I'm grown up and married to a Swiss banker, and we live in Zurich in an apartment with white walls, I'm going to insist that we have a house on Lake Como that we'll run to every other weekend - and all summer - where we'll sit on the balcony and watch the water and eat peaches and think of Italy.

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grown up

TL-180 Voyageuse passport wallet

Grown-ups take care of their documents. Grown-ups plan ahead. Grown-ups take solo trips. Grown-ups are never caught without a pen. Grown-ups are organised. Grown-ups know what they want. Grown-ups have travel wallets. I want to be a grown-up.

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love

 one // two // three

One of my best friends has a Cartier love bracelet. It's golden and simple and true, it doesn't mess around and it never leaves her wrist. It has history - as all love bracelets ought to have if they possibly can, this isn't the kind of thing you can buy for yourself, at least not when you're 21 and they cost $4000 - and significance, and it was a bitch to get on: the both of us sitting on my bed, me twisting her arm around so I could get that tiny little screw driver into the hinge. We must have looked funny, the two of us, an unlikely pair. But it hasn't changed my love of the bracelet. One day, not now but one day (maybe on the same day I stroll up to the Repossi boutique in the place Vendome and buy myself a diamond-encrusted ear cuff) I'll have a Cartier love bracelet. It's an old idea, that you should wear something that's locked to you to show that you're someone else's. I'm not sure I agree with that, not really, not even in the depths of my romanticism. My friend actually got hers from her father, and I've got another who received one from a sister and vice versa. Wearing something that celebrates love, because you love it, because someone loves you, now that I can get behind.

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ps. don't forget to enter my Shopbop giveaway!  
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it's here!


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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summer wardrobe planning - 2013: continuing thoughts



1. A massive, so-big-you-look-kind-of-homeless, wrap-around-you-three-times trench coat in the perfect shade of tobacco brown.
2. A plain black swimsuit with thin straps, low scoop back and a high leg. 
3. A leather backpack  Coach Legacy Duffle instead!
4. The perfect hat
5. An oversized smock dress, long-ish, like maybe calf length, with pockets and a boat neck in a nice neutral brown colour.
 

It's not often that I reflect on my shopping list before I've actually purchased anything, but there are few things I wanted to mull over. Firstly, I read this article on Into the Gloss by ex-WWD writer and current Into the Gloss Associate Editor Alessandra Codinha defending her decision to wear one-piece swimsuits. As a fan of the one-piece myself I have to agree with everything that she says. I am reasonably self-confident in my body, flaws and all, and that really has nothing to do with my love for the figure-hugging, full-coverage maillot. For me it is always - has always - been about glamour. I love that streamlined silhouette of a black one-piece, the kind of classic, no-nonsense sensuality of someone who knows who they are. Someone like Elizabeth Taylor, or Bo Derek, or even Farrah Fawcett with all those blown-out curls and that million-dollar Playboy smile. I haven't changed my desire to get a one-piece swimsuit, in fact, quite the contrary. Reading this article has only made me want one even more. 

Secondly, I think I'm re-thinking my desire for a backpack. I still like them objectively, and I still think that if the right one comes along (probably vintage) then I would snap it up without hesitation, but at the moment a different kind of bag is holding court over my imagination. The Coach Legacy Duffle - I think in navy blue!! The colour is so rich and intense, and I think it would look beautiful against the neutral shades of brown and khaki in my wardrobe - is the one. As I mused recently, it would make the most perfect travel bag, just the right size for everyday. The only problem - as far as bags go I've got a pretty complete collection. I don't really need another bag. So I'm going to cross off the backpack and add the Coach bag, and also sell a few of my existing bags in order to make room for another. One in, one out. That's only fair!

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