Ah all this Cannes photocall perusing has led me down the daydream path that i too often stray upon. But one little time this week while i procrastinate my uni work won't hurt, will it? So let's have a peek into the wardrobe of Fabulous Future Me as she travels to Cannes for a week to support her boyfriend and soak up the glamour.
Arriving in Cannes
chanel 2.55, burberry trench, petit bateau striped top, rocker distressed jeans, lanvin necklace, marni jumper, ray ban sunglasses, moleskine notebook, lanvin flats.
When you arrive at the airport laden with suitcases the Boy seems a little dubious. 'We're only going for a week,' he says, eyeing up what seems to be a hatbox. You sigh pointedly. He really has no idea, you'll have to teach him of your ways. Cannes isn't just a film festival, it's a fashion moment, and you want to be there, enjoying every minute of it. And how can you if you don't have an outfit suited to every occasion? You always attempt to travel in comfort, which means forfeiting the heels you normally wear, but as many have often mused comfort need not mean sacrificing style. And as you step off the plane and into the warm, but not stifling french riviera air you are the picture of modern french glamour, all stripes, trench coat, and chanel, spiced up with coral accessories and a pair of dark sunglasses. 'You look like you fit in here,' the Boy muses bemused. You smile, that was kind of the point.
Opening Night
marchesa dress, diamond earrings and cuff from cartier, alexander mcqueen clutch, christian louboutin shoes.
This is it, you tell yourself as you survey yourself in the mirror. The Boy's acclaimed and, if you do say so yourself, brilliant film is opening tonight to a rapturous audience of industry insiders and celebrities alike. You are so proud of him, and can't help but smile not only at the thought of him all decked out in tux and ties, but also at the praise that he will no doubt be receiving at the after party. He deserves it. You're not too sure about whether it will be praise or censure with the Marchesa gown, for the Boy's premiere you wanted to play it relatively safe and not drag the limelight away from him with a misguided sartorial slip. You've chosen floor length drapey pink with ruffles at the top and a pair of dreamy louboutins. The Boy opens the door of the bathroom and peers in, an amused expression on his face. 'You look lovely,' he says, 'can't you see that?' You're not sure if its the glare of the diamonds blinding him, but you have to believe him. Grabbing his hand you leave the hotel suite and make you way to the red carpet.
Photocall
marni dress, michelle jank necklace, lanvin heels, vanessa bruno blazer, topshop ring.
Accustomed, as you are, to photographer's cameras there is still something essentially unnerving about the photocall. It's sole purpose is to capture photos, unlike the perfunctory photographers at the end of red carpets there is no promise of a premiere/opening/party/fashion show at the end, only of immortalising your outfit in film for all to see. And the thing is, you're not even sure if you should be there, but they want girlfriends/boyfriends/partners as well as they click away the photos for promotional use. You laboured over this outfit, apparently it's supposed to be 'smart casual' whatever the hell that means, and whatever the hell that's supposed to imply nowadays. As the cameras click away you think you've finally understood it, and then they decide that partners really is too much, and return the focus onto the principle players. You can't decide whether you're relieved or disappointed.
Beach
dior ring, guiseppe zanotti sandals, zimmerman one piece, josh goot dress, chanel watch, mulberry bag.
What's the point of coming all the way to the Riviera if you're not going to soak up some sun? You leave the Boy to his own devices, he ran into some of his acting buddies and they're all going to drink bourbon or something horrid like that, and so you just slip on something comfortable and head to the beach. You're not working on a tan per se (you applied +30 before you left the hotel) but you do just want to feel the heat on your skin and relax with a good book. The swishy folds of a josh goot dress are just perfect for that, and your zimmerman one piece underneath means that in the even that you want to go for a dip then you can. But the comforting warmth of the sun is not persuading you to leave your post anytime soon.
Shopping
seven for all mankind jacket, mulberry bag, marc jacobs dress, rayban sunglasses, marni necklace, lanvin shoes.
Never miss an opportunity to shop, is your motto, and though it may not be poetic or obtuse it is marvelously easy to follow, which is rather the point when it comes to mottos, isn't it? Like always you can be found searching high and low for the perfect bargain, as well as indulging in some glamorous window shopping, and as much glamorous real shopping as your credit card will allow. You buy lots of little shell necklaces for your nieces, some beautifully crystal-stoppered perfume, a vintage bow tie from the 30s (you'll have to show him how to tie it...) and some other french goodies for yourself. Happy and content, refleced by your bright lanvin sandals and purple and yellow striped dress you return to the hotel laden with shopping bags, tales and stories. A perfect day.
Interview
Burberry trench, lanvin bag, marni top, marni skirt, dries van noten jacket, marni shoes
Your editor would never miss the opportunity to work you to the bone, and she just jumped at the chance to ruin your holiday with some work. You're supposed to interview the fashion designer who made the costumes for a hugely anticipated 1940s film about dior. Though you were initially dreading the prospect, he turns out to be engaging and fascinating, with a lifetime of hilarious anecdotes and a biting humour to go. The hours and cocktails line up, and yet you still don't want to finish it. In fact, you're even looking forward to writing this story. Who would have thought?
Closing Night
cartier earrings, bottega veneta clutch, nina ricci dress, rick owens organza jacket, chloe heels.
You really can't believe it's all over. It seems unfair, like you haven't gotten enough out of it somehow. There's been plenty of champagne and raspberries and cigarettes on the deck, but it seems like it's all been this blur, you want it to go on and on and on... You're sitting in your hotel room after the closing night gala, sadly wiping the make up from your face and taking diamonds from your ear. The Nina Ricci dress went down a treat, as did (it would seem), your legs. But still, despite all the fun you had you are sort of glad to go home. Every time you leave you think how happy you are to get away from it all, but there is a certain comfort in home and all your routines. You're glad that despite how many photographers flashes and how many premieres the Boy and you will still want to read the papers on Sunday in bed with boiled eggs on toast. Home, there's no place like it.
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