the world is waiting with breath that is bated...


Sarah Mower described the mood at the Celine show as 'Oh, I want to be just like that'. And even though she said that mood might not translate into runway photographs she was wrong. When flicking through the images on the style.com application on my iphone (a must have for any iphone owners, it's the best procrastination tool for long bus rides and boring uni lectures). The photos of Phoebe Philo's latest collection for Celine, and her first on a runway, were overpowering in their minimalist yet incredibly sexy vision.

style.com

I know my last post was about summery excess, clashing prints, costume jewelry and over the top glamour. But Sydney's weather has taken another turn for the worst, and despite the promise of sunny skies on monday morning has been steeped in torrential downpour for the past 2 days. As I write this I am drying off from becoming completely soaked in the city on the way home today. As I was waiting at the crossing, hood on my christopher kane for topshop eyelet marle jacket firmly up, this cute guy came and stood next to me, proffering his umbrella. We were going in the same direction and so we walked together, sharing his umbrella, whilst also sharing some awkward conversation. Not in the Carrie Bradshaw 'we should get married, this would happen in a french movie' kind of awkward, but awkward in that he said my jacket was 'kooky'. Ha. It's Christopher Kane (for topshop) my friend. It was one of those awkward, yet charming moments that afterwards make you shake your head, grinning a little, in confusion.

Anyway, quasi-romantic interludes aside, this weather is making me long to be just like Phoebe Philo's Celine girl. Just like her indeed. That mix of super pliable leather and utilitarian khakis, the whispers of sexuality with pants tapering into semi sheer flared ankles, the twists, tucks and drapes of a truly unique design vision realised through a singular talent for women's tailoring... Philo is back. And, if I may say so (despite every babydoll dress, every shirred evening gown, ever poncho and cape), better than ever.



The most incredible thing about Philo is how she can stick to her vision and yet evolve at the same time. It is the mark of a true and very talented designer when they can maintain their centre whilst responding to the fashion environment that they work within. After just one season, a resort collection whose perfectly tailored visions were utterly modern, if infused with classic sensibilities, Philo has re-cemented her position as the prodigious fashion darling. It's almost as if she had never left, her particular brand of softly, softly clothes with a powerful kick are firmly back in vogue. It bags and emblazoned logos begone, now is the era of quirky tailoring and designers who can make buttery leather fly away a suede skirt as if it was flighty silk.

I don't really have many clothes that fit into this genre. I suppose in my dreams I'm the kind of girl who can work a stacked platform heel and a shapeless hessian sack dress that laces up with leather straps up the front. In reality on me that kind of outfit would look horrible. Ideas, themes, motifs, I could translate it all to various outfits, things like leather skirts, white collared shirts, sleeveless trench coats (did i predict that, or what?), and pleated trousers. But all together... well.... I suppose I'm just not cool enough. I want to be that girl, so bad, with the messy hair, the plum coloured lipstick, a little black book in which she can write secrets and bizarre thoughts. Unfortunately, despite how hard I try, the closest I can get to her is sleep-mussed hair and a notebook for poetry, which isn't as cool. Not one iota.



It is lovely to watch a collection like this, though. Because I know somewhere, probably in Paris (although she could be an expat londoner, like Philo herself), there is a girl. A girl whose unusla beauty is worthy of a Sofia Coppola heroine. A girl who loves her career, but whose cute-as-a-button family comes first. A girl whose house is all sandstone floors and paint-stripped white furniture. A girl whose wardrobe is filled with basics that, on any other girl, would look, well, basic, but on her look like they sprung into being with the expressed purpose of clothing her. And she dresses in androgynous tailoring sexed up with sheer panels and loose buttons, in ingenious little dresses and just a whiff of glamour.

And she is so, so cool.

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