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I'm not going to lie. I wasn't the biggest fan of Reed Krakoff's sophomore fall collection this fashion month. I'm a Reed Krakoff kind of girl - monotone, monochrome, 'intelligent luxury' and louche, laidback elegance - but I just wasn't feeling all that velvet. Those asymmetrical, short (short? no way) hems, and the weird boxy silhouettes. The bags and the shoes are great, this is the man who runs Coach after all I think we can give him credit for knowing how to make a bag, but where were the clothes? You know the ones! Those long, floor sweeping shearling coats that were so expensive they practically dripped money. The wrap skirts with big slits up the middle accessorised with lace up knee high boots, part naughty school girl, part nice secretary. That gorgeous neutral palette that comes with names like sand, french navy and moss. And Karlie Kloss, hair tucked behind those little ears of hers, cupid's bow mouth all glossy and forehead all sheeny, striding out in what would become one of the most persistent catwalk looks I have ever seen. Grey marle singlet, white wrap skirt, knee high boots and a beautifully cut dove grey cropped sleeveless pea coat with a big old fur collar. 

This was an evening look, mind. An evening look! It was so relaxed, so casual, so easy-going. There was no effort whatsoever. And it all looked so real. That Karlie Kloss look, my god. I know that she's somewhat of a chameleon - Dior geisha girl one day, Gucci siren the next - but that look couldn't have been more perfect for her. As if she was born to wear it. She didn't look like a teenager from St Louis who loves to go to Ballet lessons and read the twilight series. She looked like a New York champagne bubble about town en route to her next charity event. Or a fashion maverick, sitting down for cocktails at a new bar. Or at the launch of a new art gallery. Or slipping sunglasses onto her head as she steps of a PJ (Private Jet, darling). So glamorous. And so slinky! And so cool! And so chic! 

That first fall collection - his first collection full stop, actually - was a firecracker. It was exciting and full of promise and moved me to multiple exclamation marks and I couldn't stop thinking about it. This was simple without being boring, it was on trend (the fur! the long skirt! the boots!) without seeming to be paying lip service to a glossy magazine, it was chic without being merely 'classic', it had bucketloads and bucketloads of je ne sais quoi. Why is this so good? It's not particularly ground-breaking design. But you know that if you wore this walking into a gala every single head would turn to look at you. Why do I keep going on about how simple, well-cut, well-styled looks are the most fabulous? Because they are. When it comes to minimalism that makes a mark, it really doesn't get any better than this.

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teen queen

I feel odd having to justify my readership of teen vogue to my friends. I am, after all, still a teenager (just). It's not that though, really, is it? It's because popular opinion and culture dictate that teen magazines are for young girls to acclimatise them to the world of glossies before they are bumped up to the big gals mags in their late teens. By now I should be reading Cosmo, Cleo, Marie Claire, Harper's Bazaar, Elle and, of course, Vogue. Not still dipping my feet into the world of slumber parties, boarding school and PG movies like the teen vogue ladies. 

Well, i do read those magazines, or most of them anyway. In fact I probably single-handledly support the foreign magazine shipping industry of Australia, the amount of glossies I buy each month. I buy them because I love them, each and every one. Every magazine has a different view point - Vogue Paris with its leather-clad warriors, Elle UK's High street round up, Harper's UK is the sleekest designed book on the planet, Vogue Australia is bright, airy and perfectly formed. I don't understand why society constantly desires everyone to be pigeonholed into one area - style, lifestyle choices, sexuality, food, movies, books - how come a girl can love action and romcom but not be able to read both Vogue and Cosmopolitan without incurring some sort of eye-squinting disbelief?

I read Teen Vogue. I don't just buy it and flick through, I read it cover to cover. Sure, the articles are only 1 page long and skim over issues like a pebble on a river, but i think it must be recognised that they DO talk about serious issues for teenagers in a real way. Not in the laughable 'dolly doctor' way, but a no-nonsense, facts only way that is actually helpful if you a worried little slip of a young thing (which i half was, really). I read Teen Vogue now because it is so damn cute - the fashion is wholesome and happy. There is no shock factor, no nudity or needless titillation. It's not trying to be anything other than fashion for young girls to feel - and look - great in. It's clothes, clothes, clothes, cute boys and clear skin. Everything I WISH my formative years could have been. Oh, how I would have dressed had I been faced with the babydoll dress over tee shirts and little wedges and socks clad girls of Teen Vogue rather than Rolling Stone and Empire.

But that is, of course, another story completely. 

I'm looking forward to this month's Teen Vogue more than ever. Karlie Kloss is on the cover embodying everything that Teen Vogue stands for - the teenage super model super star. I remember when they put Gemma Ward on their cover in 2006, the first model ever, and she was fresh-faced and lovely and bright as a star. I still have that editorial stuck up on my wall. It meant a lot for me to read about a girl, an Australian girl no less, who achieved dreams and travelled and saw the world through perseverance and hard work. I don't harbour any aspirations to become a model, but teen vogue is always inspiring and upbeat - pushing you to follow dreams, carve out your destiny and make something of yourself. So what if it's a little trite and manufactured, it's certainly a much more reassuring message than some other magazines out there. Teen Vogue makes you feel good about yourself. 

And what's the problem in that?

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jump!

In fashion, as in life, they just don't make 'em like they used to.

Whenever i look at a picture by Richard Avedon I am struck by the energy that it exudes. Each and every one of them resonates with an infectious, powerful pulse. He captured energy unlike any other photographer working today, somehow his pictures (the bulk of which were in black and white) could transmit the movement, the grace, the actions with ease. It is a truth universally acknowledged that clothes look better in movement, it was Avedon who transferred that knowledge to photography, it was his models who started jumping in studios. It is his legacy that still exists in the pages of Vogue Us today.

Fashion photography today can have a staid feel to it, no matter the publication. Shock tactics and pushing the envelope are all very well, and work in their own ways. But there is something to be said for taking a leaf out of the masters books. Indeed, did not painters once study the 'school' of Rembrandt or Van Gogh in order to emulate their style? Out of reverence and, it must be said, out of acceptance that they were in possession of real mastery? There are those that hate the jumping in studio shots of US Vogue, but by god, when they are done well they look damn good. Clothes take on a far more powerful presence when they are on a body in movement. They billow, they unfurl, they pull taut, they swish, they kick up. Movement is life.

Perhaps its the spirit of the silly season, or perhaps its that full-bodied summer promise, but I can't stop looking at his photographs for their unbridled exuberance and passion. In the January issue of Vogue UK David Bailey wrote a tribute to Irving Penn, another great 'classical' photographer whose influence on fashion photography is resounding. He wrote that Penn's photographers were still and serene, and Avedon's were frenetic, passionate, imbued with something that Bailey could only identify as sex. Those clothes flying around, all that tousled hair, miles of legs... It's easy how someone can confuse that with sex.

It's actually exuberance. bright-eyed, wide-smiling exuberance. The best kind of energy, in my opinion. It's girls jumping around giddily, it's throwing back your head with laughter, not giggling politely or secretly. It's skipping down foreign streets, just because you can. No other model represents this kind of exuberance today, for me, than Karlie Kloss. She's got the grace of a dancer and the cheeky grin of a teenager. Haters can hate, but she's one of my favourite models today, and an Avedon girl through and through.

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heaven in a grain of sand.

A lot of people get all up in Vogue US' grill. Yes i did just write that sentence. You know what i mean though, it seems like everyone's favourite sport is to attack something that is commercially successful, i'm guilty of it myself (hello, twilight, although since watching new moon and taylor lautner's fabulous pectoral area i may have changed by mind) from time to time. Tall Poppy syndrome, i suppose. People recycle the same old complaints about Vogue US - commercially minded (since when did that become a bad thing?), repetitive, unoriginal, uninspiring, favours the actresses over the models. Yes Vogue US may be, at times, one or all of these things. But so are many other magazines. One of my pet peeves about people who love fashion is their ability to forgive magazines like Vogue Paris the sin of repetition whilst abhorring it in Vogue US. Sure, 1000 pictures of Lara Stone, lustful and bonded are a hell of a lot more engaging than a 1000 pics of karlie kloss leaping through a khaki studio, but six of one, half a dozen of the other.

The fact is, Vogue US is what it is. Of course we'd all like it to change, and this year certainly has been one of the best for the magazine in a long time. May's model cover, for one, was gorgeous. the couture editorial dedicated to Lacroix was inspired, and impeccably well done by Coddington and Elgort. I personally loved Michelle Williams' October cover. I'd even like to bring to the class' attention all the wonderful articles in the magazine across the year. Without fail this is a magazine I read. I am guilty of purchasing magazines like Vogue Paris and, even though i can read french, flipping through it and just looking at the pictures. I even do this for some english magazines (sorry, harper's australia and vanity fair!). But Vogue US is one of the few magazines that I look forward to each month for the sheer joy of reading. It is consuming, I cannot put it down, and although the articles sometimes go over my head I thoroughly enjoy it. It makes me happy.

So, in the face of all the mud slinging and the beef (what is with my youth-tastic slang today?) I would like to try a different tack. I mean, i've been told that sometimes compliments and positive encouragement can work wonders for self esteem.

scanned by Luxx for tFS

This photo is lovely. No. It is more than lovely. It is arresting.

It is the moments like these, ones that stop you in your tracks and captivate you, that reveal a glimmer of that magic quality that makes Vogue US so successful. At the height of its glory Vogue US was a wonderful magazine. In some ways, it still is. It was fashion, beauty, myth and legend. It was a lifestyle. It was a woman, a girl, a dame, a librarian. It was neon orange hair and a grey draped dress.I can't stop looking at this picture. I don't even have the magazine yet. I'm not even sure what this picture accompanies. All i know is that it is the perfect embodiment of fashion's whimsy and utilitarian that is my absolute favourite thing about the world. It cancels out all the drivel that Karlie has done for Vogue US this year, although I personally think she is a great model. Viktoriya looks radiant, yet obtrusively melancholy.

Why are they sad? How could you be, with such bright, vivacious hair. The slumped posture. The bra strap. The eyes, slanting and tormented. I want to know why they are sad. It reminds me of the Greuze painting, girl with a bird. The young girl in it has downcast eyes and a face leant gloomily into a hand as she contemplates her dead bird. Many stood before it and contemplated the source of her melancholy, including the great critic Diderot. 'Why this dreamy melancholy air? What, all this for a bird?'. This photo's power comes from its ability to prompt the question, 'why', from the viewer. It transcends normal fashion documentation to become something else entirely. It is a great fashion photo and you hardly even notice the clothes. That is because good fashion photos, like good fashion, are more than just clothes.

Sometimes we want big things. We want 40 pages of overwhelming fashion editorials. We want thick publications, supermodels, the best clothes, even better styling. Sometimes this quest for the most glorious, the most fantastic, leads us to overlook the small moments of perfection. I feel that many people would pass this photo over in the quest for the interview with Cate Blanchett or an article about holiday gift-buying.

But those who stopped, well, their reward is bittersweet.

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diamonds are a girl's best friend.

My favourite kind of jewelry editorials are ones where the model is naked. I know, perverse, much? I suppose it's the whole idea of a blank canvas, letting the diamonds and silver and sweet little pearls take their position front and centre on the stage. When clothes are involved the jewelry is relegated to the position of mere accessories, but when the model is nude then the jewelry is the star. 

I'm not actually sure what magazine these pictures come from, is anyone able to help? 

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