Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fashion. Show all posts

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Gods and Kings: The Rise and Fall of Alexander McQueen and John Galliano


In the early 1990s I was in my most magazine reading intensive period. This was before the internet when monthly titles actually brought news. Poorer than a church mouse I still forked out a whack of coin for my favourite, the US Harpers Bazaar. Under the editorship of the British Liz Tilberis it was  truly something special. It occupied a special space in my still largely un-lived and undefined life, one that did not yet include children or a husband. I was transfixed by its imaginative fashion spreads photographed by largely up and coming photographers like Mario Sorrenti and Craig Dean featuring super (and less well known models) Naomi Campbell, Helena Christiansen, Linda Evangalista, Karmen Kass, Nadia Auermann, Claudia Schiffer, Amber Valletta, Shalom Harlow, Kate Moss and Stella Tennant. As a cultural moment I remember that five year period as being both highly romantic and grunge. The designers and fashion houses represented between its pages - editorial and advertising - were largely European: John Galliano for Givenchy and Dior, Alexander McQueen for Givenchy, Karl Lagerfeld for Chanel. In addition to them Tom Ford at Gucci and Gianni Versace were pushing a sleazy disco glamour.

Coming of age during that period, it's been interesting reading Dana Thomas' Gods and Kings: The Rise and Fall of Alexander McQueen and John Galliano, a book that documents the nineties and noughties in global fashion through the prism of two of its uber designers and their rise and subsequent fall (McQueen by suicide, Galliano through disgrace). Not familiar with Thomas' previous work I was persuaded by the fact that she'd written for the New Yorker, the benchmark for quality journalism these days (though truth be told it's closer to Who Weekly than that venerable magazine). Thomas details Galliano and McQueen's working class upbringings and then settles in for a detailed description of their careers, show by show. She contextualises their ascendancy alongside the growth of the luxury market. I'm guessing that was the subject of her previous book, Deluxe. I enjoyed the behind the scenes machinations of major fashion houses and developed a good appreciation of what made McQueen such as remarkable designer: precise tailoring, a sense of the macabre and an interest in working closely with collaborators – jewellers, milliners – on unique, strange accessories. Her heart belongs to him.

Of all weeks I was glad to have it beside me this week, one in which I spent three nights on a fold out armchair at the hospital beside my beautiful boy. When we were sad and overwhelmed by his diagnosis of chronic illness, or trying to stave off frightening thoughts of the future and what it would require of us – thoughts that would rouse us in the dead of night – we'd turn on the night lights and read together until the dread passed.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Obus


I wish I wrote more often about shops, and retail generally. I think about the sector a lot. Like a trend forecaster with a crystal ball, I often speculate about its future. Is it bright or uncertain? Mostly I think about the dynamic relationship between online and real world environments, services and experiences. What can bricks and mortar offer, that online can't? How does a shop and the brand's online presence intersect? I have to say, I think Obus does it better than most. Not only do they make awesome clothes right here in Australia that I like to wear (hello Obus knit), that age gracefully and hold their shape but I like visiting their stores and staff. Last week I realised the feeling was mutual when I was invited along to their Spring VIP launch. You heard right, I count as a very important person. I had a stellar time drinking champagne, listening to some talented musos plucking at guitars while ladies swirled around me clutching hangers. Most featured the latest Kachina print. At one point with so many people wearing the same outfit, I thought I might be in Michel Gondry's video clip – that one he shot for Kylie Minogue where Kylie passes a hundred times over in a London street. Did I buy anything? Not that night. I was a bit too weirded out by everyone looking identical. As a twin, I've got that covered. I'll go back though. 
Photo: Courtesy of Obus

Friday, May 30, 2014

Shibori dreaming


When I take a long break from blogging I return uncertain. How to pick up the thread? How do I connect there with here. That period included a birthday – and a week long hangover during which I almost burnt the kitchen down and ate lots of soft cheese and bread – a trip to Canberra to give a lecture to art history students on collaborative screen printing workshops (1972-present day) and a crisis in my day job. See what I mean? I'm not sure I was even the same person back then. I'm beginning to think this is how a habit can break. You pause. To be honest this intense confluence of events has prompted a period of reflection. That reflection has taken place on a number of levels: on the historical forces that shaped late twentieth century visual culture here in Australia (the lecture), my own life (the 40th) and what the future might hold (the job crisis). Which brings me to the tote which caught my eye when I was googling 'shibori' in a late night stupor a few weeks back. I love it. There is something about the earthy, inky quality of indigo that no other dye seems to possess. It's quietening. I like the bags geometric forms, soft lines and shading. Right now it's the right metaphor for where my psyche is at. This bag holds my uncertain thoughts, unspoken fears, and deep longings.

Rebecca Desnos. 100% organic bags hand dyed with natural indigo. 22 pounds

Monday, July 15, 2013

Polka dot: socks

Polka Dot Socks

Socks get mocked as the lamest present eva but I beg to differ. What I wouldn't do for both, either, or just one of these socks. As I type this I have not one single pair that hasn't got a hole or isn't depressingly threadbare. Actually that is a slight exaggeration I have a single pair of white socks. White! What am I? Michael Jackson? And they are stolen from next door. Otto and I finally share a sock size. He's wondering when he's going to get his precious pair back. 

I try not to make promises I can't keep; I said "One day".

When I am not frightening people – myself included –  with my white ankle socks I am getting around close to barefoot in ballet flats. Rain or shine. 

Why am I such a tight*** with socks? I would probably part with a lot of money for that answer.


Richer Poorer, Polka Dot sock, $15 at Incu.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Beyond cool

IMG_9838.jpgIMG_9659.jpgIMG_9753.jpg

images: maja baska

I was just toodling about checking out Maja Baska's website  when I came across these shots. Who are these dudes? And where can I find their leather action? What is that arrow over the crotch?

Let's just say, I love it.


A Cut Stitch
Maja Baska and Jenna Tapia
Back Gallery
Off the Kerb
66B Johnston St
Collingwood 3066
www.offthekerb.com.au


Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Best foot forward



Represent
The Subway Series #2, Brooklyn, 1980 © Jamel Shabazz


I spent the weekend past in Adelaide visiting my twin. Owing to the extreme heat, toddler and city itself the pace was pretty slow. For my needs it was just right. We did a lot of yack yack, wide-ranging talk the type you can only do in person, face-to-face. We even went through her wardrobe, workshopping her back-to-work look (FYI Sports Luxe). That hour pulling clothes out and trying them on brought back an earlier time, from childhood to young adulthood when reviewing our wardrobes was – aside from attending school – the most time consuming activity of the week. Time consuming and consuming. The passion of early self-expression. I've been wondering lately, does that wane? Or does it just change?

Jamel Shabaz
Represent
1 March – 14 April

gCS Galerie Cultural Speech
Postjesweg 6-8
1057 EA Amsterdam
+31 20-4121741
info@gcs-art.eu
www.gcs-art.eu
Wed-Sat 12-18


Saturday, February 19, 2011

Australiana


Just how many Saturday afternoon's did I spend traipsing through Melbourne's Victoria Market as a kid in search of clip-on koala's and Akubra hats on the eve of some family member's departure for Poland? More than a few. While many experience sheer horror at the kitchness of these 'Aussie' objects, I am an out and proud wog when it comes to Australiana. As far as I'm concerned, too much is never enough. I will write about my love affair with Ken Done down the track, don't worry. Today though, I thought I'd share with you my delight in Arabella Ramsay's new collection, The Alice. I like Arabella Ramsay's clothes a lot. I always think of landowners, rural wealth – stockocracy (I can't seem to find this word in the dictionary or any enlightening hits by googling it but what I mean is land ownership + aristocracy, if you can help me on this score, please do so). I can't think of another Australian fashion designer that goes there. It is clean but country and it does more than draw inspiration from the outback in a boring, abstract and generic way (as in 'I love the colours of the outback' Yawn). No, Ramsay manages to convey both history and place in her selection of fabric, cut and styling that is quite unique.

As the name suggests, this new collection that is named after the Northern Territory town (though I'd be very surprised if anyone looks this stylish in Alice Springs). Check out the T-shirt. She has used an illustration by her father of cane toads and feral pigs, mice and rats. I want one for me, and one for my sister-in-law in Warsaw. Would she wear it? I'd have to cross my fingers. With her love of checks, Lacoste and tennis she is more Japanese than the Japanese.


Saturday, October 23, 2010

Wolf Whistle



I’d only been trying to check my emails for for 11 days, shlepping my computer around the surf coast like a ball and chain crying “Wi-Fi?” at shop-keepers to absolutely no avail. Cursing my lack of success led me to the lovely Lorne boutique, Wolf Whistle, for no other reason than to distract myself from my woes. I needed to see something lovely to lift my spirits. I wasn’t expecting much, what with regatta and sea-side fashion being what it is, but it was like coming across unexpected treasure. Firstly, these scarves caught my eye. Made from silk sourced from the Flinders Lane fabric store Tessuti the sight of them hanging in a row cheered me no end. And sitting behind the counter was the owner and talented designer Dimitria who not only made the scarves and the series of gorgeous hand printed cards (above framed for $190 for the pair) but some stylish simple blouses. The other labels and accessories – including Sydney outfit Secret Squirrel, Kuwall and Iggy & Lou Lou – are all Australian and locally made. The overall feel stylish secretary by the sea-side.

The encounter made me think nothing can turn my bad mood around as quickly as a surprising conversation with a stranger. Unless it’s catching sight of a beautifully made object. In Lorne on that day I may have missed out on my emails but I lucked out nonetheless.


Wolf Whistle, 44 Mountjoy Parade, Lorne 3232