Showing posts with label Autumn Winter 2009. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Autumn Winter 2009. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Ready for the Floor

After years in the fashion wilderness, now is the time for the longer length. Shorter hemlines have dominated for seasons so now a longer silhouette catches the eye and looks genuinely fresh and different. And we’re not talking hippy-dippy, printed skirts or evening wear but proper, sweeping skirts for day that go well past the knee. Haider Ackermann is the man for a look that’s a little bit Olsen mixed with a nice buttoned-up Edwardian vibe.

Long skirts have always been part of my wardrobe but usually just second-hand ones that I never get around to shortening so they hover at some hideously frumpy and unflattering mid-calf length. Wearing longer skirts is just another example of the "lengths"- I’m hilarious- I’ll go to to avoid leg maintenance and exposure. My ultimate pin-up for the longer length is Bay Garnett who seems to wear nothing else but her floor-length Nicole Farhi skirt. I loved that article in Vogue years ago that documented her daily style for a week and showed that she basically lived in the skirt. She’s kinda lazy and a bit scruffy and she’s still allowed inside Vogue House! Loves it. NOK

Pics: The Sartorialist, Tommy Ton, Vogue US, Vogue UK

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Then We Came to The End

The September issues have hit the shelves, my traditional signifier that summer is officially O.V.E.R. And I can breathe a little easier. There was one dodgy period when the forecasters were frightening me with their talk of heatwaves, but thankfully that didn’t last for much more than a week. Yes, summer is over and I survived with my opaque tights still intact. I just don’t do summer – much more of an autumn / winter girl and there are so many treats to look forward to this season - The September Issue, scarves, The Sartorialist goes from blog to book, velvet, fashion week, Coco on the cover of Love, our first look at Dasha's Pop, autumn leaves on Holland Park Avenue, even woollier tights. I kinda knew it was all going to be fine when I saw the cover of July’s Vogue, usually the sunniest and therefore, for me, the worst issue of the year. But there were no scary cover lines proclaiming the Summer of Love, no swimsuits. Just Julianne Moore photographed by Alasdair McLellan in all her fiery, autumnal glory. But how did Alex and Co. capture the mood and sense that summer would be such a washout? If life at Vogue House ever gets too much, a career at the Met Office could be on the cards. NOK

Friday, April 10, 2009

V Day

For the past 2 weeks, London has been taken over by press days with lots of lovely folk in town, showing off their even lovelier wares. Most of the time, actual work gets in the way of these little visits and makes it impossible to check out everything but I made sure to pop into the girls at Berlin-based showroom Agentur V who have some of the most directional European labels on their hands. It’s a great chance to see the clothes up close - at the shows I’m usually distracted by celeb spotting, craning my neck to see who's made the front row.

The first thing that caught my eye was the exquisite mesh jewellery by Arielle De Pinto, intricately created to look like delicate cobwebs. Next on the list were the geek chic frames by Mykita, making me curse my perfectly fine eyesight. The warm and dreamy lookbook shot by Mark Borthwick had a lot to do with the love - lots of heavy fringed hipsters making the specs looks even more desirable. Carin Wester's purple velvet dress was another standout and then to turn the man in your life into some sort of avant-garde Jordan Catalano, Henrik Vibskov is the man with the plaid.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Late Registration

The best thing about attending the Vivienne Westwood Red Label show is that you don't have to take it very seriously. It's just not serious fashion - so that means no pretentious press release on your chair explaining the deeper meaning behind the clothes, no earnest fashion journos scribbling furiously front row. It's just a bit of a laugh really. LFW can make you a tad blase about celeb sightings and we were a bit underwhelmed by the turnout here - Lily Cole, Erin O'Connor, David Walliams - and the venue - the draughty and cavernous National Hall at Olympia, possibly the least glamourous place you could ever hold a fashion show. But then we saw the flashbulbs and heard the shouts from the paps, "Oh my God, it's KANYE!!" That definitely perked us up and made us forget that the show was starting over an hour late.  It's always good to see a fellow fashion blogger in attendance. 

The invitation was a school report card which hinted at what we could expect. Indeed, when the show finally got underway, it was clear Dame Viv had gone all St. Trinians on us with a roll call of naughty BrIT schoolgirls (Daisy Lowe, Alice Dellal, Eliza Cummings) and wronged wife Jo Wood leading the pack as a saucy headmistress, showing Ronnie what he's missing. Take that, Ekat! As for the clothes: most looks were a twist on the school uniform - blazers emblazoned with crests, ties, stripy scarves. Otherwise, it was a mix of Westwood signatures: tailoring, tartan, pirates and corsetry. For her bow, Viv was joined by her gang of girls, dancing and celebrating like it was the last day of school.

Monday, February 23, 2009

My Day Out at LFW!

We've spent the last few days in a flurry of shows and parties, peppered with trips to the McDonalds on Leicester square and the occasional jaunt to Tesco Holland Park to pick up some necessities like wine and Krispy Kremes. I had never actually been to a show before Saturday but I quickly threw my newbie status out the window, attending four in one day. First up was John Rocha where there were some familiar Irish faces in the audience - fellow blogger Annmarie O'Connor was present as were Deirdre McQuillan and stylist Celestine Cooney. Things got off to a sober start as models dressed all in black took to the catwalk, but in amongst these sombre offerings were playful details like sparkling detachable collars and capes and exaggerated shoulders which lent the dresses both a Victorian and futuristic feeling at the same time. The introduction of colour - peaches and bright reds - along with the abundance of luxurious furs made sure that the initial austerity was soon forgotten.

Over at Armand Basi, bright colours were a rarity with various shades of grey making up the palette. Models stomped down the catwalk in oversized wool coats and harem pants that took things that bit further, i.e. below the knee, than we've previously seen. Roisin Murphy who wore Armand Basi to the Elle style awards last week was there to lend support to designer Markus Lupfer. After Armand Basi, I headed to a warehouse in Marylebone for the Peter Jensen show. Huge, unusually shaped bags, which I had seen at both John Rocha and Armand Basi appeared again, but this time they were bright orange and purple in keeping with Jensen's colourful and playful theme. Things got a little spooky when straight afterwards Ann-Sofie Back sent pale little waifs down the catwalk to the kind of soundtrack that usually accompanies the paranormal shows my sister watches on Living. The ghostly models walked deliberately and creepily slowly, giving us ample time to admire the witchy pointy-toed boots, the feather accessories and sweatshirts with slogans like Boo and God Bless!

My other The Portmanteau half was lucky enough to score a ticket to the Vivienne Westwood show on Saturday evening so I'm sure she'll fill you in on that once the hangover has subsided (a result of a night of hard partying - more deets to follow).

John Rocha

Peter Jensen

Ann-Sofie Back

Thursday, January 22, 2009

From Hell

One of the joys of living in London is that there is always someone crashing on your couch and dragging you along to tourist attractions that you would never consider visiting under normal circumstances. For reasons I cannot fathom, some of my friends have a peculiar fascination with anything horror related so in the past couple of months, I have had the privilege of experiencing such delights as the Jack the Ripper walking tour and the London Dungeons. The latter in particular was a hellish day out - not in a scary sense, more so hellishly rubbish. I now have an in-depth knowledge of all the gory happenings that went down on the mean streets of Spitalfields hundreds of years ago. Lucky me.

All of my tour guides neglected to mention how Alexander McQueen is supposedly descended from Jack the Ripper himself. Now this piece of trivia would have made me slightly more interested in what they had to say. McQueen returned to his East End roots this week with his latest menswear collection in Milan. The show was brimming with 19th century horror, evoking demon barbers and murderous butchers. As always with McQueen, the staging was spectacular and the tailoring impeccable. The runway was lined with street-lamps and stalked by sinister dandies brandishing canes. The clothes themselves were both beautiful and wearable - lots of sharp suit jackets, fitted camel coats and tweed trousers. Let's gloss over the codpieces and breastplates, shall we?

                                       Images from