Showing posts with label Selfridges. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Selfridges. Show all posts

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Welcome to the 90s, Mr. Bonks

Selfridges has provided the perfect opportunity to use my favourite Franck Eggelhoffer quote from Father of the Bride, one of the films that dominated my tv viewing over the Christmas hols. We’re 90s aficionados here at The Portmanteau – the movies, the plaid shirts, the supers. Now we can pay homage to our favourite decade down at Selfos where, with the dawn of a new decade, they are declaring the 90s, and those shirts, vintage with a month long celebration. Like I really needed another excuse to play Black Box and Urban Cookie Collective.

The beginning of the decade saw me rocking Oilily paisley Hammer pants and a reversible Mickey Mouse jumper from Dunnes with a schoolbag with an actual, working CLOCK on the back. Towards the end, our entire transition year class were sporting the same uniform of rugby shirts, Hobo baggy trousers / O’Neills tracksuit bottoms, Jansport bags on our backs and train tracks on our teeth. Hee-dious, hee-dious. Not great examples of 90s fashion. The definitive 90s look was more my older sister’s generation – Docs, fisherman jumpers, plaid shirts, woven bags with GN'R and Nirvana scrawled all over them and those horrible mustard-coloured Pepe bomber jackets.

The Beyond Retro section at the Selfridges concept store provides the familiar 90s faves: plaid shirts, Carrie Bradshaw tulle skirts, Baby Spice dresses – all now deemed to be vintage not just old tat. But to me, the 90s doesn’t seem very long ago or very vintage. The content of some of the displays is not dissimilar to the content of my bookshelves. I mean, who doesn’t already have a DVD of Clueless lying around, Pulp’s Different Class or, um, a copy of The Diana Chronicles by Tina Brown? Or maybe that’s just me. It’s less of a true retrospective of course, more of a clever way to merchandise stock but it’s a fun trip down memory lane all the same with some ugly shizz you’d like to forget - record bags - and gems that were sadly never part of my formative years - the Rellik rail filled with Galliano and Alaia. (He's, like, a totally important designer). And if my dire financial situation gets any worse, I can always flog my 90s Vogue collection - the Kate Moss covers here are selling for £15 a pop. NOK