Pop accessory of the year
Never in the history of fashion has so little been worn by so many, except maybe when Caligula was in charge of Rome’s dress codes. Pixie Lott worked her headbands, Lady Gaga worked her fireball breasts, Paloma Faith worked veils, corsages, feathers, miniature bowler hats ... Florence worked her legs. Basically it was like a shoot-out at the OK Corral, with Agent Provocateur standing in for the Corral, and everyone trying to outdo each other for a mention on Perez Hilton.
Whatever. 2009 was the year in which pop divas wielded unprecedented fashion influence. We’re not saying this was a good thing, but it did give rise to the majestic sight of Madonna gliding into the Met Ball in a pair of bunny ears — for the simple reason that if you’re Madonna, at some point bunny ears are what you have to do.
Disappointingly, Little Boots did not go out of her way to wear little boots. Ergo the prize goes to Lady Gaga’s teacup, without which, for a day or so at least, she would go nowhere. That’s hedonism for you.
How TV discovered fashion. In a very scary wayWhile
Dannii and Cheryl slugged it out in Cardiff, Huddersfield and Wembley in increasingly bizarre attire, Gossip Girl, The September Issue and The Hills brought high (as in you’d have to be, to wear most of it) fashion to the masses. And Olivia Palermo, star of The Hills and a genuine fashionista, bloomed into our lives. Move over, Alexa.
The we’ll have what she’s having moment
Cougar Town, ABC’s hit new TV show about a (shock! horror!) attractive fortysomething (played by Courtney Cox) who dates (pass the benzodiazepine) a younger man, may be treading where Demi and, for that matter, Eleanor of Aquitaine trod aeons ago, but it has introduced a new word to our lexicon, so we’re happy. May cougars continue to prowl.
Michelle mania.
She came, she saw, she revealed awesome biceps. Then Mrs Obama single-handedly raised the cardi from the fashion dead and turned the political wife into a fashion moment. The last time Britain fell this hard for a foreigner, she was wearing a 1950s air hostess uniform by Dior. Where’s Carla now?
The worrying tendency
Lindsay Lohan doing a Gwyneth after her debut as creative advisor at Ungaro? Mind you, half the audience wept too. Lourdes doing her mother? J.Lo singing about Louboutins (in a bid to be all brand- inclusive, she pronounced it “Lewyvittons”) then falling off hers may be a moment of genius. However only Rihanna singing Nike and Day and then cutting up all Chris Brown’s trainers will determine whether the fashion brand has truly arrived as a lyric. For now, the winner is Suri Cruise’s alleged $2 million wardrobe. You’d think that for that money she could at least get the shape of her kitten heels right.
Things you never knew you wanted
The recession may have thrown two million into unemployment (hardly any of them bankers, though) and everyone’s like, really depressed, but the flame of human invention refused to be extinguished. This year brought us the saggy crotch pant, Chanel’s jade green nail polish, jeggings, panniers, dykey brogues, Stella McCartney’s cashmere baby leggings for Gap and a hell of a lot of Beth Ditto. At various points we sort of wanted all of them.
Crikey, fashion gets a bit political
France set up a burka commission, prompting zillions of articles on the relativity of fashion serfdom. While many tried, no one convincingly argued that the platform shoe is also an instrument of oppression, rather than the best solution currently available to those who’d like to be 4in taller. In the end polemicists on both sides gave up and joined the queue for H&M’s Jimmy Choo collection. Designers, meanwhile, put snoods, hoods and the odd veil on the catwalk. Kate Moss observed that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, prompting zillions of articles on why she is a Terrible Example to Womankind.
Revenge of the internet
Whether Tavi Gevinson, the 13-year-old fashion blogger from Chicago, is a postmodern conceit, a neo-Marxist joke or, um, a 13-year-old blogger who says “amazing” a lot, 2009 was her year. First she was catapulted on to the cover of Pop, then airlifted into the front row. While Tavi brooded on the mots justes that would relay her encounter with Rei Kawakubo, eventually deciding that it was all a bit exhausting and anyway, “the most special moments are to be kept secret”, hundreds of other girls uploaded photos of outfits for members of the mylookfashion.co.uk “community” to comment on. Suddenly thesartorialist.com looks so 2008.
The have you come as Joan Collins or merely overdone the Rogaine question?
Hair reached dimensions previously witnessed only onstage at The Lion King. Cheryl’s extensions, Jedward’s postmodern (and out-of-time) nod to Tintin, Beyonce and Keira’s short-lived fringes, the forays of Drew, Agyness and Angelina into what Grazia sorrowfully referred to as Old Lady Hair, Posh’s deconstructivism, Lily Allen’s 425 shades of pink, yellow and blue ... when we weren’t discussing Afghanistan or particle accelerators, the Times fashion department was much exercised by It Hair, which totally eclipsed It Bags.
Inevitably it all imploded with that L’Oréal ad. A repentant Cheryl appeared almost naked (which is to say, without most of her extensions) on prime time TV — but humongous hair was good while it lasted and so it wins.
London is the New Paris, shoulders are the midriffs, Erdem is the new Lacroix, Uniqlo is the new Jil Sander
Sadly, no one actually wrote this. But they could have done. London Fashion Week rocked in its 25th year, even if the reigning Designer of the Year, Luella Bartley, was forced to close her business last month.
Jil Sander worked her magic at Uniqlo and the high street finally proved that it could do sleek minimalism at a minimalist price. Erdem Moralioglu, the Canadian-Turkish Royal College of Art-trained designer, emerged as a colourist and print designer of note, even as Lacroix, another colourist and print designer of note, was forced to close most of his business.
At Balmain, Christophe Decarnin spun the spotlight on to shoulders and for 12 months Balmania broke out, but already there are signs that it’s on the wane.
Who will be the next fashion god? Will we really all wear jogging pants? Has the flat shoe already had its moment? Can we ever face sequins again? Might they find a cure for catwalkitis, a syndrome affecting celebrities who think they’re starring in a fashion show when actually they’re emerging from a stage door into an evil-smelling alleyway? Stay tuned to 2010. 2009 is so over.
Jumat, 29 Januari 2010
Jumat, 22 Januari 2010
7 lies we tell ourselves about how we look
Someone famously remarked that there were only seven plots in the world. They said it with such authority, I’m thinking either Shakespeare or Lynda La Plante. Once you begin seriously researching this (ie, googling Only Seven Plots), you discover equally authoritative claims about there being only 36 plots, 20 plots and 3 plots. But after intensive soul-searching and numerous peeks into my own wardrobe, I can confidently announce that there really are seven lies we tell ourselves and others when it comes to our appearance. As we celebrate the new year, it seems timely to confront them.
1. I can always get it altered. Indeed you can and probably should. If you lived in Paris and worked for Carine Roitfeld, you would get everything altered, even those items most mortals thought were just fine as they are. But assuming you’re not reading this on the Eurostar, accessing a creative, technically brilliant alterations service can be a life’s work. I bought a jacket in New York that was at least two sizes too big. I committed this folly because it was the last one in the country and I got overexcited. Five London tailors later (much sucking of teeth, deep intakes of breath, shaking of heads), I took it to Designer Alterations in Battersea (designeralterations.com), where I should have gone in the first place but I’m not very good south of the river. They saw, they nodded, they conquered. But for serious adjustments, you can be looking at £100. Factor that in. Then invest in sat-nav.
2. I’ve been taking kelp. You may well have, but you’ve also secretly had hair extensions put in, which is why you now have the glossy, thick mane of a 16-year-old.
3. It’s an investment. Not in the way that buying shares in LVMH gold ingots or an Isa is an investment, it isn’t. Clothes, accessories (with the possible exception of Hermès Kellys and Birkins) and jewellery depreciate the minute you carry them out of the store. Buy it to wear, to love, to sniff (whatever turns you on). But never buy thinking you can make a quick, or even slow, buck out of it.
4. I’ve been on holiday. (To Harley Street. Where the Botox is on tap and the lasers shine brightly.)
5. I’ll lose the weight. You probably won’t. Remember, it’s even harder to find someone to let garments out than take them in, especially when they need letting out by three inches and there is only an inch of spare fabric.
6. I’ve had it ages. Six months is a long time in fashion.
7. I’m so over trends. How marvellous for you. But to paraphrase Miranda Priestly, that blue jumper you bought as an anti-fashion statement? It’s blue because two seasons ago a bunch of designers decreed blue was in. There is no escape, in other words. Best to interpret trends intelligently, from the lofty planes of knowledge. Ironically, Meryl Streep helped pen that speech as a personal diatribe against the fashion system. That’s what happens when you underestimate the nature of the beast.
1. I can always get it altered. Indeed you can and probably should. If you lived in Paris and worked for Carine Roitfeld, you would get everything altered, even those items most mortals thought were just fine as they are. But assuming you’re not reading this on the Eurostar, accessing a creative, technically brilliant alterations service can be a life’s work. I bought a jacket in New York that was at least two sizes too big. I committed this folly because it was the last one in the country and I got overexcited. Five London tailors later (much sucking of teeth, deep intakes of breath, shaking of heads), I took it to Designer Alterations in Battersea (designeralterations.com), where I should have gone in the first place but I’m not very good south of the river. They saw, they nodded, they conquered. But for serious adjustments, you can be looking at £100. Factor that in. Then invest in sat-nav.
2. I’ve been taking kelp. You may well have, but you’ve also secretly had hair extensions put in, which is why you now have the glossy, thick mane of a 16-year-old.
3. It’s an investment. Not in the way that buying shares in LVMH gold ingots or an Isa is an investment, it isn’t. Clothes, accessories (with the possible exception of Hermès Kellys and Birkins) and jewellery depreciate the minute you carry them out of the store. Buy it to wear, to love, to sniff (whatever turns you on). But never buy thinking you can make a quick, or even slow, buck out of it.
4. I’ve been on holiday. (To Harley Street. Where the Botox is on tap and the lasers shine brightly.)
5. I’ll lose the weight. You probably won’t. Remember, it’s even harder to find someone to let garments out than take them in, especially when they need letting out by three inches and there is only an inch of spare fabric.
6. I’ve had it ages. Six months is a long time in fashion.
7. I’m so over trends. How marvellous for you. But to paraphrase Miranda Priestly, that blue jumper you bought as an anti-fashion statement? It’s blue because two seasons ago a bunch of designers decreed blue was in. There is no escape, in other words. Best to interpret trends intelligently, from the lofty planes of knowledge. Ironically, Meryl Streep helped pen that speech as a personal diatribe against the fashion system. That’s what happens when you underestimate the nature of the beast.
Kamis, 21 Januari 2010
Selasa, 19 Januari 2010
How to pick a good party frock
Don't be blinded by the oversized sequins. Here are the three guidelines to help you find the perfect dress
Getting dressed is not, to be honest, something at which I excel. Every new dawn brings with it a mild sensation of panic, as I take in the inclemency of the weather and the unsuitability of my wardrobe, and retreat to the unflattering safety of head-to-toe black and a raincoat. When I get a job that requires me to wear Agent Provocateur underwear, floor-length cream coats and ruinously expensive high heels, all will be well. Until then – and as I’m a bit old to be a hooker, I’m not holding my breath – I have problems.
This is not a new development, which is why today is the day when I sally forth to make exceptionally unwise sales purchases, and perpetuate the calamitous cycle. This year, like many people, my plan is to buy something for New Year’s Eve. Now, if my New Year’s Eve were going to be that of my dreams – one where, by some happy twist of fate, I find myself kissing Jon Bon Jovi on the stroke of midnight – then the outfit detailed above would be just the ticket.
Sadly, even in the parallel universe that I inhabit, this seems unlikely. So I need a dress. I have set myself some rules, which I humbly share in the hope they may help. Rules which, by the time you read this, I will be well on the way to flouting, but what can I say? My intentions were pure.
First, go for a more glamorous version of something you usually look good in. New Year’s Eve parties are not the place to experiment with a whole new look. Come to think of it, no public event is ever the place to experiment with a whole new look – you should be doing that in the fitting room, before you even get your credit card out, let alone before you allow anyone else to see your interesting take on leggings and Manolos. If you don’t normally feel comfortable in 4in heels with your boobs out, the fact it’s December 31 won’t alter that.
Second, don’t be seduced by novelty: that floor-length magenta show-stopper may look stunning, but it is in the sales precisely because thousands of other woman realised they’d look awful in it. We must heed that wisdom.
Third, don’t forget accessories. Even the most fabulous, bright blue Balmain, knocked down to a bargain £25, say, is absolutely no use if you haven’t already got – or aren’t prepared to buy – the perfect shoes and bag to wear with it. Meanwhile, I myself fully expect that, by day’s end, I will be the proud owner of a show-stoppingly glamorous, floor-length magenta number which will be totally unsuitable for my New Year’s Eve plans. Unless Jon calls me, in which case I’m sorted.
Getting dressed is not, to be honest, something at which I excel. Every new dawn brings with it a mild sensation of panic, as I take in the inclemency of the weather and the unsuitability of my wardrobe, and retreat to the unflattering safety of head-to-toe black and a raincoat. When I get a job that requires me to wear Agent Provocateur underwear, floor-length cream coats and ruinously expensive high heels, all will be well. Until then – and as I’m a bit old to be a hooker, I’m not holding my breath – I have problems.
This is not a new development, which is why today is the day when I sally forth to make exceptionally unwise sales purchases, and perpetuate the calamitous cycle. This year, like many people, my plan is to buy something for New Year’s Eve. Now, if my New Year’s Eve were going to be that of my dreams – one where, by some happy twist of fate, I find myself kissing Jon Bon Jovi on the stroke of midnight – then the outfit detailed above would be just the ticket.
Sadly, even in the parallel universe that I inhabit, this seems unlikely. So I need a dress. I have set myself some rules, which I humbly share in the hope they may help. Rules which, by the time you read this, I will be well on the way to flouting, but what can I say? My intentions were pure.
First, go for a more glamorous version of something you usually look good in. New Year’s Eve parties are not the place to experiment with a whole new look. Come to think of it, no public event is ever the place to experiment with a whole new look – you should be doing that in the fitting room, before you even get your credit card out, let alone before you allow anyone else to see your interesting take on leggings and Manolos. If you don’t normally feel comfortable in 4in heels with your boobs out, the fact it’s December 31 won’t alter that.
Second, don’t be seduced by novelty: that floor-length magenta show-stopper may look stunning, but it is in the sales precisely because thousands of other woman realised they’d look awful in it. We must heed that wisdom.
Third, don’t forget accessories. Even the most fabulous, bright blue Balmain, knocked down to a bargain £25, say, is absolutely no use if you haven’t already got – or aren’t prepared to buy – the perfect shoes and bag to wear with it. Meanwhile, I myself fully expect that, by day’s end, I will be the proud owner of a show-stoppingly glamorous, floor-length magenta number which will be totally unsuitable for my New Year’s Eve plans. Unless Jon calls me, in which case I’m sorted.
Jumat, 15 Januari 2010
Try Chic Separates
"The way today's working woman dresses is much more relaxed," says Ann Taylor fashion director Kristin Rawson, who stresses that separates are perfectly acceptable—and often more versatile than a suit—for an interview. Choose classic shapes like a pencil skirt and a cardigan or blazer, and add interest to the look with a leather belt, statement necklace or printed blouse.
Kamis, 14 Januari 2010
Minggu, 10 Januari 2010
Sabtu, 02 Januari 2010
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