Swedish Hasbeens at Selfridges

This week I was invited to breakfast for the launch of the Swedish Hasbeens pop-up shop inside Selfridges on Oxford Street.  Already stocked in several specialist shoe stores and Fenwick, Selfridges is probably their biggest retailer to date.  While the shoes are still handmade in Sweden adhering to sustainable principles, the spring collection has taken inspiration from sportswomen throughout the twentieth century.  In their honour we found ourselves treated to a miniature 'fashion show' given by a rhythmic gymnastics troupe (apparently a pared down version of a performance held during Stockholm fashion week last year).  The ribbon dancer was particularly good although her route between the shoes was hindered somewhat by protruding walls.

As I wrote before, I'm still waiting for my own Swedish Hasbeens order to arrive.  I decided to get a pair of the saddle shoes the model below is wearing in black and white.  More boy clothes...

A weekend of little things

It's funny how illness can strike you down so quickly.  On Thursday evening everything seemed to be going so well - I finished my work up with enough time to check out the Varg press evening (more on that later), catch the launch of Selling Sex at SHOWstudio (including Ruth Hogben's Fuck Me featuring Karlie Kloss) and accompany Nisha to a performance by controversial Chilean poet Cecilia Vicuña.  But by the time I got back to the manse, the lurgy had struck me down. Sneezing, coughing, working my way through a family pack of Kleenex Balsam, that was to be my weekend.  None of the work I had planned got done - which means extra coding for me this week! - and most of the time was spent slumped in front of the TV nursing a mug of extra-strength Lemsip.

It's time like these when it's just the little things getting you through.  Like the delivery of a very large box from Mr Porter containing the very small Balenciaga card holder I ordered with the voucher from the party last week.  So chic, I finally have somewhere to store my two credit cards and my Oyster rather than shoving them into the pockets of whatever I happen to be wearing.  Other little snippets of pleasure came from an ill-advised trip to the Tate Modern.  I really should have stayed in bed but the sunny weather, and the fact that I had prepaid my ticket, tempted me out to see the Yayoi Kusama exhibition.  I really liked her earliest works, the detailed paintings and collages of alien or undersea worlds, as well as the full-scale installations (had to get a postcard of the Infinity Room because photography was frowned upon).  Her more recent paintings, however, looked rather crude and derivative.  Well, she is 83.  Anyway, by the time I made it to the exit I thought I was going to die and had to take to my bed when I returned.  

Today I'm still feeling rather sniffly but I have to keep a stiff upper lip and get on with work.  I just hope I don't look too sickly for Hugh's CSI (that's Charming Social Introductions) tomorrow.  I've got my Crest Whitestrips on while I type...   

xxx
Duck

Bicester Village - British Designers Collective

When I lived in Oxford (for seven years...) one of the few rays of fashionable light in my completely unfabulous life was designer discount heaven, Bicester Village. Nary a term would go by without a spontaneous pit-stop being made to load up on Marni, McQueen and Westwood – my designers of choice at the time. With an average of 60% off everything it's almost as good as a London studio sample sale, but with brands that would never normally drop their prices so low in the big smoke. The cut rates did lead to a few disastrous purchases but also some of my favourites, like the giant wine PVC Marni shopper that I fall in love with again at least once a year.

Yesterday, however, I got to go to Bicester Village under slightly different auspices, to attend the launch of the British Designers Collective, a now annual collaboration between Bicester and the BFC to bring 'up-and-coming' (is that how would you describe Marios Schwab??) designers to the general public [SHRIEK]. Having met four other bloggers on the escalator into Marylebone railway station and eventually filling an entire carriage on the train to Bicester, it was like the most wonderful fantasy school trip. Sadly our minders for the day didn't bring snacks for the journey although they did attempt to ply us with champagne (a little early in the day but who can resist a glass or three?), bizarre tuna-stuffed potatoes (puke) and Alexa Chung when we got there.

The pop-up store is very cute with its faux lawn exterior and contained pieces by the likes of Michael van der Ham, Peter Pilotto, Jonathan Saunders and Mawi. I say 'contained' because we all went a little bit crazy with our additional 10% discount for the day – I didn't see a blogger leave empty-handed. I'm told they will be restocking frequently... My favourite pieces were the “fetish” Bella Freud jumpers – I'm sure I've seen Melanie Rickey wearing one on TV – and an amazing Pauric Sweeney metallic python and plastic bag. The bag nearly made it onto my shopping list but the reduced price of £690 was still a little too much for my student budget. I have to be (semi) sensible now guys :-( I did, however, pick up a gorgeous Erickson Beamon bracelet that will certainly get a lot of use and – OK, this one's a bit ridic – one of the two-tone neon fur scarves from Prada S/S 11. Scroll below for “haul” shots!

Oh, and I was also very happy indeed to meet Alex Fury finally in person. He's surprisingly nice IRL. Stasie fears he will now eviscerate me on the Tweets for saying that.  Either way, he looks good in Prada polyurethane.

Mr Porter Party

Last night Mr Porter held a very manly soirée for their favourite journalists and bloggers at the fabulous Mark's Bar at HIX in Soho to launch their Spring collections, and somehow my name has made it onto that list. Everything about the night was über masculine from the whiskey cocktails responsible for today's splitting headache (or was that the unofficial after party at G-A-Y?) to the impressive display of beards (the London gent's look du jour). I nibbled delicious wild mushroom canapés, browsed the rails of clothing and got shouted at for sitting on the pool table. Mr Porter has definitely gone up in my estimations recently, not just because they know how to throw a party, but because the buyers are much more 'on it'. I spotted pieces from Raf, Givenchy and Sandro that I wouldn't have expected them to stock last year. The site's growing and there's more and more of the kind of things I like to buy. Even this morning, when I was spending the £50 gift voucher I found inside the goodie bag, I struggled to narrow my choice down from the 10 pieces I desperately NEEDED.  I went for this Balenciaga green leather cardholder in the end – I'm so bad, I just know I'm going to spend ridic sums when I go to Bicester Village for the British Designers Collective launch tomorrow.   

I also took the opportunity to crack out some of my new Spring/Summer pieces which have either been arriving as pre-orders or have been purchased with what little remains of my funds after six months' online lusting. This time I wore a baroque printed shirt from Qasimi Homme and dressed it up with a leather-lapelled blazer by Acne. And then I lowered the tone by wearing my Prada creepers from two seasons ago. A word of warning – do not attempt any sorts of dance moves in these shoes. My feet are almost as painful as my head today.

Brunch at Browns with L'Wren Scott

It's not often you get an invitation that you just can't turn down, but anything reaching my inbox from the hallowed world of Browns is always going to prompt a hasty diary clearing.  On Thursday Browns invited a few of us (including fellow blogger Tala from MyFashDiary) to an intimate brunch with L'Wren Scott, hosted by Dolly Jones from Vogue.com.  L'Wren told us about the dramatic changes her life has gone through, from growing up in rural Utah (where she made her own clothes from Vogue pattern books and had to stitch together two pairs of jeans to fit her 6 ft 3 in frame), to modelling for Bruce Weber and David Bailey in Paris, to being the creative director of the Academy Awards, and finally to the launch of her own label.  Besides a champagne brunch and the fascinating discussion, we were also treated to a miniature show of her recent collections.  L'Wren's designs may not be quite my style but you can appreciate the thought and detailed construction behind each piece.  I'll definitely be suggesting her to Mother. 

In my last post I experimented with dressing like a boy (Brandon has now christened me a drag king...) but I thought for L'Wren I should go as a MAN.  I wore my brown tweedy McQueen suit with last year's Prada creepers but still managed to crazy things up a bit with some Christopher Kane galaxy print and my Jas M B furball bag.  Well, you have to dress up for Mrs B, darlings.  It was such a bright and sunny Spring day on Thursday, but I'm afraid you can't tell from the photos - completely forgot to snap my outfit until the sun was almost down :-/     

Swedish Beer Bowling

Last night the lovely Varg ladies took a few of us out for a night of bowling and beers to celebrate the up-coming Swedish Hasbeens pop-up shop in Selfridges (27th March - be there or be square).  Who knew there was a restaurant and four-lane bowling alley right underneath Victoria House? After a veggie burger laced with halloumi and a few tosses of the ball, "beer bowling" was somehow reinterpreted as "flaming Zombie cocktail bowling".  Zombies are so strong you're only allowed to have two per person, but you can easily get around that rule if you order from a different waitress every time...

In honour of Hasbeens, Varg and all things Scandinavian I decided to dress up Swedish style.  And, since I would be partaking in the most masculine of sports (and drinks), I thought I might as well dress as a boy for once too!  My Södermalm hipster outfit combined a Fifth Avenue Shoe Repair t-shirt with a cubic necklace and chain-embellished bag from 2nd Day.  This is one of the few bags I've found that can comfortably hide my SLR along with my usual mess of condoms oil control sheets, lip balms, perfumes and Moomins memorabilia.

And who won the bowling (and the celebratory bottle of prosecco), I hear you ask?  Meeeeeeeeeeeee.  Like all things in life, I pretend I don't know what I'm doing at the start to lull the competition into a false sense of security.  And then I smash them all to smithereens.  But seriously, I'm not that competitive...      

James Long A/W 2012

I'm ashamed (am I?) to say that James Long was practically the only thing I liked about menswear day in London.  I feel apprehensive writing this, I want to support British designers yadda yadda yadda [NB desperate attempt to avoid internet backlash], but I think going to Paris for fashion week the past few seasons has kind of spoiled me for London.  While there are many world-class womenswear designers here (Christopher Kane, Peter Pilotto, Jonathan Saunders, Louise Gray, Mary Katrantzou, Erdem, the list goes on...) I just don't feel the same way about menswear, despite the press releases the BFC likes to ram down our throats on a regular basis.  Most of the stuff on the official schedule would be considered filler if it were shown during women's week and don't even get me started on the quality of the off-schedule shows I saw...

This is why James Long's show was so refreshing, even if the total look isn't my personal style.  I don't pretend to have any expertise in fashion design - I'm a physicist for God's sake - but I approach this here blog as a consumer.  I go to the shows to be inspired and see what I want to buy, and then document it here.  James makes stuff I could see myself buying.  Really good quality looking knits, leather jackets, coats and bags displayed in a professional, no-nonsense kind of show.  It's slick and it's also no wonder that James is now showing womenswear as part of Fashion East.  There are still interesting 'London' design quirks - red patent trousers, oversized accessories - but everything looks a lot more luxurious and desirable than much of the student pap people rave about.  For me that is the point of high-end fashion: the perfectly balanced combination of escapist fantasy, artistic design and bloody good quality fabrication.  Only one question remains.  Why isn't James showing his textured mohairs and quilted leathers in Milan?  I can see a collection like this fitting in very nicely there.    

John Rocha A/W 2012

I was lucky to make it to John Rocha's show.  Maybe it's because I moved house between last season and this - actually I moved right in the middle of fashion week, though that's another drama - but somehow my show ticket never winged its way into my letterbox.  I guess the tight security protecting our mailboxes from the violent riffraff of West London might have been the problem.  In any case I had assumed I didn't have a ticket so was caught off guard when the PRs DM'ed to say my invitation was waiting for me backstage.  I believe it was roughly one hour before showtime and I was lounging in my bedroom in a state of undress usually reserved for my infrequent 'house guests', as I've taken to calling them.  Twenty minutes later I was panicking in the back of an Addison Lee, desperately willing my hair to dry.  "Fashion week, then?", asked the driver.

Man, I'm glad I made it there on time!  Although again John didn't show menswear (the store manager told me this will continue for at least the next few seasons #sadface), I felt like this was one of his strongest collections in a while.  The first few voluminous looks in crinkly black paper worried me slightly that this would be a copycat collection (copying his former self, naturally) but then suddenly everything felt fresher and much more modern.  Skin-tight, sheer, sleeveless tube dresses appeared, decorated with lace-filled cut outs or panels of coloured silk (colours!).  Embroidered flowers grew up and over the bust of one dress while panels of fur exploded from the sides adding texture to what would otherwise be a see-through skirt.  This second half of the collection was sexier, younger and very much now.  I wonder if seeing his daughter Simone's success has re-inspired his own work?

Casual Friday

Fashion week isn't all about prancing around in couture t-shirts and impractical chiffon palazzo pants (one of my more outré outfits), hiding your semi-professional camera inside the latest round of canvas gift bags so as not to be mistaken for a streetstyle blogger or - Heaven forbid - an actual professional.  Some days it just all gets too much and you throw on the comfiest clothing you find lying on the floor next to your bed before you drag yourself down to Somerset House.  This is exactly what I did on Sunday (I lied in the title, so sue me) when I took a couple of hours out of work to check out Jeffrey Michael's afternoon presentation at St Martin's Lane and wandered into town to grab a drink with my blogging buddies, including Jen who took these photos.  Thankfully my pink velour Juicy Couture tracksuit wasn't the closest thing at hand when I woke up that day so I just threw my favourite doggy jumper over these pseudo-combat skinny jeans and accessorised up with some tinsel and a fur handbag.  Please excuse the tired expression, I am a terrible photographer's subject.  I'm never going to make it as a muse.

Wearing: German shepherd angora jumper by Balenciaga, skinny jeans by Odyn Vovk, tinsel headband by John Rocha, green shearling camera bag by Jas MB and Dr Martens brogues.  Nail art by NCLA.  

xxx

Duck

Autumnal obsession - Damir Doma

You may have seen me wearing a few Damir Doma pieces on this here blog - just a few mind, because they tend to be pretty pricey - but it looks like my Doma coverage is about to sky-rocket if I can find some way to afford his AW collection.  While he's always gone for a draped, nomadic look, next season Damir has taken it to another level.  The styles I love fall into two categories; the draped, beaded and caped outfits (above) make me want to go on a road trip through a desert at night, cosseted inside my layers of fur throws, while the black and grey chimney sweep/biker boy hybrids (below) are more suited to the urban roamer inside me.  FFS, he even has me wanting to wear hats, usually a Duck no-no!  Someone needs to instate Damir at one of the big houses pronto so he can play even more with these new levels of luxury. 

Who am I going to have to bump off to get myself a wardrobe like this?

xxx
Duck

MAN

If the Fashion East MAN show were a competition then the clear winners would be Agi & Sam whose fusion of trad menswear suiting with modern printing techniques lit up the Royal Opera House catwalk.  Maybe not everyone can pull off a Seurat painted three-piece suit but hopefully the more daring gent can work a vibrant tartan jacket into his wardrobe.  Anyway, how could I not love Agi & Sam when they showed an entire DUCK PRINTED outfit?! The only downside: I'm so bored of designers using "interesting" (i.e. old, beaten up, homeless looking) models.  Stasie likes a pretty boy.

Astrid Andersen definitely went for models more pleasing to the eye, if somewhat thuggish.  The clothes, on the other hand, weren't quite what I was looking for.  Oversized, fur trimmed puffa jackets layered over beefcake muscles and 90s Nike reject shell suits were contrasted with netting vests, denim jackets and crop tops.  I couldn't tell if Astrid was dressing a dandy pimp or his team of South London rent boys.  At least someone finally showed some velvet/velour menswear for me! I'll skip the track pants but a silver velour sweatshirt would come in very handy this winter.  

New hair!

Getting your hair cut is almost always a traumatic experience – your regular stylist is never available, the new person doesn't listen to you, the sea of inane questions (“Going anywhere nice on your holidays this year?”), the unfathomable inability of all hairdressers to style your hair the way you like it – and this time could have been even more so since I was going from super long to pretty much boy-short. But thanks to the fabulous Zara at Taylor Taylor (and my photographer for the day, Alexxsia) my haircut was actually a barrel of laughs. Or maybe that was down to the multitude of espresso martinis we ordered from the in-house cocktail bar – drinks are complimentary throughout your treatments!

From the gold-tiled wash room to the antique furniture, the giant chandelier to the resident King Spaniel, Taylor Taylor is certainly a classy affair. It's now made it onto my official list of approved hairdressers; the only other member is the Rainbow Room International back home in Glasgow. I highly recommend it, especially if you're going for a big change – everything's better with a martini in your hand.

Now I just have to learn how to style my hair myself. This look involved mousse, powdered wax, styling cream, shine spray and hairspray. Better start raiding those goody-bags.