Stylised Monologue

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

A post on trend(s) and The Little Black Jacket

Fashion is a large umbrella under which a lot of elements find refuge. Style, trend, art, expression, individualism, production, advertising, accessibility, couture and the list goes on. Ideally, said umbrella has the personal signature of the beholder. Realistically, this time last year it had a pastel mint hue which has now been replaced by Gothic plum tones and lace. What I'm getting at is, the power of Trends.

I remember interviewing designer Simeon Farrar last year for a magazine I worked at. We discussed art and how his fashion designer status crept up on him when he wasn't looking. And we discussed trends. Trends as seen from the perspective of someone who is not trained to be their slave. That, he struggled with. The speed at which they changed overwhelmed him.

Could fashion exist without trends? The way I see it, trends are the language of the fashion world, it's how this form of art communicates with the people that follow or mock it. In an attempt to take style forward and express it in a way that will interest the public, buyers, high street and journos, a designer has to (more often than not) process that thought in a way that is comprehensible. First the catwalks then the stars then the high streets. And the pavements fill to the brim with boho skirts that quickly turn into MadMen-esque 60's corsets, into leathers, metallics, chunky heels, stilettos, 90s revival, candy coloured pastels, printed t-shirts, goth. Hair and skin and eyebrow sizes go along getting straighter, blonder, fuller, darker, paler, purple hued.

But not unlike history, trends repeat themselves. The outfit that up until recently belonged to a cringe-worthy photograph, may come out to adorn the flesh and be paraded around again. It will get re-vamped, it will become relevant, present! And then, after it's 15minutes of fame, the sequel, it will set again back in the horizon of the wardrobe. But then, there are SOME trends, some few ones that never go, that linger around...sometimes they stand proudly on the first line of attack and sometimes they sluggishly slack off in the back, but they're there. And more often than not, they were established by Coco Chanel. Ok that may not be true but it's a good bridge to where this article is heading towards.

So while bright neon colours come and go and the amount of muffin top on show maximises and minimises according to the waistline en vogue, the little black dress stays the same. Little and black. The shapes may vary a little, there may be a bit of beading or embroidery, the sleeves and necklines may come in a plethora of shapes and sizes and the hemlines may be grazing from thigh to knee, but it's undeniably omnipresent, like a God-like equivalent in the garment world. And then, you get even more specific, you need something to cover your LBD with, or your jeans and t-shirt or whichever trend you are currently rocking. And that's where tweed comes in.
A tweed jacket cuts through any sartorial prohibition. It can be rock, it can be classy, elegant, scruffy, boho... It can elevate simplicity, it can subtly compliment elegance and brightly contradict eccentricity. It can be pure or chain laden, it can be married with leather or lace or denim but at the top of the tweed hierarchy, it is made in the trademark Chanel design.
The Little Black Jacket. Coco passed it on to Karl who collaborated with Carine. They covered the bodies of everyone they deemed relevant in its course yet soft material. Karl captured its flawless design on them and the photos became big canvases that plastered the walls of art galleries around the world, landing at the Saatchi gallery in West London. And women who look and smell like my grandmother, stare at it in awe. As do men in suits and tracksuits, as do I and my friends, my football loving boyfriend and a Danish lady in her thirties pushing a pushchair. For Alexander Wang, Lilly Allen, Freja Beha, Kanye West, Clemence Poesy, Tilda Swinton,to name a few, have such different looks yet the classic, undeniably bang on trend LITTLE BLACK JACKET can do no wrong in everyone's body and everyone's eyes.

If you are in London, you HAVE to go check it out. It's gorgeous and free (plus for the mega freeloaders you also get a free poster). Here's the link for more information: 

As for me, the pricelessly classic Chanel design, has a price I cannot fathom.

Instead, I may direct my drooling towards the more affordable options listed below:

1) ASOS tweed biker jacket

2) Mango powder pink tweed jacket

3) Helene Berman plum, pink and black tweed jacket

4) My personal favourite DKNY cotton blend tweed jacket

You should snap up the last 2 scrumptiously discounted ones before pay day makes an appearance and forces me to purchase them both, in a heartbeat.

Wednesday, 17 October 2012


Two blog posts in ONE day, I am spoiling you lot! 

It's just that I could no longer contain my Margiela induced excitment. I LOVE H&M for their collaborations. The Marni one brought tears to my eyes (mainly because the amazing patent jumper of theirs I bought is too big for me, but I can't think about parting with it without getting a rash so it stays in my wardrobe as a decorative piece). I feel like the Margiela one, however, is going to be unbeatable. Maybe I'm a bit biast to the theatricality, innovasion, sharp lines and insane talent that oozes out of the Maison Martin Margiela house but for me (maybe on a par with Alexander McQueen) Margiela stands on a fashion forward pedestal. Time to break my little MMM pigy bank, because (preview guy voice) THIS NOVEMBER, IN A SWEDISH HIGH STREET SHOP NEAR YOU......


arghslda.glwpjroytdfgjflgwa;l/keamxf (inability to speak due to giddyness produced by sartorial love at first sight!) 

all items: maison martin margiela x h&m.... DUH!!!!

Excuses, excuses...

Ok so what are the chances that we can pretend my 4month long absence never happened?


but guys, I was working hard at a little shinding in London. You may have heard of it... The Olympics, it was called!

Before you stand up on your tiptoes in uproar about my potential #humblebrag (I'm hashtagging because that's what all the cool kids do nowadays, get with the times!), let me explain why I'm telling you this. I am telling you because a)it was a surreal experience and b)the scedule was hectic, SO HECTIC THAT I COULDN'T EVEN SLEEP LET ALONE BLOG! I honestly don't think I actually slept for MONTHS. It was like a really long day with short naps in between. As well as lack of time, on my list of excuses is the absolute inexistence of style that comes with working nonstop! Not that I had a choice, those smexy beige trousers and super flattering green top (can you hear the irony through the italics?) were ALL I was allowed to wear, thanks boss!

and as far as accessorizing goes, this gorgeous photo was the only thing adorning my neck... what a beaut,right! How did this accreditation only earn me a half arsed stalker and zero modelling contracts, I will never know.

Working at the Olympics was brilliant. There's so much to say that I feel I should write a whole separate article for that experience. Here's a couple of things that happened: we worked so hard that our brains started finding 'kick me' post-its hilarious. The temporary enviroment led to situations like my boss challenging me to say the word 'naughty' to as many IBC guests as possible on the last day. At one point I had the (self-proclaimed) 'richest man in Dubai' who was also their 1st ever gold medallist and a member of their royal family, wait in our office for half an hour, drinking flat fanta out of a plastic cup whilst his PA was flapping about on the verge of a nervous breakdown because he was meant to be on TV in, like, 10 mins but as their channel had not given us the correct info we were unable to let him through. I also pretended I didn't know what Rob Kardashians name was because I'm THAT cool.
And we had an awesome quote wall (probably had to be there for most of these to be funny? or just maybe skip sleep for a few months and read these again then.)

Ahhh it was great.

And then I went to Greece in September. [Greece which is still a perfectly beautiful and safe country btw, contrary to what a shocking amount of ill-informed people believe here in Britain. ] 
I had been looking forward to it more than words can say. Chilling in a hammock, eating grapes (yes, it was essentially a Dionysian orgy in my imagination!) and not having to work ALL.THE.TIME.

So the day finally arrived! I peeled the beige/pine green/hideous uniform off of my skin, partied until 6 in the morning like it was the end of the Olympics, packed my suitcase, went to the airport, bid the world goodbye every time the plane went through any type of slight turbulance and finally, I landed in 35 degrees about to start my summer while everyone I knew was turning off the lights to theirs.

And I didn't work, and I slept, and I sat in the hammock and I ate grapes. And it was the biggest shock to my body/brain EVER. Chilling was stressful and static and I just wasn't coping!

(everyone say hiiii to Irma, she's 17 and the best dog ever. -hiiiii Irma. )

This is my best not coping pose... I think it transfers the sentiment pretty well, no?

Never in my life had I thought that being on holiday would take so much effort. Thankfully, after sleeping for about 3 days straight, I managed to relax a little and go to the beach and swim and eat sea urchins and pose on like a knob.

Like what am I even doing in this picture? yoga whilst holding on to my hat? err anyway.

I have a lot of pictures and funny stories to share from my next couple of weeks on holiday, when I finally managed to unwind my wound up brain and set off to visit amazing places like Ydra and Nafplio. But for now, I have to go back to article writing because, you know, a lot of things have happened on those catwalks since I got back and I gotsa cover them. I WILL get back to this blogging malarky however! PROMISE, PINKY PROMISE!!!