As I’m sure a lot of you know, Alexander McQueen passed away on Thursday. It’s hard to think of anything to say that would come close to capturing even a part of his greatness. But maybe that’s the thing: people as talented as Alexander McQueen can’t be captured. Not by words, and unfortunately for us, not even by life.
I’ll let his designs speak for themselves:
Goodnight, Mr. McQueen.
Images: www.style.com
Bear with me for a moment while I tell a story that’s not exactly fashion-related, but that I’m sure I can trickily spin to have a fashion angle.
A powerful higher-up type, sitting in his office on the 33rd floor of a very high, very sparkly glass building, looked out his window one morning to see the usual view of the Sydney Harbour and the hotels and parks that line its shores. Boats dotted the gold dusted water and the sky was the kind of blue that makes your eyes thirsty. Moored in front of the Park Hyatt Hotel, he saw a massive white yacht that clearly belonged to someone who was quite a lot more comfortable in this life than the rest of us. He knew that people who are that comfortable make good clients, and so he decided to try to make contact with this person. Kind of like when aliens visit earth, but not scary.
Being a powerful higher-up type, he had at his fingertips a resource of eager minions waiting, wide-eyed and excited to boot lick, compliment his tie and do his bidding. He enlisted their help to find out the name of this comfortable person, and to buy the person a fancy bottle of wine. The minions did their work well and the wine was sent to the boat with this accompanying note:
Welcome to Sydney, Mr. Comfortable Person.
I looked out my window this morning and saw your boat. I wanted to thank you for improving my view. If you need anything while you’re in Sydney, please feel free to give me a call.
Enclosed is some fancy wine to help you be more fancy on your fancy boat.
Mr. Comfortable Person called the powerful higher up type later that day to thank him for the fancy wine and to invite him for dinner. Mr. Comfortable Person lives overseas and already has his own powerful higher-up type so our protagonist didn’t get a client out of it, but he got a nice dinner, a new friend, a way into the world of more similarly comfortable people and a good story.
So what can we learn from this story of clever gift-giving?
You need to give before you can expect to take. Post about Candace Ang jewellery on your blog and she may send you a feathery necklace. Or not. Probably not, because she doesn’t know who you are. But if you’re kind and you offer someone something you think they will like, good things will probably come to you.
Be brave and take risks. Be brave in the clothes you put on in the morning, (there’s the fashion angle I promised. Flimsy, I know), be brave in saying what’s on your mind even when you know people will disagree and be brave in doing something that scares you every day. Pet a big hairy spider that you’re pretty sure isn’t poisonous, but that you’re pretty sure will bite you. Call up an editor at Vogue and tell them why they need to let you write for them. Say that you like Taylor Swift even though everyone who’s anyone seems to think she’s a vanilla, all-American bore-factory.
Be creative. Lots of people in the world think they’re too important for the likes of you.
But if you do something different that catches their attention, they’ll probably give you a bit of their busy important time.
What do you have to lose anyway? The price of a bottle of wine? When you’re a powerful higher-up, or when you’re just you, the price of a bottle of wine is a mere drop in your ocean of fancy possibilities.
Six reasons to love Candace Ang:
The Flight Necklace in ocean
The Revolution Collar in toast
The Sadie Necklace
The Crest Bracelet
The Soleil Necklace
Her last name rhymes with fang.
Lately I’ve been trying really hard not to get sucked into falling in love with things that only look good on models with legs that stretch to forever and waists so waspish that a small child could lace her fingers around them. I have a short torso and long legs; I wouldn’t have it any other way, but it makes buying clothes online a risky proposition.
It’s this unwieldy body type that led me to resist buying anything from the Rodarte for Target collection. Rodarte, like Stella McCartney and many others, have collaborated with Target to create an affordable, limited edition collection which is available in stores in the States, and online for us international types.
Living in an Australian time zone gives me the excellent benefit of being awake and alert at 1am NYC time, when these sorts of collections are released online. That means that should I want it, I get first pick of everything.
In preparation for the release, I scoured the internet for images of the clothes and studied the video collaboration done by Tavi from Style Rookie.
I was drawn to the blue Alice in Wonderland dress:
the bow shoulder dress (especially in mustard yellow):
and the sequin ribcage dress:
but not the icky combat boot styling.
When those dresses were finally available, did I immediately whip out my credit card and start spending? No. I crazily decided to think about it. Two hours later, I decided to have a second look, (this was at 3am NYC time, mind you), and what I felt when I got to the “sold out” page for all three dresses was cold REGRET. I learned the hard lesson that the exclusive, limited-edition fashion vampires don’t know the meaning of “I’m going to think about it.” They’re decisive; they strike with quick, fangy accuracy; they stay up all night shopping; and they have my mustard yellow bow shoulder dress. If you were to look at the site now, all you’d find would be a sad wasteland littered with a few leopard print belts in tiny sizes, a bunch of dresses that are only available in stores in Mobile, Alabama and more of that regret stuff.
I hesitated because I worried that my purchases would make their slow way to me in Australia and they wouldn’t fit. I worried that I wouldn’t only feel regret, I’d feel disappointment too. Fueling my worry was a blog post I’d read about a girl who went to the pop-up shop before the online collection was released and bought a medium dress. She said she was normally a size 4 or 6, and a large probably would have fit better, which told me the sizing is a bit off.
Now that I’ve had a few weeks to ponder the mustard-yellow-bow-shoulder-dress-sized hole in my closet, (because I have nothing better to do than lament lost fashion-related opportunities), I’ve come to a conclusion. Can I be honest? I don’t think the Rodarte for Target collection was that great. (One moment while I pause to be tarred and feathered by my fashionable contemporaries). I think the designs are inspired and wonderful and very Rodarte. I love the prints and colours and the interesting twists. But I don’t love what I’ve read on the review sections of the Target site about poor craftsmanship and bad fits. In trying to stick with a lower price point, it seems they had to sacrifice quality.
I was blinded with the swoon-worthy idea I could own something by Rodarte for $50, not $5,000. Now that I’m more clear-headed, I’ve realised that I’m glad I kept my $50. I’ll put it in an interest-bearing sock under my bed so that one day I can buy a real piece by Rodarte.
OK, so this is a little late, but I’m a procrastinator by nature, and I never make resolutions that go against my nature. For example, being short is against my nature, so I would never resolve to stop wearing heels. I actually wasn’t going to do a New Year’s resolutions post; I was going to let the date float by unnoticed, but I started to feel left out because all the blogs I read are doing New Year’s resolution posts, just like how in January of every year, all the magazines waste paper on giant horoscope articles, (which I can’t stand by the way. Don’t give me that voodoo about being lucky in love or money this year because the gravitational pull of Venus is giving me a bad hair day. I’ll make my own luck, thank you).
Without further ranting and ado, here are my resolutions:
Happy New Year everyone! I know that life can be frequently lame, but I hope this year, the awesome outweighs the lame by, like, a ton. 2010 = a ton of awesome.
I’m not quite sure why I’ve never heard of Thread Social before. You’d think the cuteness of their collections would have haunted my dreams (in an adorable way), but I guess Sydney is just too far away from New York for such haunting. My ignorance must be a signal that I should be spending more time trawling the internet for neat things to buy instead of wasting my time on silly things like going to work every day.
Against my better judgement, Thread Social is inspiring in me a new appreciation for things like rompers, jumpsuits, high waisted shorts and harem pants. When the models look so huggably amazing, how can a girl resist? Maybe the right cut in a romper won’t reduce me to looking like a gnome in the wardrobe of a five-year-old. Maybe a well made pair of high waisted shorts won’t make me look like a box, as wide as I am tall. Excuse me while I rush off to the shops to find out. Right after we have a little drool over my favourite looks:
I really love the dress below, but I suspect it wouldn’t be too tough to make at home. My DIY projects always start out infused with so much hope and excitement. Then, after hours and days of toiling over the sewing machine, or hand stitching tiny beads onto fabric, I always seem to end up with some ill-fitting, strange-looking heap of fabric that I’m forced to banish to the back of my closet because I’m sick of looking at it. But, in spite of my dramatic complaining, I remain undeterred and every couple of months I embark on a new project, hopeful and excited all over again. Stay tuned for either frustration or elation when I finish trying to make my own version of this dress.
This is the beautiful romper that keeps singing its pesky siren song to me:
I pledge my heart to these shorts. Actually, this whole outfit:
This gorgeous dress needs to be part of my outfit repertoire for the little post-wedding Roman holiday I’m taking with the Boyfriend next June:
And in case I spill marinara sauce on the first dress, I can always change into this lovely variation:
This jumpsuit looks pretty chic-ghetto fabaluss on the model, but I suspect it would just look ghetto on me:
But who needs jumpsuits when there are things like this lovely dress. Get in my closet IMMEDIATELY!
Sometimes artists make sacrifices for their craft. Vincent Van Gogh cut off his part of his ear. William S. Burroughs cut off his pinky finger. Alexander McQueen’s various extremities are intact, but I suspect he may have sold his soul to the devil.
I have this suspicion not because I think he’s evil, or because I feel cold when I look into his eyes, but because I don’t know how any person could come up with season after season of such intensely complicated, beautiful clothes without having engaged in a dodgy transaction with a seriously powerful counterparty. Who needs private equity money when you have Satan?
Today I’m in the mood to take a little walk down memory lane with one of the most talented designers on the planet. A mid-career retrospective on some of my favourite McQueen looks. It’s a long walk, so you better put on some flats.
Resort wear? Must be a pretty amazing resort. Who wouldn’t want a weird bug-inspired dress or pair of leggings?
If the Little Prince had lived in British Raj India instead of being a lonely, far-away asteroid-dweller, I think his girlfriends probably would have worn stuff like this:
I need a gown made from chicken feathers RIGHT NOW.
This heavy red satin bolero is deadly cool. It looks like McQueen pried two roses open and stuffed the model’s arms through the centre of the petals. LOVE.
I didn’t think decadence and luxury like this existed anymore, but here they are, lovingly stitched on the bodice of this beautiful gown.
It’s Alice! Doesn’t her skirt look so cuddly?
Easter Racing Carnival hat anyone? It can double as a very cool fireplace screen in a pinch.
I am so disturbed right now that I might need someone to hold me. What was he thinking when he came up with this stuff? Those blood red and black clown mouths look downright depraved.
And what about this white feathered bondage nest? I’d say it’s f’d up, but then my mom would get mad at me for swearing on my blog again.
One part dominatrix, one part A Clockwork Orange. If I was a girl droog, (which I suppose is an oxymoron, since those droogs were such misogynistic little bastards), this is what I would wear. And I would whip Alex and his gang of white pants wearing, walking stick wielding, moloko drinking hooligans into shape with my riding crop.
If only you could really wear an outfit like this in the snow. Between the argyle tights and the open-faced balaclava, you’d be so toasty. Unfortunately snowy weather dictates you wear hideous things like “sensible shoes” and “loose pants with long underwear underneath.” Might as well give up now, slob around in trackies and use public bathrooms while barefoot like Britney.
I love how the prints of the SS10 collection morph from snake/lizard to rust, gold and black hued swirls to gorgeous dark florals, to ice queen blues and silvers with contrasting touches of orange. So much outrageous visual gluttony.
One strategically placed sweep of stiff plastic:
And one not so strategically placed sweep of stiff plastic misses its mark. The model looks a bit like a boy, but somehow the androgyny looks really good here. Fashion forward Star Trek-like aliens don’t get all tangled up with silly gender labels anyway.
I wonder how they got her hair so tall.
I know this has been intense, so let’s take a little breather and look at some nice, subdued black booties.
And now I’ll sign off with my favourite shoe on the planet. I wonder if I should get a bigger Christmas stocking so that Santa will be able to fit these shoes in it?
All photos source: www.style.com
Tonight I met Scott Schuman, the Sartorialist, at the sass & bide store on Oxford St. in Sydney. He’s in Australia to promote his book and was doing a book signing at the store.
I waited in line for three hours, clutching my copy of his book and cursing myself because I stuffed so much heavy junk into my handbag that it made my shoulder ache. I made two buddies in line, Lanny and Lauren. We were all so nervous that when our turn came, we decided to get our books signed together. It’s not every day you get to meet someone as exciting as Scott Schuman, and sometimes you need moral support. When he signed my book, he told me that his first girlfriend’s name was Grace. It made me even more tongue tied than I already was, but my heart went thumpa thumpa with glee.
The three hour wait was extra specially boring, so I entertained myself by taking photos of the shop windows.
After queuing down the sidewalk for two hours, we finally got inside the store. And then we waited some more.
The sass & bide store is quite a clever space, what with the smashed mirrors on the ceiling:
and the giant (actually just horse-sized) leather horse at the back:
Then, sitting at a table behind the horse, there he was:
and here we are, looking goofy and star struck:
<3 <3 <3
When I’m Christmas shopping I always manage to greedily buy a few things for myself. And as though I need another reason to go shopping, Petite Boutique is having a pre-Christmas sale.
They’ve got a fab selection of designer party dresses, all for under $300. I dare you to show me a sale as awesome as this in Sydney. I double dog dare you.
The inspiration for this month’s flier is Recessionista Chic: this girl has opted to sell all her clothes in favour of increasing her accessories collection. A couple of strategically placed over-sized necklaces and some pretty underpants and she’s sorted! Well played.
Since life is rudely interfering with my ability to do a proper post this week, I thought I’d share some SNL shorts that make my day as sparkly as vampire skin.
YouTube is determined to make me cry with the words “ebedding disabled by request.” I guess you’ll have to go to the video for my favourite Christmas song EVER the old fashioned way: Dick in a Box
And now for something that starts out pretty hilarious, and ends up pretty weird. Sorry about the different sizes. I’m not much of a technical genius.