Saturday, September 30, 2006
Since Paris Fashion Week starts tomorrow I thought it was a good time to profile a Paris based designer whose elusive clothes I've been chasing for most of this year.
I've briefly swooned over Lovisa Burfitt's aesthetic here before. What makes her clothes all the more covetable is the difficulty in actually buying any of them. The Burfitt collection is only stocked at TwoSee here in London, and they never have more than one or two pieces which are of course never the ones I want. In June I had an appointment to view the whole Burfitt collection at her press office in Paris and - laziness strikes again, I thought I'll just go and have a look in the shops that stock her collection instead. I went to all of them - admittedly there's only a few, such as Olga, and the collection is only produced in small runs. Could I find even one T - shirt? As soon as the shops received the T-shirts featuring her trademark illustrations of Kate Moss, or any of her supercute sailor shorts, they were snapped up. The shorts are now available online at Creatures of Comfort for those of you lucky enough to have no thighs. And that's the thing. It's more the whole vibe that gets my heart racing. The styling and photographs by Julia Hetta on the Burfitt website and the distinctive Lovisa look of previous collections.
I could never pull off those sailor shorts, (probably couldn't even get them on, harhar) and although I love the little mask and headpiece things, they're more of an editorial fantasy item than something I'd actually wear. Burfitt isn't on the official Paris show schedule but I'm sure she'll be presenting her collection somehow, somewhere low key in Paris and I'm pretty sure it will be amazing.
I reckon Selfridges will eventually pick up on her in a year or two, like they did with Vanessa Bruno and Isabel Marant. But for now I'll content myself with imagining I'm the kind of girl who could rock super long stirrup leggings and a white canvas micro rompersuit with heels. Sigh.
all images Julia Hetta
p.s: Lovisa's illustration work ain't too shabby either...
I've been so lazy lately. You know when you keep obsessively reading blogs, then you check your own, expecting it to have been updated? Then..doh!
So Prada and Marni caused quite a stir didn't they? I keep leaving comments on blogs all over the place that posted about them both, so I might as well cobble together my thoughts in one place since...(at this point I have re-written a sentence eight times re: my "unique perspective in the blogosphere" when it comes to both companies and then deleted it due to possibility of getting sued and/or sounding irritatingly coy and witholding. Like that last bit sounds. Gah.) Er, shaky ground. Moving swiftly on!
Even my dad mentioned the Prada show. What jumped out at me were the leather belts. And thank God, those tunics were supposed to be tops not dresses.
I loved the wide bands of brown leather and elastic at Marni worn over thin fabrics - swoon! It was the brown that really got my attention.
I'm not one to jump on every single trend but this one I adapted for myself immediately. Yesterday I wore vintage YSL navy sailor trousers (I still wear them D!) and a burgundy thin cotton APC painter tunic, with a brown second hand men's leather belt that wrapped nearly twice around my waist. It was definitely a nice step on from the wide belts in bright colours everyone's been cinching their waists with for ages.
And yep, I was too lazy to take a photo...
I really like the look of a floaty fabric tunic or dress with a bashed up, very masculine 'boyfriend' belt over the top.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Yesterday I toddled along to Christie's South Kensington to have a look at the 20th Century Fashion & Accessories Sale. Christie's was both much better and much worse than I'd imagined. Never having been to an auction house in my entire life before I'd imagined it as some sort of grand building with marble floors, something like the V&A museum nearby - everything in glass cases and an air of hushed reverence for the beautiful artefacts.
In reality Christie's South Ken resembles more of a storage warehouse, with tatty grey corporate carpeting throughout, and is in need of serious refurbishment (except for the auction room which is wood panelled and therefore fits my narrow criteria for what an auction room should look like). When I arrived I discovered that as well as the sale I'd come to view, there were also amongst others, a modern design sale and a film memorabilia sale. Oh my God. Three of my favourite things. There was also a Barbie sale but I could never relate to her - I was always more of a Sindy gal.
I found it really strange that everything from all the various sales was sort of mish mashed together. I had to hold myself back from rearranging a room full of Eames chairs and the like into more aesthetically pleasing arrangements than the way they'd been plonked haphazardly around the place. Some of the clothes from the sale I'd come to view were in the auction room where a Barbie auction was taking place. Every time I moved my arm to get a better look at something and heard the auctioneer say "to the lady in the back 300 pounds, bang", I panicked I'd inadvertently bought a 1984 Rollerdisco Barbie.
Now, something else I couldn't help noticing were the staff. I thought The Sloane Ranger was extinct. But no, a whole tribe of braying Sloanes are alive and well, and working as interns at Christie's. Yes, the Hugh Grant hair, the pink shirt and beige jumbo cords, the fnar fnar guffawing - if that does it for you, get down there and take your pick.
So any - way...now for the good bit. Are you ready? I met THE DRESS. The first thing I saw at Christie's which I was not prepared for was The Original Little Black Dress. Made by Hubert de Givenchy in satin for Audrey Hepburn and worn in the opening scene of Breakfast at Tiffany's. The very same one I've watched a million times on Audrey as she gets out of the yellow cab on 5th Avenue and eats her pretzel, (or is it a bagel?) and coffee whilst looking in the window of Tiffany's.
Guide price (auction in December) ahem, £50,000 - 80,000. It was just there, on a mannequin right in front of me. It was roped off but I could get close enough to touch it and see every little gather at the waist. I can confirm that Audrey was a teeny, perhaps less than size zero waif. Smaller even than you'd think. In her films they used to pad her waist and hips out because she was so slight.
After seeing that dress I started to think maybe the staff/decor thing wasn't remotely important. I walked ahead to a glass case full of vintage Hermes Kelly bags which - if you were in the market for a Kelly were quite a bargain I thought. I don't know how much they go for in the end but a vintage one was certainly cheaper than a brand new one. There was apparently a Birkin but I couldn't find it. Wouldn't you rather have a worn in battered Birkin than a brand new one? Christie's - my new favourite shop. Ha! Although I did start to think I would not be entirely bonkers if I bid on something.
For example there was a beautiful 70s Ossie Clark dress in black crepe with red and yellow panels (lot 436) with a guide price of £200 - £400. You would have it forever, pass it down to your children - hmm wasn't really considering having children but the old heirloom justification seems pretty solid doesn't it? Everything I picked out as "would bid on in imaginary life if had sugardaddy" was black. They were the pieces in the best condition but were also classic and wearable.
There was also a gorgeous in person Balenciaga skirt suit (lot 249) in thick black wool - the brown jacket I'd seen on the website and liked was practically falling apart, as were many of the lots. There was also a black Gucci trenchcoat with this amazing red printed lining - mint condition - sold! And the best bargain of all: the original design that inspired designers which then inspired the high street to make the rip offs everyone will be sporting this winter. A 1960s Pierre Cardin mini shift dress in thick black wool jersey (lot 379, sold with alligator shoes!) £150 - £250. Bargain!
Speaking of bargains and speaking of LBDs I was on a roll yesterday. If you happen to be near Marylebone High Street and are a British size 12, do pop down to the Cancer Research charity shop. Because they have a black satin Prada classic knee length shift dress with a wide neck and 3/4 length sleeves. And they are selling it for £90. (It was there at 6pm last night, you might want to phone them first to check they still have it.) Really, could I give you any more hot tips? Yes, in fact I can also tell you that round the corner from there at Jezebell in Blandford Street, if you go downstairs they have shoes by Lyell and Rupert Sanderson on sale for as little as £50! (R.S shoes usually cost closer to £400).
*Grrr, there was no point posting pics of the lots because the quality of them on the Christie's website is so bad. (click the links, then click enlarge) Their website is the clunkiest, most unresponsive pile of poo I have ever been reduced to tearing my hair out by. Excuse the haphazard linkage, the site just wouldn't play ball. So it's not just the staff and the carpet that's stuck in the 80s!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
The new issue of Bust Magazine featuring my guide to Paris is out today. (Pages 48-49) If you're in the U.K and don't know Bust, it is, to borrow a phrase from them, about women doing cool shit. I love that.
**Bust is a U.S publication. Here in the U.K it's stocked only at Borders as far as I know. I'll try and post a scan of my piece when I figure out how you do that!
**Bust is a U.S publication. Here in the U.K it's stocked only at Borders as far as I know. I'll try and post a scan of my piece when I figure out how you do that!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Talk about airing your dirty laundry in public! I don't know who will eventually come off worse in this clash of the egos, but for today at least it provides a little insight into the kind of behaviour that passes for normal in the world of fashion PR.
Who said it stood for public relations?
via Almost Girl
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Otherwise yesterday's offerings from LFW prompted head in hands wailing of "No, no, no, wrong, so so wrong". I could appreciate what a kick arse cutter Todd Lynn is. The sharp rock and roll leather vibe is not my cup of tea, but compared to white bikinis that made even Lily Cole's thighs look a bit lumpy, polka dot bloomers and mono boob baring leopard print dresses it was a relief to see. There were O.K pieces in the collections I hated but the looks they sent out that no human would ever want to wear overshadowed any potential. Ack, I really was not expecting to have such a negative reaction, and slagging off people's work indiscriminately is not something I aim to do. It's just my personal opinion but I do find the kind of obvious, intended to be headline grabbing desperation of pulling those kind of stunts quite offensive.
One thing I really do like is off kilter preppy, and that's exactly what Peter Jensen's collection was.
I'd rather only mention the shows if I have something positive to say so the old er, commenting on LFW might be a bit less comprehensive than I thought.
Monday, September 18, 2006
With all the excitement of New York fashion week from afar I found myself thinking "what am I gonna do now it's over?" I was all "Is Lam the new Lim?" And "Did you see how long and perfect all those editors' legs are?" And then I remembered, "Oh yeah, it's London fashion week, here, where I am." I have to lay my cards on the table a bit here and say that I, like many others had written LFW off over the past few years. I found it really hard to be interested, and made disparaging remarks along the lines of "what's the point?" on this blog, and in general.
That is really because of my personal history (ooooh) with LFW and of working in the British Fashion Industry. Ten years ago (I'm not as old as that makes me sound) I was down there at the tents, involved, excited - working my arse off for the latest Great Hope in exchange for bus fare and a couple of free dresses. But of the three Young British Designers I worked for at different times - all of whom were lauded as incredibly talented, winning New Generation awards and getting oodles of press coverage, two went bankrupt at the height of their success, and the other went stratospheric and is now one of the most successful designers in the world thanks in part to the backing of Gucci Group.
It's just so risky, heartbreaking and as one of my old bosses once said " one minute you've got a six page spread in Italian Vogue, the next you're being evicted from your studio because you can't pay the rent". And the reality of that happening is not at all glamorous or fun.
When I started styling I would go to the shows, but then I just...stopped. Completely jaded, I just couldn't muster the excitement of old. It was too small, too unprofessional, the clothes often badly executed. And you just knew that there wasn't much point remembering these names, because most of them wouldn't make it to the nest season.
I tentatively think things are changing, and I was surprised to find that for the first time in a long time there are a few shows I'm interested in. Today there's Noir and Richard Nicoll. Tomorrow Jonathan Saunders and the big ticket of the week, whose front row pictures will no doubt be splashed accross the newspapers the next day - Bella Freud for Biba. Wednesday there's Christopher Kane and the lovely Giles who I'm not scared to like because he seems to have solid backing and business sense. Not likely to drop off the edge of the world next week. And PPQ and Erdem on Friday. That's a big turnaround compared to last season when I looked at the schedule and groaned inwardly.
Obviously it's my attitude to it that's changed - or there's just enough going on to pique my interest. I'm just dipping my toe in again. I was going to wait until all the shows were over then do a little round up of my faves, (usually London wouldn't get a look in) but I might comment just a little bit on this week. We'll see. Honestly, I know I sound it, but I'm not 108 years old.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Oh mah sweet Lawd. I didn't think it could get any better than the Balenciaga exhibition I saw in Paris. I still haven't really got my head around the sheer amount of pristine condition, carefully archived pieces that were on display there. My favourite bit, apart from gossiping with E, was the video screens where they showed different eras of Balenciaga alongside each other. I was transfixed by the backstage footage - from the late 50's I think, where people were calmly sitting on actual chairs, models were wandering around sedately and Mr Balenciaga was taking his time over last minute adjustments. I half expected to see a butler come round with a tray of cucumber sandwiches and a pot of tea. I was born in the wrong era. So civilised!
But NOW Christie's is having a 20th Century Fashion and Accessories Sale here in London - which you can spend dreamy, starry eyed hours browsing here. There are 421 lots in all. I am quite taken with the Balenciaga mole fur lined jacket (Lot 243). It's so "Audrey relaxing during a break from filming when she was married to that Italian doctor bloke even though it's not by Givenchy".
There's quite a bit of (palpitating slightly now) impeccable 50's and 60's lots - mostly from bold face Parisian houses (The pics are terrible quality, you have to click on the thumbnails and enlarge to see any kind of detail). Although the actual auction is on the 28th September, it's open to the public between the 23rd and 27th September. Reserve prices are mostly between 300 and 500 British pounds which (ha!) makes it sound quite reasonable, but I wouldn't want to get into a bidding war with Cameron Silver and end up living on the street wearing a black gazar cocktail dress.
I can't wait to go and swoon, only I will have to wear a straightjacket so I can't do anything insane like register to bid.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
If you have Monica Geller tendencies (which I absolutely do) and gain joy and satisfaction from organising your underwear drawer, then THIS is for you.
It works! Oh the hours of fun I look forward to re-folding all my tops this way...
I found this through another blog but I can't remember which one, sorry for the lack of linkage!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Yes, you Paris, you teaser. What a relief. I was a little apprehensive about this trip to Paris, after my last visit there a couple of months ago. I shouldn't have worried; I always have a completely different experience each time I go. I've experienced on various different visits the romantic Paris, fashion week Paris, tourist Paris, arty cultural Paris, literary Paris, student Paris, ex pat Paris etc etc - you get the picture. Last time I experienced 'cold shoulder' Paris.
But just before I left London this time I realised that I never allow myself to just relax there. Probably because I'm self employed and don't keep 'regular hours' I feel guilty so I always combine any trips with something work related, even though in my case something work related might be finding an interesting new designer or two and going shopping. I even feel guilty about the fact that that is part of my work! I'm starting to wonder who this person is that's judging me. Is it me, my conscience? Or what I think people will think? So even though I already feel guilty for work being something which sometimes gives me access to beautiful clothes and shopping on a huge scale, I kind of approach my Paris trips as if I'm prepping a styling job. I have my lists, and my information, I pound the pavements at such a pace to fit everything in, but I never just chillax, man. Once I worked that out and realised how ridiculous it was I decided to give myself a break. Literally. Even though I love shopping and clothes, for me it is also work. Did I just say the same thing in different ways about three times? Anyway. For me to relax I had to replace clothes with yum, food.
And I had a lovely, lovely time. I strolled about - sometimes looking at window displays, occasionally browsing in a couple of shops. It felt so good not to buy anything (whichever God judges me for buying bags at Vanessa Bruno was very proud) - I seem to have (temporarily I'm sure) cured myself of consumerism after throwing out so much stuff recently. I don't want more stuff. So I meandered and pottered, slowly taking everything in. I sat in cafes and thought about what I'd like to eat or drink next. I bought a couple of little things - a Charlotte Gainsbourg CD and some olive oil, but not some expensive investment piece of clothing like I usually always do. I suppose that's what NORMAL people do when they go on breaks. However I was tempted to buy the most decadent thing I have ever seen. GOLD PLATED PAPER CLIPS from purveyor of haute stationery Calligrane. They were beautiful round swirly ones that don't look like paper clips at all. In the end I bought the brass ones in the same shape because I couldn't stop thinking about all the other uses they could have except as paperclips. I should have kept schtum about that, now when I have my new chain necklace/belt/rings on people will snigger and say "Oh my God, she's wearing paperclips! And they're not even gold."
Pa-ris in fall...isn't that a song? There was no way I could think of to segue smoothly from paperclips...
I really did have a lovely time. Did I mention that? I went to the Balenciaga exhibition with the lovely Elisabeth and was also most honoured to meet the King himself, Negrito of Gritoland, and Mr. PrixdeFlore. At La Perle which has now become more mainstream popular since I first went there over a year ago (cos you know I'm so avantgarde) - still plenty of white jazz shoes but at the weekend lots of 'out of towners' and visitors who've heard about it.
I kept meeting Italian people everywhere which was great because I could actually speak to them in their language and not feel so bad about my hideous French. (At this point any Italians who know me will be thinking, "Lei non capische un cazzo d'Italiano" or something) But actually if someone addresses me in Italian, say at eight in the morning at the Red Kids market when I'm not awake enough for my brain to cut in and go "huh, but this is Paris, oh God am I using the right tense,and shit now all the French and Italian is mixed up, oh God they're gonna know". Then, I can speak Italian. And when I'm drunk of course.
There were also some other very important people I had to visit.
If you ever find yourself on the Quai de la Megisserie, with all the flowers, plants and pet shops please go and say hello to the kittens at Vilmorin. I have to visit them and you know, the staff, they just love me there. Oh how they chuckle indulgently when I play with the little ones through the gaps in the glass even though the entire place is plastered with 'Ne pas toucher, merci' signs. Not. Well what are you supposed to do when they stick their little paws out and want to play? I feel so sorry for them with their 1000 euro price tags, cooped up right next to puppies, yes puppies - how stressful! I used to worry about what, you know, happened to the pedigree kittens because I can't get my head around anyone wanting to actually BUY a cat in the first place. When rescue homes are bursting at the seams with cats that need a home, I really can't imagine that many people have 1000 euro's or more to spare on a kitten. But the man who works there and once, when it was quiet, let me take a little persian kitty out of the cage and hold him, told me they all go to good homes and I kind of really wanted to believe him. Oops I just wrote more about the kittens than anything else in Paris. You may have realised by now that mostly I prefer cats to humans, so there's no point trying to hide it.
I found a new (to me) favourite breakfast place as well. I usually go to Le Pain Quotidien which I love but it seems a bit silly because we have it in London and er, it's Belgian. So I was happy to discover that Heurtier bakery has a little cafe upstairs and they do breakfast. It's on Rue de la Verrerie and overlooks the little square at the end of rue du Bourg-Tibourg just before rue de Rivoli. The cafe has big plate glass windows overlooking the bustling square, and these cute pink and beige boucle tub chairs. The croissants are big and buttery, the tables are just right for notebook scribbling in peace and I was happy to be somewhere where all the other customers were French.
I have so much more to say but I think that's enough for now. So yay, I love Paris again, autumn may just be my favourite season there. I can't think of many things more beautiful than the Place des Vosges on a sunny day when the leaves are turning or the Place Dauphine, below....
......perfect breakfast, perfect lunch, mirabelles, mousse au chocolat
Certains l'aiment (chocolat) chaud at Angelina - fun to play with the little pot of cream, making swirly shapes before slurping its divinity. I can't believe I got high on hot chocolate, then I had to lie down.
In the important matter of the macaroon challenge I had a clear, hands down favourite. I went to both Laduree and Pierre Herme in rue Bonaparte and purchased ten macaroons from each, all different flavours. (No, I didn't eat them ALL at once!) Then I sat in the Jardins du Luxembourg under a tree and commenced my testing. It's a hard life. The first Laduree macaroon tasted pretty nice I thought. But as soon as I tasted my first Pierre Herme the jig was up. After the yummy smoothness of P.H and the subtle, balanced flavours - Americano Pamplemousse (Campari and Grapefruit) Huile d'Olive and Vanille - sounds weird, tastes divine, I didn't even want the Ladurees anymore. They tasted too crumbly, a bit gritty and the flavours too strong. And although I was trying not to judge on anything other than flavour, I must admit I preferred the experience of the Pierre Herme shop with its quiet professional atmosphere, to queueing up with a coachload of Japanese tourists in Laduree. It felt a bit 'Disney'. I hate that feeling, but maybe that's just me. So now I know I'm a Pierre Herme gal - how useful this information will be in daily life has yet to be asserted. Not that you know, I'd turn down a Laduree, or any kind of macaroon if you offered me one. Just in case you were going to.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
I am so glad I have a cold. (Although I feel sympathy for whoever has to sit next to me on the Eurostar tomorrow surrounded by my snotty tissues.) Because when I have a cold I have a BIG appetite. And what better city to eat your way through than Paris? Mmm creme brulee, oh fromage. Artichoke soup at Le Fumoir that is nothing more than a bowl of artichoke infused cream.
Let's face it, as everyone and Karl Lagerfeld knows, fashion and food are somewhat uneasy bedfellows. For God's sake I actually know people who think picking at a punnet of raspberries before pushing them away is "so filling" at lunchtime. Usually in Paris I allow myself a few little treats, but this time I don't care. I'm going for it. It's all about food. I'm going to have a croissant for breakfast every day, perhaps two.
Don't be alarmed, but due to my recent purging of clothes (see below) I don't really feel like shopping. Well, maybe just a leeetle bit then. But no compulsively going on a mission to all three Vanessa Bruno stores and both Isabel Marant stores just in case they have different stock. Ditto the other usual suspects. That wastes valuable Tarte aux Poires (which I find really hard to pronounce) time. I will swap my allegiance to these temples of style for other, tastier temples. Those of Laduree and Pierre Herme. I am determined to settle once and for all, based solely on flavour, all snobbery aside, which one makes the best macaroons. It is, I think you'll agree a tough challenge, but I will valiantly do my best to return with an answer.
I can't wait to go to Monoprix and buy my very favourite vanilla brebis yoghurts in the little glass jars with the stamped foil lids, and to the bakery to buy the good bread. Also somewhat un French I can't wait to go to the lovely Swedish Cultural Centre cafe where it's all light and bright and full of smiley blond people. Cinnamon buns they are a calling me.
And of course I can't wait to finally try the chocolat chaud at Angelina. This will be the equivalent of my visiting the Louvre for the first time on my 18th visit to Paris, though I'm sure it will be far, far less boring. Thank you so much for your recs, I have them all written down in my trusty notebook. Talking of which, I won't be taking my laptop - I'm only away for a few days so I will rely on that quaint old fashioned practice of scribbling in my notebook with a pen and taking beaucoup photos. I'll be waddling back on Sunday to tell you all about it...
Friday, September 01, 2006
What would happen if you found a room where all the clothes you'd ever worn resided? Freak out maybe just a teeny bit? Searching my parents' loft for a box of various jeans I knew I'd stored there years ago I stumbled on pretty much that. At some point - maybe 12 - 15 years ago I had filled multiple bin liners and boxes with clothes and shoes to be taken to the local charity shop. Instead, they'd somehow found their way to the loft where they languished, before jumping out at me like ghosts. I didn't know any of it was there but now it sort of makes sense. I had felt the weight of too much stuff. I already had too much stuff I didn't need without this.
As I opened more and more boxes the only thing I felt was nausea, and surprise at my not very discerning quality control. I was also amazed at how tiny I was. I'm a U.K size 10 now but when I held up a pair of trousers or a skirt (bottle green lycra jodphurs?! White PVC A line miniskirt?!) the waistband was about half the size of my waist. One particular box had been sealed up - obviously to keep for a moment in the future - this moment when I would open it up and be glad I'd kept the carefully selected garments that had meant so much to my teenage self. (Funny actually because lately my teenage years have come back to haunt me once again. You think you're done with it all and then they go and bring back Lisa Bonet pants.)
But my teenage self had no problem with synthetic fabrics. Everything I pulled out made me want to vomit - save for some things I'd made myself at college or bought second hand in the first place. A bin liner contained 25 pairs of shoes which really only summed up about a year of my shoe wearing life. I didn't want to keep a single pair. Oh, feeling sick. Feeling guilty, knowing that since then I've had regular clear outs and got rid of stuff I liked more than this crap.
I learned something though. Vintage is the only thing that stands the test of time, probably because it already has. Keeping jeans (maybe ONE pair you absolutely love) is pointless. They will always be the slightly wrong cut/wash when you put them on again. Just get rid of them! I have to admit I did keep back a pair of Gaultier jeans with (arrgghh) Andy Warhol-ish FACES of famous folk like Marlene Dietrich and Marilyn Monroe woven into the denim. These were the coolest thing ever when I was 18, and I'll keep them for comedy value.
I suppose until now I've used my parents' place as a decompression chamber for clothing. I find it really hard to part with shoes and can always think of scenarios when I might want them again, pointy toed shoes will always come back round again etc etc. So I'll sneak them into my old wardrobe for a few years until I can safely say they have to go. I knew I had a lot of clothes, but after the lot from the loft got boxed up and sent off to Sense I made a start on the rest of the cupboards. I've been putting this off even though my father has said when he moves house soon he won't have space for anything of mine. I was thinking of hiring storage space, moving to a bigger flat even. Now I realise I don't need ANY of this stuff. I am going to be overwhelming charity shops and solidly ebaying for the foreseeable future.
My reaction to these blasts from the past was not one of nostalgia, it was very, very strange. I even took my last day at school covered in writing shirt outside and burnt it. I'd been keeping it all this time and suddenly realised I hated school, I can't even remember who most of the people who signed it are, why would I want to hang on to a piece of it? Because that's what everyone does and you're supposed to? Burning it was a strong reaction to have I admit, but that baby went up a treat (polyester...eugh).
But the guilt at the amount of STUFF I have bought over the years is still there. I came home and started putting things I never wear into bags, again for charity and ebay. Offloading all this stuff at the charity shop may make me feel better, and someone will want it, but the waste, oooohhhh the waste. It's not even about the money (although I winced at remembering how much some of these items cost - I was never a High St gal) it's the feeling that with all my recycling of household waste and interest in sustainability, I had completely overlooked the huge impact I was generating with my clothes shopping habits. I have always loved clothes and thought of them as my 'collection' the way people have stamp collections (that was my excuse anyway). I don't shop the way I used to - I rarely buy anything throwaway trendy these days, it has to last.
This year I've really enjoyed reading craft blogs where people make things by reusing vintage fabrics. And this chick certainly has the right idea. I'll be in Paris next week and what was on my agenda? Checking out the Cheap Monday jeans shop in rue de Sevigne and a bit of A.P.C. jeans action. I need new jeans you see 'cos I threw all the others away! What would be better? This is a new path for me, but for the sake of my conscience my next pair of jeans are going to be super stylish but somehow sustainable (but not second hand). Edun? Any ideas?