BCN + ...

Before heading out for an evening in Barcelona, there is the obligatory dance party with cats and wigs.

Dear Randy and Lois, Lola accepts your kind invitation to visit.

Then it was out into the countryside to visit family in Montseny - it was so lovely. We had a really wild thyme (you had to be there) and I implemented the ritual of a daily post-breakfast siesta. Do you have any idea how fully knackered and booted in the head by life one has to be to need a post breakfast siesta? In any case, the fun night in Barcelona with friends, good food, clear air, long walks in nature and sleep were most rejuvenating. I returned to my delayed flight, car not starting at the airport, long diversion due to roadworks and getting home at 2.30am to be greeted with shit to clean up, with a clearer head and the realisation that the only shit I need to deal with from now on in London is mine and Lola's.

FOG...

I'm lost in a fog this week, so apologies if the blog isn't up to much. I feel like one of the subjects in these photos: moving in a barely discernable blur at warp speed.

{photos: Alexey Titarenko's City of Shadows series via Them Thangs}

LYELL SPRING...

The spring Lyell lookbook is up online. I have one solitary top from Lyell that I bought three years ago in the New York shop. I still love it and wear it all the time, so I clearly need more Lyell and can easily work out some kind of cost per wear expenditure justification ratio.

WHAT I DID DO*...

*If I'm forced into telling people about my blog, I assure them that I don't just go on about what I did at the weekend; that hopefully I offer some kind of interesting and creative content. But here I am doing just that, because I had the best time last night - and because my birthweek is speeding up at such a rate that I need a place to record it.

To begin the celebrations of the week of my birth, we met up at Dalston Superstore, then went to Club Motherfucker. I had to drag myself out of bed to get there, having spent the day nursing a hangover, so turned up looking slightly disheveled. Handily (ha) they had manicurists from Wah Nails giving free manicures, so I ended up with blood red nails and what looks like blobs of caviar decorating my nails. It's quite understated actually, but I can't stop picking at it.

The highlight of the night was very definitely Pope Joan's set. Take a roomful of people ready to be slightly underwhelmed and then proceed to blow their minds. I don't think I've ever congratulated a drummer before. I want to see them live again (it doesn't really come across listening on myspace.) But they're really good.

We shall not speak of shattered dreams or of childhood heroes, of Lady Miss Kier's DJ set, which I had been so excited about. A few views of Groove Is In The Heart and I'll have forgotten all about it. I was not "thrilled with satisfaction", that's for sure. But I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt (as she was really sweet) and I'll guess that she might have been on the sauce beforehand (weren't we all).

*To complete this terribly pedestrian post about my weekend I even have crappy IPhone photos. (Forgive me.)

WOWWOWWOW...

I'm not the sort of person who bandies superlatives around too much; if I was ever to say you look fabulous darling it would be because I really meant it.

This morning I saw Roberto Rubalcava's work on Feaverish Photography blog and immediately went to his portfolio, where words like hopelessly captivating and spellbinding flew straight into my mind. The light, just look at the light...




{photos courtesy of Roberto Rubalcava - used with permission}

YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE A SUFFRAGETTE...

And aren't you glad about that? Yes, it's International Women's Day again. What, you didn't know? I try to mention it each year here on the blog because it passes by largely unnoticed in this country. There are some who say we don't even need one anymore, that enough progress has been made. It's been around since 1910, yet the first I heard of it was when I lived in Italy and men kept coming up to me, giving me branches of mimosa and saying congratulations. Apparently in 2006 I was oh, a little bitter about the lack of awareness of the day, but now I'm happy just to raise a glass to Kathryn Bigelow, first ever female recipient of the best director Oscar (The Hurt Locker was completely brilliant) and to celebrate some of my favourite women.

{photo credits mostly unknown. Simone de Beauvoir, Sofia Coppola (ph: Andrew Durham), my mum and granny (my photo), Diana Vreeland, the leopard lady (my photo), Anna Karina, Audrey Hepburn, Louise Bourgeois (ph: Mapplethorpe), Jane Birkin}

DVN...

When I am older and richer and perhaps a little bit wiser, I shall wear Dries Van Noten.

If one more person asks me why I'm not in Paris for fashion week...No I am not. I am clearly here, in London with an internet connection and roughly zero justification or funds to send myself to Paris for a week. But I know a lot of people who are, so have a good time and you'll tell me all about it, yes? (Secret admission: fashion shows are a bit too stressful and overwhelming for me these days. Not the shows themselves, just the hoopla surrounding them. Style.com from the comfort of my home is fine with me.)

{pic from Style.com}

SO NOW I'M ALONE, NOW I CAN THINK FOR MYSELF...

It's been too long since I did an '80s video post. Unfortunately there was no official video made for Friends Are Electric, but we can just sit and imagine how amazing it would have been.

GOOD MORNING...

I just thought I should let you know that my toenails are painted in Chanel's Orange Fizz, the sun is shining, the birds are singing.

Therefore, it must be March.

{photo taken in my street last year - the cherry blossoms are only weeks away...}

SUNLIGHT...

Sessun spring/summer 10. I noticed Liberty had a small selection of Sessun stock the other day. (Though me being me, I'll probably go off it now you can get it easily here. I like the thrill of the chase.)

THOSE DAYS...

You know those days when you wish you had a friend like Chloe Sevigny so you could just hang around in her kitchen drinking tea, have a laugh and maybe try on all her clothes?

{Chloe Sevigny in her apartment, in Apartamento magazine a while ago, with her long hair, which I quite miss, though I like her new short hair too.}

SIGNALS...

The other day Gracie told me (approvingly) that I dress like a lesbian, which was something I had never considered. It's true that I often dress in quite an androgynous way: flat lace up boots or Oxfords, socks, ankle length trousers, cardigans - basically it's all A.P.C.'s fault that I end up looking like a 1950s University professor.

But that's just what I like and feel comfortable in - I'm always ripping excess bows and embellishments off otherwise perfect garments. It's also true that I never, ever dress to try and attract men. I sort of maybe think that if I were to go out with my boobs cantilevered into a slaggy dress, not only would I feel extremely stupid and uncomfortable, but I'd be likely to attract the type of man I wouldn't have the slightest bit of interest in. But I never thought I might be inadvertently attracting women instead, not that I have anything against lesbians whatsoever; some of them are great friends of mine (see above).

But it's funny to think that maybe if you don't have the same visual references, read the same blogs, have the same mini obsessions with perfectly cut, well made clothes, or tend to wander round the Margaret Howell shop oohing and ahhing, you might get a whole different message. The day following Gracie's observation I went to Topshop and happened to buy a coral pink ruffle necked babydoll top, a floral print tiered chiffon babydoll top (not on the site) and a cotton empire line dress that looks like a Victorian christening gown. The two incidents were completely unrelated.

It's funny what messages come across. Recently I was talking to this Indian bloke and asked him if there was anything I should be careful to avoid wearing to an Indian wedding I'm going to. I was thinking perhaps certain colours have different connotations in other cultures, that sort of thing. His response? "Just try not to dress too much like a chav and you should be ok." My response? "Excuse me, whaaa, I mean, have you, like, actually met me?" Later I looked down at my See by Chloe spike heeled, studded ankle boots and realised that fashion can be a dangerous game when you're dealing with the uninitiated.

{photo 1: my daily shoe rotation - random lace up boots, Prada oxfords, Sessun desert boots. photo 2: girly Topshop haul to be worn with baggy rolled up jeans and a snarl}

POST PARIS...

I finally have time to sit down and get my thoughts together about my trip to Paris the weekend before last. The competition, if you recall, was held by the Regional Tourism Committee of Paris Ile-de-France for their campaign Le Nouveau Paris. My entry was posted here and in it I described in detail what my perfect weekend in Paris would be. To have won something (when the last thing you won was a disco dancing competition in 1986) and to have the prize for that something be a weekend in Paris with a friend (when in 1986 the prize was a packet of crisps and a 7" single) - well, I was pretty chuffed really.













Myself and my friend, plus three other bloggers and their respective guests, set off early on the Saturday morning from St. Pancras. We were accompanied by lovely Pauline from We Are Social who looked after us all weekend, along with the also lovely Marjorie from Nouveau-Monde DDB who we met in Paris. We were picked up at the Gare du Nord by a lipstick pink bus (the colour was probably unintentional, but I appreciated it anyway.)

From then on it was a blur of eating, drinking and roaming until we (ok, I) crashed out on the train on Sunday night. There were lots of exhibitions we could have gone to in the afternoons, but since I go to Paris quite often and we didn't have much time, my friend and I took the opportunity to catch up with friends while we were there. So on the cultural side of things Z and I scored nul points, although we did spend about two hours in my favourite Pharmacie (on the corner of rue des Archives, behind BHV), gawping at beauty products which perform functions that simply don't exist in this country (bio lifting sculpting anti-cellulite serum hydration for the bit of skin behind your left ear.) Can't get enough of it.
One other thing I was secretly thrilled about was that when a French person asked me directions to rue St Honore (in French) I somehow managed to give them (in French) and the person, instead of looking confused, thanked me and went in the direction I had told them to go in. This is called progress.

It's always lovely to be in Paris, but what was different this time was that instead of grabbing the odd snack here and there as I usually do, we all went to a lovely restaurant for a proper lunch, then again for dinner. As David pointed out in his post, the gap between lunch and dinner seemed to close further each day. I'm still dreaming about this steak I had at Le Saut du Loup. The food must have had a lasting effect on all of us, because last week I bumped into one of the other bloggers from the trip, Jenny, in Selfridges Food Hall, where we were both buying Pierre Herme macaroons. I haven't caught David or Marc, our other blogging companions, lurking around the macaroon section yet, but it may only be a matter of time.

1,2,3,...

1.
Going to a restaurant on Valentine's day is rather like driving on the motorway on Christmas day. Full of people who don't do it very often, aren't quite sure how to and aren't really doing it because they want to. Ha. I also went to see Breakfast at Tiffany's yesterday, which my local cinema had kindly screened (there are advantages to the day after all) and it was lovely to see it on the big screen. I noticed so many details I usually miss, such as the pink of Audrey's toenail varnish, or the Japanese paper screens in her bathroom.

My local wine shop celebrated by putting up these record covers and by hanging up a bandage covered heart with cheesy romance paperbacks hanging off it speared with butcher's hooks. I like their style.

2.
I know I've been rather absent from here lately - the usual February lack of oomph I suppose. Having a blog is quite useful in that way - you can look back over the years and note that February is often the sparsest month. And I haven't even told you about Paris yet.

3.
I don't quite know what to say about Alexander McQueen. Everyone seems to have said something, somewhere, though the news media doesn't seem to have thrown much light on anything. I used to help backstage at his shows for the first few years when he started out, dressing models and stuff. It was always a mixture of intense energy, stress, excitement, fear, some kind of backstage catastrophe involving fire or snow - and then the pure wonder of the audience at the spectacle of it all, when it made them feel something. The atmosphere was definitely not for the faint hearted, but now more than ever I'm glad I experienced that up close. All I can think now is of the people who worked closely with him, who were loyal for years and how they must feel; if those who knew him slightly or not at all, feel such loss.

LITTLE DETAILS...

I'm pleased to tell you that the cats at Vilmorin are all fine.

Tea at Toraya - my favourite macaroon was Kinako - roasted soya bean powder.

We saw a cat crossing a zebra crossing in the Place des Vosges. Of course I couldn't focus the camera in time.

More later + Z's iPhone photos, which are better than my enormous Nikon's photos!

TOMORROW...

Fingers crossed!...

WEDNESDAY...

 













*Is it Wednesday already? *I'm really looking forward to some seventies inspired soft tailoring for spring, but am too tired to illustrate this meaningfully now. *Can I get away with just posting these old pictures of Daria in Paris Vogue and call it a post?
{photo credit: Inez & Vinoodh}

IF YOU CAN'T DANCE IN THEM, THE ONLY THING TO DO IS DRINK CHAMPAGNE OUT OF THEM...

Well, I certainly hope your Saturday night was as interesting as mine was. Click here to see what my Alaia boots got up to.

LOU...

Here's our girl Lou Doillon in the new ss10 Vanessa Bruno video, directed again by Stéphanie Di Giusto. Compared to last season it's more playful. Lou seems fearless and I really like that about her.


p.s. OH MY GOD THEM THANGS IS BACK UP! There is a God.

D.V....

D.V. is back with answers to your questions. For those not familiar with it, Ask D.V. is where you can ask D.V. a question and I will consult her memoirs so she can in turn, impart some of her considerable wisdom to you.

You can click on the link to the left any time to leave her a question. Here are the latest...

Anonymous said...

Dear DV,
I see you have a lot of work with the elements of the East, can you explain to me the oriental influence in your work and how you combine elements of Eastern and western culture?

D.V. read and re-read The Tale of Genji and The Pillow Book. She said; "Some people have their Proust; I have my Pillow Book." She speaks of having had a very strong Kabuki streak, which is obvious in her appearance. She says of her first visit to Kyoto; "Under the pine trees there I felt an element of the centuries as I'd never felt anywhere before in my life.[...]What's extraordinary is the way everything modern fits in with everything old. It's all a matter of combining. There's no beginning or end, only continuity."


Dear DV
I have a question and a wish.

Question: I am working on a very important project with a guy, whom I am very much attracted to; but, he has a girlfriend. What do I do? And how do I know if he likes me?
Wish: I want him to become my boyfriend.
Thanks, signed, Michelle (Sitting and Waiting)

D.V. says...."I believe in love at first sight because that's what it was (when she met her husband Reed). I knew the moment we met that we would marry. I simply assumed that - and I was right. We became friends, as they say."


Bombay Beauty said...

So many questions I want answered. But here's what's on my mind now. How does one maintain serenity when traveling? I love to travel, but find myself easily frazzled by silly things (having to carry an extra bag, or check in when I didn't want to), although I'm completely unperturbed by semi-disastrous events (canceled flight? bad weather? crowds? long queues? all competitive sports and chances to excel...)

Amongst D.V.'s travel disruptions were: Her hotel, the Vier Jahreszeiten, being the location of 14 murders, 3 floors above hers during the Night of the Long Knives (allegedly), the exile of the entire court of Spain to the hotel she was staying at and the outbreak of WWII causing her to cut short her couture fittings in Paris at Chanel and take the last passenger boat out of Europe. None of this seemed to put her off much - she apparently pushed past the Nazis at the Vier Jahretzeiten saying, "Excuse me, excuse me, I've got to get to my bath."

Emily said...

A question and a wish as well;

Will the sadness that I was filled with last year come back when I start school again?
I wish that I will be able to fulfill my self properly creatively and stop this routine of the physical and mental tiredness that school creates within me.

D.V. on school: "It's the one time in my life I've always regretted - fighting my way through the place...And those goddamn gongs! Everyone knew where to go when the gong went off except me, but I didn't know whom to ask. I didn't know anybody, I didn't know anything - I couldn't speak." She stayed for three months and then left for dance school, where she thrived. I find it comforting to know that even the great D.V. went through that.


anna said...

Dear Miss V.
Will I ever finish my PhD?
That is my only wish.

Oh, Anna, this is a hard one. So much so that I had to resort to opening the book at random and seeing what phrase jumped out. Which was; "She was irresistible. Absolutely."


{left photo is the cover of the Sotheby's brochure for the sale of some of her estate, the other credit I don't know.}

MARCHESA CASATI...

I posted about the Marchesa Luisa Casati on Only.com.

{You can turn off the music in the top right corner}

SCRAPS...

*Ah, Vodianova. As you know, I generally don't concern myself much with supermodels, but since watching this video on CNN a while ago, Natalia Vodianova is possibly the only one I might concern myself with wondering what it's like to be her. From the whole perspective of going from being a poverty stricken child, selling fruit on the street in Russia to where she is now. (And now I also need to experience a Siberian herb sauna.)

*I was amused to see a woman wearing my Alaia boots today. (Obviously they weren't my actual boots, or I would have been more alarmed.) I shoe stalked her for a while, to make sure they weren't just similar, but honestly I could recognise them instantly from across the street by the familiarly awkward gait they gave her. And she was wearing them in the afternoon.

*I'm still mulling over your questions for D.V. Have patience...

{photos: Karen Collins}

OHMYGOD...

"I also loved a trench in a large, blurry, almost broken-pattern leopard print. That’s a keeper. The ringmaster, Alber Elbaz, made reference to a Parisian woman who perennially dresses in leopard prints, and so there was at least one head-to-toe ensemble."

Anyone remember the leopard lady? I saw her in March 2006, The Sartorialist snapped her in February 2007, Alber Elbaz is using her as inspiration for Lanvin pre-fall 2010 and Cathy Horyn writes about it.
My brain may explode.

And I'll bet she has no idea of her status as a fashion icon.

{photo by me, Paris, March 2006}

PSSST...

There are some more of my posts over at Only.com - here and here.

{to mute the music click in the top right hand corner}

WINTER BLUES...

Uh - oh; I fear I have succumbed to them at last. The snow is being melted away by rain, leaving slush and ice. The morning light in my flat is dark grey blue. Tomorrow I will buy flowers, take my camera out and maybe try to get my hands on whatever issue of Russh magazine is kicking around London these days. Today I will sit comatose on the sofa, drink red wine and watch clips of Play it Again Sam on youtube.

{photo by me}

READY?..

Someone gave me a good, thoughtful question for D.V. recently. If anyone has any more, leave a comment here. I prefer to do a few at a time - an audience with The Oracle happens rarely - and sometimes she sends me away; something about the champagne I proffer being inferior.

I know, you can ask her about your wishes...

{photo - Harry Benson (thank you N)}

DSS...

DSS = Drunken Sale Shopping

or Department of Social Security = where I'll be headed next if I don't return one pair of these boots.

Insanely high clompy Alaias (resisting the obligatory quote from Clueless) which are comfortable when seated but need intensive training to learn how to walk in (like, as in, my walk = Bambi), make my legs look eighteen yards long and are probably the only Alaia boots I'll ever be able to afford.

Much more wearable See by Chloe ankle boots that I liked at the beginning of the season and will probably wear loads in my real life, rather than my imaginary Alaia wearing life.

Which pair should I keep? (Bonus points for quoting the Clueless line)

IT'S STARTING...

Snow is falling hard and fast, everything is white. I love it.

*edit - um, except for this.


{my photos}

WISHLUST...

Just in case anyone wanted to buy me some jewels, here are some I like.

My wishing powers have been totally on fire lately, so - time to give back. What are you wishing for this year? My biggest wish isn't jewels, or anything that can be bought - those are the trickiest ones. But I'll have a go at cogitating on any wishes you'd like to share in the comments...

{Blanca Monros Gomez black diamond ring, Lee Hale rose thorn studs}