Monday, 8 December 2014

Flat Footed








I love a good flat shoe. Not surprising, considering that I’m pushing 5’11”. Add on any extra inches and I unfurl upwards to well over six feet. Sometimes there’s a kind of satisfaction in heels lifting me to  tallest girl in the room – leaning my elbow on friends’ shoulders and generally being a little obnoxious about towering above half the boys. Plus, heels make legs look good (well, as we’re constantly told by various magazines trying to convince us of their use).

Yet here are some of the things one can’t do with quite the same ease in heels: run very quickly for something you’re late for, stay out all night without complaining constantly about your feet, go on long walks regardless of terrain or weather, march along the pavement with purpose (and without wobbling), cycle long distances, walk steadily when you’ve had a few glasses of wine and balance is becoming more difficult to navigate, climb over five bar gates or clamber up stairs two at a time, move around without the inner monologue of “ow, bloody ow, this hurts, ow, and I’m slower than I want to be. Ow.”

There are a few people out there who I marvel at for their ability to saunter around in stilettoes without any visible effort. Maybe their feet are made of stronger stuff? Either that, or they’re better at hiding the pain/ remembering to keep gel cushions in their clutches to soften the aches. And yes, heels can be glamorous or elegant or powerful or intimidating or gut-punchingly gorgeous.

However it seems that, to use some abysmal ‘fash-speak’, flats are having a moment. At the last LFW, many designers showcased outfits accompanied by sandals, trainers and lace-ups – the models not strutting, but strolling. To those of us who make our sartorial choices independent of what the industry deems on-trend (i.e., I suspect, most of us) this may be a case of “so what? I’ve been doing this for years.” But it’s interesting that functional footwear is being seen as important enough for plenty of brands to be promoting it.

It seems to be something of a growing movement too. Hannah Rochell’s recent book ‘En Brogue: Love Shoes. Love Fashion. Hate Heels’ (the title taken from her fabulous blog) is something of an ode to all things flat. A playful publication, it’s full of delicious information and illustrations.

I remember being in my last year at secondary school, sick of the ballet pumps worn by all my female peers. I decided that the way forward was brogues. However, although now ubiquitous in every shop you you pop into, at that point they were much harder to source. All I could find were flimsy, thin-soled shoes playing at being brogues. So I switched tack and began scouring the men’s section in charity shops. Eventually I found a pair of St Michael shiny size 6.5 black brogues – made of stiff, dependable leather. I wore them until they fell apart.

I’ve continued the tradition since by buying plenty more pairs of brogues and loafers for men (I swear they’re usually better constructed), although I do have a deficit of flat shoes that can be worn for evenings out. (Instead I usually end up pairing my lace dresses with Chelsea boots). But it means I can remain later and dance longer, unhampered by pinched toes or sore heels. To me, as much as the aesthetic of a heel appeals, flats are ultimately more liberating – and I want clothes that allow me to feel confident, to stride around and to embody the space that I’m in.

Here I'm wearing some rather glorious second hand velvet DMs my mum found on eBay for £15. She's an online shopping marvel (with great taste). I've worn them a lot this term at uni. To complete the look of all-things-tactile, I'm wearing a dress bought from the bargain section of one of my favourite Oxford vintage shops - Reign. It was £8, and has since seen many a trip out for cocktails, dancing, and, at the end of last term, punting along the river in the sunshine. Photos taken mid September.


Friday, 28 November 2014

Imagined Conversations







Most of the things I love in life - conversation, books, friends, clothes, art, adventures, walks, coffee – form subjects I’ve written about at one point or another. It’s easy to draw observations and ideas from those areas I’m interested in or relish evaluating. Yet then there are all the other things I enjoy hugely that barely get a mention: such as music. Beyond the odd post or two fan-girling over Kate Bush (and a tweet every few months re-stating my adoration of Nick Drake), it’s not a subject I often hold up to the light of a 700 (or so) word article.

I think this may be partly because I know my own areas of strength, and writing about chords and key-changes isn’t one of them. I function on a gut-response level - or maybe ear-response - gravitating towards those musicians whose work just, well, works. I don’t know a better way to describe it. A combination of melody, beat, lyrics and whatever alchemy of voices and instruments really does something. Could be 60s pop or folky singer-songwriters or prog rock (hi King Crimson) or Motown or Electro-swing or chart hits (hello Beyonce) or Electronica (apparently that’s what Bonobo and Morcheeba are?) or Indie Rock or Jazz or... Ok, now I’m just quoting the genres you can find on iTunes, and that’s not exactly known for nuance – especially as it seems to have given up on me and lumped most of my music together under the vague banner of ‘Alternative’.

Yet, recently I was thinking about the divide between those whose music I listen to, knowing relatively little about the individuals themselves (beyond their names), and those for whom I have an extra layer of appreciation because I admire their intelligence/ ethos/ outlook/ aesthetic. Indeed, often enough I’ve probably sought out interviews and reviews, and of this latter group, there are a fair few.

In fact, enough to play the game of ‘which musicians do you think you might have a great conversation with over a coffee, and why?’ I began by excluding all the ‘greats’ who would cause much trembling simply by being in the same room as them – such as Kate Bush, David Bowie and Joni Mitchell. (And in any case it would just become a love-in of decades past). So – it’s a very enjoyable displacement activity when I really ought to be doing something else – this is the initial list I came up with; musicians who come across as being really interesting people as well as creators, who I could imagine being very good company in a cafe…

Hozier – I spent lots of this summer past listening to ‘Take me to Church’ to get me into a writing frame of mind. Not sure how or why a critique of institutional dogma achieved this, but something clicked. Really though it’s the combination of salient political observations in both music videos and interviews, a range of influences from Oscar Wilde to Joyce, an obviously smart and enquiring mind, and a lot of really gorgeous, charged songs. Plus a seeming lack of ego given his rather zippy rise to success. Can’t wait to see him perform in December.

Lorde – Mainly for all the reasons I articulated here when I dressed up as her. To summarise: her common sense comments on feminism, her position as a smart, outspoken young woman willing to challenge others (see this Guardian interview), her intellectual and creative curiosity, and the small fact that she only just turned 18 and put together the Hunger Games: Mockingjay soundtrack, plus I might be ever so slightly jealous – in a good sense, as seeing that kind of achievement is always a good spur.

Sam Lee – I’ve seen him live twice, and really love/ respect/ am slightly awed by his interest in re-working, performing, and preserving traditional songs from gypsy/Romany/traveller communities (there's a wonderful piece discussing the process here). These words and melodies, handed down from one generation to another as aural heirlooms, are collated and discussed for hours before being given another life by Lee. The results are by turns rousing, bittersweet and moving. Oh and he began working on his music whilst working as a Burlesque dancer.

Moko – I met her briefly once after a fantastic panel discussion last year in Oxford on women in the media. She was captivating to listen to - talking about everything from her gospel choir background to her position as a young woman of colour in the music industry. Plus, the hair, the hair, the hair. See her interview with Rookie here

Bat for Lashes – Natasha Khan’s multiple visual personas, wide-ranging artistic influences and interests, and strong awareness of image are all pretty fascinating. Plus, there’s the penchant for gardening, various honest observations on the sometimes challenging process of getting an album together, and an impressive number of strands to her output from video-making to clothes designs.  

Kate Tempest – I mulled over including her, but hell, she was shortlisted for a Mercury, so why not? Besides, a few Fridays ago she was responsible for one of the best gigs I’ve ever been to. It was a jubilant mixture of lyricism, sharp-witted observations and music that had us dancing (and sweating) very energetically. Added kudos to anyone whose central message for the audience to take away was “get some radical fucking empathy, and check your greed.” After the gig, I spoke to a lovely English teacher who mentioned how he’d used some of her videos to get his year 9 class enthusiastic about Shakespeare – how wonderful is that?

St Vincent – I’m not quite sure how to summarize Annie Clark, because it’s tough to tell what I think is cooler – the innovation in her music, the fact she’s obviously both intellectually and creatively imposing (in the best way), her absolutely ace guitar playing, her attention to design detail (see her description here of the thought that went into the cover of her last album) or the quality of her writing, be it song lyrics or music commentary. Also, extra points for her cameos in Portlandia. 

Kate Nash – A distinctive aesthetic and playful, rather joyous outfit choices, and various very cool things done or said about women’s rights (think the Rock n Roll for Girls After School Club, her recently launched Girl Gang initiative and her partnership with Plan USA in 2013 to talk about ‘the transformative power of investing in girls’). What’s not to like?

Over to you. Who'd be on your idly dreamt up list? 

Posed with my ancient iPod classic here (sadly deceased) as it just happened to look better than anything else. Had lots of fun pretending to dance around this field near our house. I'm wearing a sixties dress my mum gave me and vintage Bally men's brogues. 

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Second Hand First




 




My current room is bedecked with dresses – five of them strung across one wall, doing an excellent job of simultaneously providing decoration and hiding chipped paint marks. All but one are second hand, bought from an array of vintage stalls, charity shops and other clothes troves I’ve visited in the last few years. My wardrobe is also packed tight with skirts, shirts and jumpers that possibly had previous owners (and other stories) before I plucked them up from some pile or rail. This term the colours are all darkly jeweled - jades, deep blues, reds, pinks – with lots of black and grey thrown into the mix. There are velvets, silks, leather jackets, thick wools and the odd fancy hat. 

This little assembly of items is typical of my wider wardrobe. A small selection of it was bought new (think People Tree, ASOS Africa and the occasional foray into an independent designer or sustainable brand), but the rest has passed through other hands, other houses, other heritages first. I’d say about 80% of my clothing is second hand, whether it’s been bought by me, sneaked away from my mum, passed down from previous generations or received as gifts. 

I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the last few days, as the textiles charity TRAID have deemed this week to be one of going ‘Second Hand First’. They’re trying to encourage more people to think about the environmental impact of what they buy - and to source a percentage of their wardrobe second hand (you can even sign a pledge if you’re feeling ambitious). Obviously this is no challenge for me, as charity shops and vintage stalls are my natural hunting ground. But it’s good to be reminded of the thrill every now and then – the pleasure of sifting through fifties tea-dresses, the satisfaction of finding something you know you’ll wear time and time again. You can read more about the aims and actions of TRAID here

To commemorate the occasion, I’ve put together a little bunch of images from the last five and a half years, charting some of the many, many outfits comprised of nearly all second hand clothes (although I realised in the process of choosing photos that I could have used just about any past post to illustrate the ethos). I also still own every item re-shown  - including the floor length, red satin evening coat that belonged originally to one of my great grandmothers, given to me in 2009 by my Babi (Grandma). I won’t elaborate any more here, as my main thoughts on the subject were expressed in this recent piece ‘Some Words on Second Hand.’ Which I ended thus:

“It’s more about a slow-burn pleasure, having the privilege to keep on building a little emporium of second hand delights. Some pieces will come and go, while others – hopefully – will remain stashed away until I’m old. Who knows what clothes there are left to discover… Slightly superficial? Well, yes. But a joy to consider? Absolutely.”

TRAID are making this week all about that joy. I’ll be joining them as I stomp around Oxford in various outfits cobbled together from items owned by others first - hopefully adding in my own tales to the ones created when they were worn before.

In other news, I recently did an interview with Fashiola, which you can read here

Sunday, 16 November 2014

My Grandmother - Violet Book Issue 2




My grandma is something of a marvel - a whirl of tales and anecdotes and curiosity and unwavering  affection. I've chronicled some of her various escapades and fabulous clothes on this blog over the years, ranging from her coat bought at the winter Olympics to her re-purposed wedding dress to her Balenciaga cocktail dress bought in an NY thrift store for $20 (apologies for the layout of photos in this early one - my strong point is not blog design) to paying homage to her in her modelling days

Her life is one of incredible experiences and devastating events. There are lines I can roll out when talking to others, like: "her family escaped Czechoslovakia in 1948 disguised as ski tourists" or "yeah, she appeared in Doctor Who as Empress of the Earth" or "she found love again in her later years and moved to Alaska." They are huge stories condensed down, giving the bare bones outline of times so much more complicated and sprawling than one could summarise in a single sentence. I enjoy that heritage though - the rich seam of words and episodes to draw on. 

So imagine my delight when I was asked if I would interview her for the second issue of Violet magazine - out at the moment. Finally I had the chance to thread together all these instances, filling out narratives I already knew and adding in others I hadn't heard before. Several conversations and 6000 words later, I had our dialogue - a document not only of her memories, but also her outlook, her way of approaching a life that has been filled with love and loss in equal measure. You can read about everything from her parents' courtship to how she secured a place at RADA to Hollywood's warped view of body size to the Open University degrees she completed in her fifties. There are also some fabulous photos from her large archive of snaps and newspaper articles (this one is my absolute favourite - I can empathise somewhat). It was a privilege beyond description to be involved with producing this, and the interview now rests among the pieces of work of which I'm most proud.

The accompanying portraits were shot by wonderful photographer Susannah Baker-Smith - they absolutely capture my Babi's (Grandma's) animation and I treasure the image of us together. Styling was by the lovely Kristina Golightly. Apologies for slightly awful photo resolution. Snaps from my phone are practical, but not necessarily the most pretty. Guess it means you'll have the buy the mag to see everything in its full glory... The rest of it is amazing too, ranging from in-depth interviews with Alexa Chung to Zoe Kazan's stage diary to a feature on the (lack of) ethics when it comes to fur. 

Wednesday, 5 November 2014

A Performance: Oscar Wilde








Some days, I really, really wish Oscar Wilde had been around to see Twitter. I think he would have loved it. All those slick bon mots, those 140 character slices of wit, the pithy commentary on news and popular culture. Sounds like just his kind of medium.

I think he would have enjoyed it for reasons beyond his sharp observational humour too. Wilde was among the first in the 1890s to fully popularize the idea of commodifying the self – of turning one’s own identity or appearance into a brand that could be sold or used to promote something. His personality (or rather, I should say, various personas) proved integral to audience reception of his plays. He was, in a sense, a performance himself.

One of the things I’ve occasionally struggled with whilst studying English Literature is my desire to interject with comments like: “Oh, but that’s so relevant to social media today!” or, “wow, so basically this writer kick-started the idea of people as brands – he’d have adored taking selfies!” My desire to yank people and themes from the past into contemporary culture is fine for general conversation, but it’s not quite what’s expected in a tutorial.

Yet the concept of offering yourself – your lifestyle, your aesthetic, your opinions, your image – up for public consumption is what the internet’s all about. Ok, no, that’s a gross generalisation. Let’s rephrase. It’s a phenomenon found in various corners online, with public platforms like Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and blogs allowing the individual to present a polished, publishable version of themselves. And it doesn’t just ‘allow’ it – but encourage. We’re expected to repackage certain aspects of our life online. Our meals. Our faces. Our response to TV shows or breaking news. For some this repackaging can be commercially successful. To many it’s just a bit of fun – albeit a fun that requires you to be continually updating another identity online. 

To a certain degree, for all of us who engage with social media, it does remain a bit of a performance. Like Wilde’s multifaceted presentation of himself and his works, what we put up online isn’t untruthful or non-genuine – but it is just a version, a single perception, a small window into an individual’s existence where we don’t know just what’s being concealed or revealed or fabricated or elaborated. And that’s fine. It would be weird to have an online representation that completely matched the messy, sprawling, complex personality of each person. More than that – it would be impossible.

What fascinates me though, is how little we acknowledge this continual process of selection and construction. We may nod every now and then to the fact that we’re assembling ourselves online in every self-portrait snap in the mirror or snappy tweet. But we rarely extend that awareness to others. Although we can recognise which bits of our life we’re amplifying or highlighting, and which bits we’re leaving in the shadows, we tend to take what others put online as some kind of whole.

I wonder what Wilde would have made of it all. Alongside embracing it, would he have passed comment on it? Might he have become something of a performance artist on Instagram? Amassed thousands of followers to promote new works? Let the world know about his new clothing purchases? Played with the medium, showed up its artifice, indulged in instability and ambiguity, written essays and dialogues about social media? Who knows. It’s fun to imagine it though…

So here I'm kind of performing a part, as I always do on this blog, my outfit, landscape and props suggesting a particular character, aesthetic or scene. Obviously this is something of a homage to the man himself, my emulation of Wilde achieved with plenty of second hand velvet, a shirt and some loafers from a charity shop, vintage accessories, a stack of books and heaps of kirby grips to tuck and pin my hair up in place. 
(PS Thus what might look like a hair cut is not. Just another assembled element of visual image).

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

Heroes






I’ve done many things when modeling – walked slowly across busy streets heaving with traffic, attempting to look breezy whilst avoiding being run over; spent hours tottering around studios in heels, feet slowly cramping into agony while I’m encouraged to “just look natural”; posed in parks, on pavements and once in a Parisian apartment. Yet pulling on shiny silver leggings with underwear on top to wander around Camden was a first. Back in the heat of July I played at being a superhero for a day, putting my best (heeled boot clad) foot forward for Who Made Your Pants.

WMYP are an ethical co-operative that provide jobs and training to refugee women in Southampton. For a full explanation of their ethos, see this feature I wrote on them last year. In fact, it was that post – me styling a blue lacy number with thick black tights and jazz-style shoes – that prompted Becky (the founder) to get in touch to ask if I’d be interested in working with them.

The brief for the briefs (hah, hah, hah, never heard that one before) was to investigate new ways of advertising knickers – chiefly through doing something other than implying that underwear is solely worn for sexy purposes. They are – and can be - immensely sexy if you want them to be, but a lot of the time pants are also just useful bits of fabric arranged to make going about the day a bit more comfortable/ less draughty.

So this was an exercise in exploring other possible representations – looking at qualities like strength, power, activity, pragmatism (well, maybe not the last unless ‘pragmatism’ for you includes shiny fabric and capes). So I gamely jumped up and down a lot, strode around, hid in a phone-box and pretended I could stop trucks by the mere power of thought - all the while aware of the stares and iPhones whipped out by passersby. Who knows what platforms my image turned up on that day. Rather wonderfully though, two small girls posed for a picture with me after they had urged their mum to approach, to ask if I was a superhero. 

All in all, it was a full-on combination of fun, teamwork and collaboration – my darling friend Florence Fox taking the photos, the two of us working together on our first professional brief. There's nothing quite so satisfying as that mix of playful ideas and producing images you're truly proud of, for a company with such an admirable ethos. It was a whirlwind day of posing and cameras and suitcases crammed full of exciting fabrics and spangly things. And of course, really great knickers.

You can see other images from the day on WMYP's pinterest board

Now, Becky has been nominated for this pretty prestigious Social Entrepreneur of the Year award. The winner gets a £10,000 boost to their social enterprise. This would be immensely valuable to WMYP, especially as brilliant Becky (and all the others) work so tirelessly on keeping the initiative going. Voting closes at midday on October 31st, so if anyone wants to cast a vote before that point, then that'd be more than wonderful. Go, go, go! 

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Assembling Yourself








My usual approach to getting ready to go out is slap-dash at best. No matter whether it’s for a quick scoot around the local charity shops or an evening drinking cocktails. I usually have a maximum of about ten minutes in which I’ll drag a comb through my hair, scrabble around frantically for make-up (often muttering, “Where’s my bloody eyeliner? Which of these five handbags is it rattling around in?!”), pause for a minute in front of the mirror with my lipstick and then manage a spritz of perfume before I run around trying to find shoes. That is, of course, if I even have time to do any of this in the house. I’m also adept at the art of completing the whole rigmarole once I’m on a train, or alternatively, I don't bother at all. 

I’ve pretty much always followed this pattern. At my school prom in year 11 (aged 16), where most girls had given over the entire day to extensive preparations, I had the barest of minimums time-wise. My mum curled my hair with tongs (back at the point before my then-straighter-hair turned naturally corkscrewed), drove me to a drama class which I'd refused to miss and returned me home with all of about 15 minutes to spare before we had to leave again. Nearly half of this was spent attempting to wriggle into a very tiny, fitted black sequined dress. In fact, so tiny that I had to tear and cut the lining to ease it on. It had long sleeves and, were I not the height I am, would have been floor-length. It was also backless, requiring quite a lot of double-sided tape to keep the shape in place (hi there scoliosis-affected wonky shoulder blades!) I managed some red lipstick, a flick of black liquid eyeliner and a wave of the mascara wand before we had to go.

All of this said, I do still enjoy the ritual of preparing myself for an event. These instances may be very few and far between, but there’s something special in having half an hour or, about once a year it seems, an hour free to play around and move at a sedate pace. It’s a chance for good music (James Brown and Ella Fitzgerald being two favourite choices right now); a fair bit of dancing around in underwear; the chance to appraise the contents of a wardrobe in a leisurely manner whilst seeking the right dress (if not already chosen); the motions of smoothing and outlining and smudging and blotting and brushing. There’s a contented, excited feel to it all. It’s an allotted space of time to assemble yourself for whatever is ahead – to luxuriate in a moment or two of calm before the whirl. 

Here I'm wearing a second hand, silk Monsoon dress, ridiculously vertiginous heels (also second hand) from eBay and vintage necklaces. I loved the softness of all those greens. 
I'll be posting about it separately soon, but issue 2 of Violet magazine has just been released, complete with an interview I did with my Czech grandma! 

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Impromptu







A little spontaneity never goes amiss. In fact, nothing like a day seemingly stale – productive in a lacklustre way, with too many interludes on twitter – then lightened by an on-the-spot decision to go out and do something.

On this particular evening, about a month ago (when I was still back at home before returning to university), the ‘something’ was relatively simple: a drive and stroll in the early evening light. I’d spent the afternoon moping around feeling a bit under the weather and generally sorry for myself. So after umming and aahing over dinner, I agreed to go out – only stopping to grab a pair of socks and the nearest cardigan. As dad drove, the slant of the sun grew ever more spectacular – the car winding its way higher into the hills, the golden wash of grass and valley beneath.

I had on what I’d been wearing for a day of work – no make-up, and (I have a feeling) with my hair still un-brushed. There’d been no suggestion of anything other than a walk, and, possibly for dad, some wildlife photography. But I couldn’t help myself: “daaaad, look at the flowers, they match my dress – just one shot!” Well, one shot – and then another, and another, and another…

At first, I’d been hesitant. Here I had nothing to hand – not even a belt to shape up the saggy dress, or a stray eyeliner hidden in a pocket. Nothing. Just the surroundings and the sunshine and some very messy curls. But it felt liberating – all the more freeing for the lack of care or perfectionism. Yes, I had spots on my chin. Yes, this was an outfit more practical than planned. Yes, my throat was killing and my chest hurting for some unknown reason (I’d woken up with it that morning) – but here I was, swept afresh by the breeze, standing and smiling on a road that felt almost abandoned.

There’s a difference, as there always is, between the experience at the time and the photos that then appear on my blog. The latter captures something of the former, but only a condensed moment or two – something shaped and framed for a specific purpose, and a specific platform.

So here I am, as it is with every post, showcasing an outfit and appearance, a visual identity. I’m a little less groomed this time – but no more or less real. It’s how I spend roughly half my days, depending on what I’m doing. Sometimes I’ll dress to the nines for a morning spent writing in my room – or spend a day without even dragging a comb over my head (they are rare though...)
Yet it feels like all of this gains another context on a blog ostensibly devoted to style and culture. 

Does appearing without make-up and other accoutrements become a more political choice, contradicting the usual ‘perfection’ often expected of style bloggers?

To me, it’s just another way of looking. It lacks the accentuation or playfulness of red lipstick, mascara and the like – the potential to flatter or highlight certain aspects with colour, kohl and powder. Instead it’s another angle, another mode of presentation – albeit one with less effort involved.

But I don’t feel any real ‘liberation’ in it. It’s no sacrifice. It doesn’t feel brave, or that I’m saying anything particularly beyond the fact that I’m comfortable enough in my own skin (most of the time) to put this up.

But maybe it’s easy for me to say that? I sit (and fit) relatively close to various societally constructed ideals when it comes to appearance. My skin is mostly pretty clear, my features – apparently – noticeable. I’m happy to play dress up when I want, but also to go out and about with a face unadorned. Perhaps that’s a privilege afforded to me. But it certainly shouldn’t be one based on how near or far you rest from the bizarre cultural tally of what constitutes ‘beautiful’ or ‘acceptable’ – but just how you view yourself.

All items worn here are second hand, amassed from various charity shops. The cardigan is vintage Jaeger. 
In other news, it was Day of the Girl on Saturday October 11th and I wrote something for All Walks Beyond the Catwalk on young women, violence and damaging fashion imagery - you can read it here