EIGHT

HERE COME THE BOYS

2012-01-18T20:30:00.001Z

FRESH FROM SETTING MILAN ALIGHT, WITH THAT PRADA STUNT HIGHLIGHTING AN ALL-ROUND STUNNING PERFORMANCE FROM MILANESE MENSWEAR , THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN. IN DE VILLE. SO I'M SIGNING OFF FOR A BIT TO RESUME MY POST AS PARIS REPORTER-AT-LARGE-OF-SORTS, COMME D'HAB, FOR NOTION MAGAZINE. IN MY ABSENCE, DO CHECK OUT THE INTERVIEW I DID RECENTLY FOR FINNISH MAGAZINE FLINGLY, IN WHICH I WAX LYRICAL ABOUT DIANA VREELAND AND MOHAIR.

PHOTOS BY TOMMY TON AND STREETFSN. I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH THE IMPORTANCE OF THE CORRECTLY-KNOTTED SCARF WHEN IT COMES TO MALE DRESSING. CASE IN POINT BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED IN THE SHOTS ABOVE.

CHURCH'S ENGLISH SHOES

2012-01-14T18:41:00.000Z

Next time the rain comes pouring down and you're caught in town without an umbrella, take an opportunity to seek shelter in a luxury store you've never been into and admire the beautiful things inside. That's what my siblings and I did one dark sodden morning in Edinburgh, when we paid a visit to Church's. We may have not looked like the most promising customers, dripping rainwater all over the carpet and trying not to steam up the polished mirrors, but we had the run of the boutique to ourselves - not to mention the impeccable service. Church's ENGLISH shoes are now joint-owned by Prada, and interestingly, investment firm Equinox, and while the firm is based in Milan, the Northampton factory still manufactures an estimated 5000 pairs of these incredible shoes a week, 140 years after Thomas Church and his son's started their family business. At £300-£650 a pair, these are the kind of shoes you hold in your hand and they enable you to see into your future. We left with a pair of socks between the three of us, but I recommend you go, just to slip your foot into one of those impressive leather shoes and feel what luxury feels like.

Hand dyed and woven wool felt 'shoe bag'.

Not Church's English shoes, rather Topshop's Brazilian shoes - a Christmas sales present to myself.

WISHFUL FASHION WEEK THINKING

2012-01-10T17:26:00.001Z

A VOGUE UK EDITORIAL INSPIRED BY BLOGGERS. I DON'T KNOW ~~MANY~~ ANY BLOGGERS PERSONALLY WHO GET TO CAMP OUT IN LUXURY HOTELS, EAT BREAKFAST IN BED AND SELECT FROM 'HOT-FROM-THE-CATWALK PIECES' EVERY MORNING DURING THE INTERNATIONAL FASHION WEEKS, BUT ONC CAN DARE TO DREAM. FASHION IS AT ITS BEST IN FANTASY, AFTER ALL. I'VE BEEN DOING FASHION WEEK FOR THREE YEARS NOW AND IT'S STILL VERY MUCH A COMMUNAL EXPERIENCE. FOUR TO A ROOM, 2 ON THE COUCH AND ONE ON THE FLOOR, SLEEPING WRAPPED IN A FUR WEARING ODD SHOES AND HALF-INSIDE YOUR FRIEND'S SUITCASE, WAKING UP SPOONING A PIZZA BOX. THEN THERE HAVE BEEN THE NIGHTS I'VE ESCHEWED THE GROUP CAMP FOR A NEW ADVENTURE ; NOTABLY THE TIME ONE YEAR AT LFW WHEN I WOKE UP IN CAMBERWELL ART SCHOOL STUDENT HALLS. OR ANOTHER TIME, IN A 25 ROOMED ARTISTS' WAREHOUSE IN NORTH HACKNEY. OR IN A PARKED CAR IN DEVON. NEEDLESS TO SAY, DESPITE SUFFERING A 100 POUND TRAIN TICKET, I WAS BACK AT SOMERSET HOUSE FOR 2PM.

A SUNDAY COCKTAIL 08.01.12

2012-01-08T20:29:00.000Z

A COCKTAIL OF THINGS WHICH HAVE BEEN ON MY MIND THIS WEEK.

Crystal Renn for Muse magazine (1). So plus-sized model Crystal Renn is certainly not plus-sized anymore, but so what? She looks fabulous. Her shoot with Matt Irwin for Muse mag has me reaching for lashings of black liquid eyeliner - more than ever. // Bollywood jewellry, in particular tikas, the headpiece worn on the forehead (2) as seen at Chanel's Arts et Metiers pre-fall show, and fêted for some time by yours truly. I'm hoping to find some Indian stores in Paris so I can add to my collection. // These incredible opal and crystal earrings (3) by Kimberly MacDonald. // This week I was confirmed to cover the menswear shows in Paris 18th-22nd January, which I'm thrilled about. However, menswear is not something I have thought much about in recent times, so I am looking forward into getting into some heavy research on the subject before the shows. I am always drawn back to the Hardy Amies quote : “A man should look as if he had bought his clothes with intelligence, put them on with care, and then forgotten all about them.” The A/W 2010 campaign (4) was on my wall at university. My first exciting discovery was that of British label Casely-Hayford (4a.), whose lookbook featuring country house libraries and polka-dot pyjama suits has me looking forward to catching their new season when they show in Paris this month.

Renée Perle (5) , muse and lover of Romanian heritage to photographer Jacques Henri Lartigue in the 1930s. I always think that the 21st century is such a non-event for hair. The 'hair-do' simply doesn't exist. And yet, from the waved silhouettes of the jazz age to the beehives, set-and-perms of the 50s and 60s, and the power-perms of the 80s, not to mention the dedicated hairstyles of centuries before, hair has always been such a BIG (literally) deal. What happened? If I can't take inspiration from her hair, then I will from her immaculate oval manicure, and shaped fur stole. // More potential hair-related tales here, with Julie Christie in the 1975 film Shampoo, but let's stick with the dress (6.) for now. THE DRESS. I first came across this clip as a 15 year old insomniac, channel-flicking in the middle of the night and it has stuck with me. The sight of Julie Christie's navy sequin, floor length, but backless down to here dress gave me a style epiphany, and I have preaching the word of the high-necked, backless dress ever since. // The next best things after backless, has to be the floor-length slashed-to-the-thigh dress. Ultraglam gamma rays beaming down from Louis Heal SS12 (7.) // If Julie Christie in Shampoo was my style epiphany, then that is the concept behind the book Nostalgia in Vogue (8), released last year on Rizzoli following the popular column in U.S. Vogue, featuring storytellers as varied as Patti Smith, Karl Lagerfeld and Edmund White, for whom a particular Vogue image stayed with them for life, and why. The latest novel by Jeffrey Eugenides (9.) , The Marriage Plot, brought a great deal of reassurance into my life. I drew multiple parallels with the main character Madeleine, with her disenchantment with her English literature course, and her struggles bearing witness to a manic depressive. As with all of Eugenides' novels, the narrative is written with ringing clarity,sensitivity and hauntingly beautiful simplicity. A must-read for 2012, or any year.

EGOÏSTE ADVERTORIALS

2012-01-06T20:55:00.003Z

NICOLE WISNIAK: «“EGOÏSTE” N'EST PASBRANCHÉ. JE NE SAIS PAS CE QUE C'EST»
After a FIVE YEAR ABSENCE, FLAMBOYANT, PRESTIGIOUS, DIFFERENT MAGAZINE EGOISTE LAUNCHED IT'S 16TH ISSUE, IN TWO PARTS, EARLIER THIS YEAR. I NAIVELY CAME ACROSS IT IN THE FASHION CUPBOARD AT WORK AND WAS IMMEDIATELY SPELLBOUND BY IT'S SHEER SIZE AND THEN MORESO BY ITS AESTHETIC. THE BRAINCHILD OF NICOLE WISNIAK, EGOISTE IS SWIRLING IN A TIDE WHICH WASHES ASHORE EACH MONTH YET ANOTHER 'AVANTGARDE' TITLE , ANOTHER 1KG TOME OF GLOSSY FASHION PICTURES, TRYING TO BE STILL SOMETHING 'DIFFERENT'. YET EGOISTE IS VERY DIFFERENT, MOST OBVIOUSLY IN THE DISTINCT LACK OF COMMERCIAL ADVERTISING. INSTEAD, TOP BRANDS ARE STYLED WITH THE WAND OF WISNIAK HERSELF, TO GREAT SUCCESS. tHE MOST RECENT PUBLICATION TO DO THE SAME OF COURSE IS RANKIN'S HUNGER MAGAZINE, but there is something about wisniak's black and white pictures - simply executed, and shot around the paris landscape we know so well -that have a charm eluded by rankin's superglossy studio shots. ellen von unwerth is the sole responsable for photography, and she and wisniak make quite the team.
at a1 size and costing €35, it is less of a magazine and more of a piece of beautiful furnitUre. but its exciting that there are still people, or namely, a person, who is coming up with things you have never seen before.

louis vuitton - this story ties in all those traditional heartpullers -the plight of the polar bears, the story of paddington bear and how he was lost and found, even those ellis island immigrant stories and the boats to new york - and somehow it sells you a suitcase more than if some skinny beautiful girl was holding it. frankly speaking, it will take a long long time for luxury goods companies to actually start benefiting the plight of the polar bears, unless they stop all that ritual burning of stock and show accessories nonsense, but it's a romantic idea.

RUINART CHAMPAGNE - THIS SMALL FOUNTAIN POND, THE FOUNTAIN NOW EXTINCT, IS IN THE TUILERIES GARDENS JUST BEYOND THE ENTRANCE AT JUST WHERE RUE SAINT ROCH MEETS RUE DE RIVOLI. I OFTEN WALK BY IT ON MY WAY TO WORK, AND COME RAIN OR SHINE THE OLD MAN WITH HIS CART OF WOODEN SAILING BOATS WILL BE THERE, WAITING FOR AN EAGER YOUNG BOY TO RATTLE HIS MUM'S WRIST FOR A TEN MINUTE STOP.

LACOSTE - IT'S THE TENNIS-NET VEIL THAT DOES IT FOR ME. IF THERE IS ANYTHING I'VE EVER FELT BITTER ABOUT, IT'S TENNIS. I'VE TRIED MY HAND AT MANY AND VARIED SPORTS IN MY TIME - ICE DANCING, GYMNASTICS ON HORSEBACK, SKI RACING, LACROSSE - BUT THE ONE THING I COULD NEVER MASTER, NOT EVEN GRASP, WAS TENNIS, THE MOST SOCIALLY IMPORTANT AND WIDELY PLAYED OF THEM ALL. YEARS AND YEARS OF LESSONS HAD MY COACHES STUMPED AS I FAILED TO EVEN HIT THE BALL. TENNIS IS TRULY MY ACHILLES HEEL. SO THAT'S ME THERE IN THE NET-VEIL, JUST THERE FOR THE FASHION, AND FOR THE SAKE OF CAUSING TROUBLE...

CARTIER - MY FAVOURITE OF THEM ALL. ISN'T IT JUST GENIUS? NOW, A DIAMOND ALLIGATOR - SURELY THERE IS NOTHING MORE FLAMBOYANT? AS A CHILD WHO GREW UP IN A BED CUSHIONED WITH SOFT TOY SNAKES, LOBSTERS, WHALES AND PLATYPUSES IN LIEU OF THE USUAL TEDDIES, I THINK I WOULD RATHER HAVE A JEWEL-ENCRUSTED ALLIGATOR THAN A BAGUETTE-CUT ENGAGEMENT RING ANYDAY.

THE REMAINS OF THE DAY

2012-01-04T13:40:00.000Z

What is a Winter's Day? Never lasting more than a couple of hours, it is but the decaying remains of a day. The light never lifting more than a dull haze over a corpse-like landscape, laden with the sodden scar tissue of forgotten summer. At least, such is a winter's day in Edinburgh, Scotland. A Scottish winter is no friend of mine. A Scottish winter is the friend of dead black trees, and rain and wind and ghosts. A Scottish winter demands a wool coat with runs from neck to foot, like this one, by Paul Costelloe. A Scottish winter demands a pair of boots to last out a gale, like these ones by Daniel Footwear. A Scottish winter does not demand last night's vintage cocktail dress and a pair of twisted rabbit ears, but inside by the wood fire, you see, we Scots like to dream...

2011 - THE YEAR IN CLOTHES

2011-12-31T12:35:00.000Z

2011 - the year of parties, photography, Paris and a press office job. The year of my 21st birthday. The year of some amazing creative friendships, including Kate Woods, Jonathan Pryce and Audrey Rogers who took many of these photos. Here's to 2012. All the faces we'll meet, the books we'll read, the songs we'll grow to love, the heartstrings we'll have pulled, the things we'll buy, the things we'll lose, the new foods we'll taste, the endless coffee cups, and measuring spoons...But let's not be Alfred J. Prufrocks. Bear witness to those moments and record them - in a notebook, on film, in your memory if you happen to be in possession of a good one.

To all my readers, I thank you heartily. For your comments and emails and kind words, and for devoting time to this vanity project which is my blog. May 2012 be your best yet.

THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

2011-12-30T22:26:00.002Z

A mélange of Christmas activities in Paris and in Scotland, where I have been for the last few days with my family. I bought my first ever tree for my own flat in Paris this year, and that sensational smell really kickstarted the Christmas spirit, along with the permanent lingering scent of mulled wine from the litres and litres that were consumed at my Christmas party in mid-December. Back in Scotland at last on Christmas Eve, having navigated the grèves at Charles de Gaulle and witnessed a punch-up at the check-in, I drove into the city and experienced that familiar thrill of the gothic city of Edinburgh in the thralls of the Christmas spirit. My Christmas present this year? My nearest and dearest are doubtless bored stiff with my devoted praise for - yes, a new camera. I am now the proud owner of a Canon 5D Mark II, and the most beautiful part, a 85mm f/1.2 portrait lens. Here are some of my first snaps.

AT HOME WITH DESIGNER JEAN CLAUDE JITROIS

2011-12-21T08:40:00.001Z

Fashion designer Jean Claude Jitrois and myself playing the role of égerie (having been squeezed into a sample from the Jitrois SS 2012 collection), in his apartment overlooking the Tuileries gardens for Italian fashion magazine Collezione . If the last four months in my job as PA /PR for Jitrois have taught me anything, it has been to look model-ready at all times!

Funnily enough, 26 years ago, another 21 year old brunette was helping Jean Claude go through his sketches at home, none other than Princess Stephanie of Monaco. Below, her shoot with Jean Claude for l'Officiel magazine in 1985. I think I have some pretty big ~~shoes~~ glass slippers to fill.

Portrait of Jean Claude by Yves Bady for his latest book, 101, a compilation of the leading figures in French culture in their environments. Jean Claude Jitrois' apartment, where his incredible collection of contemporary art meets antique furnishings, medieval tapestries and the occasional Modigliani, has been heavily documented in the French interiors and fashion worlds.

I wore look 1 from the SS 2012, the DS dress in emerald.

Photo for JEWEL magazine. Models wearing the SS 2012 collection with Jean Claude in his apartment during Paris Fashion Week in October. The green full suede skirt is the Imogen skirt.

SUSIE BUBBLE & SAGA SIG ON FUELLING CREATIVITY IN THE 'NEW WORLD'

2011-12-19T07:37:00.001Z

I absolutely adore this short video of two of my favourite London fashion figures talking about their place in this enormous industry. Saga Sig is an Icelandic photographer who brings mystical folklore inspirations to her shoots with the most avantgarde London collections. Susie, of course is the fashion blogger who's voice has become one of the most influential. Her infallible professionalism and independent thinking have allowed her to become one of the most respected young style commentators in the world.

I would describe the direction of this film as tentative - and I think it says a lot about how young people are feeling right now about entering the fashion world. There is a whole lot of nostalgia going on, especially amongst romantics like Susie Lau and Saga Sig, or myself - for whom the increasingly commercial-driven aspect of fashion is seeking to eclipse the fun, frivolity and even the cultural place fashion has in our world. Yet photographers like Saga seek to fight back. Her work is entirely unique, and from the heart. She proves that a commercial-creative balance can be achieved, by pursuing your own aesthetic rather than following a selling trend that someone else came up with. Carine Roitfeld spoke some very wise words in her book Irreverent, about the importance of pure naievty in maintaining the artistic spirit of fashion.

EIGHT PICKS : THE BEST OF COCHINECHINE FOR CHRISTMAS

2011-12-14T17:57:00.001Z

CoChineChine is an independent fashion boutique based in Hampstead, London on Heath Street- a stone's throw away from where I was born. Christmas is as an excellent time as any to support independent stores and businesses, whose exceptional tastes can alert you to exclusive gems you might not find in enormous multi-chain stores. I also suffer from OBC (overwhelmed by choice) syndrome, so a carefully edited selection of beautiful, well-made products is right up my street for choosing presents, and CoChineChine does just that. Here are my 8 best festive picks from the online boutique - Christmas presents at a variety of budgets for friends and family, and probably yourself!

STYLE NOTES : JANE BIRKIN

2011-12-12T13:25:00.001Z

"I'd rather live on my own than live with a face that looks at me with the wrong eyes." - Jane Birkin

All photos from the Jane Birkin tumblr

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS

2011-12-11T16:12:00.003Z

With this Helmut Newton polaroid (below) in mind, I took Zora along for a night-time walk between the city's shadow-ridden structures. Paris really is the city of light - everything is illuminated. Walking from la Place de la Concorde, up the lower Champs-Elysées past the Grand and Petit Palais to the Pont Alexandre forces you to confront, with multiple stomach-flips, the gargantuan and almost frightening beauty of French Victorian (rather Belle Epoque) power. The last giants. They loom over us, eternal in their solidness. From the golden gate, rising like heaven's own door from the steps of the Petit Palais, to the winged beasts standing sentry over passing cars on the Pont, we scurry like tiny ants beneath their vast shadows. We are like the inheritants of Egypt - surrounded by relics of a vanished empire.

Helmut's girl climbed up onto the bridge in high heels. An uncharacteristic meekness suddenly came over me, so I perched instead.

LES SAPINS DE NOEL DES CREATEURS

2011-12-09T22:20:00.002Z

For the past 16 years, the brightest names in the worlds of Parisian fashion, art and architecture have come together in December to each create a Christmas tree in their own aesthetic for Les Sapins Noël des Createurs. The brainchild of Marie-Christiane Marek, esteemed journalist and producer of fashion and design programs for television networks France2 and TV5 Monde, Les Sapins de Noël are exhibited to the public for the first week in December, with the exhibition closing with a private charity benefit dinner at which the one-of-a-kind trees are auctioned.

Dries van Noten (left) and Jean Paul Gaultier's Christmas trees.

Every year a different charity is chosen to benefit from the sale of the unique trees. For 2011, children's cancer charity A.V.E.C - Association pour la vie, espoir contre le cancer (Association for Life and Hope against Cancer) will receive the proceeds from the auction. In the grand surroundings of the Hotel Salomon de Rothschild, 37 designers offered an immense variety of interpretations and materials in creating their Christmas trees. Men's fashion house Smalto chose a minimalist brushed-steel effect design formed of three two-dimensional shapes bolted together, while Sonia Rykiel's tree more resembled an apple tree than a pine.

Predictably, famed patisserie house Pierre Hermé's vision (right) was a tower of macarons, while Jean Claude Jitrois cast his sapin in leather, in an artistic collaboration with painter JonOne.

Parisian lingerie designer Chantal Thomass applies her signature cheekiness to her design, while Stella McCartney's knitted tree is reassuringly traditional.

Antlers by Les Garcons, and Sonia Rykiel's lighted tree (right)

The prospect of owning a one-of-a-kind designer artwork by Jean-Paul Gaultier, Chanel, Jean Claude Jitrois or Dior has enormous appeal, and several 'trees' sold for as much as €5000. The Pierre Hermé macarons may not be a long-lasting choice, but Stella McCartney's knitted tree or Louis Vuitton's 'jack-in-the-box' style are sure to be future classics for their proud owners. Furthermore, in an ever-increasingly environmentally conscious climate, the idea behind the investment in a designer sapin, to be celebrated year after year in lieu of a real cut tree, is a welcomed one.

A version of this article appeared in the Huffington Post on 10th December 2011

SHOPPING FOR BLOOD

2011-12-05T19:01:00.001Z

Shopping for blood oranges, and documenting it as part of the Fru-Gal challenge for Eco-Age. Today is the last day in my week-long style diary of second-hand stories. The clothes are second-hand, not the stories. That would be cheating. My Dad took both these photographs last weekend when he visited me in Paris, but the one below was taken on his enormous 80s Fujifilm second-hand medium format camera, and then developed himself at home. He's getting pretty good at it. It makes digital photography look so second-rate.

POSTCARDS TO DECEMBER RAIN, FROM TIM WALKER

2011-12-04T21:14:00.003Z

Outside there's a hurricane beating against the premature cheerfulness of one-thousand strings of fairy lights. They line the city's silhouette, glowing at their strongest over Paris's fattest department stores, and less so in the corner of a backstreet bar, where cheap violet boules on a plastic tree unashamedly flash their cracks from yesteryears' cheap parties. Et, qui suis-je? Just another kid in a big city, seeking solace in Tim Walker's monumental fantasies for Vogue, under candlelight on a dark Sunday night.

Tim's work has universal appeal. His photographs can both provoke joy and nostalgia, or a sadness for a paradise lost. For Walker uses his adult imagination to bring to life the childish naivety of our favourite children's stories of gypsies and thieves and ruined palaces for us 'grown-ups' to re-live. But Walker's photographs aren't like the real fairytales. Bad things don't happen in the world according to Tim Walker, and that's just why we like it. Because the real fairytales - filled with dark princes at the foot of your bed and stepmothers and pills that made you larger and smaller, travels to far-off lands in dark-wooden pirate boats to seek the Caterpillar, and girls running down endless corridors in poisoned dresses - the real fairytales, they quickly engulfed us until it was too late, and they were our own real lives, spilling uncontrollably out of the book and into your lap as you read.

Walker is far from being the only one who seeks to build a fantasy world around him. Anyone who has ever been to a music festival like Glastonbury (see here or here) or Secret Garden Party (see here) knows of the incredible structures, gardens and theatricals sets we humans will build in the name of escapism. There is a communal joyfulness that surrounds festival goers at the festivals I have just mentioned that you will scarcely come across in any other place in such buoyant intensity. One thing we learnt in adulthood from the fairytales was thus : it was better to be a gypsy than a princess, rather a pirate than a king.

On the topic of real life fairytales, my consciousness is drawn back to hover upon a beautiful film I watched last spring, The Fall. The mise en scene is staggering, with a voracious Tim Walker appetite for colour and beauty. And It moved me to tears, like many things do.

ARIZONA MUSE WEARS THE 'ROY' DRESS IN VOGUE PARIS

2011-12-02T08:20:00.001Z

For their spring/summer 2012 collection, Jitrois kindly named a dress after me, and for its first public appearance, I don't think anything could have been more major : Arizona Muse for the rock n'roll Christmas edition of Vogue Paris. There are in fact four different versions of the Roy, but this is by far my favourite. There is also an Imogen skirt - full circular made of emerald green suede- that was made up, fitted and sewn over the space of 24 hours after I came into the Jitrois showroom for the final model fitting wearing this yellow number. I hastily stripped off and handed over the infamous €1 skirt to the creative director to be upgraded into a couture version. It's true what they say, fashion really starts on the street. I would like to (sadly) admit that I had no design input into these wonderful dresses, but out of all the pieces in the collection, the Roy is the one I would choose to wear. You can see the digital lookbook of the whole collection here.

EIGHT + FRASSY : FUR & FEATHERED FRIENDS

2011-12-01T09:27:00.001Z

Audrey and I getting into the Autumnal spirit on the left bank in fuzzy headwear. I'm wearing nearly all second-hand clothes, including the Chanel purse, picked up in a fleamarket in a Scottish country town when I was 14. The orange maribou stole is from Zara. Speaking of second-hand, this week I have been taking the 'Fru-Gal' challenge as a guest blogger for online magazine Eco-Age, the brainchild of Livia Firth. For the challenge, I am wearing purely second-hand clothing for a week, to promote the idea of conscientious consumerism. Eco-Age aims to encourage us to think more carefully about both the source and the environmental influence of the products we consume. The website has a lovely luxurious spin to it, and my fellow guest bloggers include Erin O'Connor, Laura Bailey, KT Tunstall and Colin Firth. Do visit and read about some of the interesting and very straight forward ways we can be more environmentally and socially kind and still enjoy all the luxuries we enjoy. You can read my 'Fru-Gal' style diary here to see the pictures of my second-hand outfits and the stories behind the pieces. photos by Anastasia Nielsen

HELMUT NEWTON'S POLAROIDS

2011-11-27T19:28:00.000Z

Helmut Newton is possibly my biggest inspiration in fashion photography. As a result, I have pretty much all of his books (well, apart from this one, mostly because it is the most expensive book ever produced in the 20th century). So I was thrilled to add another to my collection, Helmut Newton's Polaroids. Test polaroids have now become an obsolete form of shooting preparation in the face of digital photography, and now a rare and iconic collectors item. Used to test the light or to document credits by fashion editors, they satisfied that impatient urge that we now take entirely for granted - to see how our vision translates in a photograph instantly. The book contains a wealth of test Polaroids from some of Newton's greatest shoots, and the quality and intensity of the colours is staggering. Sadly, the quality of the 'fake' Polaroid film available today as a result of the efforts of the Impossible Project falls far below the standard. However, give them time, they really are attempting 'the Impossible'. Having spent the weekend shooting with my Dad around Paris on medium format 6x6 (each film only contains 8 photos) and has to be developed using a special oversized projector, I can understand the desire for that confirmation of a shot, the spontaneity of a Polaroid print. Here are some of my Polaroid picks from the book.

Test Polaroids of Lily Cole & Gemma Ward from the April 2004 Vogue cover shoot. Read how I came about them courtesy of Vogue here

My two favourite shots

SUPERIOR INTERIOR : MY SHOOT WITH GARCON JON

2011-11-24T18:03:00.001Z

A few weeks ago on a sensational sunny Sunday, I invited photographer Jonathan Pryce into my humble abode for a shoot and video interview. Jon and I encountered each other on twitter, and when we realised we were both Scots who had recently moved to Paris, it seemed like fate had thrown us together for the sole purpose of creating jazzy videos and listening to 70s disco music. Dressing up and telling stories - two of my favourite things to do, anytime, but especially on a Sunday morning with a new friend in Paris. You can see all the photos and the interview on Jon's blog ANOTHER GARCON , including how I beat Agyness Deyn to my favourite leather jacket, but not including my rant about Rihanna's new video, nor cultural moral fibre, nor the jobmarket in London - aren't you relieved? And my unmeasurable appreciation to Jon for the incredible photos and editing of the video - my first!

KARL LAGERFELD'S STUDIO

2011-11-23T21:09:00.000Z

Yesterday I found myself in none other than Karl Lagerfeld's studio/library on the Left Bank. You can see for yourself what an incredible space it is. Four walls of books from floor to ceiling - it's a bit like looking into his brain. I was so overwhelmed with the magnitude of it all. There was topsecret stuff going on in the second room so you'll have to wait to see what he's done next!

"Books are a hardbound drug with no danger of an overdose. I am a happy addict of books" - Karl Lagerfeld

photos of Karl by Piotr Stoklosa for VIVA magazine

ON IMPASSE DELAUNEY

2011-11-22T08:19:00.000Z

Photographed in Impasse Delauney one Sunday morning just round the corner from my apartment in Paris by Jonathan for Les Garcons de Glasgow. I'm wearing the colours of Le Bon Marché (see!) ; vintage purple wool coat and orange mohair dress from secondhand stores in Edinburgh, Jeffrey Campbell Litas, H&M necklace, YSL arty ring given to me on a night out by my incredibly generous colleague at work, 'because it belonged better to me', and carrying Aspinalls of London purse.

A SUNDAY COCKTAIL 20.11.11

2011-11-20T19:35:00.004Z

Photography by Ari Marcopoulos & Jeremy Kost, as seen at the Unfound Photo Fair

I once spent a year in Paris, I think it was on a Sunday.

So said W.C. Fields, except it was Philadelphia, rather than Paris, but I share his sentiment. As a notoriously irritating morning person, I have dedicated my Sundays in Paris to engaging with the world, whatever that might be. Here, for this week's Sunday Cocktail, are some of my recommendations for a Sunday in Paris, or a Sunday spent anywhere.

Photography by Audrey Rodgers, Kate Woods, Zora Beer & Hugh Ferguson

...Explore one of Paris' many temporary and permanent exhibitions. Seen above, the Unfound Photo Fair

The Upstairs Library at Shakespeare & Company has a vast selection of diverse reading material to be explored in the reading room. The library seen here during the launch of literary arts journal A Tale of Three Cities, which can be bought from the bookstore.

... Watch the winter sun disappear behind one of the city's glorious architectural wonders. Above, the Petit Palais as seen from the courtyard café.

Photographed in Café de commerce, 75018 and Les Parigots, 75010

Chance upon a Kate Moss print. Photography series : The New Gypsies by Iain McKell

Photographed at Le Petit Palais / Sarah Bernhardt by Clairin

...Admire the beauty erected to honour the dead of the past century. Pick your hero, bring a picnic. Photo from Père Lachaise, Paris 75020.

N O R T H E R N L I G H T

2011-11-15T23:24:00.000Z

Last weekend I returned home to Scotland for graduation. My Mum's graduation! After several years of a fair bit of strife, by Mum can now be called a ~~Master of Science~~ Master of the Universe - no small deal. The ceremony at Edinburgh's Usher Hall was followed by a reception at the top of one of the city's seven hills, at Craighouse, where a spectacular old academic hall was the backdrop for the reception. I was completely mesmerised by the interior, in fact I was rather mesmerised by everything: the nostalgia of returning home to arguably one of the most beautiful cities in the world, the perfect 'Northern Light' - that hung purple-blue and ethereal over us and the fast-russetting leaves. And the city itself- it too hanging, as if suspended between its seven hills, with gothic spires of varying reaches marking out memoried haunts of mine across town.

Now that my Mum is officially a ~~Master of Science~~ Master of the Universe, I feel it's high time she was given a platform on this old blog. Not just because she is responsible for a few of the photos, and the correction of (*cough* very few) spelling and grammatical errors, when I occasionally get an email including the phrase 'by the way, its hebdomadaire with an a' or 'THEY're, remember? If you want to be a journalist...' Then there are logistical favours, seeing as I gave up learning to drive at 18 after I failed my test the first time, and yes, as it turns out, you can't go everywhere on the bus, especially not with 3 suitcases of furs and hats, a sewing machine and a papier maché elephant sculpture. And she won't want to forget the 70kg hardwood hippo sculptures that had to carried out of my Uni halls either. Then there's the huge acts of self-sacrifice, the smallest perhaps being the sacrifice of said Master of the Universe degree work to devote a ridiculous amount of time to organising my outrageously ostentatious, D-I-Y bollywood themed 21st birthday party this summer. There was a fair bit of time spent driving (thank you!), but also quite a bit spent covered in scratches, nettles, and later mud, as you single handedly complied with my plans to remodel the whole garden in the name of a party. And then there are the things that no amount of expensive education, work experience placements in different industries, or documentaries can teach me. Only my Mum can diagnose my illness from a different country, or tell me where to find the gas meter, or always have change for the bus when I never do, or remind me to wear my retainer when she's seen a facebook photo where my teeth are getting a bit squiffy, or teach me a few simple recipes which will always impress boys, and will actually get out of bed and come running to the kitchen in the middle of the night when I scream "Oh god! My pavlova mix! It's all sloppy, quick! HELP ME, HELP ME!'

So to my Mum, who I know will be reading this (and checking for grammatical errors), congratulations on your degree, lord knows I'm proud. You really are Master of the Universe. And to everyone else, think about how amazing your Mum is, and then tell her. And then you can join Audrey and I's 'Amazing Babe Mom Club'.

My Mum, looking disgracefully young, working a classic Eight London blogger pose.

A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN

2011-11-11T21:23:00.000Z

A teaser for an 'At Home With' project I did with Jonathan Pryce, a fellow Scot just moved to Paris, and a multi-talented photographer and style commentator at that. Jon founded Les Garcons de Glasgow and documented UK streetstyle for three years, and is curenttly exhibiting at the Jim Haynes gallery in Paris. We shot and filmed for two hours in my small apartment, so I cant wait to see the full shoot. Coming soon!

C O N T R A M U N D U M

2011-11-11T21:05:00.002Z

"As I grew older and went out into the world, I realised it was a very unfriendly place to be. And I thought, 'We need Art.'"

A moving glimpse into the privately intriguing world of Daphne Guinness, beautifully captured by Brennan Stasiewicz for Nowness. I admire Daphne hugely - both for her loyalty to art, her own and that of her friends, and her ability to channel both a wealth of life experience and her staggering imagination into creating beauty. She's right. Sometimes when the world is falling in around your ears you need an armour that can protect, but also to act as your visual voice for what cannot be said. Daphne is famous in fashion circles mostly for her sense of personal style, because it can be seen as 'different', 'ostentatious', 'extreme'. I find it interesting what Daphne says about using her style as a 'voice'. Starting 100 years ago, and then back as far as cultural time can remember, women used elaborate costumes and hairstyles as a form of self-expression, the results not being so much different to how Daphne dresses now: veils, platform shoes, staggeringly-high hairstyles, incredible precious gems mined by Europe's Imperial fist. Every outfit was a work of art and beauty. Then the rise of the Feminist movement gave women a voice, and they threw off their armour. And ever since, the world has seemed a little more grey, or as she describes it in The Telegraph - 'flatlining': "What started off as a camouflage became something that made you stick out like a sore thumb. But that wasn't so much me - it was what happened to the rest of the world. Because everybody else sort of flatlined."

On the subject of beauty, I urge you to take 15 minutes to watch Denis Dutton's TED talk on his Darwinian Theory of Beauty. He explores the idea that the human desire to both observe and create art and beauty is deep rooted in our evolutionary origins, long before we even came to be fully 'humans'. You can watch the talk accompanied by excellent cartoons HERE.

F A S H I O N | W E E K | P A R T I E S

2011-11-09T22:44:00.000Z

Opening a packet of unseen film just printed - there's no thrill quite like it. I got my disposable camera films from Paris fashion week developed during my quick trip back to the UK last weekend, which brought hilarious memories flooding back. Everyone's on their ~~worst~~ best behaviour at the fashion parties - it's a high-adrenalin school reunion for the international fash pack, and those free cocktails bars can be terribly, dangerously generous. Some old classmates ... Audrey, Nadia, Kimberley...

PERSPECTIVES, AS TAUGHT BY STANLEY KUBRICK

2011-10-30T19:23:00.001Z

I can recall primary school art lessons, spent hunched over drawing imaginary lines of telegraph poles, railway lines and valleys with snaking rivers, in the name of learning that valuable skill for realistic drawing : perspective. When I saw Stanley Kubrick's photographic exhibition in Milan last year, (yes, he of Clockwork Orange fame, but so much more than that) I felt he had never forgotten those school lessons on perspective. With his early work on travelling circus performers and the Irish immigrant population in New York City, his camera is at the whim of his subject; grubby boys stand scowling, while gymnasts twirl and pose in a continuation of their performance. However in his later work, focused on travels in southern Italy and around the student population of Columbia University, he molds his subjects into position. They become shapes that fit into diagrams, diagrams of perspective. The photos of the line of fishermen particularly reminded me of the telegraph poles, with the rope passed through hand to hand, down a seemingly endless line. Then there is the Italian series - the man looming large and dominant in the foreground of every shot, a tiny espresso cup adding a comical edge. The woman remains subordinate in the far hintergrund, passive and small. My favourite by far is the group under the cross, because it shows the power of the photographer to craft an image that was never really there. An innocent sightseeing party become almost demonic in this Wickerman-esque tableau; the looming heavy cross, the dramatic wisp of cloud OR smoke, the ambiguous expressions. Again, it is a question of perspective. Taken from above, or level with the subjects, it would never have the same effect.

The camera's power to enhance, enlarge or distort fascinates me. Fashion bloggers, many of whom are also their own photographers, have a huge amount of control over their image and how they can manipulate it. Over time, we build up a projection of ourselves through the camera lens - the most honest and untrustworthy of eyes. Which perspective are you looking at?

Roz of Clothes, Cameras and Coffee wrote an interesting piece about the power of the photographer to craft an image in their favour on her blog this week. Read it here.

All pictures scanned from the book to accompany the exhibition

WHAT'S IN MY BAG?

2011-10-26T20:32:00.001+01:00

I always thought it was a pointless exercise for a blog post since everyone has more or less the same things in their bag, give or take a few exceptions based on unusual career choice or mental stability - a handgun, for instance, or some birdseed, or your dead grandmother's teeth ..."they bring me back so many good memories..."

But then Peony did a bag post and it looked so orderly and inviting, I just had to copy. I really wanted to stick a tiny pistol in mine just to fuel some 'dangerous blogger' rumours but I was found wanting.

Clockwise from top : Vitamin C pills. Heaven knows if these actually do you any good, but here in France they are so cheap, it's more cost effective than to buy an actual piece of fruit, so they stand me stead for now // Pill box : Pain is not cute, but this box is. // Blackberry Curve phone // USB Memory stick shaped like a gold bar, I think my bank gave me this with my student account, as some sort of ironic financial joke. // Cologne : I can't stand sickly feminine perfumes, preferring Hermes' Eau d'orange vert or Dior's Eau Savage, but my new favourite is this English Pear & Freesia by Jo Malone.// Lip balm by Palmer's - it tastes like After Eights. //Assorted notebooks: I go through these like water, so I tend to hoard as many free ones as possible. If I wrote exclusively in Moleskines, I'd probably not be able to afford to eat. // Assorted jewellry: Having piled it on in the morning, by mid-afternoon I usually get into a fit of excessive metalwear and start tearing it all off - into the bag it goes. Earrings from my Edie Sedgwick phase, gold and turquoise bracelet from Gogo Philip. // YSL Lipstick No. 140 - the perfect shade of burgundy. // Aspinalls of London Union Jack wallet. An ex-boyfriend of mine gave this to me for Christmas, after we had broken up. Proof that he is still do this day, the best ex-boyfriend on earth. // Rayban sunglasses I can't believe are not broken, even after having been sat on by a fat twerp at Glastonbury. // Disposable camera - always. And no more charming feeling than that experienced when rifling through 36 random photos you don't remember taking // Purple faux-ostrich filofax diary, 'because nothing has ever really happened, until it has been recorded."* // and finally ... KEYS! Very important. I have been locked out enough times to have learned that lesson, at least.

Not pictured :

Pens without lids, lids without pens, and stains made by said pens

A plethora of dog-eared receipts from sad, bi-weekly shopping trips to Carrefour city, usually coming to around €12.

Misc. sweetwrappers and the skeletons of things I ate or forgot to eat (including the occasional squashed and browned banana .

Degraded business cards once belonging to men who confidently presented them to me at nightclubs or parties, and for that very reason they have been condemned to die a death at the bottom of my bag alongside browned bananas.

A winebottle opener I may have borrowed from a hotel bar.

Glitter.

Pointless lists like this one.

A TALE OF THREE CITIES

2011-10-25T21:08:00.002+01:00

This Friday night in Paris, hebdomadaire literary soirée The Book Club, which has been gracing Le Carmen since February, throws a special party to celebrate the launch of new literary arts journal A Tale of Three Cities, linking Europe's golden artistic triangle of Paris, London and Berlin. A Tale of Three has been many, careful months in the making - contributions from Zadie Smith, Joss McKinley and Todd Zuniga along with some of the three cities' most promising young writers and artists are all bound together in the inaugural first edition, hand-numbered in an exclusive print run of 500 copies and produced by boutique publishing house Ditto Press. A Tale of Three will only be available as a hard copy, to have and to hold, forevermore. As Paris Editor Rosa Rankin-Gee expressed : "We believe in paper and ink. Good art and writing should be able to exist without electricity. This journal has a beautiful textured dust jacket - you can't get that on a Kindle." A Tale of Three will be available to buy on Friday night at Le Carmen in Paris, at B Store in London or on the Tale of Three online store.

As for Book Club, the concept is thus : bring a book you don't mind passing on, and swap it for someone else's over a cocktail (Tequila Mockingbird perhaps), whilst flirtatiously perching on a stranger's knee. As illustrated by the pictures below from last month's club, I warn you that this isn't any ordinary book club. It involves champagne, dancing to old-school garage, good-looking men in hats, and possibly ... motorbikes. But what did you expect? Turns out people who love books, don't just love books.

Photos by Un Autre Quelqu'Un and Audrey Rogers

OCTOBER BALLOONS

2011-10-23T18:11:00.001+01:00

Sunday afternoons in Paris are for tearing up new neighbourhoods with an open heart and a string of ~~stolen~~ borrowed balloons. Burnished leaves fringe cobbled streets, and brisk winds drive us from twilight graveyards into warm maroon cafés with unsentimental names.

Photographed in Montmartre with Chris Weir and my new musical kindred spirit Zora, who is the only person I've met so far in my life who adores Echo & the Bunnymen as much as I do.

I am now also micro-blogging on Tumblr under Arcadian Eight, as a sideline for my stray photographs that had no home to go to.

PARIS FASHION WEEK : DAY SEVEN

2011-10-17T20:45:00.000+01:00

With Audrey and Peony outside the Chloe show in the Tuileries gardens. I'm wearing the Mansfield dress in coquelicot from the Jitrois S/S 2012 collection. Photos by Dvora for her '3 days with...' series. See the rest of my outfits on Fashionistable here.

KARLIE-KANYE

2011-10-16T20:46:00.000+01:00

I first met Gabriel Lahanque at a party during Paris Fashion Week. It was at GrandLife NYC's This Is New York party at Le Regine - a smokefilled sweatbox done in mirrors and red velvet, where the crowd, fuelled on vodka cranberry cocktails, dripped cigarette ends onto a sodden carpet stained with hedonist history. Competing with the sound of the Misshapes thumping set, we fell to the topic of photography - and when we simultaneously pulled our own disposable cameras out to show each other, we both laughed. Emerging from a swarm of streetstyle photographers and paparazzi armed with intrusive lenses like rocketlaunchers, Gabriel has the freedom to snap that moment in a more unique, and approachable way. His photography also proves that you don't need an expensive lens with a fancy f/stop to capture the spirit of fashion week. He's inspired me to keep my trusty Boots 400iso camera in my bag at all times, and not just at parties. Recognise any of these familiar faces?

Gabriel Lahanque on Tumblr

PARIS FASHION WEEK : MONTAGE II

2011-10-11T22:26:00.000+01:00

I was in Anna Wintour's eyeline for the Carven show. For such a small person, she really creates such a magnetic presence. Even the celebrity-spotting photographers were too timid to approach her.

T-shirt in the window at Collette

Michael in the Tuileries

Rockabilly monochrome and bopping ponytails at the Limi Feu show. Read my show report for Notion magazine HERE.

A trio of hats outside Shiatzy Chen

David Nyanzi snapped me outside the Anne Valerie Hash show on Day 4. It was so great to see him here, as he was the first person I ever met when I first went to London Fashion Week in September 2009, when we got chatting outside the Henry Holland show, as we were both totally new to the whole thing and it overwhelmed us. Back then, you could probably count the number of bloggers who went to fashion week off two hands. It's a different world now. Two years later here in Paris, I wore Zara orange fur, purple vintage paisley shirt, Suede skirt from Topshop and Chanel bag.

Charlotte Free walking for Limi Feu

Colour explosion at Carven

I just didn't have any time to snap ay streetstyle this time round, but just as I was leaving the Tuileries I had to stop for this guy. ORANGE CORDUROY. I feel the bottle-green S.Pelligrino just adds to the look.

Final walk at Dévastée. Read my full show report with photographs for Notion Magazine HERE.

Dunja from Style Dissection snapped me on Day 6 outside the Akris show, dressed as a wannabe colonial. That morning I had been thinking about John Jannuzi's blog Textbook, and I half-unconsciously dressed with "What would Mrs. Moore* wear...?" in my mind. The kimono and safari hat are non-Indian themed pieces I accept creative license for.

*Mrs Moore is a character in E.M. Forster's novel A Passage to India. Unlike the other British Colonials, she has an instinctive understanding of the mysticism of the native culture which transcends racial barriers.

Behind the scenes at the Jitrois showroom overlooking the Tuileries, where I spent 8 days working solidly, popping to shows when I had a chance. It was fascinating and exciting to watch a fashion house prepare for the new season.

Polaroid taken by Cèdric for the Unknown Project at Cent Trent rue Rivoli, or was it the Citizen K party? It was the last day of PFW and my head was a mess. I'm wearing S/S 2012 Jitrois suede dress, kindly lent to me by the designer.

CARVEN SS12

2011-10-09T21:09:00.000+01:00

Carven Spring/Summer 2012 appeared to me as if Catherine from the film Cruel Intentions met Margherita Missoni, and they went on a Gap Yah together. It was certainly a fun, young and enviably leggy show to watch. Read my full show report with more photos for Notion Magazine HERE.

All photographs my own, please credit accordingly.

PARIS FASHION WEEK : MONTAGE ONE

2011-10-07T19:06:00.000+01:00

I was intrigued by this front row trio at the Devastée show

Videotape : A front row pro's catwalk technology

Floodlight Fashion : The venue for the Thimister show was a car garage in the 4th arrondissement

Dedicated : Window display at Collette to honour the launch of Carine Roitfeld's book Irreverent. She signed copies of the books here with Terry Richardson on the day it pushed 31ºC. Regardless, hundreds of die-hard fans endured the oven-like store to queue.

Steps to heaven : The daily architecture of Paris never stops inspiring me. The Petit Palais in the early hours of the morning.

Quick Change : Backstage at the Jitrois SS12 showroom. Model Nausicca is putting on the Jitrois 'Imogen' skirt, inspired by yours truly!

Fashion Friends : Audrey, Kimberley and Michael outside the Jeu de Paume for the Anne Valerie Hash show.

Familiar Faces : A portrait of Giorgio Armani at the Kris van Assche LONDERZEEL launch party.

The Man who would be King : The Godfather of streetstyle photography, Bill Cunningham, sat opposite me at the Carven show (and shot me a cheeky wink too.)

Monks of Glory : Finale at Thimister. Read my full show report with photographs for Notion Magazine HERE.

Audrey and I at the Harry Halim aftershow party

ONE DAY WE'RE GONNA LIVE IN PARIS

2011-09-26T21:35:00.008+01:00

Paris (Aeroplane Remix) by rodrigosupertramp

In May 2010 I went to see Aeroplane, a Belgian DJ duo, play Mint Club in Leeds, without a doubt one of the UKs best venues for dance music. I have a huge love for electro music, and although the gig was right in the middle of my Uni exams, I just knew I had to go (I wrote about it here). They finished an electric set with their hit remix of Friendly Fires 'Paris' and in the crowd, surrounded by just a few friends, I experienced a sensation of genuine happiness. A hopeful, excited, knot-in-your-stomach kind of desire. There was no anti-climax to my high, only a continuous moving forward, of making plans for Paris.
   One day we're gonna live in Paris /I promise, I'm on it /When I'm bringing in the money /I promise, I'm on it...
The song stuck in my head for weeks, which turned soon to months, and still it is the highest played song on my iTunes. At that point, my only memories of Paris were the fleeting souvenirs of a day trip from London with my parents when I was 8 years old: the most vivid being the image of an Indian woman on the metro with hair which grazed her ankles, and I was struck by the beauty of the shimmering black cascade. Then my Mum took me to the Galleries Lafayette and we picked out a whole wardrobe of outfits for me, ALL in yellow and blue.
   And every night we'll watch the stars/They'll be out for us, they'll be out for us/And every night, the city lights/They'll be out for us, they'll be out for us
The outgrown blue and yellow outfits were folded neatly into a crate for the charity shop, and suddenly I was 20 years old and I realised I knew nothing of this city, the City of Lights, the toast of Europe. So, on a dancefloor in Leeds, when that Aeroplane song came on, I made a vow to myself: I was going to live in Paris.
   So go and pack your bags for the long haul/We're gonna lose ourselves/I promise/This time it's you and me for evermore...
   ...And every night we'll watch the stars/They'll be out for us, they'll be out for us/And every night, the city lights/They'll be out for us, they'll be out for us...

Photos taken by my Mum, who who visited this weekend, and inspired by the ethereally charming Isabelof Bohemian Musings.

The other night we drank rosé and spoke haphazard Françeutsch to each other (that's French-Deutsch)

CHARLIE MAY SS12

2011-09-25T13:25:00.000+01:00

I was not able to make it to London to see Charlie May's presentation of her first womenswear collection in person, but I instantly fell in love with her vision - simple, pure, insouciantly feminine - just like the girl herself. Charlie, whose craft was honed in the studio of London designer Thomas Tait, includes Anne Demeulemeester in her greatest design inspirations. Charlie May's perfect mélange of pretty and tough appears to me as the essence of today's 21st century girl : empowered, sleek, professional yet playful. Assymetrical sheer skirts evoke dishevelled vintage lingerie, yet a black high-necked vest suggests an armour. There was a medieval charm in Charlie May's studded headbands, but this girl is no damsel in distress.

The women who colour our history books wore costumes so extravagant that their daily activities were restricted to seated salon parties, reading or at a physical stretch, 'turns around an ornamental garden', dragging their heavy embroidered skirts behind them with deceptively light steps, like a swan.

Charlie May perfectly captures the point to which we, as women who clothe ourselves for the world, have come. We have adopted the well-cut trouser, the shirt cuff, the leather jacket from men, and made them our own. The Charlie May girl is delicately strong, who captures but also commands a room.

The models appeared to me as ballet dancers warming up for a performance, supple and fluid but a force of muscle - just like the clothes.

Photo credits : Russ McLintock

The designer herself wearing the piéce de la résistance of her collection - the blush leather jacket. To contact Charlie visit her blog Girl à la Mode. She is now taking orders for her S/S 12 collection.

THIS SPLENDID TABLE

2011-09-25T11:35:00.000+01:00

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." – Ernest Hemingway

I have now been living in Paris for 45 days.
When you come to a legendary city as a tourist, you try to immerse yourself in a foreign idealism as quickly as possible - forcing yourself to see as many myths as possible in a day, swallowing language, spitting out clichés. A long weekend is spent treading pavements, denying fatigue and perhaps on the last evening you sit in a half-rate bar somewhere near Saint Michel after gloating round Shakespeare and Company and say 'Yes, this is it! Ah, Paris - it's mine!"
As a new resident, the city opens itself to you slowly. For the first few weeks I was here, I didn't stray farther than the 11th arrondissement where I live on the East of Paris, Le Marais, the Left Bank and the 1st, where I work. You begin to realise that going for 'dinner' and just drinking wine is the only way you can afford anything on the menu, and that the Sacre Couer actually looks far more spectacular from the Pompidou Centre balcony than the steps of Montmartre themselves. You learn the opening times, and then the cooking times of the bakeries in your quartier off by heart and that you MUST be seen out for 'aperos' with your work friends on a thursday night but never on a Saturday night.

Paris' speciality is grandeur - sheer scale, size and splendour. What other city's Police HQ resembles one of King Ludwig's castles? Paris's Prefecture de Police on l'Ile de la Cité does. Sometimes the landscape can be overwhelming, so I went in search of a different kind of grandeur - one of decay and names lost in time. A personal splendour, to be found in the Père Lachaise cemetery in the 20th. My brother came for the weekend, and we went in search of our lost heroes, dressed in black and dark glasses. Edith Piaf, Proust, Chopin, Oscar Wilde are buried here amongst Communists, Jews, Artists, Playwrights, Mayors, Poets, Lawyers and burned out Lizard Kings - yes, Jimmy Morrison also lies here.

I have always had a fondness for cemeteries. The monuments erected to honour the dead far exceed any praise for the living cast in stone or marble. I could have wandered the cobbled paths for hours, counting stained glass windows and dried purple roses. The tomb of Oscar Wilde has been defaced in the name of love - I don't consider it disrespectful as I know the man himself would consider it all a right lark, up there in heaven surrounded by a harem of young boy cherubs...

Pont Alexandre - the most spectacularly grand bridge in Paris

Oh Oscar, you rogue.

View from the Italian galleries, the Louvre.

Tributes for the Lizard King

Parisians are ants

EIGHT + FRASSY : ACCESSORIES PARTY

2011-09-13T08:18:00.000+01:00

I wear vintage belt, Rayban sunglasses, Marc by Marc Jacobs bag and Frassy Rags ring

I am always intrigued by the American magazine industry's fascination with fashion accessories. There are always whole departments in the masthead for accessories : Senior accessories editor, accessories market editor, EXECUTIVE accessories director, accessories assistant etc etc. In the UK magazines, accessories are covered under the umbrella of 'fashion' and that's that. (I work in press - hence why I have a lot of time to notice these things.) But imagine being an accessories editor, spending your whole life surrounded by small objects of adornment? - it couldn't be too bad, why, we've all seen those pictures of the Vogue shoe cupboard in New York. Audrey and I, well, we're pretty into accessories I'd say. Audrey is rarely seen without one of her gorgeous signature hats and sunglasses, I am usually sporting some sort of enormous waistbelt and a whole load of bangles (not in these shots though, interestingly.)

I wear Topshop leotard and skirt, Alexander McQueen velvet skull scarf. Audrey wears ASOS t-shirt and Native Heart denim shorts. More Frassy Rags rings.

VOGUE'S FASHION NIGHT PARIS

2011-09-10T23:05:00.000+01:00

It took quite some energy to will myself to cross town for the Vogue Fashion Night on Thursday, mostly because it was my day off and I quite fancied a day off from fashion, and also because my friend Hugh and I were enjoying some serious animal entertainment from Youtube, namely things along this line. But also because I know that the Paris Fashion's Night Out isn't a patch on the London version; it's a lot more snooty, there isn't really that much going on in the stores and it's isolated on just one street - Avenue Montaigne. In all the stores I went into, I never saw anyone buy anything so I'm not sure entirely how successful it is in Paris as an marketing tool, but hey - it's always fun to mingle with the well-heeled, in any city where there's free champagne.

The 7th arrondisement by night // Hugh - a great friend from university - and I at Prada // Super sketchy Prada mannequins which looked like domestic abuse victims with bruised necks // Audrey and Haleigh

Haleigh's dashing ensemble

Me snapped by Audrey. I wore Zara fedora and orange fur stole and Andy Warhol print Lisa Perry dress // The Vogue mini coopers // Chloe balloons

More victims at Prada. I think extreme heat in the store may have been the cause of their death, it certainly caused us to burn up!

GREAT rock&roll cover band at the Chrome Hearts store. You can't see here, but the lead singer had two cigars stuck in the back of his music stand. This party actually got shut down by police while we were there.

Our Chrome Hearts crooner // Prada windows // Model in a bath at Chrome Hearts. I can think of worse ways to spend an evening - she had a full glass in her hand all night!

WE'LL TAKE MANHATTAN

2011-09-08T12:53:00.000+01:00

This 1962 Vogue UK shoot was the beginning of a fashion relationship which challenged expectations of photography at the time and became a legend in its own right. Candid and spontaneous, David Bailey took then 18-year old Jean Shrimpton out of the stuffy photographers studio and onto the streets of New York, armed with just a camera and a teddy bear. Diana Vreeland, editor of American Vogue at the time, greeted the unknowns like celebrities: “But they are adorable,” Vreeland cried. “England. Has. Arrived.” A one-episode drama to be shown on BBC4 later this year called 'We'll take Manhattan' aims to capture the spirit of the pair, their love affair and the art they created together, centred around that famous 1962 shoot Young Ideas Goes West.

I used to have a lot of pictures of Jean Shrimpton around my room when I was younger - it was her coltish limbs and sad, round eyes which struck me as so beautiful. When I was studying at a summer fashion in NYC a few years ago, I picked up a great big paperback from one of the 5th avenue book stalls along the park titled Models. It chronologically documents the modelling industry and the stand-out girls from each decade. The 1960s chapter included a story of a very young teenage Shrimpton being apprached by a sleazy old man at a races, or a polo match, and he invited her to come and sit in his Rolls Royce with him. After a few minutes of his seductive talk, as she sat nervously in silence, he started to 'stroke the tops of her coltish thighs'. And leggy Jean Shrimpton took her coltish thighs with her and ran right out of the car very fast and didn't stop running. I've always advised that beautiful girls keep very fit, because it's always important to be able to run very fast.

via Iconology

PARIS, TEXAS

2011-09-06T08:09:00.000+01:00

Photos by Audrey & Haleigh

Saturday night at Frassy HQ: with Audrey back from Spain, Haleigh having returned from the States and designer Michelle Goldie on a long weekend, it was a good enough excuse as any to throw an impromptu wig party. We all wear Frassy Spheres.

A SUNDAY COCKTAIL 4.09.11

2011-09-04T18:51:00.001+01:00

This week I've been lamenting changing my dip-dye from pink (1) to a very standard blonde back in May and keep experiencing rising temptation to dye it back. However this picture (2) of Jane Seymour keeps me reaching for the argan oil rather than the dye, as I continue in my quest for waist-length hair. In Paris, cheeky street art (3) keeps me entertained on the way to work, while over in the 7th arrondissement at Le Bon Marché, So London – a 1000 square metre exhibition dedicated to all things British exhibition opened this week. Iris Apfel (5) is incredible at 90, a heroine for die-hard 'accessorisers' like myself who has championed a love for beautiful materials and turned her passion into a business which has taken her all over the world (and into the White House under no less than 7 presidents.) Watch the video below for a taste of her charmingly monotone dialogue. My A/W look is all about a 60s french silhouette in burnished colours - red, orange, cream, with high boots, short suede miniskirts and a wool blazer topped with a fedora hat, like in this August editorial in L'Officiel (6). I keep thinking to Jane Birkin (7), who championed the 'English girl in Paris' style by uniting conservative Paris classics like a beige trench with London cheekiness in her super-short skirts. And to end on an art line, I do suggest you admire the photography of August Sander, whose portraits of 20th century folk, including Thomas Mann's daughter Erika (8).

Quote of the Week - On Blogging

2011-08-31T22:43:00.000+01:00

I'm glad I came across this interview with New York Times fashion critic and esteemed voice-in-fashion Cathy Horyn today because it's reminded me why I started this blog and it makes me realise that I've become a little distracted. Essentially this blog is my portfolio to show the industry how much I want to be a part of it. I know that at some point I want to be a fashion writer. It may not be my career in fashion from the beginning, nor may it be what I do forever. (I fancy myself as a bit of a slasher, i.e. a writer/stylist/consultant/designer – aren't I typical of my greedy generation? We really want it all.) I am disappointed that I'm not able to go to London Fashion Week and attend shows and practice my reporting skills next month, but this season I'll be based in Paris working for a brand presenting a show, and it will be fascinating to be 'the other side of the catwalk' so to speak.

There is also the issue which I have debated recently, and indeed which Cathy brings up in her interview, of originality. I'm constantly concerned with the question of "what can I do to try and keep ahead of the game?" And I've made my own conclusion that perhaps going to LFW like I've always done, and standing outside the big shows and taking pictures of strangers' clothes along with the other bloggers –whose numbers grow season upon season– probably isn't being very original. It's become a bit of a circus, and as the 'obnoxious blogger' grows as a public character, its an association I want to distance myself from as far as possible. It's become cringeworthy, queuing for a show and realising that some of the biggest -and seemingly undeserving - egos in the industry belong to 'bloggers'.

Not being at LFW, those 10 days a year upon which an unabashed 6 months of my blog content hangs, will definitely be a challenge to my reporting skills. But I think I'm in need of a challenge. I've had it too easy. When I think of all those hundreds of thousands of girls and boys, writing beautiful fashion prose from their bedrooms in the depths of a continent that fashion forgot, scarcely having access to a Vogue magazine and only imagining they could ever be invited to a real life fashion show, I owe it to them.

And here's more food-for-fashion-thought from Cathy. At least I've learnt french - it's a start!

“Be original and start your own blog and do real reporting and learn French. Be a reporter. Don’t be a re-blogger.”

A SUNDAY COCKTAIL [28.8.11]

2011-08-28T14:44:00.001+01:00

The weekend comes around and I look forward to indulging in one of my favourite pastimes - sauntering round a gallery. Here are some of my picks from the Contemporary art floor at the Pompidou Centre.

[Akram Zaatari, 1966]

[Sasa by El Anatsoui]

[Text by Laura Carpenter]

Appreciating art can be about so many different things. I know that I look at art with eye influenced by fashion and appreciative of skill. I'm drawn to favour art in colour schemes to my tastes for instance, and to pieces that I could picture being in my home. Neither of these criteria would qualify me to comment on art, according to an 'art critic'. But who is an art critic anyway? A visitor to a gallery stands before a work, itself a reflection of the world we live in. We then judge that work, and use it as a mirror to reflect our emotions, either out loud to a friend or to ourselves. We are all art critics. I also appreciate a high level of craftsmanship, whether an oil painting which captures the light perfectly, or an intricately woven tapestry or a sculpture held together by 17,000 individually placed tiny pins. 'Modern Art' has lost its shock value. I just don't think minimalist canvases and 5cm lengths steel wire stuck to a wall with scotch tape have any relevance this side of the millenium. The movement has moved on. The Pompidou Centre's Modern Art floor is excellently curated, with a vast range of mediums and forms. There is a real sense of originality too, and a definite focus on sheer skill. A favourite gallery comment is "My kid could make that", but I'll tell you there are a lot of modern pieces in this collection that your kid couldn't make. El Anatsoui's 8m high tapestry of metal litter, echoes Klimt, and holds you dumbfounded at the entrance. I think a lot of the time appreciating art is down to it being accessible. A blank canvas on a wall is not accessible. A portrait of a stranger with a worried look can definitely be accessible.

Is art more accessible when you can walk under it?

Or see yourself in it?

...Or run around it?

LAST OF THE SUMMER WINE

2011-08-25T08:27:00.000+01:00

This photo by Patricia Nicolas just oozes Ibizan summer perfection. If you, like me, have missed out on a summer holiday this year, live vocariously through jewellry designer Patricia and her beautiful friends on her blog. PATRICIA NICOLAS.

Flight Facilities - Crave You ft. Giselle (Radio Edit) by flightfacilities

TRUE COLOURS

2011-08-22T21:24:00.000+01:00

Shortly after I commented here on how my penchant for bright colours, extravagantly-placed furs and hats will always prevent me from from successfully becoming une fille chic parisienne, I came across this editorial from Vogue Russia's August issue. Katie Shillingford proudly flies the flag for British eccentricity, and I took it as providence that I should never forsake my true style for the sake of fitting in. Isabel Marant, The Kooples, Agnès B ... you're all very chic and very lovely, but give me an electric purple fur and orange mohair over a black silk vest anyday.

BEFORE THE RAIN

2011-08-21T13:01:00.000+01:00

Photos taken by Kate Woods earlier this spring round the back of my old student house in Leeds. I miss her terribly. I also really miss my pink dip-dye, but not quite as much.

Last night in the early hours there was the most perfect thunderstorm over Paris. It was a night for lovers, and the lightning lit up the whole sky just before the rain came - thick, heavy, anticipated rain. As late drinkers ran inside from the café fronts, I watched an old couple shuffling a slow-dance in the middle of my street, soaked to the skin with cool rain. I watched from my balcony alone, until my silk robe stuck to my skin and I felt I could sleep easy, knowing everything was right in the world again.

Red balloon over Paris, view from the Pompidou centre.

A PEEK INSIDE MY PARISIAN APARTMENT

2011-08-20T11:37:00.000+01:00

I moved in just over a week ago to my 5th floor (no lift!) apartment in the 11th arrodissement of Paris. It's definitely a work in progress, but I thought it would be a good idea to show it as it is now, before every square inch of space gets filled up with clothes and rogue shoes behind the sofa. It's an amazing, proud feeling to have my own space, and I'm one of those people who gets decorating straight away so that I instantly feel at home.

Favourite mini-Chanel // Disco light above my bed, Edie pop-art dress by Lisa Perry, Topshop kimono and vintage collared dress (It looks like Miu Miu but it only cost €1). // Handmade ashtrays I bought from a street artisan for 50 cents

With my luggage restricted to two suitcases, I had to improvise home furnishings with Indian sarees. This Matthew Williamson pillow managed to squeeze in though! Two words : VACUUM BAGS.

I couldn't have come to Paris without my favourite felt hat and a bit of Helmut Newton.

I love the beautiful marble-topped mantle piece.

Vintage platters and empty champagne bottles serve as perfect props for stacking jewellry.

Postcards are a chic and inexpensive way of decorating, with or without frames. I'm plastering the walls of my cabinet de toilette with Lomography prints of my friends back home and postcards like these.

ONE NIGHT IN PARIS

2011-08-19T09:18:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I had my first -unexpected- visitor at my Parisian apartment: a budgie. He came hurtling through my 5th floor french windows without warning and proceeded to watch me from his perch on top of one of my framed 'Frisco '66' psychadelic posters, and then he came to sit on my laptop, staring quizzically in his birdish manner as I finished typing an article. Fortunately, Parisian grocery stores are pretty thorough in their stock taking, and it was surprisingly easy to procure tropical bird seed at 8pm on a thursday night. I was at rather a loss as to what to do with my guest. Hectic googling taught me both that budgies can cover vast distances in a short space of time and also that stray tropical birds become more common in Paris in August as cruel owners simply release them when they go on their 3 week congés d'été. I can't bear that sort of negligence. I've never been keen on caged birds, but to then free a caged bird into the wild where it will either starve or be eaten by a native bird is even more wicked. I put some 'found' signs around the neighbourhood, while Perrouche stayed the night in my shower, and was very well-behaved and quiet. Despite a horribly crooked beak, he is an exceedingly handsome fellow, and charmingly friendly. He perched on my hand to eat seed and was very contented hopping about in my wardrobe this morning. It was a comic delight to have a house pet, even for such a short time.

Yes, sadly, Perrouche took off this morning after breakfast, just as the sun was beginning to melt away the cover of grey clouds. I still imagine I hear his enthusiastic chirping from my balcony, but he has truly gone.

I hope he is a happy wanderer, living la vie bohème of Paris, dropping in on girls all over the city's rooftops every evening and then brazenly taking off after breakfast without so much as a 'bisous'. I've left some seed out on the balcony in case he ever passes this way again. Farewell, Perrouche!

PONT DES ARTS

2011-08-17T12:43:00.000+01:00

Wearing vintage hat, belt and shirtdress and Tory Burch platforms

photographed by Audrey

It's been exactly a week (to the hour) since I arrived in Paris. Just another moth of the fashion/literary species to that ever burning flame of this rose-yellow city. It's a surreal time to try and get my bearings - August congé takes no prisoners, and most of the locals have escaped to the beaches or beyond until the end of the month. Until then, I get to enjoy blasting my music as loud as I like with the balcony doors open and walking about my apartment in various states of undress until my neighbours return. It was hard for a die-hard maximalist such as myself, having to set off for the world's most glamourous city with a capsule wardrobe of miniskirts, silk blouses and plates* for work and no room for fur stoles, over-the-knee leather boots or huge floppy hats which make up a core part of my wardrobe. However, tant pis, I already stand out like a sore thumb here with my penchant for bright colours and my lack of interest in jeans so perhaps I will leave the bold and the beautiful for London's eye's only.

Wardrobe issues aside, how could I not be better suited to a city in which it is cheaper to wash your hair in champagne than in shampoo, where there's a magazine stand at the corner of almost every street and it's appropriate at all hours of the day to sit with your colleague, smoke, have a beer and watch the world go by...

*flats à la Alexa Chung

JAZZ

2011-08-16T19:49:00.001+01:00

Bedouin Soundclash play Cockpit in Leeds May 2011 // Kate Woods on the other side of the lens // Ready // Cityscapes, Edinburgh // Me at Christchurch College, Oxford in July // Edinburgh's Royal Mile

REFRACTIONS OF MEMORY

2011-08-13T18:38:00.001+01:00

Photographed by my brother, I'm wearing my favourite leather jacket from my favourite vintage shop on Brick Lane, vintage halterneck from Armstrong's Vintage Emporium and €1 skirt from Paris.

I didn't dress constructively that morning. The weather was unusually (for an Edinburgh summer) balmy and my brother and I were going to walk into town to see a Fringe show. It was to be my last day in the UK before I left for Paris the next morning. Looking at those snaps now, there is something more poignant in my choice of garments that morning than the weather. From my subconsicous I had selected the jacket I bought the summer I lived and worked in London (where I am coming from), the top I picked up at my favourite shop in Edinburgh (where I call home) and the sunshine skirt I bought this March over Paris fashion week (where I am going). As it turned out, my friend's comedy show wasn't on that day so we took a turn around the newly renovated National Museum of Scotland, half-looking at the exhibits but mainly being distracted by our running debate on the fast-approaching economic and cultural death of the United States. We spontaneously met Kate Woods for 'my last pint' at a pop-up bar venue in the crude, gaping hole of a building which had burned down in the centre of town a few years ago. Wild buddleia plants have softened the scars on the exposed brick, and draped with fairy lights and cheerful Kopparberg umbrellas there was something charming and innovative about the place. Suddenly I felt an overwhelming déja vu: I was not in Edinburgh but back in Brooklyn, where I have spent occasions over two summers in the last four years, drinking cider in the sun in abandoned basketball lots or primary schools. Then yesterday evening in Paris, as Audrey and I were crossing the Seine from the left bank to the right, I noticed for the first time the padlocks on le Pont des Arts (just like the heart-shaped tiles which adorn the chain-link fence on 7th Ave and 11th St in NYC), forever clinging to that bridge of love, as a lasting tribute to a summer or perhaps, more romantically - a lifetime of memory. As I walked past I thought of those who return here, many years later and see their padlock still clinging, and the memories come rushing back.

Such are the machinations of what Proust called the refraction of memory. Not a chronological stream but a looping, fluid vision of memories linked by essence rather than substance, whether involuntarily triggered by an outfit, a padlock or some exposed brick on a sunny day.

THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH ROSES

2011-08-12T10:31:00.003+01:00

Hamish Bowles paints the beautiful, personal picture of the wedding of the year in the September issue of US Vogue, accompanied by the as-yet-unseen photographs by Mario Testino. 'The Other Kate' this year was married in the public eye surrounded by dignitaries and dames, not friends. However our Mossy - the last of the English roses- was the star of an elaborate festival of love, in the company of high-spirited characters on her wedding day, and didn't we all wish we could have been there to see it.

Read Hamish Bowles' full account here.

"A week before the nuptials, Mario Testino is photographing Kate’s wedding portfolio (she has shifted her date from Saturday to Friday to accommodate his schedule, reasoning, with a model’s canny logic, that the ceremony will last minutes but the photographs will be forever)."

"The dress is spangled with tiny golden paillettes (Jude Law will ask him how on earth they are sewn on); in Galliano’s narrative it is as though the scullery maid had picked up milady’s fallen sequins to spangle her own dress. The skirts are symbolically licked with the beaded plumes of a mythical phoenix, “delicate and defiant, like Kate."
“She dared me to be John Galliano again,” the designer tells me. “I couldn’t pick up a pencil. It’s been my creative rehab.” “I wanted it to be kind of dreamy and 1920s, when everything is soft-focus,” says Kate. “The Great Gatsby. The code name was GG for a while. That light and that kind of fun decadence. It’s rock-’n’-roll Great Gatsby!” "When Kate appears in her Galliano finery, with her flotilla of bridesmaids and flower girls in their Bonpoint dresses, there are wolf whistles and applause in the church. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” says Bella Freud, “like she just walked through some fairy garden and came out clad in that. It’s exquisite.”"Just before she sets off, Kate requests “a few words, a story to inspire her—she loves a bit of direction!” says Galliano. “I told her, ‘You have a secret—you are the last of the English roses—and when he lifts your veil he’s going to see your wanton past!’ ""At a quarter to five Kate reappears, looking like a Pre-Raphaelite wood sprite in the diaphanous silk-tulle 1930s wedding dress that Katy England found for her bachelorette party, and proceeds to execute an exuberant tango. Everyone’s mother is still on the dance floor. (At her bachelorette weekend, “my mum was the last to leave,” says Kate, laughing. “The last man standing, my mum was!”)
At six in the morning a china-blue dawn rises over the fields that seem to be littered with exhausted revelers, like the aftermath of a medieval battle."

SECRET GARDEN PARTY

2011-08-07T16:12:00.000+01:00

Welcome to the fairground you never went to as a child.

You are advised to be excellent to each other.

I'll let my photos do the talking, but I will say is this - Secret Garden really is a party, and not a festival. You don't go for the music -there's plenty other festivals for that- you go for the aesthetics, and the sheer exuberance of your surroundings. It is a world beyond words; at every turn there is something to catch your eye, either beautiful, strange or unexpected. It is simply a feast for the eyes, and a celebration for all things you probably enjoyed as a child: dressing up as a tiger, swimming naked in a lake, writing silly letters and sending them by 'post' to your fellow Gardeners, crawling through tunnels to enter obscure theatre productions, climbing the treehouse at the Artful Badger stage and swinging from rope swings to land with a thud in the bar area. Secret Garden is unique in that it pushes creative expression and silliness ahead of 'big names' and profit.

Here are a few things I learnt from The Garden.

* A tent 6ft deep in pillows and duvets and 50 docile bodies will awaken into a pillow-fighting arena as soon as the Lion King theme tune is played at full volume.

*You can never be too 'fancy-dressed'. Bring your own antlers, leopard print lycra onesie, drummer boy hat and fur coat next year.

*The 'S&M' and 'Kissing' tents are merely a euphemism for what really lies within. Caution advised.

*Riding the circular swings late on Sunday afternoon after 4 days of physical insanity isn't as bad as you though it would be.

*Bring your own inflatable boat

*An oversized jetty on a lake in Cambridgshire can easily be mistaken for, if not improved on, a pool party in Ibiza. Just add Jamie Jones.

*The proximity to the nearest Tesco makes day trips by boyfriends reasonable enough to demand delivery of fresh melon and red velvet cupcakes.

*Always say 'Yes'.

PEACH BEACH DREAMS

2011-08-04T08:35:00.000+01:00

My beautiful friend Sophie and I celebrating her 21st birthday on Portobello Beach, Scotland after a perfect balmy evening of champagne and ceilidh dancing. Sophie's regal gown is from Mango, mine is vintage from Armstrong's Vintage Emporium. Shortly after these shots were taken the dresses were off and we were in the sea (we're Scots, there's no such thing as cold water).

Happy 21st my darling!

PHOTOGRAPHY LESSONS

2011-07-31T21:31:00.000+01:00

“Black and white are the colors of photography. To me they symbolize the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is forever subjected.” – Robert Frank

Photographs taken of me by my Dad with his Leica, while I struggled to capture the dog with my Lomo. There is a contrast created with a Leica camera that is replicated in no other. There are no 'grey' areas. If only real life was that simple.

FOR THE LOVE OF YVES

2011-07-31T21:06:00.000+01:00

Any long standing readers of mine will probably have picked up by now that I have a huge reverence and preference for the late Yves Saint Laurent, for his gift for luxurious glamour and for how he revolutionised fashion as we know it, forging a bridge from the realms of elitist haute couture to the dressing culture inspired by the street : pret-a-porter as we know it today. In Paris in March, I went to see the retrospective Rive Gauche exhibition at the Fondation Yves Saint Laurent - Pierre Bergé on Avenue Marceau, where 70 of the designer's iconic looks from his 'glory days' between 1961 and 1978 were on show. These were the clothes for women who were independent, active and living during a time of social revolution which inspired them to not just dress, but live entirely differently to the generation before. Saint Laurent's Rive Gauche collections weren't just more accessible and more affordable than couture, but more practical too. Safari suits, Le Smoking, trouser suits and long loose skirt shapes were his signatures that appealed to the youthful woman with a bohemian yet modern edge.

Photos were prohibited at the exhibition (unfortunately, so was trying on any of the looks, funnily enough) but the room was alive with colour from the midnight indigo blue to rich sandy mustard hues, and my favourite exhibit was a display case of Moroccan jewellry in heaviest silver, enamel and coloured stones. One could have imagined Loulou de la Falaise elbow-deep in chunky bracelets and silver rings, once upon a time running about the very same building we stood in.

Sadly the exhibition has now closed (I could have written this earlier, I suppose) but the book accompanying the exhibition is available to buy online.

La Vie en Mode

Because I have no gift-shop self control, I started my own small collection of Yves Saint Laurent 'Love' cards. Yves designed a small poster every year and sent out cards to his nearest and dearest as a New Year's greeting. 1978 and 1993 were the only years he did not send cards, referring to these occasions later as 'years without love'.

"Nothing is as beautiful as the naked body. The most beautiful garment that can clothe a woman is the arms of the man who loves her. But for those who do not have the chance to find that happiness, I am there."

RED DRESS

2011-07-28T09:21:00.001+01:00

The generous souls at SoFeminine.co.uk recently gave me £50 to style a 'bargain' outfit with. Faced with a glorious summer's day in London, I went for this vintage red minidress (from Rokit, £25), vintage snakeskin belt with silver buckle (Beyond Retro, £9) and wide-brimmed straw hat (Beyond Retro, £16). Then, as if I wasn't fitting enough blogger stereotypes, I put on my JC Litas.

PS. If you hear that Special K are looking for a new face, please do get in touch.

photos by Kate Woods

NEW IN TOWN

2011-07-27T00:35:00.001+01:00

The August fashion issues are often overlooked; the trend-heavy September bibles are on their way and everyones gone on holiday to Ibiza or Mustique or ...Tresco. But I find the August magazines are often rich in quirky, trend-free editorials, like this one in Vogue Paris featuring a shabby Sasha Pivarova channelling a cross between Edie Beale and Charlie Chaplin's Little Tramp (not to mention rich in 80s Madonna references). Sasha could be a struggling intern, relying on a trusted charity shop mannish coat and turned-up mens' trousers and vintage sunglasses to create her look.

The term 'trend-free', or the tried and tested 'style-over-fashion' motto has always been in my greater sartorial interest. I despise the cultural and ecological wastage of much disposable high-street fashion, prefering to buy second-hand clothes of higher quality that I could never afford brand new. I treasure these one of-a-kind pieces year in and year out, and because of the superior materials, they never decay into a misshapen lump of polycotton misery. This quality concept is also on the mind of Tom Ford, I was pleased to read today in Grazia in an interview about his own label womenswear collection.

"These are clothes that are made for women who appreciate the quality [...] They may have a vintage piece of their mother's alongside something from this season and favourites from past seasons. This is how the wardrobes of the women whose style I most admire work. [...] I don't want to be reviewed. I don't want the press to criticize me for not doing a new skirt shape if last season's skirt shape still looks great."

Yes, Tom. And 'hooray' for perennial skirt shapes.

CARELESS TWITTER COSTS LIVES

2011-07-19T09:19:00.000+01:00

Wearing vintage Bogner silk shirt, my Mum's; Zara skater skirt, River Island sandals, Prada fringed bag

On Brick Lane, London, eerily quiet on a summer weekday. Went with a heart full of hope and a clean notebook to see the Freerange exhibition at the Truman Brewery only to find it was closed on Tuesdays. I consoled myself by eating a cherry rum lolly and running up the teeniest of tiny bills at Rokit and Beyond Retro respectively. I will always have a place in my heart for this mile square of East London; my affections warmed in the summer I lived in a concrete flat with a cracked roof terrace on Bethnal Green Road aged 18, whilst working in the fashion department at Vogue. Sundays spent wearing platform sandals and drinking Desperados at Ninety feet East. Admiring stolen bicycles. Tipsily shopping for stir-fried vegetables on the walk home along baked pavements.

If you had a chance to see Freerange, do pass on your superior knowledge.

photos by Kate Woods

A SUNDAY COCKTAIL

2011-07-17T14:56:00.001+01:00

What has been inspiring me this week:

1. Frida Kahlo's use of bold, brilliant colour against dark hair and eyebrows

2. The perfect summer outfit via Tobacco&Leather

3. Studying a map of my soon-to-be new stomping ground - Paris

4. A painting which caught my eye and pulled at my heart at the BP Portrait Award exhibition at the National Gallery - Venus as a Boy by Wen Wu

5. This shot of Arizona Muse in August's Vogue UK which cements the hype, as well as a newfound respect for pairing rust red with cornflower blue.

6. Impressive lighting over the dancefloor at As You Like It, Newcastle.

7. Guerilla art has been taking over monuments and stairways in Edinburgh over the last week

8. Interiors which meld fashion, colour and a taste for great art to effect

9. Clusters of hanging lanterns

10. I take off my hat to purveyors of the effortless, smoulderingly sexy sophisticated look, for example Charlotte Rampling

THESE BRIGHT YOUNG THINGS

2011-07-13T23:19:00.002+01:00

When the lovely folk at Jersey Pearl gifted me the gorgeous 2-metre strand necklace from their Twenties collection (worn above with faux pearl and diamanté necklace from Martine Webster), I knew within a second the perfect occasion for their début: A prohibition-era themed country party. Our 'speakeasy' was a spectacular barn, and everyone seized the occasion in costume - I've gotten so into the fancy dress party trend now that I always get a little disappointed if there isn't one.

I've read and re-read Evelyn Waugh's Vile Bodies and the Fitzgerald novels enough times to develop a serious desire to host my own Bright Young Things party for many moons now, and Ned & Jamie's prohibition soirée (wrong continent, right epoch) was the best opportunity I've had to indulge in my Gatsby's party dream, complete with genuine classic car.

There is something so inherently sophisticated about wearing pearls, especially real pearls (they're my first!). My Jersey Pearls have a sublime lustre to them and are beautifully strung and knotted in silk. I'm bewitched.

www.jerseypearl.com

EIGHT x PALLADIUM

2011-07-12T20:31:00.003+01:00

Dress 3.1 Philip Lim Leather jacket Balenciaga Headband fleamarket Pallabrouse boots by Palladium

A short while ago I blogged about Palladium's 'Explorer' videos, and the hidden gems idea has been playing in my mind ever since. Having received my own pair of Palladium boots (thanks to Vice magazine), I set off determined to document my own city's hidden gems. Edinburgh is home to me for several months of the year and as undoubtedly one of the most touristy cities in the UK, its many more thoughtful, quietly beautiful or hidden - dare I say 'darker'? This is a city with grim history after all - spots are overlooked.

That's all very well said, but with the boots on and all, I got so distracted testing their incredible versatility and extreme-sport mode that I got completely carried away climbing on things. Next thing you know, I'll be attempting parkour.

So 'Edinburgh's hidden gems' will have to wait for now. I'm completely besotted by my boots.

And to prove just what a jovial effect the boots had on me, click here to see a photo of me wearing a candy floss moustache.

photographs by Kate Woods follow her blog HERE

OXFORD KIMONO

2011-07-10T10:03:00.004+01:00

Wearing Topshop kimono, Zara skater skirt, River Island chain sandals and felt hat and vintage broderie anglaise top from Armstrong's Vintage Emporium. Pearl rope necklace courtesy of Jersey Pearl.

Earlier this week Kate and I made the kind of spontaneous trip you can only make when you find yourself with a good friend, at a mischievous loose end with a shiny car that doesn't belong to you parked in the driveway outside. I had never been to Oxford before, and why not continue my tour of Brideshead Revisited sets which began in May with my birthday at Castle Howard? A sunny afternoon in July is not the ideal time to visit the university town if you're looking for the genuine Oxford experience; thousands of foreign tourists on walking tours moved in swarms around the colleges, peering in through latticed glass window panes and up dusty staircases. Not that Oxford doesn't still bewitch in the late afternoon sun- my God is it beautiful - that perfect blend of classical and Georgian architecture in the warm sandstone pillars and domes rising above cobbled quadrangles or terrazzas. Too poor to punt or to lunch, we took to walking the streets with a bag of apple bonbons, dodging bicycles and mormon gangs (you get all sorts here, you see) and being chased by a shuffly old man round a rose garden.

Photographs by Kate Woods and myself

OH HANNELI!

2011-07-09T16:17:00.000+01:00

Dear Hanneli,

Could you be any more dreamworthy?

This girl is absolutely killing it - and how we love her for it.

Hanneli.com

TWENTY-ONE AND UP FOR FUN

2011-07-08T16:24:00.002+01:00

MY 21ST BIRTHDAY PARTY

I'd had my heart set on a bollywood themed party ever since I travelled to India at 18. I bought the pink and cerulean saree in Dehli and have kept it neatly folded in a drawer ever since, awaiting its occasion.

Three months of solid planning did I invest in this endeavour, and when the date finally rolled around, I couldn't quite believe it was actually happening. Guests came from far and wide to Edinburgh: London, France, Italy ... I can't tell you how touching it is when you see someone arriving in full regalia with a big grin on their face. It absolutely poured with rain for days before and for the duration of the party, and 15 minutes before my guests arrived I was up to my elbows in mud, desperately trying to salvage what remained of my set-up for a 'garden' party and on my knees in darkness in the tent, re-fusing a lighting rig damaged by rain. I've never gotten ready quicker in my life - 3 and a half minutes - a new record!

I was completely overwhelmed the whole night: by everyone's costumes, by the divine presents (including my beautiful Taj-esque cake hand baked by my sister) and the divine presences of people who have meant the world to me the last 21 years. Ten hours disappeared in a bottle of Cobra beer and a waft of incense (I still had time to fit in an outfit change of course) and I woke up the next morning thinking 'Oh...it's over!' and wished I could do it all again, and pay better attention this time.

photographs by David Hall
The Indian tent is handmade in Rajasthan, provided by Delightfully Lavish Events. I would wholeheartedly recommend.

THE SUN ALSO RISES

2011-07-08T14:26:00.000+01:00

The sun rises over Glastonbury on the morning of Friday 24th June 2011.

Sometimes the most memorable moments are not those spent being crushed at the front of a large stage, watching your favourite bands most pure imperfections roll over you and five thousand others. Sometimes the most memorable festival moments are those shared with a group of hospitable strangers, over gin and tonics in dented plastic cups at 6 in the morning, in the dressing room of a travelling variety show.

Yes, the sun also rises. I am back blogging now, I promise.

PRETTY LITTLE THINGS

2011-06-30T20:52:00.001+01:00

Alexander McQueen clutch bag - 21st birthday present from my Mum

Extremely extremely limited edition book - Grace Coddington's finest editorials for Vogue. Homemade elderflower champagne brewed for my 21st by a family friend.

One of my favourite Helmut Newton shoots (I first saw it blown up full size at a Newton retrospective in Berlin several years ago) features Grace herself

Antique birdcage which has spent many years greedily taking up space in my small bedroom.

The complete book of Fortune, found in a basement bookshop in Edinburgh's Old Town. Turquoise pendant necklace was given to me by one of my greatest friends for my 21st birthday. It has a secret compartment for forbidden treasures.

Incense sticks, my Great-Grandfather Thomas Roy's satchel, and book Bazaar Style - perfect for justifying my chaotic interior styling.

A selection of books given to me for my birthday, including Vogue Style published in 1979, documenting British Vogue from 1910-1978. Silk kimono from Topshop (I know, right?)

Silver tea set found in a skip - three hours on the silver polish and these fellows came up smiling.

MIDNIGHT IN MOROCCO

2011-06-15T10:54:00.001+01:00

You are cordially invited to

Lulu Wimbush's Midnight in Morocco party

Wilderhope Manor, Shropshire

SUPER SEVENTIES

2011-06-10T18:15:00.000+01:00

I'm re-reading The Beautiful Fall by Alicia Drake, the account that charts Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent's rising stars in the late 60s and 70s in Paris, the antics of their muses and their notorious parties. It has recaptured my love for decadent 70s all over again, and now that I'm going to a midnight in Morocco party tomorrow night, I'm wholeheartedly embracing Loulou de la Falaise's exotic look. Over Paris Fashion week, Audrey, Maria and I went to the YSL retrospective at the Fondation Pierre Bergé, and Audrey and I were intoxicated by the display of seventies YSL jewellry inspired by, and most likely sourced in Morocco. Huge silver plated bangles with turquoise and amber stones, tribal neck plates and glorious rings. Unfortunately we couldn't take any photos but the designs will stay in my head forever.

Loulou de la Falaise, Yves Saint Laurent and Betty Catroux 1977

SHEEPSKIN TEARAWAY

2011-06-06T23:05:00.001+01:00

Kate Moss by Alasdair McLellan

i-D Winter 2010 The Back to The Future Issue

I dreamt last night I got chatting to Kate Moss backstage at Glastonbury. Then I started reading back issues of i-D in tribute to a great friend who just got a job there, saw this editorial and decided that this is how I am going to dress at the festival this year.

Fishnets, sheepskin and ideally, those sunglasses.

I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH JUDAS, BABY

2011-05-30T21:18:00.001+01:00

I hate goodbyes.

I hate goodbyes to people.

I hate goodbyes to rooms.

But most of all I hate goodbyes to great people, in great rooms.

Photos by myself and Michael Stephens

Goodbyes are the worst. I can't even bring myself to write, I'm just too sad. But let's say that my last night out in Leeds was made a lot sweeter by the presence of two great party guests: longtime soul sister and the girl I love to see wearing all the clothes I buy which are too small for me, Kinvara, and my disco-poppin' Judas baby, Michael.

Oh, and hair rollers are my new favourite.

GO EXPLORING

2011-05-26T18:36:00.000+01:00

Everyone should have a trusty pair of boots to hand. You know the ones. Well-worn, well-loved; they have as many great stories of their own to tell as you do. They took you to all those spontaneous community centre parties with beer-stained floorboards, they took you to the top of that huge (you believed) hill in the Yorkshire dales, they took you down countless airport corridors and to summer festivals near and far. There's a romance about boots. What can be more liberating than the power to go anywhere, explore far and wide, with your trusty boots on?

Palladium's boots couldn't have come into my life at a better time. My summer will be spent between Glastonbury, Secret Garden Party and a lot of pavement pounding in Paris, when I can't wait to spend every waking hour exploring the districts of my new city. Palladium's series of Explorer videos are really worth a gander; Berlin, London, Detroit and New York among other cities are shown in a new light as residents share their favourite hidden gems and great spaces of historical or architectural wonder which are veiled from common view. Having spent the last two years in Leeds at university, I'm days away from leaving and am suddenly getting that wrenching feeling that I haven't done enough exploring. Even at the end of my road, is a huge abandoned redbrick girls school that I should have investigated, camera (and boots) in tow, not to mention the children's psychiatric institution at Adel which has lain empty for over 20 years but is still intact with furniture and belongings. Don't make my mistake. Do it now. Put on your boots, and go exploring...

XOYO

2011-05-24T20:59:00.000+01:00

XOYO's 'Royal Rave' on the 28th April was a pitstop on my whirlwind party tour of the south last month, and it was a delight to catch up with favourite London faces Nadia FrouFrouu and Guy.

OH STOP IT. I'm ashamed of even using the words 'party tour' and 'rave' since Kavos '08 but exceptions can be made for a national event that was the Royal Wedding. Water pistols, union jacks, 90s drum and bass and er...Budweiser, the American lager, all made for a a groovy warm-up party to kick off the serial champagne-glugging that was to follow the next day. I actually really regret not blogging at least something from Kate & Willz' big day, since I was a near-hysterical fan of the whole furore, but sadly it was back to Leeds and straight into exams and no time at all for Royal fashion gossip.

A/W 11 DAVID KOMA

2011-05-23T15:12:00.000+01:00

BODY GEOMETRY

At David Koma's catwalk show back in February, geometrical dot art juxtaposed with a svelte silhouette and poker straight hair fell somewhere in between Japanese minimalism and 60s pop art. 2 and 3 dimensional circles, in electrically-bright fur or cutaway shapes brightened sculptured pencil skirt dresses, all in black, whose density suggested an armour. For Koma's woman, the Autumn/Winter look is fierce and demands attention, but also protection from her clothes.

SATURDAY BREAKFAST

2011-05-14T09:40:00.000+01:00

Film stills from Breakfast at Tiffany's and Funny Face. The latter has a tedious storyline but is an aesthetic smorgasbord of 60s fashion and Paris couture. Not to mention the opening credits directed by Avedon. Wish I had time this morning to languish in bed and watch either.

LE CROW

2011-05-11T09:02:00.001+01:00

I love Paris in the springtime.

I love Paris in the fall.

I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles,

I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles. - Cole Porter

Photos by Maria McMenemy [Whiplash] Hanging off the balcony at the Frassy Haus in the 6eme with Audrey, the pair of us looking like velvet silk crows.I wear Frassy Spheres sunglasses, Christopher Kane for Topsop riveted body, Zara skirt, vintage robe, Prada fringe bag and Jeffrey Campbell platforms.

THE VEIL

2011-05-09T22:25:00.000+01:00

Photographs by Holly Falconer via People in London

Meadham Kirchhoff's A/W 10 collection has bewitched me for over a year. It was crazy and fantastical and fun, it shouted a defiant "Uh...and what?!" to trends and Arcadia Group rip-offs, and it summarises everything I adore about fashion. And veils. Let's talk about veils. The veil, in my eyes, is completely underrated. Unless you're a conservative muslim woman living in France, and in your case, it's now as controversial as crack. Veils have become a symbol of oppression, of suspicion. Of course, there is a vast difference between a burka and the Meadham Kirchhoff veils, but overall, the veil is a garment which has completely disappeared from the western wardrobe. Even most wedding veils no longer cover the face, and if they do, they're more of the the net-cloth-over-a-cakestand variety. Diane Pernet and Lady Gaga are the only two women I know of who rock the veil. The veil used to be a symbol of female power. To wear a veil was to communicate to others that your beauty was of such high regard, of such exclusivity, that one had to earn the privilege of witnessing it. Such mystique, such medieval mischief is in these sheer garments; just the right amount of opacity to conceal, yet keep admirers guessing. Yes, there is something distinctly spectral in these models' appearance, but it is a commanding presence that they conjure. You can't fail to attract attention in a hot pink mantilla trimmed with lace, can you?