Looks from (top row) John Rocha's S/S 08 catwalk show at the BFC tent and (bottom row) Basso & Brooke's S/S 08 catwalk show at the Louise T Blouin Institute, at London Fashion Week.
What's black and white and bored all over? John Rocha's S/S 2008 show. In contrast to my trumpeting in the last post of the return of colour, Rocha showed a structurally dull collection barely enlivened with the few dashes of colour on show. The predominant palette of black, grey, linen and cream might have worked on outlandish or desirable pieces, but a basic black cotton shift is only really desirable when it's on sale at H&M for a tenner. The one high point came in the form of a dark turquoise liquid leather coat (shown above), which whilst totally covetable wasn't gasp-out-loud waiting-list-worthy.
Basso & Brooke more than made up for the disappointments earlier in the day, despite forcing us to trek from sunny South Kensington out to an industrial estate in the middle of nowhere (Shepherd's Bush). A sunny weekend had given way to freezing cold weather and the crowd outside the show was furious to be kept waiting in the street when they could have been safe in the confines of the BFC tent, but those of us lucky enough to score front row seats (i.e., me) were ushered into the inner sanctum straight away to pounce on our goodie bags. Thanks to L'Oreal I'm now the proud owner of 2 eyeshadows, 2 lipsticks, the entire De-maq Expert range, Elnett hairspray, spray-on fake tan and some sort of weirdo collagen wrinkle filler. Sometimes dashing across London on three different buses in four inch heels is totally worth it...
The goodies put everyone in the mood to be nice about the collection, but bribery was unnecessary: it was stellar. Highly structured cocktail dresses with boning and stiffened fabrics were overlaid with waves of chiffon, folded to flatter, all in Basso & Brooke's signature prints. Floor-length competed with cocktail competed with sporty competed with body-con: the bubble hem seen at the previous day's Eley Kishimoto show popped up again, and the sporty-style hooded and drawstringed styles were again in evidence.
Sadly Nicole Farhi's show (which finished barely an hour ago -- if this computer were a press this entry would be hot off it) could be summed up in far fewer words: "blah". Ply us with champagne and canapes beforehand all you like Farhi, nothing will get me drunk enough to think that cheap high street-style gap-year-in-India cotton prints on elasticated dresses are a good idea. Photos not yet up but after tomorrow's shows I may post a couple.
As autumn rolls around, so do Spring Summer fashion shows, designed to taunt you with lovely summery clothes that you won't be able to buy or wear for another six months. Luckily at London Fashion Week on Saturday Ben de Lisi was on hand to show a series of dresses no-one in their right mind would lust after, thus sparing the fashion pack from dramatic sighs and desperate attempts at time travel. Instead we sat happy in the knowledge that we have a full season of delicious winter tailoring ahead, all dark looks and 1940s styles, before we have to contend with what next spring apparently has to offer.
From just two shows seen so far -- Ben de Lisi and Eley Kishimoto, it seems safe to say that colour is back, in a big way. You know how the fall fashion issues of all the glossies triumphantly trumpeted the return to tailoring and an end to oversized smocks and babydoll dresses, no more footless tights and back to body con? Yeah, that's not going to last long -- the one saving grace of the return of the smock / tunic is that for next year, a touch of body con has carried over, so we're no longer looking at shapeless sack dresses: clever details in the cut, together with subtle pleats or darts, give a waist and silhouette to even the most oversized dress.
Okay, so spring and summer have always been about dresses anyway, but Eley Kishimoto's offerings last night, in their collection titled 'Village Fete', were predominantly loose smocks, oversize tunics worn with bubble-hemmed skirts, and flowing, voluminous fabrics. All in eye-watering prints - a touch of leftover nu rave seemed to have influenced some of the dresses, with fabrics printed in giant chain designs in hot pink and neon green; whilst others were straight of 1970s Laura Ashley-ville (but in a cute way). The florals worked best -- everything from a wartime kind of print reminiscent of winceyette pyjamas, to flocked wallpaper styles -- as anything in neon right now just seems so wrong.
Ben de Lisi meanwhile seemed convinced that what we all want to wear is a long-sleeved all-over-sequinned horizontal rainbow striped dress, which makes me wince to type - imagine looking at the thing. There were also one too many minidresses adorned with giant sequin discs, a look last seen in Austin Powers, where it should have stayed. (I'm not this designer's biggest fan.)
But off the catwalk, and in reality, most of the colours shown so far have been bright, but flattering, and nothing perks you up after winter like a pop of colour. Remember last winter's palette of grey and navy resulted in the neon explosion? Luckily this winter is less bland, with plums and muted jewel tones, so the necessary post-winter colour explosion is similarly muted -- it doesn't need to be neon to make its point.
So although Eley Kishimoto did show those pink/green dresses, the real stand-out pieces were in chocolate brown silk, dove grey polka dots, mustard or rose pink prints, or a classic 1970s orange/chocolate/blue floral -- think your granny's tea-tray and you're close:
Looks from Eley Kishimoto S/S 2008 catwalk show (top row), and (bottom row) Ben de Lisi S/S 2008 catwalk show, both at the BFC tent at London Fashion Week.
I actually really adore the Eley Kishimoto stuff -- it's cutesy yet quirky in that slightly Luella way, I think. They really got it spot on with their show title -- it is very village fete. Those old-fashioned florals make me want to get my baking on and win a rosette (something they adorned some of the dresses with!), but there are enough modern twists to make it clothing not costume. I especially like the way they play with volume and silhouette to almost reverse-emphasise the waist: the bubble/gathered hem on most of the skirts plus the tunics that kick-flare at the waist creates an unusual apple silhouette, emphasising legs and shoulders as body con and leaving the torso uncluttered.
More updates live from London Fashion Week until Thursday; right now I'm off to John Rocha and later Basso & Brooke.
Two days in, and a week that started as a slightly safe, if chic, trip down memory lane with Paul Costelloe and Caroline Charles revisiting the ladylike portions of the 1960s (think Jackie O, false eyelashes and swinging coats rather than, well, swinging) has taken a turn for the bizarre (as London always does) with Manish Arora's tour de force of a show, which finished barely an hour ago. (When I say hot off the press, I mean HOT -- I have dashed from the catwalk to my keyboard to file this story.)
Paul Costelloe's show yesterday was, as stated, safe and chic, but still divinely wearable. The clothes may have been sent down the catwalk layered over gold spangled long-sleeved bodystockings, but it doesn't take much imagination - or sense - to remove the gold bodystocking portion of the look and stick to the classic silhouettes and fabrics he showed. Hemlines had dropped to the knee in this collection, and shapes played it safe with classic A-line shifts being the order of the day rather than the "sack dress" styles we have seen elsewhere.
It was a fairly colour-free collection - the occasional tomato red or hot pink trench seemed oddly out of place amongst the muted browns and golds - but the soft colours matched the classic designs perfectly.
Caroline Charles' show opened similarly with swingy coats and a Jackie O retrospective feel (even the soundtracks to the two shows could have been the same), which is to be expected from a designer who first came to prominence in that decade, but somewhere along the catwalk we went from oversized A-line satin dresses in jewel tones, accessorised with PVC headbands anbold, round earrings; to looks that can only be described as "Russian funereal chic". Nothing ground-breaking, daring or fashion-forward, but plenty of classic pieces for those who love an easily wearable capsule wardrobe. I particularly enjoyed the opening series of babydoll dresses, and later, the richly coloured satin shirts styled with loose velvet trousers.
Ben de Lisi followed, and I refuse to comment on it because I don't believe anyone wants to wear a 1980s prom nightmare cocktail dress in velvet and taffeta, unless I'm judging fashion's pulse entirely incorrectly... (Although there was one look, the floor-length blich pink tulle-and-chiffon evening dress, that was just perfect, if safe. When it's right it's right, and when it's wrong, well when it's wrong it's a velvet, lace and taffeta shiny leopard print combo that no-one should have to see or wear.)
After such inaspicious beginnings, I was concerned London was starting to play it safe. Would Gareth Pugh renounce his previous collections and show us a series of tame cocktail dresses? Was Giles Deacon going to send chic, simple gowns down the catwalk? Was Christopher Kane's bubble finally going to burst, a year after graduation? Thank goodness then, for Manish Arora. Where Sunday had run a bare 15 minutes behind schedule - yawn - this show started an hour late: the first signal that the week had found its feet. The tent pulsated with excitement - it was the first time the tent had been truly packed, and the first time any designer had made use of the mirrorball...
The mirrorball span...the lights went down...the music (pumping house, hardcore nu rave, banging beats) kicked in...and the models stepped out.
Imagine, if you will, dropping acid and watching Pucci on crack, and you're somewhere in the vicinity of the riotous colour and panache of Manish Arora. Models sported straight-fringe bobbed wigs in tomato red and lime green...except those in glittered skullcaps with bejewelled foreheads. Bat-wing satin blouses in gold-and-black zebra prints were worn over leather or PVC leggings; whilst the ubiquitous 1960s A-line tunic dresses took a turn for the psychadelic with lime-and-black prints, multi-coloured metallic designs, or appliqued metallic shapes.
All of these looks were, strange as it seems, utterly wearable. (Okay, perhaps the lime green puffed Bacofoil coat with hood would seem out of place at the supermarket, as might the fitted futuristic leather-and-mesh fighting shirt.) Nothing was skintight except leather and PVC leggings, but these were designed to be worn under flattering tunic dresses and not on their own. Dresses were neither skintight nor baggy - nothing is less flattering to the plus-sized woman than the "cover it all with an oversize kaftan and hope for the best" look. It makes all of us look like sofas, sofas under dust covers at that. These dresses were loose to be sure, but they had a shape to them.
Even the leather trousers - an item one usually associates with skintight, when one isn't busy associating them with ageing hipsters and rocker dads who should really know better - were styled loose and pleated, draped and folded to flatter the curve of the leg, and let the skin breathe. Madames Gres and Vionett would have been proud. 1960s babydoll dresses proved to be a running theme, but here they were so much more exciting. Where Costelloe and Charles played the retro theme safe with classic colours and retro accessories, Arora opted for modern fabrics and near-garish prints, taking the babydoll into the 21st century and beyond.
TFFF welcomes the newest member of our team the divine Olivia, reporting straight from London Fashion Week, giving us the scoop on all things Brit. Here she sounds off on British Vogue's response to the skinny model debate.
Vogue vs. Logic by Olivia
So farewell New York Fashion Week, and hello to Le Fwuh, as I am so wittily calling LFW. We kick off on Sunday with Paul Costelloe , the off-schedule kicks in on Monday, and Marc by Marc Jacobs sees us out next Friday. London has three free daily newspapers and all the national papers are based out of London, so naturally with Fashion Week around the corner the size zero debate is gearing up for round two and we are surrounded by headlines and debate.
Vogue (UK March issue) has a six-page feature on the issue, which prevaricates between admitting that the industry is deeply flawed, and pretending like everything's okay because fashion is their business, and it is a business .
On Wednesday we saw that even famous faces are not exempt from the problem. When one talks of models and eating disorders and dying from being too skinny, one thinks of the more anonymous models, ones that the fashion-obsessed might know of but Joe Public can't put a face or a name to. The average girl can't name a Luisel Ramos or an Ana Carolina Reston until they see the names in a news story on model deaths. However they can probably recognise, if not name, Natalia Vodianova, Daria Werbowy, Gemma Ward and Lily Cole because they have contracts for major perfume, beauty and high street campaigns that reach even the non-fashiony person. If 'name' models haven't the power or status to be whatever weight they care to be, what hope less powerful models? The only possible exception is Kate Moss, but she is an exception to just about every rule.
Kate will never die from being too skinny. She might die from: cocaine / Pete Doherty contracted STDs / exhaustion / overexposure / choking on her own vomit, but not from starving herself. She is by no means a healthy woman nor one with a high BMI. But she's also Kate Moss. Her nose is caving in; she lost every contract going after her nose candy parade; she is not looking good; she's phoning in her recent campaigns and yet...mo' money is not leading to mo' problems with La Moss. She's untouchable, and should any designer be fool enough to say "Katie, honey, lay off the pies would you sweets?" she could have them killed.
At a recent London College of Fashion debate chaired by Alexandra Shulman, featuring Roland Mouret and Lily Cole, the subject of "zoinks -- models sure are thin!" arose. Mouret explained that in a catwalk show, to ensure nothing distracts from the clothes, the clotheshorses have to be uniform in size and appearance. (Hence the identical hairstyles and make-up looks designed for a show.) I can understand Mouret's point, but why must that uniformity be based around thin?
There is a certain impact to be had with uniformity. Remember this?
Linda. Cindy. Naomi. Christy. Same size, same shape…supermodels. Just watching this video shows how strange and unattractive size zero really is. Viva la 1990s!
One of Vogue's arguments is that designers simply can't afford to make more than one size of each sample. Let me just dissect that for the bullshit that it is:
ONE. If you can barely afford to make samples, and are making just one of each look, why must the sample size of choice be a 2, 4, 6, 8 decision? Alberta Ferretti makes sample clothes in a UK 10, US 6. I'm fairly certain the fabric of society (and her clothes) has not been torn asunder by this and designers could go further and make 12s or 14s. (I'm talking in UK sizing here.)
TWO. If we're talking haute couture and the gown is sewn by blind seamstresses in Paris ateliers out of woven unicorn hair and gilded with the tears of orphans, perhaps you can only afford to make one.
But I've seen a lot of sample clothes. (See, stroked, coveted, contemplated stealing.) Very often, extraordinary design aside, they are ordinary. Worn by model after model after model and steam cleaned daily and flown hither and thither, within a few weeks they begin to disintegrate. They are made for two shows, a dozen shoots and a few personal appearances, not for sale.
Samples are sturdy, but -- crucially -- not precious. The finished clothes may end up costing $7,500 in the shops but the sample is not worth that money. Yes, it costs more to make two. But that cost is: (a) not twice the cost of the finished product when it becomes available to buy, because that's not how samples work, and (b) what cost is worth women's mental and physical health?
THREE. Since for most fashion houses the clothes do not make the profit -- it comes from the key-chains, the bags, the shoes, the perfumes -- losing a little money on a sample cannot reasonably make a difference. Launch a diffusion perfume and bang! money recouped.
FOUR. New designers are sponsored by enterprises like Lulu Kennedy's FashionEast or Topshop's NewGen. If corporations are prepared to pay to put on a show, they should be prepared to pay for as many sample sizes as it takes. Topshop makes a mint out of its associations with high fashion and new designers; they have the cash to splash to make larger samples. They owe it to their customers.
Vogue says: "Hollywood should ask itself about the body image it promotes and the size it insists upon; yes, magazines such as Heat are unhelpful; yes, there is a hypocrisy when newspapers moralise about the dangers of skinny models, only to print photographs of them at their skinniest, alongside purposefully unflattering pictures of celebrities who have put on weight". It goes on to point out that Vogue does not employ models who are under 16 and thus haven't reached their adult weight. In other words: look, we made a concession! And say, lookit all these other factors we can blame! Vogue rulez ok! Etc.
There is certainly more than one factor to blame, and we have all learned new ways of seeing, unconsciously or not, from magazines and television, that make certain healthy sizes look 'fat' to us, and we have to unlearn these. But aside from who to blame and why this is happening, I have another question. Not "why thin?" or "why fat?" or "who's to blame?". But this: why women? London Fashion Week begins tomorrow. Let's see if it brings any answers.
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