Lanvin playing cards

 Whilst on James' blog (see below), i saw these incredibly cool Lanvin playing cards.
$85 maybe, but Ace none the less.

House of Voltaire... Miu Miu... Fistful of Mercy

Last Friday night was rather a bizarre evening as I ran around town to events which couldn't have been less connected to one another. Still, they were all wonderful in their own way.

First up was a trip to House of Voltaire, a pop up shop run by contemporary arts organisation Studio Voltaire above Rupert Sanderson's shop on Bruton Place, in Mayfair which sells affordable contemporary art by names including Ryan Gander and Linder. I've been there several times since it opened in November and there's an ever changing selection of amazing prints and print collections, plus various art objects (bags, a suit made from fabric which looks like bricks, dog bowls, tea towels - all designed by artists). Every time i've been i've loved the Richard Nicoll and Linder collaborations, including this bandanna.

Next up, I nipped just round the corner to meet the delectable Sophie de Rosee and head to the opening of the new Miu Miu shop on the corner of Bond street, a visual treat if ever there was one, and i don't just mean the juicily coloured patent bags, glittery vertiginous heels, and apple and heart print shirts, dresses, earrings and belts (as modelled below)... literally I've never seen such HOT WAITERS. it was enormously distracting. in a good way, obviously. they even took attention away from the array of stars who rocked up - from Harry Potter kids to Jessica Alba,  Chloë Grace Moretz (A.K.A Hit Girl) and the glitterati of the fashion and design worlds - Katie Grand, Tom Dixon (and pup) et al.  Prior questioning and research into the proliferation of similarly dishy waiters at glitzy fashion and art events reveals that apparently there are waitering agencies where the higher your hire fee, the hotter the hands who help. literally. Good to know.

Finally i ended up in Koko to see Fistful of Mercy, a band comprised of Dhani Harrison, Ben Harper and Joseph Arthur. Their troubled emotional rock tinged with a soulful country flavour and mellifluous, yearning vocals strangely rather makes one want to be heartbroken the intensity is so all-consuming - hardly surprising given that more often than not there are 3 acoustic guitars and 3 male harmonies thrown in to the mix.  I love the title track Fistful of Mercy as well as  Things Go Around.

Janelle Monae

I went to see Janelle Monae at the Shepherd's Bush Empire on Sunday. She's completely incredible - lungs like bellows and a natty sartorial style - she's a monochromatic, sexy, pixie-like teddyboy-tomboy, with a quiff to die for and super cute dance moves. She's playing at The Roundhouse in March. The song Tightrope rocks big time.



Vintage at Goodwood

Festivals where people wear heels are my kind of festivals. the scales first fell from my eyes about the sartorial prospects and potential of festivals when I went to Lost Vagueness (the burlesque, cabaret and period fashion inspired off-shoot of Glastonbury) about 5 years ago. Heels rather than wellingtons just make everything better. the end. and if there's a tea dancing tent where you can be spun round by a dashing gentleman in vintage army uniform, so much the better.

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Vintage at Goodwood was awash with vertiginous heels, not to mention beehives, 1940s curled hair, seamed tights, billowing skirts with colourful frou frou petticoats, nipped in waists and red lipstick; men decked out in three piece suits, trilbies, canes, and twirled moustaches; teddy boy clobber or mod-ish garb. 'Vintage' being a loose term, there were quite a few looks; it was bizarre - punk-inspired mohicans bobbing up and down to the music in front of mothers in 1950s prom dresses jiggling their babes in arms. but so much fun to both watch and be a part of.

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Everyone gathered round 1950s camping vans, war-era style tents serving cream teas, queued to have a period make-over at the beauty parlour, or skated round to 1980s tunes at the roller disco. As well as about 5 music stages, there were fashion shows and make do and mend sewing classes. In truth, on a sunny Sunday, it felt like a very jolly, very big fete. NB if you are driving from London, via Guilford and Petworth, it is the most glorious drive (and thus makes for a great day trip) - reminds you of why people used to 'go for a drive'. if you had a vintage car it'd be heaven. I'm seriosly considering going down for Goodwood revival in September, for the vintage car racing.

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Highlights for me were twofold. the first was listening to The Puppini Sisters; their coquettishly zesty cover versions of songs, from Tu Vuo Fa Americano to Beyonce's Crazy in Love are both sparklingly witty, brilliant adaptations and bursting with fruit flavour (of the flirty, teasing variety). I've been a fan since they released their first album about 4 years ago and live they were a million times better. You want to tap your foot, then jig about, then dance, then dance with someone - and be spun around vigirously, and then perhaps thrown in the air and caught. One of my favourite songs has to be Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights. amazing.

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Lastly, there was the shopping. hours i could have spent trawling through the tents of vintage clothes. and i did, eventually coming away having frittered away most of my month's salary but having several jaw-dropping finds... including a floor length, strapless 1950s taffeta pale grey ballgown - the tight corseted top drops into a gorgeously flowing, twirl-me-about-on-the-dance-floor full skirt. heaven.

Sex and The City 2

Even though i enjoyed Sex and The City 2 in the main, and there were some genuine laughing, gasping and shock moments, it left me feeling a bit depressed, it has to be said. Of course it was always going to be fun to watch, but it feels a bit desperate. everything that was originally sparky and cool about each of the characters has been transmuted into caricature - played out with zero subtlety or originality. they are parodies of themselves. Neuroses, sexual voracity, ambition become cardboard cut out characters, and it grates. it's not that I'm being a kill joy - it's just genuinely annoying. It's panto, which is fine in one way i suppose, but the reason the series was so great was that it was nuanced, wryly observed. i wanted to stand up and shout - God! not all women are like this, believe me! it just felt a bit cheap, tacky, heavy handed, with some casual racism thrown in for bad measure. some bits i literally couldn't watch i was so embarrassed. it was pun-tastic - worse than a Kathy Lette novel where you fall over several puns in every sentence. some puns in this were genius. some fell so flat you could hear them smack to the floor.

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then there are the costumes. the fifth star. ludicrous doesn't cover it. it's like every scene is set up so they can have multiple costume changes and can make wow entrances a quatre. what begins as familiarly fabulous, swiftly slides in to the ridiculous. ballgowns in souks and stilettos in sand don't rock - it reeks of look-at-me desperation.

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funnily enough, the stand out one of the four leads is Miranda, whose wardrobe is the most stylishly eccentric without being garishly outre and whose character has the most fun - grabbing the holiday spirit by both hands, refraining from leering at the conveniently placed man-candy, and who evolves in a way that's surprising and rewarding.

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Obviously I'm longing to talk about the plot - but i won't spoil it by revealing anything.

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One last point - the series is called Sex and the City. The city was seriously overlooked, and missed, in this film.

Grace Kelly

There are some lovely dresses in the V&A's Grace Kelly exhibition, there's no doubt, but I'm not sure anything (apart from some extraordinary headpieces she wore for the lavish costume balls she revived as a fixture on Monaco's social calendar) really wows. The collection on show takes key items from her wardrobe as an actress, both on screen and off, and charts her sartorial evolution into a princess - via her wedding, trousseau, pregnancies, state events and grand parties. Accompanying pictures show her looking undeniably amazing in the dresses, it's true, but she wears the dresses, not they her. The fashion houses of Madame Gres, Givenchy, Christian Dior all feature, but there's nothing stand out showstopping - you're never left slack jawed with awe at any single outfit. She favoured fairly demure, simple dresses, with devil in the detail so that her beauty was the main event. The dresses alone seem quite ordinary without her bringing them to life.

She did, however, seem to have a sense of playfulness which she unleashed in her accessories - imaginative hats and fabulous turbans, colourful glasses and giant sunglasses (she was one of the first to pioneer glasses as fashion accessory, being very shortsighted and keen on being able to actually see, and wanting to accessorise her glasses with her outfits) surprisingly eccentric brooches and curiously patterned shoes. and then there's the bag. the 'it' bag to end all 'it' bags, which is a legacy in itself. I say no more...

Why Don't You Love Me?

It is quite impossible to say HOW MUCH I LOVE BEYONCE'S LATEST VIDEO, Why Don't You Love Me? How could you not, indeed, love her in that get up, which pretty much epitomises how I'd like to dress if i a) had a hairdresser and stylist to hand to primp, preen and curl me every morning b) had the legs. in the unfortunate absence of either, i make a not inconsiderable nod to the 1940s and 1950s (high waisted sailor trousers and scarves in my hair the latest obsession) - but clearly i have some catching up to do on the underwear front. strangely enough, Tesco, yes Tesco, are doing a range of 1950s siren-inspired underwear this summer - screamingly cheap and insanely stylish - think big pants with printed front panels (colourful leopard print, a rose motif), and bra tops which have serious support and extend down reaching somewhere between the waist and the usual body strap of a bra, with matching printed panels. sound heinous, look deliciously sexy, trust me. basically exactly like Miss Knowles is sporting here, a la Betty Page. Available from June, they promise me.

Kick Ass

Fucking Volcanoes. Not a phrase i though I'd be saying unless it was some fabulous new expletive affectation or other. that was until the Icelandic volcanic eruption stopped me from flying to New York for a weekend of hedonism. sob. I've been saying it a lot since about 8am on Thursday.

Anyway, after a super fun trip to Heathrow terminal 3 and back again with a bag so heavy it almost snapped my spine in two and squidged next to a drunk man who was asleep with his mouth open and snoring, the only option following the airport's closure seemed to be to drink copious bottles of wine in the sun, followed by a trip to see Matthew Vaughn's film Kick Ass, the story of geeky Manhattanites playing at being super heroes - mostly with hilariously limited success, but sometimes fricking rocking it. Anyway, the upshot of this was that i now have a new icon/crush: the 11 year old superhero Hit Girl, tag line “I Can’t See Through Walls. But I Can Kick Your Ass” which seems pretty cool to me. Her kick ass attitude and wickedly comfortable familiarity with ferocious expletives is nothing short of perfection. My hair isn't too far off being a purple bob either, so I'm theoretically on my way to a stylistic homage.

My stonking crush on screenwriter Jane Goldman (wife of Jonathan Ross) has also gone stratospheric. I cannot believe how unbelievably hot, sassy and damn cool she looked at the film's premiere - wearing a dress (below) that epitomises everything fabulous about fashion. i actually went in and lovingly stroked it in the Vivienne Westwood shop on Conduit Street this very Tuesday. then I threw up at the £800 price tag. 'want' is not really enough of a word to cover how much i need to own this dress. This is what my dream self (at least) will be wearing for the foreseeable future... so if you meet me in my dreams, be prepared to be wowed.

Icon

Nemesis

Hero

Dream Wardrobe

Quilts

Hannah reminded me this morning quite how fabulous the Quilts exhibition is at the V&A. I went to it a few weeks ago, strangely enough, dressed as her, for a feature we are doing on swapping wardrobes. the usual skyscraper heels, 1950s dress/1940s pencil skirt and red lipstick and nails for that night was swapped for tweed plus fours, a stripey jumper (I'm allergic to stripes usually) woolly tights and clogs. I knew she would love it, and not only because i was dressed as her that night.

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It's not only the skillfulness and visual impact of the quilts on display which impresses, but the emotion that you can feel has been poured into them - whether they have been created as a means of creative rehabilitation (for contemporary prison inmates or 19th century injured soldiers), to maintain the craft (by 1920s W.I members), to make a political point (as Grayson Perry makes about abortion), to commemorate a historical event, or, practically speaking, to make a living. one of my favourites (above) sees a women sew historical scenes into her 19th century coverlet, into which she also sews images of herself - you can imagine she would be the sort of person who now might copy herself into a picture of Gordon Brown and Obama having a chat and hold rabbit ears over their heads. but cooler, obviously. some of the very old quits also seem incredibly chic and contemporary; this is about as far from twee as you can get, which, i'll be honest, surprised me.

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Surprisingly and utterly captivating. It's on until 4 July.

Alice in Wonderland

I enjoyed Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, don't get me wrong, but I can't help feeling that the furore surrounding it has somewhat eclipsed the film itself. Fashion's gone Alice bonkers, Robbie Williams' new video has a white rabbit theme going on, Mad Hatter Tea Parties are being thrown left right and centre, shops from Claire's Accessories to Selfridges have wondeland pop up shops Below are some of the things that have caught my eye, possibly slightly more than the film itself, which, while it didn't bore at all, didn't really live up to expectation either. and, dare i say it, the 3-D thing - events on screen just stick out a bit. so what? surely something more could have been done with the technology?

Still, the film... Brilliantly epitomising the curious innocent, Mia Wasikowska plays the now 19 year old Alice, who returns to 'Underland' in an altogether darker tale that's Return to Oz meets The Neverending Story by way of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe: a shadowy evil has settled over this once-wonderous land, and Alice, the chosen saviour in the vein of a St George/Joan of Arc hybrid, must save it from eternal doom and restore goodness by battling the bastard child of Alien and Predator: The Jabberwocky...

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Given that the Underland framework sees Alice being proposed to in the buttoned-up Victorian era, it's not a giant leap to see the situation in Underland as metaphorical underground battle -ie a battle under her petticoat. The Red Queen, of hearts, a sexualised being with a big red head who controls the reptilian jabberwocky Vs The White Queen, who doesn't like pain, and is white and pure and would much rather study potions than take part in any heated physical activity. There's even a ferocious feline Bandersnatch who chases Alice, scratches her and makes her bleed but which she then tames (by returning his eye to him). Down in Underland Alice has an awakening, and she emerges only to run away from men. Enough said. (A lesbian fable! that would have been so much more fun. perhaps she and Anne Hathaway as The White Queen should have got it on.) But that might be sexing it up a bit much. or not. i sort of had to though, because there's not quite enough going on otherwise to get your teeth into (though it is undeniable lavishly gorgeous to watch, and The Red Queen's court could keep you entertained for hours admiring the intricacies of the heart motif). Still, the strangest hint of sex really happens between the mad hatter and Alice, between whom there's some definite flirting. it's weird. specially weird is the hatter's jubilant dance - the flutterwhack (or something), which sounds distinctly like another kind of physical activity that begins with an F the first time you hear it and which, when you see it enacted, involved flailing limbs to rubbish music (like many a deflowering i imagine).

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Curious. refocus on the merch, i say...

Eat Me Biscuit Necklace, £35, Anna Lou of London

T-shirt, £24.99 by Junk Food at Jukupop

Tea towel, £10, To Dry For


Porcelain Keys, £7.25 from Nonesuch Things.


Mouse's tail bag, £8.99, ICA


Queen of Hearts Dress, £69 Vivien of Holloway

Alice pocketwatch, £32, Etsy

Cushion by London Kills Me, £19, Rockett St George

Drink Me Necklace, £30 Tom Binns for Disney Couture http://www.truffleshuffle.com/

Apron, £15, Not On the High Street

Stripey Long Socks , £6.50, wonderland.claires.com

Pocket Watch necklace, £24 Urban Outfitters

Tights i am currently coveting

Both Daily Candy and The Cool Hunter have the right idea. These tights by Les Queues de Sardines are right at the top of my wish list this week. on sale in Fortnums, which is handy as i work right opposite.

I Heart Atalanta's Shoes

Atalanta has New Gen sponsorship again! the British fashion council love her AND SO DO I. I ordered these shoes in orange from a preview a few weeks ago. I especially LOVE the python skin detail on the back of the ankle lip.

Alexander McQueen

Alexander McQueen has launched an online shop. Excellent - this means i can fantasize about what delectable items i might buy without even having to pop next door (it's my neighbour at work and i have been known to go in in my lunch break to try on dresses i couldn't possibly dream of buying). Top of my list is this Rose Victorian Tailored dress - a snip at £2,275, or the Bird Print Funnel Neck dress for £2,970. Now all i need is a spare 3 grand to fritter away.

Karen Elson

Is anyone else LOVING Karen Elson as the face of John Lewis? i am. i am. i am. and so is Hannah. do you remember when KE first sprang on the scene and everyone thought she looked like an alien? it was the same time they said Erin O'Connor (now the face of M&S lest we forget it) looked like a Belsen victim. what an ABOUT TURN. love it.

Blitz party

Well, there definitely wasn't any sign of wartime austerity at The Blitz Party, and thank the lord for that, though everything else was perfectly in place at the themed WWII party in shoreditch. i drank copious amounts of the most amazing cocktails - the best of which was a champagne, vodka, elderflower and lemon juice concoction which got me drunk, dancing to the big band music and leering over men in second world war uniform in a major way (no discriminating between army, air force or navy, don't fret). thankfully sandbags were everywhere which protected me from laddering my seamed tights as i careered into the exposed brick and low arches when being spun about to the music by dashing soldiers (on leave one supposes) - jolly lucky. revellers had pulled put all the stops, the women's 1940s curls, slashes of vermilion lipstick, polka dot and floral tea dresses and fur stoles more than matching the jaunty trilbies, dapper suits, braces and twirled mustachios of the men, with nurses in bloodied aprons sartorially pitted against soldiers on crutches. and lest anyone lose perspective, silent 40s films were projected onto the walls, filling the room with agonising parting embraces and troublesome flights over enemy territory. super.

a turquoise make do and mend

I was visiting my parents last night and decided to strip down to my tights and underwear and model the swimsuit i nabbed from work. not quite sure whether it was what they expected after dinner, but still. anyway, in the process of jamming my oversize breasts into the fifties-esque costume, i broke the seam stitches on the halterneck. with a flourish my Ma produced myriad green to blue via turquoise threads. how fantastic are they? all sewn up i returned home only to try it on again and repeat the saga. there's nothing like learning a lesson and living out a deja vu.

Shoes Shoes Shoes

Sunday chez Atalanta has involved much trying on and cooing over the shoes she designed for Henry Holland's latest catwalk show for A/W 09, which took place last tuesday in Quaglino's. Apparently Kanye West was in the front row, and when Estelle's American Boy came on, he started rapping along. Insane. Anyway, back to the shoes... they manage to be smooth, curvy and feminine, but also kick ass and sexy. Daringly mid calf, in bold, block colours, the leather goes up the back of the calf, but loops round the front, in several rings. The wedge platforms sweep in from the heel of the foot, narrowing until the sole, with the line from the foot edge to the ground angled inwards slightly, which means when you turn the shoe upside down and look at the sole, it's kind of a spade shape, but with the spirit of a heart - a spade but somehow more sultry and alluring. they make you want to walk in wet sand wearing them or traipse though mud and then through the house - just so you can see the seductive line of the footprint. and of course they make you want to strut with serious attitude. with their soft leather, straps, fuck off height, punchy colour and great curves they (and the shoe versions) have the chutspah of a catsuit (for feet) and channel Zena Warrior Princess and Emma Peel. so fucking cool.