Amelia’s Magazine | Swatch True Colours – A look at the entries


Illustration by Gareth A Hopkins

Well things haven’t changed for me much over the last twenty years. I yearned for a Swatch watch when I was a boy, mind decease and I’m yearning for one now. I never actually got one – well, sickness visit web that’s what happens when you’re brought up in a mining village and there are more important things in life, here prostate like food, for example. Anyway, who cares? Swatch have recently launched their New Gent collection – a painfully sophisticated selection of watches for gentlemen who appreciate a discreet, slick timepiece with style.


Illustration by Antonia Parker

To celebrate the launch (and promote it, of course) the Swiss watchmakers have collaborated with some of the biggest fashion magazines to pitch stylists, photographers and fashion editors against each other. The result is a fabulous selection of shoots, published in said magazines, with readers given the opportunity to vote for their favourite.

Without any particular brief, the results are breathtaking and very, very different. Here’s a round up of my faves:

Wallpaper*

Wallpaper‘s ‘Hanky Panky’ shoot is inpired by the plight of 1970s gay casual-sex seekers to find an ‘appropriate’ match. A fascinating subject, I have actually no idea what the different placements mean (honestly, guv’nor – but Wikipedia does throw some light on the situation) but the team at Wallpaper, overseen by fashion director Sebastien Clivaz, have used the phenomenon to great effect.

This gent, on the left, apparently is a submissive gentleman who is fond of sexual practises such as fisting, piercings, S&M, military sex and masturbation only (somebody needs to make his mind up, love…) You can’t go wrong with a bit of camp cowboy styling.

Open Magazine

I love love love Open Magazine’s vibrant colours and hint of eroticism. A pair of flexible friends writhe on top of each other in various poses (but this ain’t gymnastics).

The watches on the models go unnoticed, but this is rectified with backdrops of said watches, blatant in the background. And if that girl can really get a Swatch around her neck, she needs to eat more.

Vice Magazine



In a shock move, Vice‘s entry is a little subdued, but I love their stark shoot featuring up-and-coming musicians. Lots of different photographs feature, from different angles, with Jeremy Shaw, Polina Lapkovskaja and Hugo Capablanca sporting a couple of watches each…

Cleo Magazine


Cleo’s option makes great use of wonderful illustrations. Chiho’s dreamy water-colours envelop their models, blending with body art influenced by the magazine’s Singaporean roots, photographed by Skye Tan.

Tom Magazine


Tom’s quirky offering is all about food. 6 models are pictured gorging on a selection of East Asian treats whilst nonchalantly wearing a variety of the watches. I really like the candid format and saturated colours of Dean Lee’s photographs.

WAD Magazine


I love WAD‘s quirky and eccentric shoot, featuring modern gentlemen in a mix of twee tweeds. These dandies wear a mix of Scandinavian and British tailored items. You don’t see much of the watches, but who cares? These photographs are great!

Kinki Magazine


Kinki‘s offering is probably the most unique, and utilises coloured powders that have been splashed all over models’ faces. It’s a really conceptual shoot and stands out from the rest.

ID Magazine


ID Magazine makes use of ‘streetstyle’ photography, using prolific fashion blogger Bryanboy and accessories designer Fred Butler as subjects. The layouts also feature this pair casually going about their businesses wearing armfuls of Swatch watches, as you do.

To see the rest of the entries and to vote in the competition, visit the Swatch website (where you can also check out some of the fantastic videos produced to accompany the shoots!)

Categories ,Asia, ,Bryanboy, ,Chiho, ,Cleo Magazine, ,Cowboy, ,fashion, ,Fred Butler, ,Gymnastics, ,Hanky Panky, ,Hugo Casablanca, ,ID Magazine, ,Jeremy Shaw, ,Kinki Magazine, ,Magazines, ,New Gent, ,Open Magazine, ,Polina Lapkovskaja, ,Singapore, ,Skye Tan, ,streetstyle, ,styling, ,Swatch, ,Switzerland, ,Tom Magazine, ,Vice Magazine, ,video, ,WAD Magazine, ,Wallpaper, ,Watches

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Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week S/S 2011: What were the boys wearing?

Illustrations by Jamie O’Callaghan

I’m a fan of small, store independent festivals and I’d pick one over Glastonbury any day. I’m not sure I can include Southsea Fest in that grouping just yet, pharm because, as one organiser said, “we’re not the Great Escape love”. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to rival the festival that’s just 50 miles along the coast, and that lack of ambition is just one of two things that holds the one-day festival back.

The other is the organisation. Mix ups over guestlists, disputes over whether or not I had a plus one and general waiting around meant that I missed the first band I wanted to catch, which was Revere. They played in the stunning Kings Theatre, and would probably have been my highlight of the day, if I’d been able to catch them.

Instead, I headed over to the Fat Fox to check out Real Fur but they were running late – over an hour late – although I was determined to not miss them. At this rate, I’d been at the festival for a couple of hours without hearing a single note of live music. When we finally watched Real Fur, it was definitely worth the wait. They’re a rock band that are so much more exciting live. ‘Pride’ was the standout track for me, but generally the feel of Real Fur is that they’re a jangly, dancy rock band with the odd harmony and, as much as I hate the phrase, a groovy vibe.

I caught Montage Populaire after and I really enjoyed their set. I had no idea they were one of the local bands booked, and spent hours trying to remember where I’ve seen them before. I failed, but I’ll definitely be checking them out in the future. They’re an art-rock band, and it’s easy to see why they’ve drawn comparisons with Los Campesinos and early Blur.

I watched a couple of local bands after that, before stumbling across the Ruskins doing a street gig to promote their set, which I went to. So did the majority of festival-goers judging by the size of the crowd. The lovely London lads managed a couple of songs in the street before some security guards made them stop, but inside Little Johnny Russells they managed half an hour of their ska-infused rock. It was refreshing to hear something that wasn’t indie or acoustic, as the lineup was pretty swamped with it.

The next venue was pretty hideous, but home to two of the most exciting bands on the bill. I got there in time for Let’s Buy Happiness; it’s always exciting to watch bands you know are destined for big things play such a tiny venue. The vocals are completely disarming, the music has this beautiful swaying rhythm and Let’s Buy Happiness produce the most charming pop songs that I’ve ever seen played in Portsmouth. They just got featured by the Guardian, so it won’t be long until the rest of the press begins to gush about them. They are truly spectacular.

Bright Light Bright Light played a set of electro-dance-pop that wasn’t too interesting, so I’ll skip over that bit. After came Islet, who I was crazy excited about catching. They don’t bother with the concept of a stage, preferring to swap instruments and drag them into the crowd. In fact, when one guy in the crowd reached out to touch a guitar, he was handed it. When he wasn’t sure what to do, the guitar was gently led back to the stage. Islet are pretty weird, but they’re unlike any other band I’ve seen.

When I listen I have this internal fight between feeling they’re some kind of Emporer’s New Clothes, art-school weirdness that people sway along to because they’re fashionable, and genuine love for their uniqueness. It’s tiring watching them jump around the stage, share instruments and howl, made all the stranger by the setting. They’re a band everyone should see, even if just for the spectacle of it.

The closing set came from King Charles, back at the Fat Fox. I’ve been listening to his music for a while, so to be able to watch him with a couple of hundred other people was the perfect way to end the day. The harmonies are even more heart-stoppingly beautiful, the guitar riffs that little bit more exciting and the drums that bit more frantic when played live and on a tiny stage. Easily the most captivating performer, King Charles literally didn’t put a foot wrong, performing every track note-perfect. He drew queues outside, the size of which I didn’t notice anywhere else, and showed every other band how it’s done.

If Southsea Fest had a little more ambition, if it could decide whether it’s a festival in Southsea or a festival with bands from Southsea, and if it could book the same quality of bands as this year, it could be popping up on many more radars at the end of next summer. All the elements of a successful festival are there, and hopefully the success of this event will encourage the organisers to step it up for next year.

Illustrations by Jamie O’Callaghan

I’m a fan of small, more about independent festivals and I’d pick one over Glastonbury any day. I’m not sure I can include Southsea Fest in that grouping just yet, because, as one organiser said, “we’re not the Great Escape love”. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to rival the festival that’s just 50 miles along the coast, and that lack of ambition is just one of two things that holds the one-day festival back.

The other is the organisation. Mix ups over guestlists, disputes over whether or not I had a plus one and general waiting around meant that I missed the first band I wanted to catch, which was Revere. They played in the stunning Kings Theatre, and would probably have been my highlight of the day, if I’d been able to catch them.

Instead, I headed over to the Fat Fox to check out Real Fur but they were running late – over an hour late – although I was determined to not miss them. At this rate, I’d been at the festival for a couple of hours without hearing a single note of live music. When we finally watched Real Fur, it was definitely worth the wait. They’re a rock band that are so much more exciting live. ‘Pride’ was the standout track for me, but generally the feel of Real Fur is that they’re a jangly, dancy rock band with the odd harmony and, as much as I hate the phrase, a groovy vibe.

I caught Montage Populaire after and I really enjoyed their set. I had no idea they were one of the local bands booked, and spent hours trying to remember where I’ve seen them before. I failed, but I’ll definitely be checking them out in the future. They’re an art-rock band, and it’s easy to see why they’ve drawn comparisons with Los Campesinos and early Blur.

I watched a couple of local bands after that, before stumbling across the Ruskins doing a street gig to promote their set, which I went to. So did the majority of festival-goers judging by the size of the crowd. The lovely London lads managed a couple of songs in the street before some security guards made them stop, but inside Little Johnny Russells they managed half an hour of their ska-infused rock. It was refreshing to hear something that wasn’t indie or acoustic, as the lineup was pretty swamped with it.

The next venue was pretty hideous, but home to two of the most exciting bands on the bill. I got there in time for Let’s Buy Happiness; it’s always exciting to watch bands you know are destined for big things play such a tiny venue. The vocals are completely disarming, the music has this beautiful swaying rhythm and Let’s Buy Happiness produce the most charming pop songs that I’ve ever seen played in Portsmouth. They just got featured by the Guardian, so it won’t be long until the rest of the press begins to gush about them. They are truly spectacular.

Bright Light Bright Light played a set of electro-dance-pop that wasn’t too interesting, so I’ll skip over that bit. After came Islet, who I was crazy excited about catching. They don’t bother with the concept of a stage, preferring to swap instruments and drag them into the crowd. In fact, when one guy in the crowd reached out to touch a guitar, he was handed it. When he wasn’t sure what to do, the guitar was gently led back to the stage. Islet are pretty weird, but they’re unlike any other band I’ve seen.

When I listen I have this internal fight between feeling they’re some kind of Emporer’s New Clothes, art-school weirdness that people sway along to because they’re fashionable, and genuine love for their uniqueness. It’s tiring watching them jump around the stage, share instruments and howl, made all the stranger by the setting. They’re a band everyone should see, even if just for the spectacle of it.

The closing set came from King Charles, back at the Fat Fox. I’ve been listening to his music for a while, so to be able to watch him with a couple of hundred other people was the perfect way to end the day. The harmonies are even more heart-stoppingly beautiful, the guitar riffs that little bit more exciting and the drums that bit more frantic when played live and on a tiny stage. Easily the most captivating performer, King Charles literally didn’t put a foot wrong, performing every track note-perfect. He drew queues outside, the size of which I didn’t notice anywhere else, and showed every other band how it’s done.

If Southsea Fest had a little more ambition, if it could decide whether it’s a festival in Southsea or a festival with bands from Southsea, and if it could book the same quality of bands as this year, it could be popping up on many more radars at the end of next summer. All the elements of a successful festival are there, and hopefully the success of this event will encourage the organisers to step it up for next year.

Illustrations by Jamie O’Callaghan

I’m a fan of small, there independent festivals and I’d pick one over Glastonbury any day. I’m not sure I can include Southsea Fest in that grouping just yet, side effects because, ambulance as one organiser said, “we’re not the Great Escape love”. I don’t think they’ll ever be able to rival the festival that’s just 50 miles along the coast, and that lack of ambition is just one of two things that holds the one-day festival back.

The other is the organisation. Mix ups over guestlists, disputes over whether or not I had a plus one and general waiting around meant that I missed the first band I wanted to catch, which was Revere. They played in the stunning Kings Theatre, and would probably have been my highlight of the day, if I’d been able to catch them.

Instead, I headed over to the Fat Fox to check out Real Fur but they were running late – over an hour late – although I was determined to not miss them. At this rate, I’d been at the festival for a couple of hours without hearing a single note of live music. When we finally watched Real Fur, it was definitely worth the wait. They’re a rock band that are so much more exciting live. ‘Pride’ was the standout track for me, but generally the feel of Real Fur is that they’re a jangly, dancy rock band with the odd harmony and, as much as I hate the phrase, a groovy vibe.

I caught Montage Populaire after and I really enjoyed their set. I had no idea they were one of the local bands booked, and spent hours trying to remember where I’ve seen them before. I failed, but I’ll definitely be checking them out in the future. They’re an art-rock band, and it’s easy to see why they’ve drawn comparisons with Los Campesinos and early Blur.

I watched a couple of local bands after that, before stumbling across the Ruskins doing a street gig to promote their set, which I went to. So did the majority of festival-goers judging by the size of the crowd. The lovely London lads managed a couple of songs in the street before some security guards made them stop, but inside Little Johnny Russells they managed half an hour of their ska-infused rock. It was refreshing to hear something that wasn’t indie or acoustic, as the lineup was pretty swamped with it.

The next venue was pretty hideous, but home to two of the most exciting bands on the bill. I got there in time for Let’s Buy Happiness; it’s always exciting to watch bands you know are destined for big things play such a tiny venue. The vocals are completely disarming, the music has this beautiful swaying rhythm and Let’s Buy Happiness produce the most charming pop songs that I’ve ever seen played in Portsmouth. They just got featured by the Guardian, so it won’t be long until the rest of the press begins to gush about them. They are truly spectacular.

Bright Light Bright Light played a set of electro-dance-pop that wasn’t too interesting, so I’ll skip over that bit. After came Islet, who I was crazy excited about catching. They don’t bother with the concept of a stage, preferring to swap instruments and drag them into the crowd. In fact, when one guy in the crowd reached out to touch a guitar, he was handed it. When he wasn’t sure what to do, the guitar was gently led back to the stage. Islet are pretty weird, but they’re unlike any other band I’ve seen.

When I listen I have this internal fight between feeling they’re some kind of Emporer’s New Clothes, art-school weirdness that people sway along to because they’re fashionable, and genuine love for their uniqueness. It’s tiring watching them jump around the stage, share instruments and howl, made all the stranger by the setting. They’re a band everyone should see, even if just for the spectacle of it.

The closing set came from King Charles, back at the Fat Fox. I’ve been listening to his music for a while, so to be able to watch him with a couple of hundred other people was the perfect way to end the day. The harmonies are even more heart-stoppingly beautiful, the guitar riffs that little bit more exciting and the drums that bit more frantic when played live and on a tiny stage. Easily the most captivating performer, King Charles literally didn’t put a foot wrong, performing every track note-perfect. He drew queues outside, the size of which I didn’t notice anywhere else, and showed every other band how it’s done.

If Southsea Fest had a little more ambition, if it could decide whether it’s a festival in Southsea or a festival with bands from Southsea, and if it could book the same quality of bands as this year, it could be popping up on many more radars at the end of next summer. All the elements of a successful festival are there, and hopefully the success of this event will encourage the organisers to step it up for next year.

Menswear day usually brings out the most stylish men, viagra dosage whether sharp sartorial, sickness post-punk or borderline ridiculous. Here’s a very quick look at what some of them were wearing for your delectation…

Love this Christopher Shannon print:

I love this guy’s boots. Bang on trend.

These AREN’T men – they are Amelia Gregory and Amelia’s Magazine illustrator Naomi Law!

Categories ,Clang, ,London Fashion Week, ,menswear, ,S/S 2011, ,sartorial, ,Somerset House, ,streetstyle

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Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week S/S 2011: What is everybody wearing?!


Illustrations by Yelena Bryksenkova.

The Orla Kiely presentation gets more popular every year and I’m sure it’s not just because they always have pastries there, tadalafil doctor no matter what time of day – our lovely illustrators were keen to draw her collection too and we didn’t even give them pastries. This year Orla dispensed with models entirely in favour of just having people who offer you food, for sale i.e. they’re playing to their strengths. Cardboard cutouts of the cute, this web preppy frocks are there but take a back seat – in fact I almost forgot to take any photographs of them but funnily enough took lots of the retro tubs of popcorn constantly on hand.

Eating the pastries turned out to be a rookie mistake as I instantly sugar crashed and was later found by a colleague slumped over in the press room using a bag of crisps as a pillow. But before I slipped into a sugar coma, I vaguely remember watching a video presentation (which you can watch here) that takes the very orange-and-brown-print 1970s style of Orla Kiely back a decade to the 1960s, specifically Swinging Sixties London.

It’s made by Gia Coppola, who is indeed related to those other Coppolas, although the vid is much more jaunty than The Virgin Suicides or The Godfather. Actually I haven’t seen those films (I know, GASP) but I’m guessing they are a tad more intense than a video of a smiling blonde lady running around town in miniskirts. Correct me if I’m wrong though.

I was underwhelmed by the video presentation to be honest but it doesn’t dent my love for Orla. In a season where everything is once again colourful and sweet as a cupcake on a stick (yes, they had these – whose amazing idea was it to put it on a stick?) I think the wave of appreciation for Orla has reached its frothy, bubbly apex and the label is being seen as less twee and more wearable by fashion types. It’s definitely for girly girls and you wouldn’t find one of its collared dresses or frilled bikinis in the same wardrobe as anything from Hannah Marshall, but variety is the spice of life and if everyone wore clothing inspired by the insides of squid etc. it wouldn’t look cool anymore so really the edgy people should be grateful to us. But ARE they? No.

Illustration by Krister Selin

Charles Anastase S/S 2011 collection saw a return to form after A/W saw the designer labours with last year’s experiment with deconstruction achieve mixed results – some were fantastic – where as others were clearly a struggle. This season saw a return to the pieces Anastase so exceeds at, and delicately polka dotted dresses were complete with Peter Pan collars.

Illustration by Krister Selin

For the dresses and skirts the designer experimented with hems of a varying length, shop none of which rose higher than the knee. A sense of femininity was maintained through the fit of the longer skirts, ambulance the modern bob and pretty pleats which adorned the sheer dresses.

Illustration by Krister Selin

A favourite piece was the dresses which came adorned in the Paul Klee style print which adorned the invite.

The colours remained blocky – a purple t-shirt adorned white trousers.

Drop hems and exaggerated collars.

Jaquard made is second apparence in an intriguing playsuit and ankle skimming trousers.


Weird glasses rabbit girl, sildenafil illustrated by Maria del Carmen Smith

The international fashion press often remark that fashion journalists come to London to see what the people on the street are wearing rather than what the models on the catwalks are wearing – and so with tremedous pleasure I present to you a (small) selection of peeps who I’ve spotted out and about so far. Some weird, sildenafil some wonderful. Some go for understated chic. I like. Some appear to have got dressed in the dark and warrant the NHS installing mirrors in all bedrooms. I like even more. I’ve also thrown a few celebs in for good measure.

Here you go! (Plays trumpet)

Love it:

Elle’s Alistair Guy:

LOVE this guy’s look. Oh, patient hang on a minute…

The rough one from the Sugababes (who actually looked gorge):

I like this guy’s scarf, a lot:

My pal, Hilary Alexander:

LOVE Brix: (but my love is conditional and if that fur is real, good riddance) It’s not fur! Thank you, Brix!


Weird pirate boy, last seen at the opening of 123 Bethnal Green Road, illustrated by Maria del Carmen Smith

This gal makes her own hats. Evidently:

Brix today:

These are both men.

Love this trousers:

A vision in blue:


Super chic girl, illustrated by Maria del Carmen Smith

LOVE this:

Oh pal. It looked so much better as a scarf. You wally.

SO chic:

What better way to finish than with a pic of Suzy Menkes, OBE? I LOVE her and her trademark pompadour do. I would do anything to give her a little squeeze.

Categories ,Alistair Guy, ,Brix Smith Start, ,Hilary Alexander, ,London Fashion Week, ,Maria del Carmen Smith, ,Papped, ,S/S 2011, ,streetstyle, ,Style, ,Suzy Menkes, ,Weird, ,Wonderful

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Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week S/S 2011: What is everybody wearing?!


Illustrations by Yelena Bryksenkova.

The Orla Kiely presentation gets more popular every year and I’m sure it’s not just because they always have pastries there, tadalafil doctor no matter what time of day – our lovely illustrators were keen to draw her collection too and we didn’t even give them pastries. This year Orla dispensed with models entirely in favour of just having people who offer you food, for sale i.e. they’re playing to their strengths. Cardboard cutouts of the cute, this web preppy frocks are there but take a back seat – in fact I almost forgot to take any photographs of them but funnily enough took lots of the retro tubs of popcorn constantly on hand.

Eating the pastries turned out to be a rookie mistake as I instantly sugar crashed and was later found by a colleague slumped over in the press room using a bag of crisps as a pillow. But before I slipped into a sugar coma, I vaguely remember watching a video presentation (which you can watch here) that takes the very orange-and-brown-print 1970s style of Orla Kiely back a decade to the 1960s, specifically Swinging Sixties London.

It’s made by Gia Coppola, who is indeed related to those other Coppolas, although the vid is much more jaunty than The Virgin Suicides or The Godfather. Actually I haven’t seen those films (I know, GASP) but I’m guessing they are a tad more intense than a video of a smiling blonde lady running around town in miniskirts. Correct me if I’m wrong though.

I was underwhelmed by the video presentation to be honest but it doesn’t dent my love for Orla. In a season where everything is once again colourful and sweet as a cupcake on a stick (yes, they had these – whose amazing idea was it to put it on a stick?) I think the wave of appreciation for Orla has reached its frothy, bubbly apex and the label is being seen as less twee and more wearable by fashion types. It’s definitely for girly girls and you wouldn’t find one of its collared dresses or frilled bikinis in the same wardrobe as anything from Hannah Marshall, but variety is the spice of life and if everyone wore clothing inspired by the insides of squid etc. it wouldn’t look cool anymore so really the edgy people should be grateful to us. But ARE they? No.

Illustration by Krister Selin

Charles Anastase S/S 2011 collection saw a return to form after A/W saw the designer labours with last year’s experiment with deconstruction achieve mixed results – some were fantastic – where as others were clearly a struggle. This season saw a return to the pieces Anastase so exceeds at, and delicately polka dotted dresses were complete with Peter Pan collars.

Illustration by Krister Selin

For the dresses and skirts the designer experimented with hems of a varying length, shop none of which rose higher than the knee. A sense of femininity was maintained through the fit of the longer skirts, ambulance the modern bob and pretty pleats which adorned the sheer dresses.

Illustration by Krister Selin

A favourite piece was the dresses which came adorned in the Paul Klee style print which adorned the invite.

The colours remained blocky – a purple t-shirt adorned white trousers.

Drop hems and exaggerated collars.

Jaquard made is second apparence in an intriguing playsuit and ankle skimming trousers.


Weird glasses rabbit girl, sildenafil illustrated by Maria del Carmen Smith

The international fashion press often remark that fashion journalists come to London to see what the people on the street are wearing rather than what the models on the catwalks are wearing – and so with tremedous pleasure I present to you a (small) selection of peeps who I’ve spotted out and about so far. Some weird, sildenafil some wonderful. Some go for understated chic. I like. Some appear to have got dressed in the dark and warrant the NHS installing mirrors in all bedrooms. I like even more. I’ve also thrown a few celebs in for good measure.

Here you go! (Plays trumpet)

Love it:

Elle’s Alistair Guy:

LOVE this guy’s look. Oh, patient hang on a minute…

The rough one from the Sugababes (who actually looked gorge):

I like this guy’s scarf, a lot:

My pal, Hilary Alexander:

LOVE Brix: (but my love is conditional and if that fur is real, good riddance) It’s not fur! Thank you, Brix!


Weird pirate boy, last seen at the opening of 123 Bethnal Green Road, illustrated by Maria del Carmen Smith

This gal makes her own hats. Evidently:

Brix today:

These are both men.

Love this trousers:

A vision in blue:


Super chic girl, illustrated by Maria del Carmen Smith

LOVE this:

Oh pal. It looked so much better as a scarf. You wally.

SO chic:

What better way to finish than with a pic of Suzy Menkes, OBE? I LOVE her and her trademark pompadour do. I would do anything to give her a little squeeze.

Categories ,Alistair Guy, ,Brix Smith Start, ,Hilary Alexander, ,London Fashion Week, ,Maria del Carmen Smith, ,Papped, ,S/S 2011, ,streetstyle, ,Style, ,Suzy Menkes, ,Weird, ,Wonderful

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Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week A/W 2010: Menswear Day: Streetstyle

Brogues, remedy bags and dickie bows…

Streetstyle1

Streetstyle2

Streetstyle3

Streetstyle4

Streetstyle5

Streetstyle6

Streetstyle7

Streetstyle8

Streetstyle9

Streetstyle10

Streetstyle11

Streetstyle12

Streetstyle13

Streetstyle14

Streetstyle15

Streetstyle16

Streetstyle17

Streetstyle18

Streetstyle19

Streetstyle20

Streetstyle21

Streetstyle22

Streetstyle23

Categories ,A/W 2010, ,London Fashion Week, ,menswear, ,Somerset House, ,streetstyle

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Amelia’s Magazine | Fashion in Berlin?


Illustrations by Daniel Almeroth

A surprisingly balmy (well, more about pill if 14 degrees can constitute ‘balmy’) evening at the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen beckoned me in last week, viagra 60mg where I was promised a chat with a local musician who goes by the name Dimbleby & Capper. If you’re wondering where the name comes from, then fear not, for answers to such puzzles (and a few more) about this East London-based songwriter and musical mage are coming up in the transcript below:

Hello.

Hello!

Laura…?

Laura. [nods]

Second name…?

Bettinson. With an ‘n’!

With an ‘n’… better write that down, actually. Occasionally I will have to write stuff down, I will warn you, because I’m really bad at names and stuff like that, I’ve got the tape recorder but… OK. I figure it’s best to start off by describing who you are. Y’know, what it is that you do [emphasis on ‘do’]?

Well, Dimbleby & Capper is…

Sorry, just to check – that is just you, right?

Yeah, well, it mainly is. It’s just a one-woman project, really, by myself. I started after moving to London to study for my degree at Goldsmith’s, and I started fiddling around with instruments, and before that I used to sing and play the piano, singer-songwriter stuff, but then got to London and realised that I can’t [a genuine chortle here] take a stage piano on the tube, and actually it’s far too expensive. So this developed as a way for me to take all my instruments with me, and at first I presented it in the same way, stripped-back and relaxed, but then I started messing around with electronics and sticking piano over beats. Then that started to get a little bit of presence on the live scene and we got some bigger shows, so I got in the band to help me, but [noise that can best be rendered in text as an unsure ‘ooer’] as it got more complicated than just me messing about and recording at home, especially getting other people producing me. It was when I asked myself if I was able to sing in a studio and I thought [long, drawn-out] no, I haven’t got seven million hands, so the band stuck then, so…

How many people is it now, then, that you’ve got?

It swings, sometimes it’s three people, and tonight it’s five people. It should be a five-piece, really, to have all the guitars and things.

I was listening to your EP…

Yeah?

Was really enjoying it, actually, especially the first track on there…

‘Slick Maturity’! Awful name, isn’t it?

Hah, yeah… Actually, I embarrassed myself in some e-mails, the first few I exchanged with Tasha [lovely PR lady] I was calling you Dimbleby & Crapper.

Oh, excellent. I’ve heard worse than that…

I said, “yeah, the music’s good, I just don’t understand the name though – surely that’ll put people off?” Where does the name come from, anyway?

It’s literally just, like, a name… I just needed something for a while. I didn’t want to put my own name on it because I’d been using that for a while for my singer-songwriter stuff. I hadn’t really figured out what I was doing yet but I sort of needed something, anything unrelated, really. It goes all the way back to the music, it’s very cut-up, and lyrically too I just pick words, shove them together.

Ah, Bowie did that a lot too.

Yeah, all that cut-up stuff. There’s not really… well, there’s messages, certainly, but it’s not that direct. I don’t just sit down and think the lyrics out – if I can’t write them instantly then I won’t write them at all, pretty much. I won’t just sit there for ages, overthinking things, which for me can be a bit of a nightmare when I take it to somebody else to mix they’re all a bit [a rising inflection on an ‘um-er’]. But that’s how it goes back to the name, the flip thing, the Dimbleby & Capper name reflecting that it’s almost like two different people.

You’ve talked about playing the piano, and you did some musical things before – when was that?

That was when I was about 16, 17, and before I moved to London, where I was did some singer-songwriter stuff…

That sounds almost, well, ‘refined’? Is that the right word? More thoughtful, perhaps.

Yeah, yeah!

So, Dimbleby & Capper – there’s the head of the singer-songwriter and the, um, soul…?

Yeah, well, people will put whatever they want sometimes, like ‘Myself & the Machine’ when it’s just me and a box on stage, where I’m just singing along to the noises coming out of this machine. A lot of people that was where it came from, but really, no [clicks her fingers] – it came out of thin air.

Alright. So who would you say were your… actually, no let’s go with what would describe your music as? I hate to categorise people, and it’s better when musicians describe themselves I reckon.

Essentially, it boils down to pop music. Dreamy electronic pop, and then there’s that rhythm aspect to it, with some quite heavy beats in there, and there’s also a kind of ‘world-y’ vibe to it with the tribal drumming.

You said you were studying at Goldsmith’s – what are you studying?

Music! It was great, three years of doing your own thing and having free access to a practice space, really great course. It’s where I met most of the band too. I could kind of entwine the demands of the course with what I was doing out and about in town, gig-wise, so it worked out perfectly.

How long have you been gigging around for?

Not too long, really. We started taking it more seriously when we got scouted at the Great Escape festival last year, around May or so. That’s when we started playing together properly as a band – before then it was mainly just me doing solo stuff. Our first show was actually here, around April… that’s almost the same time! Weird, how it’s been almost exactly a year.

What are your plans, release-wise? You’ve got that EP up online, is that coming?

Well, that was something we just had to get out when we found out were doing some Glastonbury slots on the BBC. We were on quite a lot, actually, which was nice, and they played ‘Slick Maturity’ quite a bit when we released that, so right now that EP is more of a reference point rather than a real release. People are asking at our shows why they can’t find us on iTunes, and that’s because we haven’t properly released it! I would like to re-release it on vinyl with a little indie label, but we still need to get the money together for that. It would be nice to get a record deal, you know, but right now that’s not too high on my list of priorities, but maybe to get some publishers involved would maybe be better in terms of being able to do this full-time. We’ll see, I don’t know what going to happen. We’ll put out another 7” again soon, though.

‘Slick Maturity’?

No, it’ll be one of the two new songs, we’ll play it tonight – maybe ‘Falling Off’?

OK. Shouldn’t you be heading onstage right about now?

Yes! Right, I’ll get off then…

At this point Laura gathered her things and headed inside, and I bumped into a couple of friends from the other side of the country. This was serendipitous for me, because I hate going to gigs on my own, and it meant I had somebody to mutter remarks to during D&C’s set. They were good remarks – one of my friends, his initial reaction was, “she’s definitely got something, hasn’t she? Can’t put my finger on it, but she’s got something…”

She has. She’s got a good set of lungs on her, her backing band are tight and have the stage act down sharp. They’ve all got these ghostly white beak masks on under their hoodies – when they gather around the Big Drum for some tribal action it’s no unlike seeing a bunch of spirit vultures circle their prey, the rotting carcass of people refusing to dance. Apparently the Hoxton B&K is a pretty A&R-heavy place at the best of times, but despite few people even daring to nod along the music was fresh and I could see the influences Laura talked about coming into the mix. On record her tunes sound similar, in a way, to Balearic beat bands around like JJ, yet live those heavy beats she says she loves are emphasised far more, turning her dream-pop into something closer to a weird laid-back IDM sort of thing.

Watch out for this girl, and her birds.


Illustrations by Daniel Almeroth

A surprisingly balmy (well, sildenafil if 14 degrees can constitute ‘balmy’) evening at the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen beckoned me in last week, look where I was promised a chat with a local musician who goes by the name Dimbleby & Capper. If you’re wondering where the name comes from, then fear not, for answers to such puzzles (and a few more) about this East London-based songwriter and musical mage are coming up in the transcript below:

Hello.

Hello!

Laura…?

Laura. [nods]

Second name…?

Bettinson. With an ‘n’!

With an ‘n’… better write that down, actually. Occasionally I will have to write stuff down, I will warn you, because I’m really bad at names and stuff like that, I’ve got the tape recorder but… OK. I figure it’s best to start off by describing who you are. Y’know, what it is that you do [emphasis on ‘do’]?

Well, Dimbleby & Capper is…

Sorry, just to check – that is just you, right?

Yeah, well, it mainly is. It’s just a one-woman project, really, by myself. I started after moving to London to study for my degree at Goldsmith’s, and I started fiddling around with instruments, and before that I used to sing and play the piano, singer-songwriter stuff, but then got to London and realised that I can’t [a genuine chortle here] take a stage piano on the tube, and actually it’s far too expensive. So this developed as a way for me to take all my instruments with me, and at first I presented it in the same way, stripped-back and relaxed, but then I started messing around with electronics and sticking piano over beats. Then that started to get a little bit of presence on the live scene and we got some bigger shows, so I got in the band to help me, but [noise that can best be rendered in text as an unsure ‘ooer’] as it got more complicated than just me messing about and recording at home, especially getting other people producing me. It was when I asked myself if I was able to sing in a studio and I thought [long, drawn-out] no, I haven’t got seven million hands, so the band stuck then, so…

How many people is it now, then, that you’ve got?

It swings, sometimes it’s three people, and tonight it’s five people. It should be a five-piece, really, to have all the guitars and things.

I was listening to your EP…

Yeah?

Was really enjoying it, actually, especially the first track on there…

‘Slick Maturity’! Awful name, isn’t it?

Hah, yeah… Actually, I embarrassed myself in some e-mails, the first few I exchanged with Tasha [lovely PR lady] I was calling you Dimbleby & Crapper.

Oh, excellent. I’ve heard worse than that…

I said, “yeah, the music’s good, I just don’t understand the name though – surely that’ll put people off?” Where does the name come from, anyway?

It’s literally just, like, a name… I just needed something for a while. I didn’t want to put my own name on it because I’d been using that for a while for my singer-songwriter stuff. I hadn’t really figured out what I was doing yet but I sort of needed something, anything unrelated, really. It goes all the way back to the music, it’s very cut-up, and lyrically too I just pick words, shove them together.

Ah, Bowie did that a lot too.

Yeah, all that cut-up stuff. There’s not really… well, there’s messages, certainly, but it’s not that direct. I don’t just sit down and think the lyrics out – if I can’t write them instantly then I won’t write them at all, pretty much. I won’t just sit there for ages, overthinking things, which for me can be a bit of a nightmare when I take it to somebody else to mix they’re all a bit [a rising inflection on an ‘um-er’]. But that’s how it goes back to the name, the flip thing, the Dimbleby & Capper name reflecting that it’s almost like two different people.

You’ve talked about playing the piano, and you did some musical things before – when was that?

That was when I was about 16, 17, and before I moved to London, where I was did some singer-songwriter stuff…

That sounds almost, well, ‘refined’? Is that the right word? More thoughtful, perhaps.

Yeah, yeah!

So, Dimbleby & Capper – there’s the head of the singer-songwriter and the, um, soul…?

Yeah, well, people will put whatever they want sometimes, like ‘Myself & the Machine’ when it’s just me and a box on stage, where I’m just singing along to the noises coming out of this machine. A lot of people that was where it came from, but really, no [clicks her fingers] – it came out of thin air.

Alright. So who would you say were your… actually, no let’s go with what would describe your music as? I hate to categorise people, and it’s better when musicians describe themselves I reckon.

Essentially, it boils down to pop music. Dreamy electronic pop, and then there’s that rhythm aspect to it, with some quite heavy beats in there, and there’s also a kind of ‘world-y’ vibe to it with the tribal drumming.

You said you were studying at Goldsmith’s – what are you studying?

Music! It was great, three years of doing your own thing and having free access to a practice space, really great course. It’s where I met most of the band too. I could kind of entwine the demands of the course with what I was doing out and about in town, gig-wise, so it worked out perfectly.

How long have you been gigging around for?

Not too long, really. We started taking it more seriously when we got scouted at the Great Escape festival last year, around May or so. That’s when we started playing together properly as a band – before then it was mainly just me doing solo stuff. Our first show was actually here, around April… that’s almost the same time! Weird, how it’s been almost exactly a year.

What are your plans, release-wise? You’ve got that EP up online, is that coming?

Well, that was something we just had to get out when we found out were doing some Glastonbury slots on the BBC. We were on quite a lot, actually, which was nice, and they played ‘Slick Maturity’ quite a bit when we released that, so right now that EP is more of a reference point rather than a real release. People are asking at our shows why they can’t find us on iTunes, and that’s because we haven’t properly released it! I would like to re-release it on vinyl with a little indie label, but we still need to get the money together for that. It would be nice to get a record deal, you know, but right now that’s not too high on my list of priorities, but maybe to get some publishers involved would maybe be better in terms of being able to do this full-time. We’ll see, I don’t know what going to happen. We’ll put out another 7” again soon, though.

‘Slick Maturity’?

No, it’ll be one of the two new songs, we’ll play it tonight – maybe ‘Falling Off’?

OK. Shouldn’t you be heading onstage right about now?

Yes! Right, I’ll get off then…

At this point Laura gathered her things and headed inside, and I bumped into a couple of friends from the other side of the country. This was serendipitous for me, because I hate going to gigs on my own, and it meant I had somebody to mutter remarks to during D&C’s set. They were good remarks – one of my friends, his initial reaction was, “she’s definitely got something, hasn’t she? Can’t put my finger on it, but she’s got something…”

She has. She’s got a good set of lungs on her, her backing band are tight and have the stage act down sharp. They’ve all got these ghostly white beak masks on under their hoodies – when they gather around the Big Drum for some tribal action it’s no unlike seeing a bunch of spirit vultures circle their prey, the rotting carcass of people refusing to dance. Apparently the Hoxton B&K is a pretty A&R-heavy place at the best of times, but despite few people even daring to nod along the music was fresh and I could see the influences Laura talked about coming into the mix. On record her tunes sound similar, in a way, to Balearic beat bands around like JJ, yet live those heavy beats she says she loves are emphasised far more, turning her dream-pop into something closer to a weird laid-back IDM sort of thing.

Watch out for this girl, and her birds.

I’m told by every fashionista that goes to Berlin (and yes, viagra I know one or two) that it’s the place for style and culture. Lord knows where they find the style half.

I was hoping to publish a street-style style post showcasing what the cool kids are wearing in Germany’s capital city. Marred by inclement weather and a distinct lack of anyone wearing an outfit of merit, this post will be slightly different.

Berliners are a strange breed, and lord knows that times have been tough in their tiny city. While they want to forgive their illustrious history, documenting it only in a selection of museums and monuments, they’ll cling on to it for dear life when it comes to style. Flippant communist outfits are de rigeur and if I had to talk trends, I would say that trenches, wax jackets and military boots are what it’s all about in Berlin.

But I saw very little insipration. I just couldn’t find it anywhere. Surely there’s some style to be had in, maybe, the nightspots of Berlin? Well, considering the kind of austragungsort that I like to frequent, I wasn’t likely to find anything remotely fashionable there, save rooms full of Diesel-clad muscle types who have been over-zealous with a Joop! bottle.

I’d love to see how Berlin Fashion Week shapes up compared to the major players, and I’m sure this is where the scenesters are to be found – my only explanation is that with the prominent nightlife, which lasts way into the next day, the fashionos hibernate during the daytime.

Berlin does have an incredible array of museums and galleries, with none overshadowing the Helmut Newton Foundation’s Museum für Fotographie. Totally up my strasse, this one. After his tragic death in 2004, Newton’s legacy is right here in an old communist casino, built over two floors and housing his work alongside many of his personal possessions. A massive pervert in anyone’s book, his unique brand of ‘porno chic‘ revolutionized fashion photography in the 1960s.

His flat has been recreated in the permanent exhibition, Private Property, which features a naked mannequin doing a handstand, drool-worthy Memphis furniture and piles upon piles of coffee-table books.

There are poignant letters of condolences to his wife, June, which pretty much make up a who’s who of fashion photography – Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, Bruce Weber and many, many more. There are also letters and faxes from himself to various fashion luminaries – my particular favourite was a fax he’d scribbled to one Mrs Anna Wintour, declaring that, yes, he’d do the shoot she’d asked, under the condition that the models ‘had a bit of meat and muscle.’

The temporary collections were a reproduction of his legendary book ‘Sumo‘ which features portraits of a range of celebrities and some of his most revered fashion work. It’s here you get a chance to see what a unique talent Newton was. Another temporary exhibition, ‘Three Boys from Pasadena‘, showcased the work of three of his assistants; his deep influence rooted in their photographs.


Paula as Cross, by George Holz

Berlin is, however, a good place to shop fashion. A range of small boutiques, including shoe shop Solebox and knitwear store LaLa Berlin. These sit well nestled amongst vintage markets and independent fashion designers.

Finally, you’ve got to love their refusal to dispose of 80s mannequins. They’re EVERYWHERE. These alone are worth a trip, if you ask me.

Categories ,berlin, ,fashion, ,Fashion Photography, ,Helmut Newton, ,Joop!, ,Museum für Fotografie, ,photography, ,streetstyle

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Amelia’s Magazine | Fashion in Berlin?


Illustrations by Daniel Almeroth

A surprisingly balmy (well, more about pill if 14 degrees can constitute ‘balmy’) evening at the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen beckoned me in last week, viagra 60mg where I was promised a chat with a local musician who goes by the name Dimbleby & Capper. If you’re wondering where the name comes from, then fear not, for answers to such puzzles (and a few more) about this East London-based songwriter and musical mage are coming up in the transcript below:

Hello.

Hello!

Laura…?

Laura. [nods]

Second name…?

Bettinson. With an ‘n’!

With an ‘n’… better write that down, actually. Occasionally I will have to write stuff down, I will warn you, because I’m really bad at names and stuff like that, I’ve got the tape recorder but… OK. I figure it’s best to start off by describing who you are. Y’know, what it is that you do [emphasis on ‘do’]?

Well, Dimbleby & Capper is…

Sorry, just to check – that is just you, right?

Yeah, well, it mainly is. It’s just a one-woman project, really, by myself. I started after moving to London to study for my degree at Goldsmith’s, and I started fiddling around with instruments, and before that I used to sing and play the piano, singer-songwriter stuff, but then got to London and realised that I can’t [a genuine chortle here] take a stage piano on the tube, and actually it’s far too expensive. So this developed as a way for me to take all my instruments with me, and at first I presented it in the same way, stripped-back and relaxed, but then I started messing around with electronics and sticking piano over beats. Then that started to get a little bit of presence on the live scene and we got some bigger shows, so I got in the band to help me, but [noise that can best be rendered in text as an unsure ‘ooer’] as it got more complicated than just me messing about and recording at home, especially getting other people producing me. It was when I asked myself if I was able to sing in a studio and I thought [long, drawn-out] no, I haven’t got seven million hands, so the band stuck then, so…

How many people is it now, then, that you’ve got?

It swings, sometimes it’s three people, and tonight it’s five people. It should be a five-piece, really, to have all the guitars and things.

I was listening to your EP…

Yeah?

Was really enjoying it, actually, especially the first track on there…

‘Slick Maturity’! Awful name, isn’t it?

Hah, yeah… Actually, I embarrassed myself in some e-mails, the first few I exchanged with Tasha [lovely PR lady] I was calling you Dimbleby & Crapper.

Oh, excellent. I’ve heard worse than that…

I said, “yeah, the music’s good, I just don’t understand the name though – surely that’ll put people off?” Where does the name come from, anyway?

It’s literally just, like, a name… I just needed something for a while. I didn’t want to put my own name on it because I’d been using that for a while for my singer-songwriter stuff. I hadn’t really figured out what I was doing yet but I sort of needed something, anything unrelated, really. It goes all the way back to the music, it’s very cut-up, and lyrically too I just pick words, shove them together.

Ah, Bowie did that a lot too.

Yeah, all that cut-up stuff. There’s not really… well, there’s messages, certainly, but it’s not that direct. I don’t just sit down and think the lyrics out – if I can’t write them instantly then I won’t write them at all, pretty much. I won’t just sit there for ages, overthinking things, which for me can be a bit of a nightmare when I take it to somebody else to mix they’re all a bit [a rising inflection on an ‘um-er’]. But that’s how it goes back to the name, the flip thing, the Dimbleby & Capper name reflecting that it’s almost like two different people.

You’ve talked about playing the piano, and you did some musical things before – when was that?

That was when I was about 16, 17, and before I moved to London, where I was did some singer-songwriter stuff…

That sounds almost, well, ‘refined’? Is that the right word? More thoughtful, perhaps.

Yeah, yeah!

So, Dimbleby & Capper – there’s the head of the singer-songwriter and the, um, soul…?

Yeah, well, people will put whatever they want sometimes, like ‘Myself & the Machine’ when it’s just me and a box on stage, where I’m just singing along to the noises coming out of this machine. A lot of people that was where it came from, but really, no [clicks her fingers] – it came out of thin air.

Alright. So who would you say were your… actually, no let’s go with what would describe your music as? I hate to categorise people, and it’s better when musicians describe themselves I reckon.

Essentially, it boils down to pop music. Dreamy electronic pop, and then there’s that rhythm aspect to it, with some quite heavy beats in there, and there’s also a kind of ‘world-y’ vibe to it with the tribal drumming.

You said you were studying at Goldsmith’s – what are you studying?

Music! It was great, three years of doing your own thing and having free access to a practice space, really great course. It’s where I met most of the band too. I could kind of entwine the demands of the course with what I was doing out and about in town, gig-wise, so it worked out perfectly.

How long have you been gigging around for?

Not too long, really. We started taking it more seriously when we got scouted at the Great Escape festival last year, around May or so. That’s when we started playing together properly as a band – before then it was mainly just me doing solo stuff. Our first show was actually here, around April… that’s almost the same time! Weird, how it’s been almost exactly a year.

What are your plans, release-wise? You’ve got that EP up online, is that coming?

Well, that was something we just had to get out when we found out were doing some Glastonbury slots on the BBC. We were on quite a lot, actually, which was nice, and they played ‘Slick Maturity’ quite a bit when we released that, so right now that EP is more of a reference point rather than a real release. People are asking at our shows why they can’t find us on iTunes, and that’s because we haven’t properly released it! I would like to re-release it on vinyl with a little indie label, but we still need to get the money together for that. It would be nice to get a record deal, you know, but right now that’s not too high on my list of priorities, but maybe to get some publishers involved would maybe be better in terms of being able to do this full-time. We’ll see, I don’t know what going to happen. We’ll put out another 7” again soon, though.

‘Slick Maturity’?

No, it’ll be one of the two new songs, we’ll play it tonight – maybe ‘Falling Off’?

OK. Shouldn’t you be heading onstage right about now?

Yes! Right, I’ll get off then…

At this point Laura gathered her things and headed inside, and I bumped into a couple of friends from the other side of the country. This was serendipitous for me, because I hate going to gigs on my own, and it meant I had somebody to mutter remarks to during D&C’s set. They were good remarks – one of my friends, his initial reaction was, “she’s definitely got something, hasn’t she? Can’t put my finger on it, but she’s got something…”

She has. She’s got a good set of lungs on her, her backing band are tight and have the stage act down sharp. They’ve all got these ghostly white beak masks on under their hoodies – when they gather around the Big Drum for some tribal action it’s no unlike seeing a bunch of spirit vultures circle their prey, the rotting carcass of people refusing to dance. Apparently the Hoxton B&K is a pretty A&R-heavy place at the best of times, but despite few people even daring to nod along the music was fresh and I could see the influences Laura talked about coming into the mix. On record her tunes sound similar, in a way, to Balearic beat bands around like JJ, yet live those heavy beats she says she loves are emphasised far more, turning her dream-pop into something closer to a weird laid-back IDM sort of thing.

Watch out for this girl, and her birds.


Illustrations by Daniel Almeroth

A surprisingly balmy (well, sildenafil if 14 degrees can constitute ‘balmy’) evening at the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen beckoned me in last week, look where I was promised a chat with a local musician who goes by the name Dimbleby & Capper. If you’re wondering where the name comes from, then fear not, for answers to such puzzles (and a few more) about this East London-based songwriter and musical mage are coming up in the transcript below:

Hello.

Hello!

Laura…?

Laura. [nods]

Second name…?

Bettinson. With an ‘n’!

With an ‘n’… better write that down, actually. Occasionally I will have to write stuff down, I will warn you, because I’m really bad at names and stuff like that, I’ve got the tape recorder but… OK. I figure it’s best to start off by describing who you are. Y’know, what it is that you do [emphasis on ‘do’]?

Well, Dimbleby & Capper is…

Sorry, just to check – that is just you, right?

Yeah, well, it mainly is. It’s just a one-woman project, really, by myself. I started after moving to London to study for my degree at Goldsmith’s, and I started fiddling around with instruments, and before that I used to sing and play the piano, singer-songwriter stuff, but then got to London and realised that I can’t [a genuine chortle here] take a stage piano on the tube, and actually it’s far too expensive. So this developed as a way for me to take all my instruments with me, and at first I presented it in the same way, stripped-back and relaxed, but then I started messing around with electronics and sticking piano over beats. Then that started to get a little bit of presence on the live scene and we got some bigger shows, so I got in the band to help me, but [noise that can best be rendered in text as an unsure ‘ooer’] as it got more complicated than just me messing about and recording at home, especially getting other people producing me. It was when I asked myself if I was able to sing in a studio and I thought [long, drawn-out] no, I haven’t got seven million hands, so the band stuck then, so…

How many people is it now, then, that you’ve got?

It swings, sometimes it’s three people, and tonight it’s five people. It should be a five-piece, really, to have all the guitars and things.

I was listening to your EP…

Yeah?

Was really enjoying it, actually, especially the first track on there…

‘Slick Maturity’! Awful name, isn’t it?

Hah, yeah… Actually, I embarrassed myself in some e-mails, the first few I exchanged with Tasha [lovely PR lady] I was calling you Dimbleby & Crapper.

Oh, excellent. I’ve heard worse than that…

I said, “yeah, the music’s good, I just don’t understand the name though – surely that’ll put people off?” Where does the name come from, anyway?

It’s literally just, like, a name… I just needed something for a while. I didn’t want to put my own name on it because I’d been using that for a while for my singer-songwriter stuff. I hadn’t really figured out what I was doing yet but I sort of needed something, anything unrelated, really. It goes all the way back to the music, it’s very cut-up, and lyrically too I just pick words, shove them together.

Ah, Bowie did that a lot too.

Yeah, all that cut-up stuff. There’s not really… well, there’s messages, certainly, but it’s not that direct. I don’t just sit down and think the lyrics out – if I can’t write them instantly then I won’t write them at all, pretty much. I won’t just sit there for ages, overthinking things, which for me can be a bit of a nightmare when I take it to somebody else to mix they’re all a bit [a rising inflection on an ‘um-er’]. But that’s how it goes back to the name, the flip thing, the Dimbleby & Capper name reflecting that it’s almost like two different people.

You’ve talked about playing the piano, and you did some musical things before – when was that?

That was when I was about 16, 17, and before I moved to London, where I was did some singer-songwriter stuff…

That sounds almost, well, ‘refined’? Is that the right word? More thoughtful, perhaps.

Yeah, yeah!

So, Dimbleby & Capper – there’s the head of the singer-songwriter and the, um, soul…?

Yeah, well, people will put whatever they want sometimes, like ‘Myself & the Machine’ when it’s just me and a box on stage, where I’m just singing along to the noises coming out of this machine. A lot of people that was where it came from, but really, no [clicks her fingers] – it came out of thin air.

Alright. So who would you say were your… actually, no let’s go with what would describe your music as? I hate to categorise people, and it’s better when musicians describe themselves I reckon.

Essentially, it boils down to pop music. Dreamy electronic pop, and then there’s that rhythm aspect to it, with some quite heavy beats in there, and there’s also a kind of ‘world-y’ vibe to it with the tribal drumming.

You said you were studying at Goldsmith’s – what are you studying?

Music! It was great, three years of doing your own thing and having free access to a practice space, really great course. It’s where I met most of the band too. I could kind of entwine the demands of the course with what I was doing out and about in town, gig-wise, so it worked out perfectly.

How long have you been gigging around for?

Not too long, really. We started taking it more seriously when we got scouted at the Great Escape festival last year, around May or so. That’s when we started playing together properly as a band – before then it was mainly just me doing solo stuff. Our first show was actually here, around April… that’s almost the same time! Weird, how it’s been almost exactly a year.

What are your plans, release-wise? You’ve got that EP up online, is that coming?

Well, that was something we just had to get out when we found out were doing some Glastonbury slots on the BBC. We were on quite a lot, actually, which was nice, and they played ‘Slick Maturity’ quite a bit when we released that, so right now that EP is more of a reference point rather than a real release. People are asking at our shows why they can’t find us on iTunes, and that’s because we haven’t properly released it! I would like to re-release it on vinyl with a little indie label, but we still need to get the money together for that. It would be nice to get a record deal, you know, but right now that’s not too high on my list of priorities, but maybe to get some publishers involved would maybe be better in terms of being able to do this full-time. We’ll see, I don’t know what going to happen. We’ll put out another 7” again soon, though.

‘Slick Maturity’?

No, it’ll be one of the two new songs, we’ll play it tonight – maybe ‘Falling Off’?

OK. Shouldn’t you be heading onstage right about now?

Yes! Right, I’ll get off then…

At this point Laura gathered her things and headed inside, and I bumped into a couple of friends from the other side of the country. This was serendipitous for me, because I hate going to gigs on my own, and it meant I had somebody to mutter remarks to during D&C’s set. They were good remarks – one of my friends, his initial reaction was, “she’s definitely got something, hasn’t she? Can’t put my finger on it, but she’s got something…”

She has. She’s got a good set of lungs on her, her backing band are tight and have the stage act down sharp. They’ve all got these ghostly white beak masks on under their hoodies – when they gather around the Big Drum for some tribal action it’s no unlike seeing a bunch of spirit vultures circle their prey, the rotting carcass of people refusing to dance. Apparently the Hoxton B&K is a pretty A&R-heavy place at the best of times, but despite few people even daring to nod along the music was fresh and I could see the influences Laura talked about coming into the mix. On record her tunes sound similar, in a way, to Balearic beat bands around like JJ, yet live those heavy beats she says she loves are emphasised far more, turning her dream-pop into something closer to a weird laid-back IDM sort of thing.

Watch out for this girl, and her birds.

I’m told by every fashionista that goes to Berlin (and yes, viagra I know one or two) that it’s the place for style and culture. Lord knows where they find the style half.

I was hoping to publish a street-style style post showcasing what the cool kids are wearing in Germany’s capital city. Marred by inclement weather and a distinct lack of anyone wearing an outfit of merit, this post will be slightly different.

Berliners are a strange breed, and lord knows that times have been tough in their tiny city. While they want to forgive their illustrious history, documenting it only in a selection of museums and monuments, they’ll cling on to it for dear life when it comes to style. Flippant communist outfits are de rigeur and if I had to talk trends, I would say that trenches, wax jackets and military boots are what it’s all about in Berlin.

But I saw very little insipration. I just couldn’t find it anywhere. Surely there’s some style to be had in, maybe, the nightspots of Berlin? Well, considering the kind of austragungsort that I like to frequent, I wasn’t likely to find anything remotely fashionable there, save rooms full of Diesel-clad muscle types who have been over-zealous with a Joop! bottle.

I’d love to see how Berlin Fashion Week shapes up compared to the major players, and I’m sure this is where the scenesters are to be found – my only explanation is that with the prominent nightlife, which lasts way into the next day, the fashionos hibernate during the daytime.

Berlin does have an incredible array of museums and galleries, with none overshadowing the Helmut Newton Foundation’s Museum für Fotographie. Totally up my strasse, this one. After his tragic death in 2004, Newton’s legacy is right here in an old communist casino, built over two floors and housing his work alongside many of his personal possessions. A massive pervert in anyone’s book, his unique brand of ‘porno chic‘ revolutionized fashion photography in the 1960s.

His flat has been recreated in the permanent exhibition, Private Property, which features a naked mannequin doing a handstand, drool-worthy Memphis furniture and piles upon piles of coffee-table books.

There are poignant letters of condolences to his wife, June, which pretty much make up a who’s who of fashion photography – Irving Penn, Richard Avedon, Bruce Weber and many, many more. There are also letters and faxes from himself to various fashion luminaries – my particular favourite was a fax he’d scribbled to one Mrs Anna Wintour, declaring that, yes, he’d do the shoot she’d asked, under the condition that the models ‘had a bit of meat and muscle.’

The temporary collections were a reproduction of his legendary book ‘Sumo‘ which features portraits of a range of celebrities and some of his most revered fashion work. It’s here you get a chance to see what a unique talent Newton was. Another temporary exhibition, ‘Three Boys from Pasadena‘, showcased the work of three of his assistants; his deep influence rooted in their photographs.


Paula as Cross, by George Holz

Berlin is, however, a good place to shop fashion. A range of small boutiques, including shoe shop Solebox and knitwear store LaLa Berlin. These sit well nestled amongst vintage markets and independent fashion designers.

Finally, you’ve got to love their refusal to dispose of 80s mannequins. They’re EVERYWHERE. These alone are worth a trip, if you ask me.

Categories ,berlin, ,fashion, ,Fashion Photography, ,Helmut Newton, ,Joop!, ,Museum für Fotografie, ,photography, ,streetstyle

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