Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton.
For Jayne Pierson I raced into town alone – yet another early morning show for which we only had one ticket, treat enticingly printed on pearly lilac-y grey paper. This despite a very nice mention of our support in the accompanying press release – thankyou! We did in fact catch up with Jayne just prior to her show, and you can read the interview here. The pearly lilac invite and goodie bag were not, however, an indicator of a colourful show but rather the favoured shade of lipstick. Kingdom of Shadows began on a black note and carried on in the same vein, broken up only by a curious grey and beige striped taffeta that is something of a Pierson signature but would not have looked out of place on curtains or a sofa in a certain type of house.
Jayne Pierson’s Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme.
Jayne Pierson formerly worked in the music business and this show felt deeply imbued with the remnants of an 80s rock sensibility. A gothic Victorian kind of rock, with swaggering shoulders and bunched bustle skirts. The models sported messy up dos, pallid faces with lilac lips and pin sharp shapely heels. Black tailored jackets featured inset patent fabric shoulders and cuffs, leather minidresses cowl-necked atop rubberised leggings. The sudden introduction of striped silk was balanced with patent detailing on collar, waist and cuffs – a jaunty pillbox hat set askance. Devore lacy velvet also made an appearance, not to mention a terribly racy see through crop top and leggings. I particularly liked the large but lightly draped silver jewellery by Fiona Paxton, who fuses Indian artisanship with a British punk sensibility and Bauhaus design. A corseted jumpsuit that hit the catwalk in a tipsy fashion was less desirable: the poor dresser must have got a shafting but I blame the model’s lack of boobs. What’s the point of a shaped bodice if there’s nothing to put in them?
Jayne took her bow on the catwalk accompanied by her celebrity model – which no one knew. I had to check in with the PR to find out who she was but I can’t for the life of me remember – apparently a Welsh singer of some description.
If I’m honest I’m not entirely sure what to make of this collection – there were some nice ideas – especially the strong shoulders and nipped in waists that recalled my fondest decade, the 80s – but it didn’t exactly blow me away. And yet again there was all that pesky black, which will never ever be my favourite fashion colour. But I did really love the jewellery – I’d love myself a bit of that I would.
Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton.
For Jayne Pierson I raced into town alone – yet another early morning show for which we only had one ticket, cialis 40mg enticingly printed on pearly lilac-y grey paper. This despite a very nice mention of our support in the accompanying press release – thankyou! We did in fact catch up with Jayne just prior to her show, viagra order and you can read the interview here. The pearly lilac invite and goodie bag were not, however, an indicator of a colourful show but rather the favoured shade of lipstick. Kingdom of Shadows began on a black note and carried on in the same vein, broken up only by a curious grey and beige striped taffeta that is something of a Pierson signature but would not have looked out of place on curtains or a sofa in a certain type of house.
Jayne Pierson’s Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme.
Jayne Pierson formerly worked in the music business and this show felt deeply imbued with the remnants of an 80s rock sensibility. A gothic Victorian kind of rock, with swaggering shoulders and bunched bustle skirts. The models sported messy up dos, pallid faces with lilac lips and pin sharp shapely heels. Black tailored jackets featured inset patent fabric shoulders and cuffs, leather minidresses cowl-necked atop rubberised leggings. The sudden introduction of striped silk was balanced with patent detailing on collar, waist and cuffs – a jaunty pillbox hat set askance. Devore lacy velvet also made an appearance, not to mention a terribly racy see through crop top and leggings. I particularly liked the large but lightly draped silver jewellery by Fiona Paxton, who fuses Indian artisanship with a British punk sensibility and Bauhaus design. A corseted jumpsuit that hit the catwalk in a tipsy fashion was less desirable: the poor dresser must have got a shafting but I blame the model’s lack of boobs. What’s the point of a shaped bodice if there’s nothing to put in them?
Jayne took her bow on the catwalk accompanied by her celebrity model – which no one knew. I had to check in with the PR to find out who she was but I can’t for the life of me remember – apparently a Welsh singer of some description.
If I’m honest I’m not entirely sure what to make of this collection – there were some nice ideas – especially the strong shoulders and nipped in waists that recalled my fondest decade, the 80s – but it didn’t exactly blow me away. And yet again there was all that pesky black, which will never ever be my favourite fashion colour. But I did really love the jewellery – I’d love myself a bit of that I would.
Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton.
For Jayne Pierson I raced into town alone – yet another early morning show for which we only had one ticket, clinic enticingly printed on pearly lilac-y grey paper. This despite a very nice mention of our support in the accompanying press release – thankyou! We did in fact catch up with Jayne just prior to her show, buy more about and you can read the interview here. The pearly lilac invite and goodie bag were not, however, an indicator of a colourful show but rather the favoured shade of lipstick. Kingdom of Shadows began on a black note and carried on in the same vein, broken up only by a curious grey and beige striped taffeta that is something of a Pierson signature but would not have looked out of place on curtains or a sofa in a certain type of house.
Jayne Pierson’s Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme.
Jayne Pierson formerly worked in the music business and this show felt deeply imbued with the remnants of an 80s rock sensibility. A gothic Victorian kind of rock, with swaggering shoulders and bunched bustle skirts. The models sported messy up dos, pallid faces with lilac lips and pin sharp shapely heels. Black tailored jackets featured inset patent fabric shoulders and cuffs, leather minidresses cowl-necked atop rubberised leggings. The sudden introduction of striped silk was balanced with patent detailing on collar, waist and cuffs – a jaunty pillbox hat set askance. Devore lacy velvet also made an appearance, not to mention a terribly racy see through crop top and leggings. I particularly liked the large but lightly draped silver jewellery by Fiona Paxton, who fuses Indian artisanship with a British punk sensibility and Bauhaus design. A corseted jumpsuit that hit the catwalk in a tipsy fashion was less desirable: the poor dresser must have got a shafting but I blame the model’s lack of boobs. What’s the point of a shaped bodice if there’s nothing to put in them?
Jayne took her bow on the catwalk accompanied by her celebrity model – which no one knew. I had to check in with the PR to find out who she was but I can’t for the life of me remember – apparently a Welsh singer of some description.
If I’m honest I’m not entirely sure what to make of this collection – there were some nice ideas – especially the strong shoulders and nipped in waists that recalled my fondest decade, the 80s – but it didn’t exactly blow me away. And yet again there was all that pesky black, which will never ever be my favourite fashion colour. But I did really love the jewellery – I’d love myself a bit of that I would.
Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton.
For Jayne Pierson I raced into town alone – yet another early morning show for which we only had one ticket, remedy enticingly printed on pearly lilac paper. This despite a very nice mention of our support in the accompanying press release – thankyou whoever thought to mention us, clinic it’s appreciated! We did in fact catch up with Jayne just prior to her show, and you can read the interview here. The lilac invite and goodie bag were not, however, an indicator of a colourful show but rather the favoured shade of lipstick. Kingdom of Shadows began on a black note and carried on in the same vein, broken up only by a curious grey and beige striped taffeta that is something of a Pierson signature but would not have looked out of place on curtains or a sofa in a certain type of house.
Jayne Pierson’s Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme.
Jayne Pierson formerly worked in the music business and this show felt deeply imbued with the remnants of an 80s rock sensibility. A gothic Victorian kind of rock, with swaggering shoulders and bunched bustle skirts. The models sported messy up dos, pallid faces with lilac lips and pin sharp shapely heels. Black tailored jackets featured inset patent fabric shoulders and cuffs, leather minidresses cowl-necked atop rubberised leggings. The sudden introduction of striped silk was balanced with patent detailing on collar, waist and cuffs – a jaunty pillbox hat set askance. Devore lacy velvet also made an appearance, not to mention a terribly racy see through crop top and leggings. I particularly liked the large but lightly draped silver jewellery by Fiona Paxton, who fuses Indian artisanship with a British punk sensibility and Bauhaus design. A corseted jumpsuit that hit the catwalk in a tipsy fashion was less desirable: the poor dresser must have got a shafting but I blame the model’s lack of boobs. What’s the point of a shaped bodice if there’s nothing to put in them?
Jayne took her bow on the catwalk accompanied by her celebrity model – which no one knew. I had to check in with the PR to find out who she was but I can’t for the life of me remember – apparently a Welsh singer of some description.
If I’m honest I’m not entirely sure what to make of this collection… there were some nice ideas; especially the strong shoulders and nipped in waists that recalled my fondest decade, the 80s. But it didn’t exactly blow me away, and yet again there was all that pesky black, which will never ever be my favourite fashion colour. And I loved the jewellery – I’d love myself a bit of that I would.
Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton.
For Jayne Pierson I raced into town alone – yet another early morning show for which we only had one ticket, side effects enticingly printed on pearly lilac paper. This despite a very nice mention of our support in the accompanying press release – thankyou whoever thought to mention us, dosage it’s appreciated! We did in fact catch up with Jayne just prior to her show, visit and you can read the interview here. The lilac invite and goodie bag were not, however, an indicator of a colourful show but rather the favoured shade of lipstick. Kingdom of Shadows began on a black note and carried on in the same vein, broken up only by a curious grey and beige striped taffeta that is something of a Pierson signature but would not have looked out of place on curtains or a sofa in a certain type of house.
Jayne Pierson’s Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme.
Jayne Pierson formerly worked in the music business and this show felt deeply imbued with the remnants of an 80s rock sensibility. A gothic Victorian kind of rock, with swaggering shoulders and bunched bustle skirts. The models sported messy up dos, pallid faces with lilac lips and pin sharp shapely heels. Black tailored jackets featured inset patent fabric shoulders and cuffs, leather minidresses cowl-necked atop rubberised leggings. The sudden introduction of striped silk was balanced with patent detailing on collar, waist and cuffs – a jaunty pillbox hat set askance. Devore lacy velvet also made an appearance, not to mention a terribly racy see through crop top and leggings. I particularly liked the large but lightly draped silver jewellery by Fiona Paxton, who fuses Indian artisanship with a British punk sensibility and Bauhaus design. A corseted jumpsuit that hit the catwalk in a tipsy fashion was less desirable: the poor dresser must have got a shafting but I blame the model’s lack of boobs. What’s the point of a shaped bodice if there’s nothing to put in them?
Jayne took her bow on the catwalk accompanied by her celebrity model – which no one knew. I had to check in with the PR to find out who she was but I can’t for the life of me remember – apparently a Welsh singer of some description.
If I’m honest I’m not entirely sure what to make of this collection… there were some nice ideas; especially the strong shoulders and nipped in waists that recalled my fondest decade, the 80s. But it didn’t exactly blow me away, and yet again there was all that pesky black, which will never ever be my favourite fashion colour. Here’s hoping that the next season might see the reintroduction of colour again. Go on Jayne!
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011 by Jane Young.
Every now and again London Fashion Week throws out a curveball and you end up in the most random of places with the most ridiculous collection of people, physician wondering what the hell is going on. The Olivia Rubin show was just such an occasion.
I was very early to this show – a confluence of circumstances that left me standing at the front of a line outside the Jalouse nightclub in central London until I was completely numb with cold. From my prime vantage point I was able to ogle as the paps pounced on a series of D-Z list celebrities. I recognised Konnie Huq and footballer’s wife Danielle Lloyd but after that it was anyone’s guess. In my mind it’s never a good idea for the guests to overshadow a fashion show, dosage and especially not if I haven’t got a clue who they are.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Once the celebs had been swept into the hallowed basement of Jalouse I too was invited in. I picked up a drink and swiftly headed towards the sunken seating area, viagra approved ignoring the protestations of the press girl to wait and see if there was space later on. As if! We’ve run an extensive interview with Olivia Rubin on this website and I didn’t much feel like standing around on my own anymore, so I plonked myself down next to a friendly looking bunch of people on a curved sofa. I soon discovered that the lad next to me was on work experience at a fashion magazine and somewhat in thrall to his first fashion week. Herein is revealed the ridiculousness of seating arrangements at fashion shows – at the end of the day they are completely arbitrary. Depending on who you know and whether you’re bolshy enough you can sit wherever you want, be you intern or editor.
Olivia Rubin by Karolina Burdon.
As guests slowly filled the club celebrities stepped up on to the catwalk at my head height to pose for the paps. First Danielle, swishing her hair this way and that like a prime racehorse. Then, to my delight, Laura Goodger and friends from The Only Way is Essex. Don’t worry, I had to look up her full name. I did watch a few episodes, but I’m not THAT SAD. By this point I was gobsmacked by the stunning level of celeb-dom in attendance. I later discovered that another fashion PR had been approached for tickets by the *cast* of The Only Way is Essex, but had rapidly turned them down as way too tacky. I must say, I don’t really understand the logic. Rather than making me think, way-hey, this must mean Olivia Rubin is really cool… it makes me utterly distracted… anthropologically fascinated by these strange creatures.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
The result? I spent the entire catwalk show trying to capture Lauren pouting and preening, rather than concentrating on the clothes – which in any case were hard to see against the glare of flashbulbs. Famous model Olivia Inge certainly enjoyed herself too; gunning at friends in the audience as she pranced down the catwalk.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
In a way it’s a shame that there was so much flimshaw surrounding this show because Olivia Rubin makes very cute clothes that feature colourful, fun prints and simple 80s styling. This collection encompassed giant splodgy animal prints, flowery brick designs and lacey goodness. To my mind not at all Essex.
As soon as the show was done the music leapt up to dancing volume, and yet more Essex girls headed to the toilets to touch up wondrously over-wrought hair and make-up that must surely have taken all day to perfect. I could happily have stayed next to the basins all night with my camera, but Matt and I instead drank free cocktails and put the world to rights.
You can read Matt Bramford’s fabby review here. Read our interview with Olivia Rubin here.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011 by Jane Young.
Every now and again London Fashion Week throws out a curveball and you end up in the most random of places with the most ridiculous collection of people, viagra sale wondering what the hell is going on. The Olivia Rubin show was just such an occasion.
I was very early to this show – a confluence of circumstances that left me standing at the front of a line outside the Jalouse nightclub in central London until I was completely numb with cold. From my prime vantage point I was able to ogle as the paps pounced on a series of D-Z list celebrities. I recognised Konnie Huq and footballer’s wife Danielle Lloyd but after that it was anyone’s guess. In my mind it’s never a good idea for the guests to overshadow a fashion show, seek and especially not if I haven’t got a clue who they are.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
Once the celebs had been swept into the hallowed basement of Jalouse I too was invited in. I picked up a drink and swiftly headed towards the sunken seating area, ignoring the protestations of the press girl to wait and see if there was space later on. As if! We’ve run an extensive interview with Olivia Rubin on this website and I didn’t much feel like standing around on my own anymore, so I plonked myself down next to a friendly looking bunch of people on a curved sofa. I soon discovered that the lad next to me was on work experience at a fashion magazine and somewhat in thrall to his first fashion week. Herein is revealed the ridiculousness of seating arrangements at fashion shows – at the end of the day they are completely arbitrary. Depending on who you know and whether you’re bolshy enough you can sit wherever you want, be you intern or editor.
Olivia Rubin by Karolina Burdon.
As guests slowly filled the club celebrities stepped up on to the catwalk at my head height to pose for the paps. First Danielle, swishing her hair this way and that like a prime racehorse. Then, to my delight, Laura Goodger and friends from The Only Way is Essex. Don’t worry, I had to look up her full name. I did watch a few episodes, but I’m not THAT SAD. By this point I was gobsmacked by the stunning level of celeb-dom in attendance. I later discovered that another fashion PR had been approached for tickets by the *cast* of The Only Way is Essex, but had rapidly turned them down as way too tacky. I must say, I don’t really understand the logic. Rather than making me think, way-hey, this must mean Olivia Rubin is really cool… it made me utterly distracted… anthropologically fascinated by these strange creatures.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
The result? I spent the entire catwalk show trying to capture Lauren pouting and preening, rather than concentrating on the clothes – which in any case were hard to see against the glare of flashbulbs. Famous model Olivia Inge certainly enjoyed herself too; gurning at friends in the audience as she pranced down the catwalk.
Olivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory.
In a way it’s a shame that there was so much flimshaw surrounding this show because Olivia Rubin makes very cute clothes that feature colourful, fun prints and simple 80s styling. This collection encompassed giant splodgy animal prints, flowery brick designs and lacey goodness. To my mind not at all Essex.
As soon as the show was done the music leapt up to dancing volume, and yet more Essex girls headed to the toilets to touch up wondrously over-wrought hair and make-up that must surely have taken all day to perfect. I could happily have stayed next to the basins all night with my camera, but Matt and I instead drank free cocktails and put the world to rights.
You can read Matt Bramford’s fabby review here. Read our interview with Olivia Rubin here.
J.W. Anderson (not Gareth) photographed by Matt Bramford
It’s 8:45 on a cold wet Wednesday and I’m stalking the entrance to Somerset House, order waiting for Matt Bramford to come and meet me for my first ever day of London Fashion Week, check which I’ve come to with a view to doing some live fashion illustration. I’m feeling surprisingly calm, considering how out of my depth I’m expecting to find myself. I put my serenity down to sleep deprivation, busying myself with not looking too out of place. At the point where the security guards are starting to wonder what I’m hanging around for, Matt texts me and I amble off, as coolly as I can, to meet him at the doors into the main ‘Tent’.
As I arrive, Matt hands me my Press Pass and I feel like he’s given me a Willy Wonky Golden Ticket which provides access to a new and magical world. I flash it on the way into the Press Room where Matt picks up his stuff, hands me the ridiculously over-sized invitation to J.W. Anderson and we’re out again, straight into the queue for the show. The bouncer in charge of the queue takes a look at our invites and sends us to opposite sides of the room. I experiment with making myself look natural in my surroundings, the queue that Matt’s in gets allowed through, and once that’s cleared, my queue starts shuffling forward.
J.W. Anderson, photographed by Matt Bramford
I’m allowed past some rope barriers into the main room, and am… well, not unimpressed, rather just not as overwhelmed as I’d prepared myself for. The room’s long and poorly lit, its sides lined with rows of wooden benches, and a polythene-covered runway running up the middle – I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is a lot plainer than I’d thought it was going to be. I make my way over to the row of benches dictated by my ticket, and then busy myself with getting my video-camera, pad and pens ready. As the room settles down I realise that in an almost-full room, I’ve got an entire bench to myself, and am not sure whether to feel lucky or to take offence.
All illustrations by Gareth A Hopkins
The room hushes as the polythene sheet is pulled away by some burly stagehands and then before I’m really ready for it the lights are on full-blast and there’s a man marching down the catwalk. I pop the lid off my pen, put the nib to the page and the model’s already been and gone. I wait for the next few guys to come and go, then pick my target and start frantically sketching. By the time he’s tucked away backstage I’ve managed to capture the top corner of his sleeve and that’s it. I write in my sketchbook “Shit, I can’t draw this fast” and get out my video camera, with a view to capturing the outfits and then working from the videos – the trouble is the lights are so bright that all I get on the viewing screen is a bright white shape moving at speed, like the aliens from Cocoon are parading for a crowd assembled in a gymnasium.
J.W. Anderson, photographed by Matt Bramford
I realise that I’m not going to achieve very much through either drawing or filming, and so instead take the opportunity to enjoy the show, and concentrate on the clothes as much as I can. The clothes are sharply tailored, often military-style, but made out of combinations of textures and textiles – a jumper with furry arms and Barbour-style body for instance. There are also some skirts in there, which I think look pretty cool. The only thing I’m not keen on is the use of paisley, which of all patterns in the world is probably my least favourite. And then ‘Wave Of Mutilation’ by Pixies is playing over the PA and all the models are walking in a line to applause from the audience – in joining in, I manage to drop both my camera and my pad, and spend this final section of the show flicking my attention between applauding, watching the clothes and trying to find my dropped possessions.
After it’s all over I re-locate Matt, who asks if I got much done, and I explain about my inability to draw as fast as I needed to. He reassures me by saying that next up is Sibling, who are holding a presentation, and that I’ll have much more time to get some decent drawing done. With some time to kill, we wait outside in the thankfully quite mild weather. Nick Bain comes and joins us after a while and tells us about Charlie Le Mindu’s show from earlier in the week and I feel a little disappointed that none of the models from JW Anderson’s show were covered in pig’s blood.
As 10:30am rolls around, we make our way up to the Sibling presentation. I don’t know what to expect from Sibling – I’d researched them in preparation and in all honesty wasn’t that fussed about them. Their mix of high fashion and self-aware bloke-ishness didn’t really do anything from me, but I kept an open mind. I know Nick loved the clothes on show, but I still can’t get behind it – I find their use of the ‘Kiss Pandas’ a bit boorish, and this combined with a inbuilt distrust of knitted ski masks and people dressed as pandas puts me on edge. That’s not to say I hate it, though – there’s a furry headwear/scarf combination that I wish I could get away with wearing, and I really like some of the jumpers. I manage to get some sketching of two of the outfits done, but find myself being more and more in the way of people with cameras and notebooks and pens tapping against their lips, and sidle out of the room after Matt and Nick.
Sibling, photographed by Matt Bramford
Once outside I make the most of my half-day from work, and go back to my office for a few hours, to return for some more catwalk shows in the afternoon…
Look out for the rest of Gareth’s account tomorrow!
See Gareth’s illustrations in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration
Written by Gareth A Hopkins on Tuesday March 8th, 2011 3:30 pm
Categories ,A/W 2011, ,Barbour, ,Charlie le Mindu, ,Cocoon, ,fashion, ,illustration, ,J.W. Anderson, ,Kiss, ,London Fashion Week, ,Matt Bramford, ,Menswear Day, ,Nick Bain, ,Pandas, ,Portico Rooms, ,press, ,Sibling, ,Somerset House, ,the pixies, ,Wave of Mutliation, ,Willy Wonka
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