Away from the busy rush of Somerset House, away from the mobs of photographers, willing subjects and flashing lights, Teatum Jones chose to retreat to a secret room behind large wood-panelled doors. This wasn’t any room, but the official personal office of Arthur Liberty himself, which still retains the charm of it’s original design. Completely hidden away from the public in the Mock Tudor labyrinth that is Liberty, I was directed down a panelled hall before reaching the beautiful presentation Teatum Jones had prepared.
One thing I have loved doing this London Fashion Week is talking to design duos. There is something incredibly sweet about how each designer will talk about the other when you interview them, complimenting them endlessly. As soon as I entered the room, I was introduced to Rob Jones, who immediately beamed when he heard I was reviewing the presentation for Amelia’s Magazine. After giving his thanks to the Amelia’s Magazine team for all the continued support and gorgeous illustrations from the last review, he began to talk me through the intriguing collection.
These Ravensbourne College of Design and Central Saint Martin’s graduates began to work together due to their mutual love for escapism and the power of a story, which is how this collection began. Rob Jones described how they start with a ‘screenplay’ when working on a collection, and this one began from looking at the menacing and dark qualities to fairytales. ‘I found it interesting that stories we read to children deal with such dark and frightening themes. It made me think about how I’d react if a fairytale was re-told in a newspaper today, would I see it differently?‘ Rob Jones and Catherine Teatum were drawn to the mix of innocence and frighteningly dark folklore, wanting to explore the underlying beauty in something considered traditionally sinister.
I was immediately drawn to the intricate prints, swirling with dark reds, bright pinks and forest greens, highlighted with touches of neon. Rob Jones and Catherine Teatum pointed out how these beautiful floral-like patterns were actually cut-up crime scene photography from the 1940’s. I was immediately surprised, which I couldn’t hide. Really? But they were such beautiful prints… suddenly I saw the numbered markers police use for blood spatters, dropped weapons, or worse. The thought sunk in…and it made sense. In a strange way, it felt nice to know, like being let in on a secret or the thrill of when the murderer almost catches someone in a horror movie. In order to place such a dark theme on clothing in a lighter way, a harlequin diamond pattern was used instead of simply overlaying the imagery.
Other items of clothes glittered and shimmered, almost like childhood dress-up clothes, or to mimic the magic of fairytales and shining sweets like that shown in the film created for the collection, currently showing on the Teatum Joneswebsite. Although several mannequins displayed the collection in the centre of the room, it wasn’t until I saw the models that I noticed that most of the clothing had large pockets, even in the more formal dresses. One of the models commented on how relaxed she felt, resting her hands in the silk pockets of her neon yellow dress.
This team have found a perfect niche for womenswear that is considered and subtle, yet attention-grabbing. Alluring without being obvious. The midi length of the dresses and nipped-in light fabrics allow the wearer to be feminine in a relaxed way. It’s clear that the Teatum Jones woman is at ease with herself, a modern-day enchantress with a penchant for neon, skilled design and something a little wickedly different. The warm and positive outlook of these designers created an unforgettable London Fashion Week presentation experience; a drop of magical escapism from the busy London Fashion Week storm.
It’s February. Which means, sale you know, stuff Valentines day. I have a tourettes-like response to it’s mere mention. A gag reflex and an overwhelming desire to shout obscenities at strangers.
I don’t know why this is. Perhaps it has its roots in the hell that was secondary school love angst. (Will I get a card?.. Shall I send a card… Will somebody post dog poo through my letter box?.. OMG I GOT A CARD *phones all friends*… Oh. Its from my Dad…I HATE MY DAD….*sits on inflatable chair and cries into Leonardo DiCaprio poster*)
This aversion to all things Valentines is odd for me because at any other time of year I’ll use any excuse to celebrate. Passed an exam? Brunch! Had a shit week? Fry up! St whatsists day? Party! Commiseratory dinners, cialis 40mg congratulatory afternoon tea’s, pity parties and apologetic lunches; whatever the occasion (or lack thereof) I’m there with balloons. But for some reason, Valentines grates on me.
The traditional options are not great. If you’re single; you could get hammered alone or with other single friends. Or watch a Richard Curtis film whilst curled up in the fetal position in flannel pyjamas. Or if you are in a relationship; try and book a table in a restaurant only to find that they are ALL booked and/or extortionately expensive. Then spend the evening looking around at the other couples who are sat within spitting distance whilst the staff incessantly sell you expensive wine and champagne with James Blunt warbling away at you in the background.
Sound good? Thought not. (I sound like a love Scrooge, I definitely have issues)
I banned my mister from engaging in any form of commercial Valentines celebration right at the start of our relationship, and we’ve ended up with a fish and chips dinner tradition instead, which I am actually quite fond of.
But if you MUST release your inner schmaltz, here are some alternatives to cheap chocolates and teddybears. Don’t get me started on teddybears.
Firstly, if you are in a relationship, probably best not too buy a card from the supermarket. Or the corner shop down the road. Or the petrol station. It takes very little effort to make something and its much more thoughtful. How about writing a letter? It doesn’t have to be a love letter, and its nicer than a brief scrawl in a card. Or what about a stick man comic strip or a flip book? We can all draw stick men. See? No excuse.
If you hate the idea of making something yourself, there are a whole host of talented illustrators and makers out there who will happily fulfill all of your home spun looking Valentines needs. Check out some ideas in Amelia’s article over here.
I discovered via Twitter that Abby Illustrator and her boy are having a living room picnic, which sounds lovely to me and much nicer than the aforementioned Blunt-warbling-restaurant-nightmare.
If you are planning on buying flowers for a loved one (it could be a friend, your lover, your mum..) then … think again. Sorry for the eco rant but growing and transporting flowers uses a huge amount of carbon, especially if they are from overseas. If you must indulge in some floristry delights then look up British grown flowers.
Or, heres a wee crafty idea; give someone a pack of wildflower seeds. Decant into an attractive envelope, sew (or glue) on to a piece of card and illustrate with an appropriately cheesy message. (as this grows it’ll be a symbol of my love. PUKE. My love is like this red red rose. VOM. etc etc)
And for a healthy alternative/addition to a box of chocolates, pretty up a punnet of red fruit and decorate with little flags.
Cook a pink dinner. Beetroot soup to start. Rare steak with a tomato salsa dressing. Kir Royals or Rose wine. Red velvet cake for pudding, or pink macarons or strawberry angel delight… This would be lovely for one, two or twenty two.
Make cookies. Just for the hell of it. Give to colleagues, friends, family members. Or, of course, your loved one. Dust with icing sugar for a chic minimalist finish or get into an e- number frenzy with coloured icing. Home made and cheap.
Send a You’re rad/I like you/love note to your friends and family. Last year I sent mini valentines cards to the female members of my family just to tell them that I think they are rad, and the reasons why.
Illustration by Alison Day
Visit Love from Darkroom, an exhibition raising money for the brilliant charity Kids Company. All of the art pieces are under £150 and it runs till 14th February. Read Amelia’s full listing here.
Host a horror night. My mister and I are planning on spending the Saturday before Valentines working through some early horror films (Nosferatu, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Birds, Night of the Living Dead…) Nothing like a bit of flesh eating Zombie action to get you in that Valentines mood.
Join the Craftivist Collective in hijacking Valentines day and show some love for your global neighbour. Write letters to strangers and make a Tatty Devine key ring then leave them for strangers to pick up. (see separate listing here)
Why not send your loved one an anatomically correct bleeding heart cake by Lilli Vanilli; the creator of the fabulous ACOFI launch party masterpiece? They are made from red velvet sponge, cream cheese frosting and blackcurrant & cherry ‘blood’. I love them and they are a steal at £7.
Watch Fuck. Not the real thing, gracious no, unless that’s your thing. I’m talking about the documentary which features interviews with the world’s best swearers including Billy Connolly and Ice-T. Hurrah for obscenities!
Visit the Valentines exhibition at the wonderful Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising. This is one of my favourite London museums and this exhibition is all about the culture and history of valentines cards.
Take your loved one on a ‘haunted london’ ghost tour instead, and see the grizzlier side of Londons history…
Go on a night safari with the Natural History museum: You can choose either one of 2 experiences, depending on whether you think Valentine Day is a pleasure or a pain. Both look at the different aspects of Love in the Natural World.
See? Valentines doesn’t have to be a pile of sick. There’s lots of fun stuff to do whether you are in a relationship or not. Or there’s always the pyjama option too…
And so, even I, say to you Happy Valentines day!
Written by Hannah Bullivant on Wednesday February 9th, 2011 11:11 pm
You never see Ringo Starr and Gary Lineker in the same room. Come on, about it think about it! Anyway, information pills I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a band called Ringo Deathstarr. Some kind of black metal/merseybeat hybrid? I can categorically state otherwise, viagra order although I would be intrigued to hear what that sounded like. The album title gives more of an insight into their trippy, lysergic sound, but the key influences here are the late 80s/early 90s Creation bands like My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain, with their squalling feedback and dreamy soundscapes.
Now, terms such as Shoegaze and Cathedrals of Sound do not exactly fill me with glee, but luckily Ringo Deathstarr give us a fresh and playful take on this kind of stuff. The brilliant opener Imagine Hearts starts with distorted 8-bit drum sounds before coming on like The Breeders’ Cannonball, with it’s dizzy, swirling guitars and bass player Alex Gehring’s dreamy, Kim Deal-like voice.
Throughout the album Gehring’s pretty, girly vocals duel with guitarist Elliot Frazier’s deeper, Ian Curtis-like croon, which provides a great counterpoint. On penultimate track Never Drive the band sound like a souped-up Joy Division.
It’s clear that these three Texans (the line-up is completed by drummer Daniel Coborn) love their vintage British indie. They’ve toured with fey 80’s jangle-merchants The Wedding Present. The breakdown in Two Girls sounds exactly like the intro to The Smiths’ Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One Before. And in the song Do it Every Time, Frazier sings a lyric that may or may not say “We’re falling apart again, you took my cardigan”.
But rather than coming across as foppish miserablists, Ringo Deathstarr’s music is often powerful and joyous, and they’re at their best when playing the colour-saturated, nostalgic pop of stand out tracks So High and Kaleidoscope, which are the aural equivalent of a faded Polaroid taken on a sunny day in a park. In the 80s.
The fact that much of the lyrics are unintelligible, buried as they are under feedback and reverb, adds to the whole dreamlike quality of the record. When you do catch a phrase or word here and there, it feels like a stolen snippet of a faded memory. So, a host of 80’s indie references, dreamy girl/boy vocals and sun-faded guitar hooks – what’s not to like? Gary would approve. I mean Ringo…
Colour Trip is released on 14th February 2011 on Club AC30.
You never see Ringo Starr and Gary Lineker in the same room. Come on, patient think about it! Anyway, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a band called Ringo Deathstarr. Some kind of black metal/merseybeat hybrid? I can categorically state otherwise, although I would be intrigued to hear what that sounded like. The album title gives more of an insight into their trippy, lysergic sound, but the key influences here are the late 80s/early 90s Creation bands like My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain, with their squalling feedback and dreamy soundscapes.
Now, terms such as Shoegaze and Cathedrals of Sound do not exactly fill me with glee, but luckily Ringo Deathstarr give us a fresh and playful take on this kind of stuff. The brilliant opener Imagine Hearts starts with distorted 8-bit drum sounds before coming on like The Breeders’ Cannonball, with it’s dizzy, swirling guitars and bass player Alex Gehring’s dreamy, Kim Deal-like voice.
Throughout the album Gehring’s pretty, girly vocals duel with guitarist Elliot Frazier’s deeper, Ian Curtis-like croon, which provides a great counterpoint. On penultimate track Never Drive the band sound like a souped-up Joy Division.
It’s clear that these three Texans (the line-up is completed by drummer Daniel Coborn) love their vintage British indie. They’ve toured with fey 80’s jangle-merchants The Wedding Present. The breakdown in Two Girls sounds exactly like the intro to The Smiths’ Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One Before. And in the song Do it Every Time, Frazier sings a lyric that may or may not say “We’re falling apart again, you took my cardigan”.
But rather than coming across as foppish miserablists, Ringo Deathstarr’s music is often powerful and joyous, and they’re at their best when playing the colour-saturated, nostalgic pop of stand out tracks So High and Kaleidoscope, which are the aural equivalent of a faded Polaroid taken on a sunny day in a park. In the 80s.
The fact that much of the lyrics are unintelligible, buried as they are under feedback and reverb, adds to the whole dreamlike quality of the record. When you do catch a phrase or word here and there, it feels like a stolen snippet of a faded memory. So, a host of 80’s indie references, dreamy girl/boy vocals and sun-faded guitar hooks – what’s not to like? Gary would approve. I mean Ringo…
Colour Trip is released on 14th February 2011 on Club AC30.
You never see Ringo Starr and Gary Lineker in the same room. Come on, help think about it! Anyway, information pills I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a band called Ringo Deathstarr. Some kind of black metal/merseybeat hybrid? I can categorically state otherwise, buy more about although I would be intrigued to hear what that sounded like. The album title gives more of an insight into their trippy, lysergic sound, but the key influences here are the late 80s/early 90s Creation bands like My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus and Mary Chain, with their squalling feedback and dreamy soundscapes.
Now, terms such as Shoegaze and Cathedrals of Sound do not exactly fill me with glee, but luckily Ringo Deathstarr give us a fresh and playful take on this kind of stuff. The brilliant opener Imagine Hearts starts with distorted 8-bit drum sounds before coming on like The Breeders’ Cannonball, with it’s dizzy, swirling guitars and bass player Alex Gehring’s dreamy, Kim Deal-like voice.
Throughout the album Gehring’s pretty, girly vocals duel with guitarist Elliot Frazier’s deeper, Ian Curtis-like croon, which provides a great counterpoint. On penultimate track Never Drive the band sound like a souped-up Joy Division.
It’s clear that these three Texans (the line-up is completed by drummer Daniel Coborn) love their vintage British indie. They’ve toured with fey 80’s jangle-merchants The Wedding Present. The breakdown in Two Girls sounds exactly like the intro to The Smiths’ Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One Before. And in the song Do it Every Time, Frazier sings a lyric that may or may not say “We’re falling apart again, you took my cardigan”.
But rather than coming across as foppish miserablists, Ringo Deathstarr’s music is often powerful and joyous, and they’re at their best when playing the colour-saturated, nostalgic pop of stand out tracks So High and Kaleidoscope, which are the aural equivalent of a faded Polaroid taken on a sunny day in a park. In the 80s.
The fact that much of the lyrics are unintelligible, buried as they are under feedback and reverb, adds to the whole dreamlike quality of the record. When you do catch a phrase or word here and there, it feels like a stolen snippet of a faded memory. So, a host of 80’s indie references, dreamy girl/boy vocals and sun-faded guitar hooks – what’s not to like? Gary would approve. I mean Ringo…
Colour Trip is released on 14th February 2011 on Club AC30.
A single voice sings out with the tweet of birds in the background. A little bit choir like, dosage a lot Bellowhead like. A choir song for nature. For me, advice I thought of The Lord of The Rings, and and the shire. Or Cadfael and canal residers, Rosie and Jim. With no worries about things like mortgages or commutes. Indeed, I know Cadfael dealt with corruption, but he also had an inner calm, that must have come with the peace he had with himself/job. The beginning of the album certainly makes God’s Little Eskimo reside in a nice wood-burning stove dwelling house in the early 1800s, pre industrial revolution. He would have a furlong or two of land and young Tess of The d’Urbervilles type figure as his wife.
However, after searching for God’s Little Eskimo, aka Johnny’s postcard he had sent with his CD, the music changed almost on cue. The picture on the postcard was of a vampire looking out to the mid distance, with his dark haired victim, staring as if dead, into the infinite darkness. His clawed hands wrapped around her head, it was scary – in that 70s horror movie way. And the music? Well, it was like Frankenstein’s. In the forest, miserable and alone, when he turns from ‘newborn’, to killer. It’s dramatic, humming, premeditated and controlled – yet obviously full of anguish.
Then we have another change and God’s Little Eskimo has gone travelling. To America. He still sounds a bit dark (see: If I were to bury you), yet we have some electric guitars. We’re in 70s orange, glowed USA, with a touch of 90s Doves. It’s good and the repeating guitar notes reflect the voices ‘ahhing, my love’ to splendid effect.
Moving on, Breaking Waves At Night, has an almost Spanish air to it, but still retains Johnny’s dramatic, folky voice. Perfect for a Twilight film. In contrast, In The Gloaming Woods is upbeat, happy and almost jump inducing. Maybe a happier Twilight bit, and with them in England. And of course gloaming means ‘twilight: dusk’. Limb By Limb is a mersmerising magician, a bit of a 30s black and white horror. The piano notes drawing her in… Finally Rooks is a pleasant end, ‘The rooks have returned and the Spring is coming on”. It has some lovely instrumental in the middle. The happy ending to the play and journey… although of course, rooks, like crows, do signify death according to folklore. Tess of The d’Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy: ‘”Hoosh! Just be off, sir, or I’ll twist your neck! said the dairyman with some irritation, turning to the bird and driving him away. And to his wife as they went indoors: “Now to think o’ that – just to-day! I’ve not heard his crow of an afternoon all the year afore.” Ominous.
I asked Johnny a couple of questions: Why the name, I know you’re called Johnny Eskimo, but could you elaborate?
The “God’s Little Eskimo” name is actually a misheard quote from the 80s movie Heathers (with Winona Ryder / Christian Slater etc). I thought that a character in the film was referred to at their funeral as “God’s little eskimo”. I wouldn’t say the film itself was a huge influence, but for some reason the phrase stuck with me so I ended up choosing it as my name . When I watched it again more recently, I realised they actually get described as “Sherwood’s little eskimo” – not quite the same, but I much prefer my mis-remembered version.
Err, do you like horror films perchance?
I do like horror films yes – how did you guess?? I’m especially fond of older British psychological horrors, like Don’t Look Now, Seance On A Wet Afternoon and The Innocents, and I always liked scaring myself with ghost stories as a child. They definitely play some part in my inspiration, along with an interest in nature (particularly birds) and a fondness for woodlands and the sea. I suppose overall what I’m trying to convey in the songs is a sense of how much of the world around us remains uncanny and mysterious, and both how frightening and beautiful that can be (if that doesn’t sound too pretentious).
