It was Day 1 at Somerset House and I was surrounded by all those fashion bigwigs at Caroline Charles; sure to have just flown in first-class from the closing New York Fashion Week and before that whichever glamorous corner of the Earth they resided. The BFC Catwalk space, page therefore, kicked off with a sure-fire reminder of where we were; London. Just in case anyone forgot.
??It was all about the classic, home-comfort elements of good-old British style. You had your checks, your lace, your chiffon, your wool winter coats that your mother forced you in when you were young and now just can’t get out of.??
Most garments were intrinsically minimalistic. There was very little print. The fabric palette didn’t stretch too far and no real attempt towards a-symmetric cuts or daring features was made. Despite such profuse amounts of plain-Jane style, however, a subtle sexiness arose from those full-sequined dresses in bright red and sultry black as well as the odd combination of tiger and leopard print. It was bad taste turned classy.??
The collection’s silhouette held a strong focus on the waist with delicate belts cinching-in wool shift dresses and chiffon floaty creations. There was a barely a bold moment throughout the entire show but one thing was for sure: everything had style.
Furthermore (as has been featured countless times this season), bows were a primary focus for Charles. She placed them on bowler hats, made them out of black ribbon tied around the neck and pulled them round to the rear of high-waisted trousers.
Some of the combinations of textures, however, were a little iffy for me. Black leather pencil skirts with brown lady-like jackets? It just didn’t click. I also wasn’t keen on the injection of equestrian riding hats and low pony-tails. It was oh-so-boring and that kind of look, for me anyway, completely lacks any sort of style or attitude. Perhaps a ploy made my yet-another designer to turn the head of Kate Middleton as the Royal Wedding approaches? Maybe so.
Photographs by Georgia Takacs
Amidst the elegant and some-what calming classical music, however, I was agitated by lady-with-hideous-hat who was inconveniently featured in most of my photographs. There was a bit of a frenzy around her and THE HAT after the show. I couldn’t begin to understand why and marched past indifferent and utterly confused.??
All in all, a largely predictable and collection from a classic London dress-maker. It’s endearing, however, to see a leading designer of 47 years to continue delivering a fail-safe iconic style which will forever be appreciated. And with so much sophisticated femininity around this Autumn/Winter season, it certainly set the scene for what was to come and offers a solid reference to anyone embracing ‘The Woman’ next season.
Written by Georgia Takacs on Wednesday March 23rd, 2011 5:17 pm
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, storeillness whole foods, order and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, ed before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
‘Tis true.
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. And here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here : http://audio.talitres.com/thelaw. Download now.
On arrival at the Topshop space in Billingsgate for Mary Katrantzou I pulled up my Pashley beneath a phalanx of official LFW cars and blacked out big name magazine people carriers. I usually find it takes me approximately the same amount of time to race between venues on my bike alongside said official cars, dosage no doubt being looked down upon by wealthy magazines’ fashion editors from behind those blacked out panes. In fact, treatment maybe I should post an ode to my preferred transport, order in much the same vein that Susie Bubble has been posting about her sponsored Orla Kiely car?
My Pashley locked up outside Somerset House.
I love cycling but it was a struggle – as usual – to lock my bike against a post without it, me and my cycling pannier capsizing in an (un)attractive pile. At times like these I very much hope I’m not being watched by those who are able to elegantly descend from their car in vertiginous heels.
We were only granted one ticket to Mary Katrantzou, beautifully pearlised and colourfully printed on heavy card. Clearly then, there was no chance that anyone else was going to lay their hands on it. Having scoped the layout during Michael Van Der Ham the day before I headed straight for what I considered the best position in the cavernous hall and discovered that I was sitting next to the proud mother of Mary’s right hand man, one Alexander Giantsis, also of Greek extraction… she quickly voiced her motherly worries about her son’s lack of sleep. None, the night before.
My spot proved the perfect place to capture the models as they swung around to face the bank of cameras right at the end of the looong catwalk. Mum Stephanie kept up a running commentary as I tried to concentrate on capturing the clothes whirring past me at the hyper fast pace that has characterised the catwalk shows this season.
Despite her own concerns that she’s pushing the parameters of what people will wear Mary Katrantzou has quickly built up a glowing reputation for her clashing prints and clever architectural constructions. Last season she took architecture as her starting point but this time she looked to interiors, quoting the Marchesa Luisa Casati in her press release: “I want to be a living work of art.”
Clever hooping was attached at waist level to create a kind of riser inspired by the shape of vases, Faberge eggs and porcelain bowls – beautiful, but the kind of thing that only the thinnest of girls can get away with wearing. More successful for bigger girls would be the wide hipped dresses, curved shoulders and over skirts that stood proud from the figure. Clashing prints inspired by “priceless objets d’art” were cut and merged to create a profusion of pattern and colour in both print, embroidery and intarsia knits.
One dress featured an extraordinary skirt covered in three dimensional roses in a diagonal pattern – certainly not for the faint hearted… or those who would like to be comfortable when sitting down. Towards the end a series of chiffon skirts swept onto the catwalk, billowing dramatically around the figure.
This A/W show was everything I had hoped for: Mary Katrantzou, a fashion designer after my own maximalist heart. I’m so glad that someone out there is confident enough to translate this type of vision onto clothing.
Mary Katrantzou A/W 2011. All photography by Amelia Gregory.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, information pills whole foods, clinic and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
‘Tis true.
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. And here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here : http://audio.talitres.com/thelaw. Download now.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, store whole foods, and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. And here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here : http://audio.talitres.com/thelaw. Download now.
On arrival at the Topshop space in Billingsgate for Mary Katrantzou I pulled up my Pashley beneath a phalanx of official LFW cars and blacked out big name magazine people carriers. I usually find it takes me approximately the same amount of time to race between venues on my bike alongside said official cars, approved no doubt being looked down upon by wealthy magazines’ fashion editors from behind those blacked out panes. In fact, maybe I should post an ode to my preferred transport, in much the same vein that Susie Bubble has been posting about her sponsored Orla Kiely car?
My Pashley locked up outside Somerset House.
I love cycling but it was a struggle – as usual – to lock my bike against a post without it, me and my cycling pannier capsizing in an (un)attractive pile. At times like these I very much hope I’m not being watched by those who are able to elegantly descend from their car in vertiginous heels.
We were only granted one ticket to Mary Katrantzou, beautifully pearlised and colourfully printed on heavy card. Clearly then, there was no chance that anyone else was going to lay their hands on it. Having scoped the layout during Michael Van Der Ham the day before I headed straight for what I considered the best position in the cavernous hall and discovered that I was sitting next to the proud mother of Mary’s right hand man, one Alexander Giantsis, also of Greek extraction… she quickly voiced her motherly worries about her son’s lack of sleep. None, the night before.
My spot proved the perfect place to capture the models as they swung around to face the bank of cameras right at the end of the looong catwalk. Mum Stephanie kept up a running commentary as I tried to concentrate on capturing the clothes whirring past me at the hyper fast pace that has characterised the catwalk shows this season.
Despite her own concerns that she’s pushing the parameters of what people will wear Mary Katrantzou has quickly built up a glowing reputation for her clashing prints and clever architectural constructions. Last season she took architecture as her starting point but this time she looked to interiors, quoting the Marchesa Luisa Casati in her press release: “I want to be a living work of art.”
Clever hooping was attached at waist level to create a kind of riser inspired by the shape of vases, Fabergé eggs and porcelain bowls – beautiful, but the kind of thing that only the thinnest of girls can get away with wearing. More successful for bigger girls would be the wide hipped dresses, curved shoulders and over skirts that stood proud from the figure. Clashing prints inspired by “priceless objets d’art” were cut and merged to create a profusion of pattern and colour in both print, embroidery and intarsia knits.
One dress featured an extraordinary skirt covered in three dimensional roses in a diagonal pattern – certainly not for the faint hearted… or those who would like to be comfortable when sitting down. Towards the end a series of chiffon skirts swept onto the catwalk, billowing dramatically around the figure.
This A/W show was everything I had hoped for: Mary Katrantzou, a fashion designer after my own maximalist heart. I’m so glad that someone out there is confident enough to translate this type of vision onto clothing.
Mary Katrantzou A/W 2011. All photography by Amelia Gregory.
On arrival at the Topshop space in Billingsgate for Mary Katrantzou I pulled up my Pashley beneath a phalanx of official LFW cars and blacked out big name magazine people carriers. I usually find it takes me approximately the same amount of time to race between venues on my bike alongside said official cars, illness no doubt being looked down upon by wealthy magazines’ fashion editors from behind those blacked out panes, order but maybe I should post an ode to my preferred transport, link in much the same vein that Susie Bubble has been posting about her sponsored Orla Kiely car?
My Pashley locked up outside Somerset House.
I love cycling but it was a struggle – as usual – to lock my bike against a post without it, me and my cycling pannier capsizing in an (un)attractive pile. At times like these I very much hope I’m not being watched by those who are able to elegantly descend from their car in vertiginous heels.
We were only granted one ticket to Mary Katrantzou, beautifully pearlised and colourfully printed on heavy card. Clearly then, there was no chance that anyone else was going to lay their hands on it. Having scoped the layout during Michael Van Der Ham the day before I headed straight for what I considered the best position in the cavernous hall and discovered that I was sitting next to the proud mother of Mary’s right hand man, one Alexander Giantsis, also of Greek extraction… she quickly voiced her motherly worries about her son’s lack of sleep. That would be none then, the night before.
My spot proved the perfect place to capture the models as they swung around to face the bank of cameras right at the end of the looong catwalk. Mum Stephanie kept up a running commentary as I tried to concentrate on capturing the clothes whirring past me at the hyper fast pace that has characterised the catwalk shows this season.
Despite her own concerns that she’s pushing the parameters of what people will wear Mary Katrantzou has quickly built up a glowing reputation for her clashing prints and clever architectural constructions. Last season she took architecture as her starting point but this time she looked to interiors, quoting the Marchesa Luisa Casati in her press release: “I want to be a living work of art.”
Clever hooping was attached at waist level to create a kind of riser inspired by the shape of vases, Fabergé eggs and porcelain bowls – beautiful, but the kind of thing that only the thinnest of girls can get away with wearing. More successful for bigger girls would be the wide hipped dresses, curved shoulders and over skirts that stood proud from the figure. Clashing prints inspired by “priceless objets d’art” were cut and merged to create a profusion of pattern and colour in print, embroidery and intarsia knits.
One dress featured an extraordinary skirt covered in three dimensional roses in a diagonal pattern – certainly not for the faint hearted… or those who would like to be comfortable when sitting down. Towards the end a series of chiffon skirts swept onto the catwalk, billowing dramatically around the figure.
This A/W show was everything I had hoped for: Mary Katrantzou, a fashion designer after my own maximalist heart. I’m so glad that someone out there is confident enough to translate my type of design onto clothing.
Mary Katrantzou A/W 2011. All photography by Amelia Gregory.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, stomach whole foods, and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. And here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here. Download it now.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, whole foods, and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. And here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here. Download it now.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, information pills whole foods, and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. And here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here. Download it now.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, salve whole foods, and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. For a little bit of this, here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here. Download it now.
I know that folk music isn’t all organic, ampoule whole foods, see and love – or indeed deep lust – buried in a haystack. Happy all day, before campfires and passions at night. No, folk musicians don’t spend their days wearing slightly grubby lumberjacks or floaty, ethereal frocks. See evidence: Grizzly Bear aren’t happy all the time and Bon Iver is a delightfully melancholy chap. And then just listen to Nick Drake and young Laura Marling. To be honest I’m not really sure where I got the skippy, clappy, dancing in the hazy afternoon sunshine vision from. Perhaps it’s because folk artists tend to sing about the earth, nature and love in one breath. There is no chat of ‘honeys’ or ‘bling’. Gah, And of course, folkers may be generally creative and appreciative of the natural world, but it in no means leaves them exempt of sadness, hurt and darkness. I wonder, does it in actual fact make them more open and adept to describing their feelings than the blingers? Regardless, folk is often as rhythmic and warming as the grandfather clock that my 40s’ Grandpa chopped the bottom of, to fit in his house. Tick, tock. Folk is cosy and true, which is why it feels so pure – which is why it makes me want to reside in a yurt.
Let me introduce you to Emily Jane White. The PR sheet in-front of me says that her album is: ‘a collection of ten opulent, uncluttered and captivating ballads.’ A friend asked me other day, “If you had to only use one adjective for the rest of your life, what would it be?” If I was a news writer, I would say: “Peh, what even are adjectives?”. As a PR I would pass out. Whilst as a writer of my own devices, I would say – ‘blissful’. Then I could put ‘anti’ in-front of a word perhaps. Awkward. Anyway, off on a tangent again: Emily Jane White’s music is BLISSFUL.
See:
She is melancholy. But in the way that makes you feel perhaps strangely, very contented. Maybe it is because in a sense Emily is making peace with herself and her thoughts through the act of writing her music. She said that she found writing her latest album, Ode To Sentience, out now on Talitres Records, cathartic to write: “They speak to the emotional simplicity and complexity of human relationship. I chose to call the record Ode To Sentience because it is the capacity to feel that creates a share human experience of music. We all share the potency of music by having the capacity to feel, and I found the simplicity of this fact very beautiful.”
Her album is about leaving home, her’s was California – I Lay To Rest (California) – the drawn out strings longing to leave. The sharper notes; the sadness of leaving it. Clipped Wings is ghostly and full of yearning, reflections of love’s passed. The Cliff holds classic American twangs, whilst Oh Katherine, is a string filled heaven of a song. Her voice is as soft and delicate as a peach, whilst her fearless approach to singing from the darker depths of her consciousness matches the strings perfectly.
She is much like a Californian Kate Bush, but less obviously ethereal and screaming. Or she could be a gentler Alela Diane or singular Mountain Man. Black Silk has to be my personal favourite. The Law is guitar based, slow and… actually quite a lot like my Grandpa’s Grandfather clock. It wraps you up. Says it’s all ok. For a little bit of this, here we have ‘The Law’, for you to download for free: here. Download it now.
Apparently Emilio de la Morena has lengthened his silhouette. His pieces are now touching, viagra sale or over the knee, nurse ‘signalling a new direction that is stricter and more refined.’ The body con is still there of course, thumb remaining tighter than a wetsuit, and both wigglier and feistier than Mad Men’s, Joan. That’s exactly what the collection made me think of: Joan and Jessica Rabbit. This translates to: HOT… but sophisticated.
Red Charlotte Olympia shoes featured throughout the show. Now, I’ve always been a fan of red shoes. From ballet to sky scraping, red shoes are sweet vixens, minxes, all playful and naughty. But less; “stop it Roger” and more; “Roger I want champagne, oysters and Chanel. Get them!” She needs a man, not a wimp. She will wear her shoes in the bath, and probably won’t speak to Roger much before or after – whatever happens between them. She’s an old school dressed WOMAN, not a girl, and she expects to be treated with respect. Like the stroppier ones in James Bond films, this woman can kick some ass. And answer back with cutting looks and witty, snappy words.
Other Charlotte Olympia shoes included a suede ankle boot and platform sandals in three colours, black, red, powder pink and ivory. All utterly lust-worthy. Heaven. The colour palette mirrors Emilio de la Morena Autumn/Winter collection, which focuses on black, dark purple and RED. The sombre tones of this show, inspired by the work of the American photographer Francesca Woodman and the circumstances surrounding her suicide in New York, in 1981, aged just 22. Her photographs are hauntingly beautiful and predominantly black and white. Emilio de la Morena wanted to reflect these sad circumstances, with his use of passionate, bruised and mourning colours. These give way however, to ivory and powder pink, making for delicate prettiness, next to the block melancholy. Together, the designs look classy, serious and fantastic. I see these beautiful women by the graves of Italian gangsters, weeping. They are hard, stunning and controlled, but what they love – they adore with all their hearts.
Victoriana also featured within Emilio de la Morena’s collection, but with a modern, sheer twist. Bib decoration and high necklines created from sheer, frayed and tufted organza, make it lighter, sexier and contemporary. The longer length, wool pencil skirts also featured sheer organza. With panels, embroidered in swirling, zig zagging ribbon, created in the material, as well as silk inserts. The additions allowing for fluidity of movement.
The collection felt serious and respectfully attractive. Not flirty, terribly young, overly romantic or precocious. Instead very sensual and confident. The red stole the show. However, like red lipstick on a make up less face, it looked the most alluring, when it was paired with the other other colours. The eyes and lips are too much – alone they are beautiful. Such a bright red needed the other colours to avoid being lost, and to stand out as a solitary statement. And you know, if the three women were sobbing by the grave, each with an accent of red, just imagine… scandalous, stylish, powerful and mysterious RED.
Written by Helen Martin on Monday February 28th, 2011 7:33 pm
