Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week A/W 2011: Illustrator Gareth does Menswear Day!

Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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

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

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week A/W 2011: Illustrator Gareth does Menswear Day!

Jayne Pierson A/W 2011 by Ellie Sutton
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 Kingdom of Shadows by Kerri-Ann Hulme
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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 GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia GregoryOlivia Rubin A/W 2011. Photography by Amelia Gregory
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

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

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week A/W 2011 Menswear Day Catwalk Review: J.W. Anderson

ACOFI Concrete Hermit
Pick Me Up Paul Blow
Tiger Feet by Paul Blow.

Yesterday 2011′s Pick Me Up once again kicked off in the Embankment Galleries at Somerset House. I went along to the opening night to check out this years talent.

Like last year, cialis 40mg the lower galleries are once again devoted to the young rising stars of graphic design and illustration. This is the section for which I was asked to nominate a selection of Up and Coming illustrators many months ago. None of my suggestions were picked, and on the basis of some artists who were chosen I would question the description. Tom Gauld – an old acquaintance of mine – has surely been at the top of the illustrative game for many years, as have some of the others. At 48 years old American artist Polly Becker is hardly young. Although it’s great to be feted at any time in your career it’s a bit of an oversight to champion well established artists as Ones to Watch. But nonetheless let’s continue with the review: there was much to enjoy in this gallery.

Pick Me Up 2011-Kate Moross
London based designer Kate Moross has quickly established a glowing reputation for her bold psychedelic style.

Pick Me Up NIght & Day by McBess
Pick Me Up NIght & Day by McBess
Matthieu Bessudo, aka McBess, favours a cartoonagraphic style with a surreal edge. Expect naked ladies with ninja faces. I liked the intricate stories in the large scale Night & Day artwork best.

Pick Me Up Seiko Kato
Seiko Kato was a real discovery – this Japanese artist lives in Brighton and produces amazingly detailed collages, filled with colourful flora and fauna. The Funeral is a beautifully surreal large scale work.

Pick Me Up 2011-Andy Rementer
I loved the bold colours and shapes of Andy Rementer.

Pick Me Up 2011-Jules Julien
Jules Julien makes macabre fine line work influenced by the surrealist drawing game Exquisite Corpse.

Pick Me Up 2011-Jessica Hische
Typography is Jessica Hische‘s speciality. Another American, she is a senior designer for Louise Fili Ltd. Beautifully rendered, if a little polished.

Pick Me Up 2011-Clara TernePick Me Up 2011-Clara Terne
Swedish designer Clara Terne is inspired by the deep oceans and outer space, both equally other worldly. Kaleido did pretty much what it said on the tin. Nebuloso was a beautiful piece of digital art.

Pick Me Up 2011-MVM
MVM is a Norwegian and co founder of the Grandpeople design studio. He employs a fluid minimalist form and exhibits huge silk banners – almost Japanese in appearance.

Pick Me Up 2011-Eda Akaltun
Eda Akaltun is a founding member of Nobrow – evident in her distinctive colour palette – and favours a collagey painted approach that is instantly recognisable.

Pick Me Up 2011-Victo Ngai
From Hong Kong but working in London, Victo Ngai graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design. I loved her Japanese influenced drawings, which recall the fine detailing of woodblocks combined with a whimsical touch.

Pick Me Up 2011-James Graham
James Graham favours a simple graphic aesthetic.

Pick Me Up 2011-Revenge is Sweet
Revenge is Sweet shows bold 80s art deco artwork that has obvious advertising applications.

Pick Me Up 2011-Sarah ArnettPick Me Up 2011-Sarah ArnettPick Me Up 2011-Sarah Arnett
Sarah Arnett shows some beautiful digitally created flower artwork, densely created in curious colourways. Her original training as a textile designer is evident in these botanically inspired pieces.

Pick Me Up 2011-Gwenola Carrere
From Belgium, Gwenola Carrere shows some fabulous screenprints. She has published three children’s books to date. I loved her bold playful style.

Nigel Peake, from Ireland, makes lovely delicate abstract work. He has exhibited globally and I’ve always considered him more of a fine artist.

Pick Me Up 2011-Takeru Toyokura
Another Japanese artist, Takeru Toyokura shows amazing felt collages that depict weird faceless figures in surreal situations. Blonde haired children float against grandiose architecture. Strangely wonderful.

Pick Me Up 2011-Otecki
Polish artist Otecki creates black block prints inspired by both traditional iconography and graffitti. Loved his owl.

Pick Me Up 2011-Yoh Nagao
Another Japanese artist: Yoh Nagao is another surrealist collagist (do you sense a bit of a theme yet?)

Annelie Carlstrom uses a propelling pencil to fashion detailed pictures of girls with huge faces and extravagant hair. Quite unsettling.

Pick Me Up 2011-Paul BlowPick Me Up 2011-Paul BlowPick Me Up 2011-Paul Blow
Paul Blow‘s work really caught my eye for it’s strong colours and amusing narratives.

Pick Me Up 2011-Tom Gauld
Tom Gauld creates a weekly cartoon for the Guardian newspaper and you will no doubt be familiar with his unique drawings and quirky ideas – he used to run an independent publishing house with my bessie mate, the super talented Simone Lia.

Pick Me Up 2011-Polly Becker
Polly Becker‘s surrealist illustrations are created through the assemblage of ephemera.

Pick Me Up 2011-Stefanie Posavec
My boyfriend was most taken with the work of Stefanie Posavec, a graduate of Colorado State University who has an MA in Communication Design from Central Saint Martins. Her data visualisation is almost autistic in it’s detail.

I would love to see more emphasis on really new talent in this section, or perhaps in another bespoke section. Not to mention more variety in style (surreal, collage…) and a real nod to all the amazing home bred talent that is so prevalent on the blogosphere, in the zine world and elsewhere in the UK. The work shown is of an undoubtedly high standard but I think it’s an opportunity missed.

Pick Me Up 2011-Print Club London
Print Club London.

Nobrow and Ditto Press showcase their innovative independent publishing work on this floor, then above and below this gallery are stationed the collectives who pitched to take part in Pick Me Up. Print Club London is once again holding live screen-printing workshops.

Pick Me Up 2011-Sister Arrow
I particularly liked the print (for sale) by Sister Arrow, who has created an imaginary pygmy super-race simply called Sumo Babies of which I presume Crystal String Dance is one.

Pick Me Up 2011-Margaux Carpentier
I also liked Margaux Carpentier‘s work. Her print is inspired by an Eskimo legend where the first woman meets the wolf-god Amarok.

Pick Me Up 2011-Jaguar Shoes
The JaguarShoes Collective is showing for the first time, with lots of work for sale from a wide variety of loosely associated artists. For Pick Me Up they have created a Campfire wall – featuring over sized marshmallows and flickering tissue flames.

Pick Me Up 2011-Nous Vous
Next door is the minimalist Nous Vous set up.

Pick Me Up 2011-Samuel EsquirePick Me Up 2011-Samuel Esquire
Puck Collective are hosting a busy room that resembles a working studio. I particularly liked the strong graphic work of Samuel Esquire.

Pick Me Up 2011-Evening TweedPick Me Up 2011-Evening Tweed
Evening Tweed‘s exhibition space looks like a trendy aspirational shop in Brick Lane, with artfully arranged mementos lined around the walls. I wish my studio space looked like this!

Pick Me Up 2011-Anthony Burrill
Anthony Burrill is hosting the big central space – he may be an interesting graphic artist but he’s no Rob Ryan when it come to production techniques: expect photocopied collage opportunities and DJ-ing.

Pick Me Up 2011-Anthony Burrill
Pick Me Up Anthony Burrill area.

Suddenly it was closing time so I missed the It’s Nice That section and what looked like an interesting 3D concept from Them Lot – make sure you drop in to be filmed as one of the characters in their cardboard city. Leaving, visitors pass through the Concrete Hermit bookstore, which is much better placed than it was last year. From tomorrow (a bit late in the day I will concede) the shop will stock copies of both my books. Make sure you take a moment to peruse through Amelia’s Anthology of Illustration and Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration – both of which are choc-a-bloc with *brand* new illustration talent.

Pick Me Up 2011-Nous Vous uke
Pick Me Up 2011-Nous Vous uke.

It’s exciting that an event like Pick Me Up exists, but disheartening that it isn’t more wide ranging and ambitious in the scope of its activities. What about the practical use of illustration and graphic art? Evening Tweed features some fabulous gilded Russian dolls, Nous Vous show a bespoke illustrated ukelele and the JaguarShoes Collective offers illustrated objects to buy, but there is very little consideration of how illustration can be applied to products within the exhibition as a whole or in the workshop schedule.

And what about the many different commercial aspects of working as an illustrator today? Where are the children’s book illustrators, the fashion illustrators, the illustrators who tackle sustainability within their work? Where is the discussion of the many many ways in which illustration is utilised within the online world, in animation and in editorial? Aspects of this will hopefully be brought up in workshops but I feel very strongly that there are only so many prints that people can buy for their walls, and an applied context is what differentiates illustration and graphic design from fine art so it really should be talked about in an exhibition such as this.

Pick Me Up 2011-Evening Tweed Russian Dolls
Evening Tweed Russian Dolls.

I also think it would be nice if different collectives and publishing houses were invited to take part in Pick Me Up every year, rather than many of the same ones returning again – I had a strong feeling of Deja Vu. And of course, lastly, I’d like to see more work from TRULY up and coming illustrators. There are so many very great ones out there….

You can read my full listing for Pick Me Up, including recommended events, right here. My review of last year’s Pick Me Up event can be read here. And in case you were wondering I feel it’s only right that I admit that I was actually asked to contribute this year. But we couldn’t agree on the best Amelia’s Magazine presence, which is a shame.

There’s always next year…

Just off Brick Lane, capsule past the curry houses and down a side street, here is where Hinshelwood de Borman have set up their newest pop-up shop. My only complaint after spending an hour leafing through the curiosities of ‘Field Work’ is that this isn’t a permanent shop – because it is absolutely lovely.

The selection by Caitlin de Hinshelwood and Rose de Borman offers steep competition when it comes to picking a favourite, more about but I think the printed textiles from Caitlin de Hinshelwood are the stars of the show. Stacks of cushions are adorned with animal prints – one with giraffes, lions and bears, the next with frogs and snakes, and so on. The patterns are repeated on post cards, purses and on dresses for sale at the back. Soft colours and gorgeous, subtle patterns make for unorthodox and brilliant little outfits – like the dress covered in prints of root vegetables.

Cushions by Caitlin de Hinshelwood

Kitty Farrow Press has created a special range of notebooks for Field Work, all marked with an antlers logo. Continuing the animal theme are spoons cut from antlers by Kirsten Hecktermann – if that sounds like too much the shop also has some carved wooden spoons on offer.

Other treats include some very cute medieval replica pewter brooches, papier-mâché masks, and lovely old-style screwdriver sets from Elementary Design. The taxidermy is the work of Jazmine Miles-Long, an ethical taxidermist who only uses animals that have died from natural causes. Shipping Forecast Knitwear has some fantastic wooly hats on display, made in the UK from Aran wool but bringing to mind windswept isles in Nordic waters.

Neal Jones

Down the stairs is the gallery, and the show is entitled ‘Weird Folk’ with art by Betsy Dadd, Neal Jones and Max Wade. The warm and playful paintings almost beg to be touched, especially the smeared brush-strokes and rough edges of some of the art – which makes me want to start painting again as the artists make it look like so much fun.

Betsy Dadd

Field Work runs between 15th and 20th March in Spitalfields, at 65 Hanbury Street, London E1 5JP. For more information see our listing. If you miss it there’s an online shop here.

Illustration by Natasha Thompson

This write has taken far, information pills far longer than it actually should have, buy more about which is no reflection on the beautiful collection I saw relatively on Wednesday morning several weeks ago. It’s completely down to inertia and mental blocks; utterly rubbish, but there you go. So whilst the womenswear editors and buyers had jetted off to Milan it was left to the rest of us and a Mr Hamish Bowles to enjoy the delights of J.W. Anderson‘s show. It is worth noting that by now the glamour of most fashion shows had dulled a little and I was fast developing the urge to move rows forward to the front. I was no longer just grateful to attend but damn it do they not know who I am? Obviously they did, or rather they knew who I wasn’t and quite rightly plonked me in the fourth row. I quickly moved forward. Shame and modesty is wasted at these shows.  


Illustration by Aniela Murphy

As the lights dimmed the sound of an arctic gale blew through the show space, as if we weren’t chilly enough, before giving way to Nordic house. It was a great soundtrack and set the tone for a multi layered collection that showcased great talent and eye across both formal and casual wear. The palette was primarily navy and charcoal brilliantly punctuated with paisley prints, whites, and olive greens.  


All photography by Matt Bramford

The fact I struggle to define which element of the collection was strongest tells of its strength. In a large collection it is often easy to pick and choose what you like, with only 28 looks each one needs to stand on its own but also within the line up. J.W. Anderson has definitely achieved this with this collection; be it the new and exciting knitwear, the floor length kilts, panelled overcoats or hooded tailoring.  


Illustration by Gabriel Ayala

The knitwear was fresh, jumpers with missing front panels,  Scandinavian-inspired detailing or webbed bands to hold in place. No longer just tied loosely round the waist the bands held the jumper tight in around the knee. Cardigans in a fine gauge knit or latex were layered over each other adding another exciting element.  

A strong trend at fashion week this year has been panelled trenchcoats, both amongst the fashion elite and on the runway, and this was picked up on the Anderson catwalk. Anderson took it a step further creating fantastic midnight blue standalone jackets with printed quilted hoods.  


Illustration by Natasha Thompson

Overall London menswear day is fast becoming a force to be reckoned with. No longer a nominal notion tacked on the end but championing both established and upcoming designers. It’s a shame it still clashes with Milan and as such most of the press have left already. But with British and Irish menswear being championed by the likes of Anderson we have much to look forward to.

See more from Aniela Murphy and Natasha Thompson in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration!

Categories ,A/W 2011, ,Aniela Murphy, ,AW11, ,Cardigans, ,Gabriel Ayala, ,Hamish Bowles, ,illustration, ,J.W. Anderson, ,knitwear, ,London Fashion Week, ,Matt Bramford, ,menswear, ,Natasha Likes Tea, ,Natasha Thompson, ,Nick Bain, ,Nordic, ,Paisley, ,Scandinavian

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | Diptyque Candles

Bands like Okkervil River are eminently missable. They’re so redolent of a slew of others, pill more about and if you’re not on friendly terms with their songs they’ll pass you by like so much jaunty, information pills pleasant Americana. They’re also a great illustration of why you should persist with music.

And that’s not some pious, try rockist view meaning you’ve got to put down what you’re reading, sit up, and pay complete attention. It’s just good to give things a chance to get beyond your initial scrobbler – which makes quickfire connections, comparisons and judgments based on an increasingly convergent shared knowledge-bank of 50 years of pop. It’s about checking in music’s hiding places for that spark that turns a casual recommendation from a friend into your favourite album of the year.

You need to listen to Okkervil River because the real star attraction is the lyrics of Will Sheff. Like a Prozac-ed Conor Oberst words tumble out of him in stanzas, cascading, beautifully chosen, but always controlled. “Although I put my lips to your face / trying to push his kiss out of its place / although my heart started to race / now it has slowed / I’ll let it go,” he sings on ‘Song Of Our So-Called Friend’.

Behind him five guys playing the alt-country instruments you’d expect stay out of the way. Childlike drummer Travis Nelson (who has excellent wiry drummer’s hair) and keyboardist and trumpeter Scott Bracket sing along with every word, like their own band’s biggest fans.

Six members is often a bad, self-indulgent idea but OR’s are always serving and augmenting their songs. The slow-burning ‘The President’s Dead’ segues masterfully into ‘Black’, which is a pretty straightforward three chord stomper but when Okkervillised it comes out yearning, wistful and layered. They’re like “partytime!” Wilco, Being There-era. There’s a touch of Arcade Fire in their scope and ear for an epic. This sometimes skirts too close to hokey, but with lyrics as good as Sheff’s they’ve earned their slide guitar solos.

On latest album The Stage Names, everything comes together during the final song ‘John Allyn Smith Sails’. All the words, all the fear, all the joy, all the themes that have preceded it fall into place when it morphs into something from a very famous album. It’s one of the most beautiful musical moments of 2007. Ruining it before you’ve heard it would be a spoiler on a par with that Planet Of The Apes video cover featuring the Statue Of Liberty.

It’s a transcendent moment tonight. They know exactly how good it is. They audaciously don’t even end the set with it. They’re rightfully confident. They may be America’s best band.

Why is it so great being 16? It’s an angsty, pill uncertain time in which you doubt everything, troche struggle with a bunch of new and confusing ordeals and inevitably puke down your top talking to the guy/girl you like at an underwhelming party. But we largely remember it with total fondness.

You needed to work your problems through to their logical conclusion, buy more about no matter how labyrinthine they seemed. You’d not yet developed the coping strategy for later life – blithely shrugging, saying “well, them’s the breaks” and getting on with it. We can all agree that that’s a far simpler and more practical way to deal with things, but Jamie Lenman of Reuben is stuck in adolescence. His last thought is his best, and he’s going to yell it at you. This is thrillingly vital. I worry for him.

Slightly overweight, borderline ugly, he’s preaching to a small and dedicated throng. It’s a metal crowd – everyone is either unfathomably young and infectious or crusty and old enough to know better. It’s like being back at your first ever gig. An unexpected obscure song, a friendly moshpit, loud, people screaming.

Lenman’s band expends tangible effort, like the best air guitarists. Drummer Guy Davis reaches Canty-like levels of inventiveness, buried under a relentless propulsive drumstorm. He sits up throughout, a skinny Rollins, if he shaved his head he’d be a nutter. Bassist Jon Pearce does a textbook tall man, long instrument, purposeful sway thing. The three of them look moments away from combusting.

They tick lots of my boxes. Inventive, heavy, melodic, loud, fast, screamy, catchy. These are mostly the wrong boxes for 2007. ‘Some Mothers Do Ave Em,’ with a gargantuan riff that Josh Homme would divorce Brody (remember her?) for, is tossed away, apparently unaware of its own greatness. ‘Let’s Stop Hanging Out’ is their pop hit – a problem, because like almost everything they’ve done, it’s structured as if written by an Asberger’s sufferer. It lurches from A to B via, like, 37, each section marginally better than the last.

This analysis is all very silly and waaaay too glowing for a band you could fairly dismiss as dunderheaded nu rock – big riffs, often-daft words, sometimes cheesy tunes. But there’s something elusive, weird and brilliant at work which makes it seem completely unfair that Reuben are playing a half-empty goth club rather than enjoying Biffy-like love and adulation at the Astoria.

Their tour DVD, documenting life in a band too poor to give up jobs at supermarkets, is the saddest music film you’ll see this year, including ‘Control’. There’s a purity to Reuben, because you feel deep down they’ve realised they’re never going to “make it”. They’re getting as much out of nights like this as they possibly can.

They will surely disappear within five years, but Lenman will be back, I assure you. He’s a genius, that kid at school who was amazing at everything he tried but strangely awkward. His songs, once you’re over their ever-so-slight similarity to a bunch of nu metal we all wish hadn’t happened, are like nothing else in 2007.

I emphatically resist that getting older means you need to listen to cerebral, reflective music. It’s patronising, and a denial of where you’ve come from. Reuben are funny, but they’re also extremely earnest, and that seems to be a dirty word these days. But why should we forget what it’s like to be earnest? Why are we ashamed of being heartfelt? Why is it ok to call directionless, indulgent “folk” beautiful and intelligent when loving heroically crafted “rock” gets you laughed at? By your early 20s these are questions that seem too unanswerable to worry about

It’s fair to assume that most bands are having fun; travelling around the country playing music and generally being outrageous on tour buses is fine work if you can get it. Kotki Dwa however sound like they’re enjoying it even more then everyone else, buy more about not only have they rummaged around the musical toy box but they’ve emptied the shop. Robin’s Clogs is a wonderfully crafted indie pop song, mind with slicing guitars not dissimilar to Foals except without the edge and with a squeaking synthesiser over the top playing out a melody as catchy as they come.

Kotki Dwa then are one of the new generation of British pop bands who are re claiming the fun in indie from across the Atlantic. Vocalist Alex, unlike so many of his contemporaries, is actually able to sing melodically and belt out fine vocals with a painfully delicate voice, sometimes sounding on the verge of tears, yet conversely remaining wistfully upbeat, lips smiling but eyes crying. You know the type. This is never more apparent than on B-side Halogen, which holds it’s own to make a single of two fine songs. Oh, and they can even sing in French.
New ways, more about new ways, site
I dream of wires.
So I press ‘c’ for comfort, information pills
I dream of wires, the old ways.
Gary Numan, ‘I Dream of Wires’

Not only an underrated Gary Numan B side, but the latest retro clothing shop to open off Brick Lane. On the opening night, I Dream of Wires offered a kaleidoscopic mix of vintage fashion and nostalgic trinkets creating an environment Mr Benn would have reveled in. Had he actually existed outside of television. (For those who were not raised on children’s cartoons, Mr Benn was my childhood hero and the eponymous character of the classic children’s television show. He tried on clothes and was transported to exciting and dangerous worlds through the back door of the dressing-up shop. Now you know.) The rails ached with an eclectic clothing range as a cropped Moschino jacket with candy-striped lining hung beside a fluorescent pair of ski pants and bejewelled sweatshirt. Carla created a strong look Gary Numan would have loved, pairing a vintage dress with animal emblazoned leggings. In the display cabinets, curious and peculiar ornaments were arranged, the sort your grandparents displayed lovingly on tabletops and shelves. The changing room was continuously occupied as treasures came back and forth to be tried on for size and, happily for all, there were no January sale style brawls. Visiting the shop was like being in my own Mr Benn inspired magical adventure, starting out in the wardrobe of my babysitter in the eighties and stumbling through to my Nana’s bungalow. With so many second-hand and vintage clothing shops located around Brick Lane, I Dream of Wires is sure to appeal to those who get kicks poking fun at retro styles to create eccentric, outrageous ensembles.

carla.jpg
In amongst the glut of sugar coated schmaltz vying for the rather hollow accolade of Christmas number #1 for 2007 is this rather lovely cut from Welsh Wizards Super Furry Animals. A gift it is indeed. The track will be available free to fans in download format, view complete with B side and artwork on Christmas day. It’s safe to say this won’t be troubling the upper reaches of the charts then, viagra but when did SFA ever sell any records? The band’s lack of relative commercial success is still somewhat perplexing.

It matters not. Never intended to be a Christmas single, TGTKOG is one of many highlights from long player Hey Venus! released earlier this year. There are no bells or lyrics about snow. Just Gruff’s gorgeous tones, a meandering brass line and some intricate harmonies. Nadolig Llawen.

Imagine you’re watching one of those American hospital dramas on TV. Perhaps it’s the Christmas episode or season finale, medicine either way something is bound to go wrong. And when the shit hits the fan it breaks down into a montage of various characters in their scrubs, and remorseful, shop head in hands. Then, think of the music that accompanies those tearful medics. It’s emotive, driven by acoustic guitar and piano, with mildly folky vocals and a healthy dose of strings. Deadman, by House of Brothers, is one such track. Both sad and uplifting, this song has been strictly tailored in the studio to drag listeners up to peaks and down into troughs.

House of Brothers is Andrew Jackson’s solo project and is vastly different from his work with Scarecrow and The Death of Rosa Luxemburg. When I read the name of this EP I instantly thought of Jim Jarmusch’s film of the same title. House of Brothers’ release has little in common with the black and white western. I suppose you could say it’s lyrically bleak but the upbeat arrangements prevent Jackson from plumbing the depths.

Although lacking the polish of the title track, the other material has the same guitar/piano/strings, or indie-folk, sound. They are too long and it’s hard to maintain any kind of enthusiasm by the final track, correctly named The Last Ballad.

This EP is also aptly titled, because it retreads a musical style, which doesn’t have much life in it. It feels a little tired, as though most of the effort went into the first track. And was that effort worth it? As Jackson sings, “Don’t want to rise and shine for the second time. Just leave me be.” Perhaps we should.

tnp_press_pic_3_dean_chalkey.JPG

Having already waxed lyrical about These New Puritans after seeing them live in September, viagra approved I was more than ready and willing to get stuck into their much anticipated full-length offering, pharm Beat Pyramid. After much to-ing and fro-ing with release dates, cialis 40mg it looked like this one was going to up in the air for some time, however news is that’ll hit shelves this January and if you’ve an MP3 player, turntable, cassette deck or CD car stereo, I urge you to go out and buy it in every format and play it at high volume wherever you go. This is not THE perfect album, if such a thing even exists, and I won’t and can’t vouch for its life changing properties. However, what this is, I’d like to hope, is the beginning of something great. An album that delivers some absolutely stompingly good tracks, interspersed with a few that never take off; however it’s all a matter of context. Reaching such heights of brilliance at some points, if they fall short for just a moment at others, it hits as a minor disappointment. The fact is some of their lesser tracks would put most ‘indie’ hits to shame. Not a bad position to be in.

Beat Pyramid starts as it means to go on. The opener, …ce I Will Say This Twice which is picked up again in the closing track, sets the scene perfectly for the rest of the album. A beautiful slice of 80′s inspired, sharply constructed electronica, vocals nothing more than a mysterious, androgynous voice stating ‘I will say this Twice’. At just 16 seconds long its peculiar hypnotic effect leaves you wanting more, the sudden end coming frustratingly too soon.

Luckily the stomping drums that usher in Numbers make everything better again. As with their live performances, the beat is king on this record and having seen George Barnett (ringleader Jack’s twin brother) do some quite incredible things with a set of drumsticks, I was more than pleased to see all that demonic, tightly controlled energy translate onto record. “What’s your favourite number/What does it mean?/What’s your favourite number/what does it mean?” Jack never lets up. Insistent repetition is very much the order of the day with TNP, words becoming a beat within themselves, not what is said but more the pattern in which it’s spoken, over and over until it loses meaning but never effect.

Swords of Truth’s distorted trumpets swoop in like the opening of a Dancehall track, the beat conjuring similar reference, it’s easy to spot those unexpected influences that transform this band into something far more interesting and complex than your average post-punk outfit. It would be easy to mistake their eclectic tastes for pretension (Sonic Youth, Dubstep, the Occult, David Lynch) but they’re all laid out here, grabbed and borrowed from seemingly disparate genres. When mention was made of hip-hop whiz kid J Dilla I had my doubts, but they meant it; his irresistible, inside out beats littered throughout.

And now onto Doppelganger. I first heard this track online and immediately spent a good hour trying to track it down and just own it. A stuttering, Timbaland-esque experiment in beat and rhythm, it’s sparsity and directness carried along by, what can only be described as a ‘jangly’ electro dreamscape, giving it a kind of futuristic grandeur and irresistible head nodding appeal. It’s very rare that a band actually creates anything new but Doppelganger is so wilfully unusual and unexpected that it becomes almost impossible to place. At points I’m reminded of The Fall, Aphex Twin, GGD, Klaxons but as quickly as the comparisons come to mind, they’re dashed aside. This is something else and I’m having trouble putting my finger on it. I gave up trying. Whichever way you read it, at its core is something that just works, ultimately making it the standout track of the album.

Infinity Ytinifnl, £4, mkk3, all march along in a similar vein, perhaps a little less instantly striking, they nevertheless continue that ‘new sound’ with some impressive angular rhythms. Aggressive, brash, disjointed, taut. Heard outside of the context of this album, they would probably have had me frantically scrambling for the volume dial. Instead I just sit back and enjoy.

Things come to an unusually melancholic close with Costume, all drawn out, languid keyboards harmonising with Jack’s slow, deliberate vocals as they rise and fall through what feels like one continuous chorus. Interruption in the form of George’s powerful stuttering, staccato drumbeat, take this track to another level. The obligatory ‘Downbeat Finale’ this is not.

So, we return to the beginning again with I Will Say This Twi…, this time just 7 seconds long and ending abruptly like a sudden pull of the plug. The album comes full circle and while none of the mystery surround TNP has been solved, as impenetrable and cryptic as ever in their themes, even their intent, what they do reveal is a unexpectedly accomplished collection of off-beat, otherworldly tracks that remind you that taking a risk sometimes pays off.

Candles – pillar, symptoms tea lights and especially church candles in wine bottles. I love them all. Once I bought a load of tea lights, visit web lined them up on the windowsill behind my bed and lit them, hoping to create a nice atmosphere in my squat (ok it wasn’t actually a squat, but we did have a beetle and maggot infestation – who thought these life forms could co-exist so happily?) This ambiance lasted for about half an hour, until my friend forgot they were lit and leant back too far whilst sitting on the bed. His hair caught fire. After this debacle I’ve been banned from candles just incase I drop out of University to pursue arson as a career. But fate was quick to intervene, as some delightfully scented Diptyque candles were delivered to Amelia and I got to spark up. Diptyque began producing candles in 1963, and in the ensuing 45 years it has cornered the candle market with its exotic wax concoctions and beautiful packaging. In time for Christmas and the New Year, Diptyque have produced three limited edition winter candles – Encens (incense), Gingembre (ginger) and Epicea (spruce). These are candles your mum will actually appreciate as a gift, and so will everyone else within smelling distance. With 60 hours of burning time per candle, this seasonal trio are sure to last through the festive period to deliver the perfect aroma to cure January blues.

epicea-small.jpg

Similar Posts: