Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week S/S 2011: Best of the Fashion East Menswear Installations

Lupen Crook Interview
By Rob Harris

As I approach the North London pub where I’ve agreed to meet Lupen Crook, troche I’m surprised to find that he’s already there, rx sitting quietly at a table outside. He greets me politely and offers to buy me a drink. Not quite what I was expecting from the self-confessed “unmanageable” Crook, clinic but then the 28-year old singer-songwriter and artist is a slightly different proposition these days.

Having spent a couple of years out in the cold after an acrimonious split with his record company, Crook has returned with easily his best work to date, entirely self funded and released on his own Beast Reality Records.

And whereas he used to stalk the unlovely streets of the Medway Towns in Kent, Crook has now moved to London and developed a muscular sound to match.

Recorded with his band, the Murderbirds, Crook’s eagerly awaited third album, The Pros and Cons of Eating Out, is a vaudevillian trip through the dark recesses of his vision of the “Dysunited Kingdom”. But the melodrama of old has been replaced by real drama, and instead of lyrics about toilet abortions and shaken baby syndrome comes beautifully crafted wordplay, with beguiling references to Enoch Powell and Schrödinger’s Cat.

From the Love Cats-esque Lest We Connect through the Russian Cossack stomp of How to Murder Birds to the sub-low synth powered Scissor Kick, the genre-confounding album is the band’s most fully realised and accessible work to date.

But in case anyone’s thinking that Lupen Crook has gone all mature on us, one look at the harlot-embarrassing hand painted album cover should reassure fans that the band shows no signs of pandering to the mainstream just yet.

Over the summer you played to big crowds at the Latitude and Wireless festivals and your new album is more accessible than some of your past releases. Do you think the band has the potential to cross over to mass audiences?

There’s been no conscious effort to make our music more acceptable to people at all – in fact we’re celebrating the freedom to do exactly what we want more than ever. But we’re not shutting ourselves off to the possibility of reaching wider audiences. We’re more comfortable in our own skin now and stronger for it, and with that maybe comes a wider appreciation.

I feel like people generally are treated like idiots – like they’re not intelligent enough or emotionally deep enough to be able to understand anything further than just really crap music. And I think, well, if you actually give people the chance, there’s a whole wealth of brilliant music that would actually make them feel a hell of a lot better about themselves and that they’d enjoy.

Having released your first two albums on the independent Tap n Tin Records, you’re now setting an example for how bands can function as the industry changes, by being completely self funded and releasing your new album on your own label, Beast Reality.

Back when we were recording our second album Iscariot the Ladder, I’d always had this idea of Beast Reality Records – it’s always the daydream that you can release off your own record label. After our contract ended we recorded this album and thought “Right, how are we going to release this?” We had interest from labels and we considered it, but, as everyone knows, the industry’s fucked at the moment and, no disrespect to any of the labels, when we actually got through the door and started talking with them, we thought, well what are we actually getting from a record company? We’d financed and produced the album ourselves, so all we’d be getting from them would be manufacture and distribution.

Do you feel like musicians are, in a sense, starting to get their revenge on the more exploitative elements of the industry?

The music industry’s being returned back to the people who are actually creating the music, and now it’s up to them how they want to do it.

One of the good things about the self-release aspect is that it can keep up with the amount of material we want to release. Industry people have this thing of “you can’t release too much”, but the whole thing with Beast Reality will be to get material out as much as possible – I’d like to be looking at two to three EPs and an album a year.

In the early days you were courted by the NME and were in the NME Cool List in 2005, but this always seemed to be at odds with what you were about.

It completely threw me – it made me retreat hugely. For one thing, the song on that CD [First single Lucky 6 was included on a free CD with the NME] opened my music up to so many people. But I was a far more insecure person back then and I didn’t have my gang and my band around me. I’m never sure how much I suffered from all that – I think to a certain extent it was good, but on the other hand it was a bit of a diversion. But I’ve got no regrets, it was just something that happened and was, quite frankly, out of my control.

Your music is often described in the press as alt-folk, and you describe it as “fight folk”. What does the work “folk” mean to you in terms of music?

Folk means people – it’s peasant music. I don’t think folk music is anything to do with “the fox ran over the moon in the pale night sky” and all of that traditional stuff – I don’t really care about tradition. It’s storytelling – but then at the same time I think we’re a punk rock band really. I like fight folk because it’s got that storytelling aspect to it but also it’s sort of aggressive and I think that’s kind of who we are as individuals.

In recent times the Medway Towns have become known as a kind of hotbed of creative talent, and you’ve often been portrayed as being very much rooted in the area, in the same way that Billy Childish is. Why did you recently choose to move to London?

I’d been in Medway for too long and needed to get out. I feel there’s always the potential for something brilliant to happen there but everyone and everything, and this is why I love it, has turned really feral. To say there’s a scene there is bollocks but to say it’s got the potential for loads of great bands is definitely true. It comes in fits and bursts. There are occasions when everyone decides to get their shit together and not sit in their bedsits drinking and smoking, and when they do actually make the effort, it’s great – there’s something really thriving and exciting, but it never maintains itself because there isn’t really the opportunity for it to go anywhere outside of Medway. I moved to London because I’d walked down every alleyway, I’d drunk in every bar and I’d kind of done it all. Medway will trap you – it’s in a valley – but you can really lose yourself in London.

Your music has lots of references to Catholicism and religion – the song Scissor Kick from the new album talks about “a sprained cath-aholic”. In light of the controversy over the Pope’s recent visit to Britain, what does Catholicism mean to you and how does it feed into your music?

I was brought up with it and it’s in me. I’m very much a Catholic but I absolutely detest Catholicism quite frankly. I just think it’s really outdated and so irrelevant to anything. I think you should have faith – but faith in yourself, almost like individualism – you don’t need a God. I don’t reject everything to do with Catholicism, but I don’t see the point in an organised religion. There’s so many people of a certain generation who still sort of feel this guilt for certain things – I’m completely stricken with catholic guilt and it’s terrible.

Your music has always been hard to categorise and it’s sometimes difficult to detect your immediate influences. What bands or artists have had an influence on you musically?

Someone told me there’s a theory that the interests and experiences you have when you’re around eight years old go on to form the core of the person that you become. When I was eight I used to make little recordings, multi-tracking my Dad’s guitar and my Casio keyboard, and I started a band with the kids down the road, and in a weird way I haven’t actually progressed since I was eight years old – I’m doing the same thing, which actually makes me happy. At that age I was listening to AC/DC, Bon Scott era, and my school uniform, with the shorts, was the same as what Angus Young wore on stage. And Bon Scott was singing songs about sex and fighting and everything that my teachers and parents would detest, which is why my band was called Devil’s Disciples – completely like “I’m gonna piss you lot off”. Then when I was about nine my babysitter brought a compilation tape round with Carter USM on and I just fell in love with it. I think they influenced my lyrics quite a lot – Carter USM’s really down-to-earth wordplay with Bon Scott’s love of the three basics – sex, drugs and rock and roll.

You mention you’ve been playing in bands from a very early age. Has this always been what you’ve wanted to do?

It’s not even a case of that I wanted to do it from an early age – it’s what I decided to do. There’s only been one time in my life when I seriously considered giving up music and just leading a normal life. It was after I broke up my last band and I just packed it in and had a job delivering parcels in a van. I still used to bring my guitar with me in the van so I could play it when I was waiting for deliveries or whatever, and then one day my boss saw it and said, “What’s that?” He said “Look, you make your choice now. You can dick about on the guitar or you can be a parcel delivery man” and I just had this moment of clarity and quit. Then on my way home I got a phone call from my girlfriend saying that Tap n Tin Records wanted to sign me and that was that.

You’ve spoken in the past about having schizoaffective disorder, and last year you released The Curse of the Mirror Wicked EP to help publicise the YoungMinds mental health charity. Does this feed into your creativity?

It’s hard to tell. The way I’ve learnt to understand it, in a crude way, is that it’s somewhere between bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. I got told by a doctor when I was 19 that my obsession with music was actually making me more ill, and at certain moments in the past I’ve thought maybe they’re right, that it is a weird obsession. It’s kind of like a chicken and egg situation. But generally I think; I’ve made my bed and I’m lying in it. I have the occasional wonky period, but I feel lucky that I’m in a position where it’s kind of easier to live with than it might be for other people – because I don’t do a nine-to-five job and I get to write songs and paint pictures.

You make music, and also artwork, under the name Lupen Crook. Is this a character or is this really you?

I’ve always played around with names and I’ve always needed that. All my friends call me Mosh – that’s what I’ve been called since I was eight years old and I refused to be called anything other than that, even by teachers and my parents. I even called myself Jilted Jack Cann for a few years when I was in my last band, Bonzai Reservoir. Lupen Crook started off as a character idea, and now I kind of am that person. Names are almost nothing and everything, aren’t they? I’ve always liked the idea that you can set aside what you were before and, not invent a new persona, but find other perspectives within yourself to say “I’m not that person anymore, I’m this person now”, and that’s what I did with Lupen Crook.

“Right, home time”, says Crook, and with that, he disappears into the night. As I’m leaving, I’m struck by something he said: “I was a writer before I was a father and I was a writer before I was a husband. If I lost everything in the world, I’d still be a writer, because that’s the most important thing – to communicate, even if it’s just to myself.”

The Pros and Cons of Eating Out is released on October 4th on Beast Reality

Illustrations by Faye West

As I approach the North London pub where I’ve agreed to meet Lupen Crook, cure I’m surprised to find that he’s already there, remedy sitting quietly at a table outside. He greets me politely and offers to buy me a drink. Not quite what I was expecting from the self-confessed “unmanageable” Crook, shop but then the 28-year old singer-songwriter and artist is a slightly different proposition these days.

Having spent a couple of years out in the cold after an acrimonious split with his record company, Crook has returned with easily his best work to date, entirely self funded and released on his own Beast Reality Records.

And whereas he used to stalk the unlovely streets of the Medway Towns in Kent, Crook has now moved to London and developed a muscular sound to match.

Recorded with his band, the Murderbirds, Crook’s eagerly awaited third album, The Pros and Cons of Eating Out, is a vaudevillian trip through the dark recesses of his vision of the “Dysunited Kingdom”. But the melodrama of old has been replaced by real drama, and instead of lyrics about toilet abortions and shaken baby syndrome comes beautifully crafted wordplay, with beguiling references to Enoch Powell and Schrödinger’s Cat.

From the Love Cats-esque Lest We Connect through the Russian Cossack stomp of How to Murder Birds to the sub-low synth powered Scissor Kick, the genre-confounding album is the band’s most fully realised and accessible work to date.

But in case anyone’s thinking that Lupen Crook has gone all mature on us, one look at the harlot-embarrassing hand painted album cover should reassure fans that the band shows no signs of pandering to the mainstream just yet.

Over the summer you played to big crowds at the Latitude and Wireless festivals and your new album is more accessible than some of your past releases. Do you think the band has the potential to cross over to mass audiences?

There’s been no conscious effort to make our music more acceptable to people at all – in fact we’re celebrating the freedom to do exactly what we want more than ever. But we’re not shutting ourselves off to the possibility of reaching wider audiences. We’re more comfortable in our own skin now and stronger for it, and with that maybe comes a wider appreciation.

I feel like people generally are treated like idiots – like they’re not intelligent enough or emotionally deep enough to be able to understand anything further than just really crap music. And I think, well, if you actually give people the chance, there’s a whole wealth of brilliant music that would actually make them feel a hell of a lot better about themselves and that they’d enjoy.

Having released your first two albums on the independent Tap n Tin Records, you’re now setting an example for how bands can function as the industry changes, by being completely self funded and releasing your new album on your own label, Beast Reality.

Back when we were recording our second album Iscariot the Ladder, I’d always had this idea of Beast Reality Records – it’s always the daydream that you can release off your own record label. After our contract ended we recorded this album and thought “Right, how are we going to release this?” We had interest from labels and we considered it, but, as everyone knows, the industry’s fucked at the moment and, no disrespect to any of the labels, when we actually got through the door and started talking with them, we thought, well what are we actually getting from a record company? We’d financed and produced the album ourselves, so all we’d be getting from them would be manufacture and distribution.

Do you feel like musicians are, in a sense, starting to get their revenge on the more exploitative elements of the industry?

The music industry’s being returned back to the people who are actually creating the music, and now it’s up to them how they want to do it.

One of the good things about the self-release aspect is that it can keep up with the amount of material we want to release. Industry people have this thing of “you can’t release too much”, but the whole thing with Beast Reality will be to get material out as much as possible – I’d like to be looking at two to three EPs and an album a year.

In the early days you were courted by the NME and were in the NME Cool List in 2005, but this always seemed to be at odds with what you were about.

It completely threw me – it made me retreat hugely. For one thing, the song on that CD [First single Lucky 6 was included on a free CD with the NME] opened my music up to so many people. But I was a far more insecure person back then and I didn’t have my gang and my band around me. I’m never sure how much I suffered from all that – I think to a certain extent it was good, but on the other hand it was a bit of a diversion. But I’ve got no regrets, it was just something that happened and was, quite frankly, out of my control.

Your music is often described in the press as alt-folk, and you describe it as “fight folk”. What does the work “folk” mean to you in terms of music?

Folk means people – it’s peasant music. I don’t think folk music is anything to do with “the fox ran over the moon in the pale night sky” and all of that traditional stuff – I don’t really care about tradition. It’s storytelling – but then at the same time I think we’re a punk rock band really. I like fight folk because it’s got that storytelling aspect to it but also it’s sort of aggressive and I think that’s kind of who we are as individuals.

In recent times the Medway Towns have become known as a kind of hotbed of creative talent, and you’ve often been portrayed as being very much rooted in the area, in the same way that Billy Childish is. Why did you recently choose to move to London?

I’d been in Medway for too long and needed to get out. I feel there’s always the potential for something brilliant to happen there but everyone and everything, and this is why I love it, has turned really feral. To say there’s a scene there is bollocks but to say it’s got the potential for loads of great bands is definitely true. It comes in fits and bursts. There are occasions when everyone decides to get their shit together and not sit in their bedsits drinking and smoking, and when they do actually make the effort, it’s great – there’s something really thriving and exciting, but it never maintains itself because there isn’t really the opportunity for it to go anywhere outside of Medway. I moved to London because I’d walked down every alleyway, I’d drunk in every bar and I’d kind of done it all. Medway will trap you – it’s in a valley – but you can really lose yourself in London.

Your music has lots of references to Catholicism and religion – the song Scissor Kick from the new album talks about “a sprained cath-aholic”. In light of the controversy over the Pope’s recent visit to Britain, what does Catholicism mean to you and how does it feed into your music?

I was brought up with it and it’s in me. I’m very much a Catholic but I absolutely detest Catholicism quite frankly. I just think it’s really outdated and so irrelevant to anything. I think you should have faith – but faith in yourself, almost like individualism – you don’t need a God. I don’t reject everything to do with Catholicism, but I don’t see the point in an organised religion. There’s so many people of a certain generation who still sort of feel this guilt for certain things – I’m completely stricken with catholic guilt and it’s terrible.

Your music has always been hard to categorise and it’s sometimes difficult to detect your immediate influences. What bands or artists have had an influence on you musically?

Someone told me there’s a theory that the interests and experiences you have when you’re around eight years old go on to form the core of the person that you become. When I was eight I used to make little recordings, multi-tracking my Dad’s guitar and my Casio keyboard, and I started a band with the kids down the road, and in a weird way I haven’t actually progressed since I was eight years old – I’m doing the same thing, which actually makes me happy. At that age I was listening to AC/DC, Bon Scott era, and my school uniform, with the shorts, was the same as what Angus Young wore on stage. And Bon Scott was singing songs about sex and fighting and everything that my teachers and parents would detest, which is why my band was called Devil’s Disciples – completely like “I’m gonna piss you lot off”. Then when I was about nine my babysitter brought a compilation tape round with Carter USM on and I just fell in love with it. I think they influenced my lyrics quite a lot – Carter USM’s really down-to-earth wordplay with Bon Scott’s love of the three basics – sex, drugs and rock and roll.

You mention you’ve been playing in bands from a very early age. Has this always been what you’ve wanted to do?

It’s not even a case of that I wanted to do it from an early age – it’s what I decided to do. There’s only been one time in my life when I seriously considered giving up music and just leading a normal life. It was after I broke up my last band and I just packed it in and had a job delivering parcels in a van. I still used to bring my guitar with me in the van so I could play it when I was waiting for deliveries or whatever, and then one day my boss saw it and said, “What’s that?” He said “Look, you make your choice now. You can dick about on the guitar or you can be a parcel delivery man” and I just had this moment of clarity and quit. Then on my way home I got a phone call from my girlfriend saying that Tap n Tin Records wanted to sign me and that was that.

You’ve spoken in the past about having schizoaffective disorder, and last year you released The Curse of the Mirror Wicked EP to help publicise the YoungMinds mental health charity. Does this feed into your creativity?

It’s hard to tell. The way I’ve learnt to understand it, in a crude way, is that it’s somewhere between bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. I got told by a doctor when I was 19 that my obsession with music was actually making me more ill, and at certain moments in the past I’ve thought maybe they’re right, that it is a weird obsession. It’s kind of like a chicken and egg situation. But generally I think; I’ve made my bed and I’m lying in it. I have the occasional wonky period, but I feel lucky that I’m in a position where it’s kind of easier to live with than it might be for other people – because I don’t do a nine-to-five job and I get to write songs and paint pictures.

You make music, and also artwork, under the name Lupen Crook. Is this a character or is this really you?

I’ve always played around with names and I’ve always needed that. All my friends call me Mosh – that’s what I’ve been called since I was eight years old and I refused to be called anything other than that, even by teachers and my parents. I even called myself Jilted Jack Cann for a few years when I was in my last band, Bonzai Reservoir. Lupen Crook started off as a character idea, and now I kind of am that person. Names are almost nothing and everything, aren’t they? I’ve always liked the idea that you can set aside what you were before and, not invent a new persona, but find other perspectives within yourself to say “I’m not that person anymore, I’m this person now”, and that’s what I did with Lupen Crook.

“Right, home time”, says Crook, and with that, he disappears into the night. As I’m leaving, I’m struck by something he said: “I was a writer before I was a father and I was a writer before I was a husband. If I lost everything in the world, I’d still be a writer, because that’s the most important thing – to communicate, even if it’s just to myself.”

The Pros and Cons of Eating Out is released on October 4th on Beast Reality

Illustrations by Faye West

As I approach the North London pub where I’ve agreed to meet Lupen Crook, sick I’m surprised to find that he’s already there, more about sitting quietly at a table outside. He greets me politely and offers to buy me a drink. Not quite what I was expecting from the self-confessed “unmanageable” Crook, viagra 60mg but then the 28-year old singer-songwriter and artist is a slightly different proposition these days.

Having spent a couple of years out in the cold after an acrimonious split with his record company, Crook has returned with easily his best work to date, entirely self funded and released on his own Beast Reality Records.

And whereas he used to stalk the unlovely streets of the Medway Towns in Kent, Crook has now moved to London and developed a muscular sound to match.

Recorded with his band, the Murderbirds, Crook’s eagerly awaited third album, The Pros and Cons of Eating Out, is a vaudevillian trip through the dark recesses of his vision of the “Dysunited Kingdom”. But the melodrama of old has been replaced by real drama, and instead of lyrics about toilet abortions and shaken baby syndrome comes beautifully crafted wordplay, with beguiling references to Enoch Powell and Schrödinger’s Cat.

From the Love Cats-esque Lest We Connect through the Russian Cossack stomp of How to Murder Birds to the sub-low synth powered Scissor Kick, the genre-confounding album is the band’s most fully realised and accessible work to date.

But in case anyone’s thinking that Lupen Crook has gone all mature on us, one look at the harlot-embarrassing hand painted album cover should reassure fans that the band shows no signs of pandering to the mainstream just yet.

Over the summer you played to big crowds at the Latitude and Wireless festivals and your new album is more accessible than some of your past releases. Do you think the band has the potential to cross over to mass audiences?

There’s been no conscious effort to make our music more acceptable to people at all – in fact we’re celebrating the freedom to do exactly what we want more than ever. But we’re not shutting ourselves off to the possibility of reaching wider audiences. We’re more comfortable in our own skin now and stronger for it, and with that maybe comes a wider appreciation.

I feel like people generally are treated like idiots – like they’re not intelligent enough or emotionally deep enough to be able to understand anything further than just really crap music. And I think, well, if you actually give people the chance, there’s a whole wealth of brilliant music that would actually make them feel a hell of a lot better about themselves and that they’d enjoy.

Having released your first two albums on the independent Tap n Tin Records, you’re now setting an example for how bands can function as the industry changes, by being completely self funded and releasing your new album on your own label, Beast Reality.

Back when we were recording our second album Iscariot the Ladder, I’d always had this idea of Beast Reality Records – it’s always the daydream that you can release off your own record label. After our contract ended we recorded this album and thought “Right, how are we going to release this?” We had interest from labels and we considered it, but, as everyone knows, the industry’s fucked at the moment and, no disrespect to any of the labels, when we actually got through the door and started talking with them, we thought, well what are we actually getting from a record company? We’d financed and produced the album ourselves, so all we’d be getting from them would be manufacture and distribution.

Do you feel like musicians are, in a sense, starting to get their revenge on the more exploitative elements of the industry?

The music industry’s being returned back to the people who are actually creating the music, and now it’s up to them how they want to do it.

One of the good things about the self-release aspect is that it can keep up with the amount of material we want to release. Industry people have this thing of “you can’t release too much”, but the whole thing with Beast Reality will be to get material out as much as possible – I’d like to be looking at two to three EPs and an album a year.

In the early days you were courted by the NME and were in the NME Cool List in 2005, but this always seemed to be at odds with what you were about.

It completely threw me – it made me retreat hugely. For one thing, the song on that CD [First single Lucky 6 was included on a free CD with the NME] opened my music up to so many people. But I was a far more insecure person back then and I didn’t have my gang and my band around me. I’m never sure how much I suffered from all that – I think to a certain extent it was good, but on the other hand it was a bit of a diversion. But I’ve got no regrets, it was just something that happened and was, quite frankly, out of my control.

Your music is often described in the press as alt-folk, and you describe it as “fight folk”. What does the work “folk” mean to you in terms of music?

Folk means people – it’s peasant music. I don’t think folk music is anything to do with “the fox ran over the moon in the pale night sky” and all of that traditional stuff – I don’t really care about tradition. It’s storytelling – but then at the same time I think we’re a punk rock band really. I like fight folk because it’s got that storytelling aspect to it but also it’s sort of aggressive and I think that’s kind of who we are as individuals.

In recent times the Medway Towns have become known as a kind of hotbed of creative talent, and you’ve often been portrayed as being very much rooted in the area, in the same way that Billy Childish is. Why did you recently choose to move to London?

I’d been in Medway for too long and needed to get out. I feel there’s always the potential for something brilliant to happen there but everyone and everything, and this is why I love it, has turned really feral. To say there’s a scene there is bollocks but to say it’s got the potential for loads of great bands is definitely true. It comes in fits and bursts. There are occasions when everyone decides to get their shit together and not sit in their bedsits drinking and smoking, and when they do actually make the effort, it’s great – there’s something really thriving and exciting, but it never maintains itself because there isn’t really the opportunity for it to go anywhere outside of Medway. I moved to London because I’d walked down every alleyway, I’d drunk in every bar and I’d kind of done it all. Medway will trap you – it’s in a valley – but you can really lose yourself in London.

Your music has lots of references to Catholicism and religion – the song Scissor Kick from the new album talks about “a sprained cath-aholic”. In light of the controversy over the Pope’s recent visit to Britain, what does Catholicism mean to you and how does it feed into your music?

I was brought up with it and it’s in me. I’m very much a Catholic but I absolutely detest Catholicism quite frankly. I just think it’s really outdated and so irrelevant to anything. I think you should have faith – but faith in yourself, almost like individualism – you don’t need a God. I don’t reject everything to do with Catholicism, but I don’t see the point in an organised religion. There’s so many people of a certain generation who still sort of feel this guilt for certain things – I’m completely stricken with catholic guilt and it’s terrible.

Your music has always been hard to categorise and it’s sometimes difficult to detect your immediate influences. What bands or artists have had an influence on you musically?

Someone told me there’s a theory that the interests and experiences you have when you’re around eight years old go on to form the core of the person that you become. When I was eight I used to make little recordings, multi-tracking my Dad’s guitar and my Casio keyboard, and I started a band with the kids down the road, and in a weird way I haven’t actually progressed since I was eight years old – I’m doing the same thing, which actually makes me happy. At that age I was listening to AC/DC, Bon Scott era, and my school uniform, with the shorts, was the same as what Angus Young wore on stage. And Bon Scott was singing songs about sex and fighting and everything that my teachers and parents would detest, which is why my band was called Devil’s Disciples – completely like “I’m gonna piss you lot off”. Then when I was about nine my babysitter brought a compilation tape round with Carter USM on and I just fell in love with it. I think they influenced my lyrics quite a lot – Carter USM’s really down-to-earth wordplay with Bon Scott’s love of the three basics – sex, drugs and rock and roll.

You mention you’ve been playing in bands from a very early age. Has this always been what you’ve wanted to do?

It’s not even a case of that I wanted to do it from an early age – it’s what I decided to do. There’s only been one time in my life when I seriously considered giving up music and just leading a normal life. It was after I broke up my last band and I just packed it in and had a job delivering parcels in a van. I still used to bring my guitar with me in the van so I could play it when I was waiting for deliveries or whatever, and then one day my boss saw it and said, “What’s that?” He said “Look, you make your choice now. You can dick about on the guitar or you can be a parcel delivery man” and I just had this moment of clarity and quit. Then on my way home I got a phone call from my girlfriend saying that Tap n Tin Records wanted to sign me and that was that.

You’ve spoken in the past about having schizoaffective disorder, and last year you released The Curse of the Mirror Wicked EP to help publicise the YoungMinds mental health charity. Does this feed into your creativity?

It’s hard to tell. The way I’ve learnt to understand it, in a crude way, is that it’s somewhere between bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. I got told by a doctor when I was 19 that my obsession with music was actually making me more ill, and at certain moments in the past I’ve thought maybe they’re right, that it is a weird obsession. It’s kind of like a chicken and egg situation. But generally I think; I’ve made my bed and I’m lying in it. I have the occasional wonky period, but I feel lucky that I’m in a position where it’s kind of easier to live with than it might be for other people – because I don’t do a nine-to-five job and I get to write songs and paint pictures.

You make music, and also artwork, under the name Lupen Crook. Is this a character or is this really you?

I’ve always played around with names and I’ve always needed that. All my friends call me Mosh – that’s what I’ve been called since I was eight years old and I refused to be called anything other than that, even by teachers and my parents. I even called myself Jilted Jack Cann for a few years when I was in my last band, Bonzai Reservoir. Lupen Crook started off as a character idea, and now I kind of am that person. Names are almost nothing and everything, aren’t they? I’ve always liked the idea that you can set aside what you were before and, not invent a new persona, but find other perspectives within yourself to say “I’m not that person anymore, I’m this person now”, and that’s what I did with Lupen Crook.

“Right, home time”, says Crook, and with that, he disappears into the night. As I’m leaving, I’m struck by something he said: “I was a writer before I was a father and I was a writer before I was a husband. If I lost everything in the world, I’d still be a writer, because that’s the most important thing – to communicate, even if it’s just to myself.”

The Pros and Cons of Eating Out is released on October 4th on Beast Reality


Illustration by Antonia Parker

Well, pills they’d really gone to town with this season’s menswear installations. Menswear Day is great, but it’s bloody hard work – you get five days to absorb what’s on offer for women, but only one for the guys – even though the quality and breadth of talent is just as vast.

So in between shows I managed to leg it around the installations, taking photographs, collecting press releases, bumping into people I knew and desperately tried not to steal Mr Hare shoes, all at the same time. It was hard work, I tell ya.

Katie Eary



I LOVE Katie Eary‘s work and this year was no exception. Moving away from skeletal masks and those joke glasses that have me in stitches whenever I see a pair, this season saw Katie collaborate with Lonsdale to create a 1950s boxing scene. It was GREAT – genuine boxers in Katie’s leopard-skin silk shorts, jewel-encrusted boxing helmets and embellished gloves fought on one side of the space behind traditional boxing ring ropes. A genuine coach jeered in his East End accent and Katie, resplendent in a leopard-skin number herself, styled the models/boxers like a glamorous ringside moll.



Tartans featured as boxers rested in the other half of the installation, surrounded by red roses and walls covered in the same fabric. Despite being mesmerised by the shirtless boxers I did also notice some neat tailoring, studded trousers and yet more leopard skin numbers. Amazing.

Mr Hare



Delicious shoes. Again. What else to say? It’s hard to stand out designing shoes exclusively for men, I’m sure, unless you design panto clown shoes – but Mr Hare managed it again – this season presenting an entirely black collection (strange, I thought, for S/S). Suede, patent leather and reptile skin all featured.

Matthew Miller

I am seriously excited about interviewing Matthew Miller in the coming weeks, so keep an eye out for that. His unique fusing of modern tailoring with a sport-luxe aesthetic really gets me going. A model stood looking a little perplexed outside his little hut, wearing a double-breasted blazer in rich cotton with a banded white stripe straight through the middle. It seems this theme ran through his entire collection, giving well-tailored clothing a contemporary twist. Crisp white shirts with stripes are teamed with tailored shirts to achieve the MM look.

Omar Kashoura

Illustration by Antonia Parker

It’s no secret that I loved what Omar Kashoura had to offer last season, and it’s no surprise that he’d been awarded NEWGEN sponsorship this time around. Moving on from formal tailoring, this season he presented a more playful collection packed full of wit, humour and great checks.



A jazz band modelled the clothes, but every time I went in they were hanging around posing and not actually playing instruments (that modelling opportunity had obviously gone to their heads) but I’m told they were very good. Twill double-breasted blazers, some with piped lapels, toyed with the idea of English dressing, and whimsical handkerchiefs were placed in pockets. A general colour palette of tones of blue was enhanced with flashes of red and some pastel colours, while the models wore Edward Green shoes (HOT).

The rest of the room featured look-book shots (above) with hilarious catalogue-style captions – ‘Andreas looks comfortable in a viscose and cotton knitted vest with a zipper front…’

Christopher Raeburn


Christopher Raeburn fits into many categories, and his collection this year was his best outing yet. Spots were the key theme, as were coats of many colours. Read a little bit more about him in Amelia’s review here.

Baartmans and Siegel


Great colours up for grabs here, with pastel blue tapered trousers and silk scarves and navy trenches, teamed with pastel blue suede shoes. Ones to watch, I’d say, with their mix of European influences and luxurious fabrics.

Mattio Bigliardi

…wins the award for biggest jacket. Love this colour…

Christopher Shannon

Another season brings another collaboration with Eastpak, and even more silly bags, that I actually really like. The colours echoed his catwalk collection, featuring lemon, aqua and grey.

Morgan Allen Oliver


Illustrations by Aniela Murphy
Last, but by no means least, Morgan delighted again this season with fabulous knitwear and polka dot shorts. As much as I loved his offerings in February, this time around he seems to have grown in sophistication and his collection seemed smarter and infinitely more wearable, while still maintaining that contemporary, humorous wit that we’re steadily gettting used to. Muted colours featured, along with luxurious-knit cardigans, spotted jumpers and said polka-dot shorts, modelled by previous fashion editor Jonno Ovans!



Categories ,Aniela Murphy, ,Antonia Parker, ,Baartmans and Siegel, ,Boxing, ,Christopher Raeburn, ,Christopher Shannon, ,Fashion East, ,jazz, ,Katie Eary, ,London Fashion Week, ,Mattio Bigliardi, ,menswear, ,Morgan Allen Oliver, ,Mr Hare, ,Newgen, ,Omar Kashoura, ,pastels, ,S/S 2011, ,Sheds, ,Somerset House, ,tailoring

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week A/W 2011, Presentation: Orla Kiely (by Helen)


Illustration by Joana Faria

If I ever meet Jean Pierre Braganza in person, physician price I might give him a little squeeze. His A/W 2011 show on Friday leaps right into my top 5 – and I’m writing this at the end of a very long and pretty stressful Day 3.

One of my favourite things during fashion week is getting to see interesting buildings that I never knew existed and wouldn’t normally take the slightest interest in. Braganza’s show was to take place at the ‘Show Space’ – part of one of those centuries-old hotels with Baroque interiors and branded soaps. Me and Amelia skipped the queue and sneaked inside to find the most beautiful chandeliers and lots of OTT dressed punters. The actual room in which the show was to take place was equally as decadent, save for the make-shift catwalk that looked like it could topple at any second – and the tiny gap down the side of said catwalk through which we all had to squeeze. ‘I predict a bottle neck’ I thought as we entered, and my premonition came true on the way out.


Illustrations by Krister Selin

A little wait ensued while it was ensured that every inch of carpet had somebody to occupy it, so I took a few snaps of the room and got a bit excited about the juxtaposition of this past interior and Braganza’s future aesthetic.

On with the show with bangin’ beats and gorgeous models wearing more gorgeous clothes. Masculine tailoring appeared first, dynamically cut and decorated with a transfixing splatter pattern in tonal greys. This pattern was set to become a theme, appearing in both menswear and womenswear. After only a few pieces I instantly thought that Braganza’s collections are always meticulous and polished – rich, full fabrics are combined with unique cuts and expert craftsmanship – the entire collection was technically faultless.

Models appeared one after the other, pausing a third of the way down the catwalk so we could all get a good look. I like this set up – much better for pictures (and I’ve really struggled with pictures this season – bloody A/W and it’s sea of dark colours).


Illustrations by Krister Selin

Branganza took the collection forward concentrating on luxe materials that have high aesthetic value: rich and heavy knits, leather and mohair; add a science-fiction influence and you’ve got a real fashion forward collection.

Geometric cuts featured patches of contrasting materials. Nautical stripes in monochrome contrasted with the smoothness of jersey; gents wore Cuban heels with their military tailoring with contrasting sleeves. Braganza has an incredible ability to combine leather architectural pieces with beautifully elegant silk frocks – sounds hideous on paper but as a collection it was completely coherent.


Illustration by Joana Faria

I usually can’t get it up for a predominantly black collection, but with Jean Pierre Braganza’s vision of the future I most certainly can. Bursts of lipstick red shook things up a bit: a gent’s suit with a synched back and skinny trousers that finished with points; embellished onto a mind-blowing shift dress; on short skirts. But it will be Braganza’s black that I remember this collection for: leather sleeves for gents and cutaway dresses in leather with a hint of bondage that oozed sex appeal for the ladies. Eyes peeled folks, this is what the future looks like.



Illustration by Joana Faria

If I ever meet Jean Pierre Braganza in person, stuff I might give him a little squeeze. His A/W 2011 show on Friday leaps right into my top 5 – and I’m writing this at the end of a very long and pretty stressful Day 3.

One of my favourite things during fashion week is getting to see interesting buildings that I never knew existed and wouldn’t normally take the slightest interest in. Braganza’s show was to take place at the ‘Show Space’ – part of one of those centuries-old hotels with Baroque interiors and branded soaps. Me and Amelia skipped the queue and sneaked inside to find the most beautiful chandeliers and lots of OTT dressed punters. The actual room in which the show was to take place was equally as decadent, prescription save for the make-shift catwalk that looked like it could topple at any second – and the tiny gap down the side of said catwalk through which we all had to squeeze. ‘I predict a bottle neck’ I thought as we entered, and my premonition came true on the way out.


Illustrations by Krister Selin

A little wait ensued while it was ensured that every inch of carpet had somebody to occupy it, so I took a few snaps of the room and got a bit excited about the juxtaposition of this past interior and Braganza’s future aesthetic.

On with the show with bangin’ beats and gorgeous models wearing more gorgeous clothes. Masculine tailoring appeared first, dynamically cut and decorated with a transfixing splatter pattern in tonal greys. This pattern was set to become a theme, appearing in both menswear and womenswear. After only a few pieces I instantly thought that Braganza’s collections are always meticulous and polished – rich, full fabrics are combined with unique cuts and expert craftsmanship – the entire collection was technically faultless.

Models appeared one after the other, pausing a third of the way down the catwalk so we could all get a good look. I like this set up – much better for pictures (and I’ve really struggled with pictures this season – bloody A/W and it’s sea of dark colours).


Illustrations by Krister Selin

Branganza took the collection forward concentrating on luxe materials that have high aesthetic value: rich and heavy knits, leather and mohair; add a science-fiction influence and you’ve got a real fashion forward collection.

Geometric cuts featured patches of contrasting materials. Nautical stripes in monochrome contrasted with the smoothness of jersey; gents wore Cuban heels with their military tailoring with contrasting sleeves. Braganza has an incredible ability to combine leather architectural pieces with beautifully elegant silk frocks – sounds hideous on paper but as a collection it was completely coherent.


Illustration by Joana Faria

I usually can’t get it up for a predominantly black collection, but with Jean Pierre Braganza’s vision of the future I most certainly can. Bursts of lipstick red shook things up a bit: a gent’s suit with a synched back and skinny trousers that finished with points; embellished onto a mind-blowing shift dress; on short skirts. But it will be Braganza’s black that I remember this collection for: leather sleeves for gents and cutaway dresses in leather with a hint of bondage that oozed sex appeal for the ladies. Eyes peeled folks, this is what the future looks like.

All photography by Matt Bramford

See more of Joana Faria and Krister Selin’s illustrations in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration.

Illustration by Joana Faria

If I ever meet Jean Pierre Braganza in person, decease I might give him a little squeeze. His A/W 2011 show on Friday leaps right into my top 5 – and I’m writing this at the end of a very long and pretty stressful Day 3.

One of my favourite things during fashion week is getting to see interesting buildings that I never knew existed and wouldn’t normally take the slightest interest in. Braganza’s show was to take place at the ‘Show Space’ – part of one of those centuries-old hotels with Baroque interiors and branded soaps. Me and Amelia skipped the queue and sneaked inside to find the most beautiful chandeliers and lots of OTT dressed punters. The actual room in which the show was to take place was equally as decadent, save for the make-shift catwalk that looked like it could topple at any second – and the tiny gap down the side of said catwalk through which we all had to squeeze. ‘I predict a bottle neck’ I thought as we entered, and my premonition came true on the way out.


Illustrations by Krister Selin

A little wait ensued while it was ensured that every inch of carpet had somebody to occupy it, so I took a few snaps of the room and got a bit excited about the juxtaposition of this past interior and Braganza’s future aesthetic.

On with the show with bangin’ beats and gorgeous models wearing more gorgeous clothes. Masculine tailoring appeared first, dynamically cut and decorated with a transfixing splatter pattern in tonal greys. This pattern was set to become a theme, appearing in both menswear and womenswear. After only a few pieces I instantly thought that Braganza’s collections are always meticulous and polished – rich, full fabrics are combined with unique cuts and expert craftsmanship – the entire collection was technically faultless.

Models appeared one after the other, pausing a third of the way down the catwalk so we could all get a good look. I like this set up – much better for pictures (and I’ve really struggled with pictures this season – bloody A/W and it’s sea of dark colours).


Illustrations by Krister Selin

Branganza took the collection forward concentrating on luxe materials that have high aesthetic value: rich and heavy knits, leather and mohair; add a science-fiction influence and you’ve got a real fashion forward collection.

Geometric cuts featured patches of contrasting materials. Nautical stripes in monochrome contrasted with the smoothness of jersey; gents wore Cuban heels with their military tailoring with contrasting sleeves. Braganza has an incredible ability to combine leather architectural pieces with beautifully elegant silk frocks – sounds hideous on paper but as a collection it was completely coherent.


Illustration by Joana Faria

I usually can’t get it up for a predominantly black collection, but with Jean Pierre Braganza’s vision of the future I most certainly can. Bursts of lipstick red shook things up a bit: a gent’s suit with a synched back and skinny trousers that finished with points; embellished onto a mind-blowing shift dress; on short skirts. But it will be Braganza’s black that I remember this collection for: leather sleeves for gents and cutaway dresses in leather with a hint of bondage that oozed sex appeal for the ladies. Eyes peeled folks, this is what the future looks like.

All photography by Matt Bramford

See more of Joana Faria and Krister Selin’s illustrations in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration.

Illustration by Joana Faria

If I ever meet Jean Pierre Braganza in person, viagra I might give him a little squeeze. His A/W 2011 show on Friday leaps right into my top 5 – and I’m writing this at the end of a very long and pretty stressful Day 3.

One of my favourite things during fashion week is getting to see interesting buildings that I never knew existed and wouldn’t normally take the slightest interest in. Braganza’s show was to take place at the ‘Show Space‘ – part of one of those centuries-old hotels with Baroque interiors and branded soaps. Me and Amelia skipped the queue and sneaked inside to find the most beautiful chandeliers and lots of OTT dressed punters. The actual room in which the show was to take place was equally as decadent, save for the make-shift catwalk that looked like it could topple at any second – and the tiny gap down the side of said catwalk through which we all had to squeeze. ‘I predict a bottle neck’ I thought as we entered, and my premonition came true on the way out.


Illustrations by Krister Selin

A little wait ensued while it was ensured that every inch of carpet had somebody to occupy it, so I took a few snaps of the room and got a bit excited about the juxtaposition of this past interior and Braganza’s future aesthetic.

On with the show with bangin’ beats and gorgeous models wearing more gorgeous clothes. Masculine tailoring appeared first, dynamically cut and decorated with a transfixing splatter pattern in tonal greys. This pattern was set to become a theme, appearing in both menswear and womenswear. After only a few pieces I instantly thought that Braganza’s collections are always meticulous and polished – rich, full fabrics are combined with unique cuts and expert craftsmanship – the entire collection was technically faultless.

Models appeared one after the other, pausing a third of the way down the catwalk so we could all get a good look. I like this set up – much better for pictures (and I’ve really struggled with pictures this season – bloody A/W and it’s sea of dark colours).


Illustrations by Krister Selin

Branganza took the collection forward concentrating on luxe materials that have high aesthetic value: rich and heavy knits, leather and mohair; add a science-fiction influence and you’ve got a real fashion forward collection.

Geometric cuts featured patches of contrasting materials. Nautical stripes in monochrome contrasted with the smoothness of jersey; gents wore Cuban heels with their military tailoring with contrasting sleeves. Braganza has an incredible ability to combine leather architectural pieces with beautifully elegant silk frocks – sounds hideous on paper but as a collection it was completely coherent.


Illustration by Joana Faria

I usually can’t get it up for a predominantly black collection, but with Jean Pierre Braganza’s vision of the future I most certainly can. Bursts of lipstick red shook things up a bit: a gent’s suit with a synched back and skinny trousers that finished with points; embellished onto a mind-blowing shift dress; on short skirts. But it will be Braganza’s black that I remember this collection for: leather sleeves for gents and cutaway dresses in leather with a hint of bondage that oozed sex appeal for the ladies. Eyes peeled folks, this is what the future looks like.

All photography by Matt Bramford

See more of Joana Faria and Krister Selin’s illustrations in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration.
ORLA_KYELI_by_Joana_Faria_2

Orla Kiely LFW A/W Collection, order illustration by Joana Faria

Initially I got stuck in the lift with a delivery man, information pills and then a very tanned lady. Apparently you are not supposed to use the lift at London Fashion Week. I don’t normally use the lift (thighs), sick but to be honest, I was unsure as to how to get to the Portico Rooms, where Orla Kiely was showing her short films, and there was an arrow towards the lift. Anyway, tanned lady assisted me in getting in and consequently missed her lift and was forced to take the stairs. She was lovely. I entered the little room to find three sheds, twig trees, pretty stools, lots of stuffed birds (real?) and strange bird/nature music, wafting.

Orla_Kiely_by_Matilde_Sazio

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illusration by Matilde Sazio

I wish I could say that I wafted around the room, and I tried to put be exhibition faced, but I had to move around people, twigs in my hair and face and then birds – just there. *SQUAWK* Perhaps now would be the time to say I am scared of birds.

orla_kiely_by_avril_kelly

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illustration by Avril Kelly

A dyed, dark haired boy with a strong side parting came up to me, straight backed and carrying a tray of champagne. Luckily for him the tray had little grooves so the stems came out the bottom to avoid spillage. Sadly for me, I couldn’t see how to access le bubbly. “How do I… ah, thanks”. I clutched my champagne at its stem. Although I saw most people holding their glasses around the fatter bit. I was told this was wrong to do by a man at a ‘ra’ party when I was 15. I also thought this was wrong/bad etiquette/heats liquid with hand warmth? But it does look better, holding champs at the fatter bit…rearrange hand. I smiled at a lady who had a few people round her and was smiling in my direction. She saw me though, and it vanished. Denied! I later heard her say she was the Editor of a Homes magazine and she got her photo taken amongst the twig trees. My time at BBC Homes and Antiques, as an intern, came rushing back to me.

Orla_Kiely_Bag_by_Matilde_Sazio

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illusration by Matilde Sazio

I meandered about. LOVED the girls in Orla Kiely outfits, plastered to the walls. Although Orla Kiely heavily reminds me of women in Clifton (affluent part of Bristol), and Bath, sauntering about, I think her designs look excellent on younger women. With 60s influences, and pretty detailing, they’re perfect and easy to wear creations, that are FAR from some of preconceived ideas. Most of the aforementioned women only ever really wear the bags, to be fair. And to see the full outfits, with the pretty shoes, natural colours and high hemlines, I was in lust with Orla! Less the birds.

ORLA_KYELI_by_Joana_Faria_1

Orla Kiely LFW A/W Collection, illustration by Joana Faria

I had a little chat with the champagne boy, as I had no chance of speaking to Ms Editor, she wouldn’t appreciate one of my own designed business cards (they’re amazing). He said the films had been on rotation since 7am, which is fiiiine, but the soundtrack (i.e. birds), was a tad repetitive. We discussed our day. He asked if I was in ‘the business’. I replied: “Mmmm, writer.” I felt bad for not asking him if he was in the business, but as I sat on an Orla bench, decided that he was a poet who had escaped Burnley.

Orla_kiely_2_by_avril_kelly

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illustration by Avril Kelly

I saw that the films were being shown in the sheds. I considered leaning on the side of the shed, as no one seemed to be sitting inside them. But instead decided to sit inside, on a stool, in the shed. It felt like one of those watch places you find on walks. Then: ARG!! A MASSIVE stuffed OWL was looking straight at me. Out the shed.

ORLA_KYELI_by_Joana_Faria_3

Orla Kiely LFW A/W Collection, illustration by Joana Faria

The video was purposefully flickery and sweet, with the models in greens and creams, wandering about their vintage filled houses. I won’t lie; I wanted the house/clothes dearly. They looked so contented, slightly robotic, but perfect.

Orla_Kiely_A-W_2011LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-4LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-2LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-3LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_KielyLFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-1
Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, photography by Amelia Gregory

It seems that lighter, floatier fabrics took hold for Orla Kiely’s S/S 2011 collection, as Orla said: For ready-to-wear, there is silk organza mesh partywear; sheer fabrics have played a large part in the collection. Some prints also have abstract references to apples and pears. Within bags and accessories, I have designed leather backpacks and my debut sunglasses range.” But, heavier fabrics have returned for A/W, with beautiful, thick coats, short, wool dresses and A Line skirts, knitted skirt suits and 70s influenced belted loose jersey dresses and bell sleeves. All worn with black socks and ankle strapped shoes. Thick knit long cardigans or 60s trenches also feature, whilst the make up is subtle, allowing the deep teals, greens and light browns to take the focus. And of course promoting the simple, pretty, easy to wear, natural style of Orla Kiely.

I was transfixed by the video for a little while – the music was quite liable to do this – and then, although tempted to sit and drink more champagne on a pretty stool, I wandered off out the correct door.

Joana Faria’s Illustrations can also be found in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration, available here.

Categories ,60s, ,70s, ,Avril Kelly, ,BBC Homes and Antiques, ,Benches, ,birds, ,Champagne, ,Helen Martin, ,Irish, ,Joanna Faria, ,lfw, ,LFW A/W 2011, ,LFW Presentation, ,lift, ,Matilde Sazio, ,Orla Kiely, ,Portico Rooms, ,Presentation, ,Pretty, ,Sheds, ,Stools, ,twigs, ,video

Similar Posts:






Amelia’s Magazine | London Fashion Week A/W 2011, Presentation: Orla Kiely (by Helen)

ORLA_KYELI_by_Joana_Faria_2

Orla Kiely LFW A/W Collection, illustration by Joana Faria

Initially I got stuck in the lift with a delivery man, and then a very tanned lady. Apparently you are not supposed to use the lift at London Fashion Week. I don’t normally use the lift (thighs), but to be honest, I was unsure as to how to get to the Portico Rooms, where Orla Kiely was showing her short films, and there was an arrow towards the lift. Anyway, tanned lady assisted me in getting in and consequently missed her lift and was forced to take the stairs. She was lovely. I entered the little room to find three sheds, twig trees, pretty stools, lots of stuffed birds (real?) and strange bird/nature music, wafting.

Orla_Kiely_by_Matilde_Sazio

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illusration by Matilde Sazio

I wish I could say that I wafted around the room, and I tried to put be exhibition faced, but I had to move around people, twigs in my hair and face and then birds – just there. *SQUAWK* Perhaps now would be the time to say I am scared of birds.

orla_kiely_by_avril_kelly

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illustration by Avril Kelly

A dyed, dark haired boy with a strong side parting came up to me, straight backed and carrying a tray of champagne. Luckily for him the tray had little grooves so the stems came out the bottom to avoid spillage. Sadly for me, I couldn’t see how to access le bubbly. “How do I… ah, thanks”. I clutched my champagne at its stem. Although I saw most people holding their glasses around the fatter bit. I was told this was wrong to do by a man at a ‘ra’ party when I was 15. I also thought this was wrong/bad etiquette/heats liquid with hand warmth? But it does look better, holding champs at the fatter bit…rearrange hand. I smiled at a lady who had a few people round her and was smiling in my direction. She saw me though, and it vanished. Denied! I later heard her say she was the Editor of a Homes magazine and she got her photo taken amongst the twig trees. My time at BBC Homes and Antiques, as an intern, came rushing back to me.

Orla_Kiely_Bag_by_Matilde_Sazio

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illusration by Matilde Sazio

I meandered about. LOVED the girls in Orla Kiely outfits, plastered to the walls. Although Orla Kiely heavily reminds me of women in Clifton (affluent part of Bristol), and Bath, sauntering about, I think her designs look excellent on younger women. With 60s influences, and pretty detailing, they’re perfect and easy to wear creations, that are FAR from some of preconceived ideas. Most of the aforementioned women only ever really wear the bags, to be fair. And to see the full outfits, with the pretty shoes, natural colours and high hemlines, I was in lust with Orla! Less the birds.

ORLA_KYELI_by_Joana_Faria_1

Orla Kiely LFW A/W Collection, illustration by Joana Faria

I had a little chat with the champagne boy, as I had no chance of speaking to Ms Editor, she wouldn’t appreciate one of my own designed business cards (they’re amazing). He said the films had been on rotation since 7am, which is fiiiine, but the soundtrack (i.e. birds), was a tad repetitive. We discussed our day. He asked if I was in ‘the business’. I replied: “Mmmm, writer.” I felt bad for not asking him if he was in the business, but as I sat on an Orla bench, decided that he was a poet who had escaped Burnley.

Orla_kiely_2_by_avril_kelly

Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, illustration by Avril Kelly

I saw that the films were being shown in the sheds. I considered leaning on the side of the shed, as no one seemed to be sitting inside them. But instead decided to sit inside, on a stool, in the shed. It felt like one of those watch places you find on walks. Then: ARG!! A MASSIVE stuffed OWL was looking straight at me. Out the shed.

ORLA_KYELI_by_Joana_Faria_3

Orla Kiely LFW A/W Collection, illustration by Joana Faria

The video was purposefully flickery and sweet, with the models in greens and creams, wandering about their vintage filled houses. I won’t lie; I wanted the house/clothes dearly. They looked so contented, slightly robotic, but perfect.

Orla_Kiely_A-W_2011LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-4LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-2LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-3LFW_A-W_2011-Orla_KielyLFW_A-W_2011-Orla_Kiely-1
Orla Kiely LFW A/W 2011, photography by Amelia Gregory

It seems that lighter, floatier fabrics took hold for Orla Kiely’s S/S 2011 collection, as Orla said: For ready-to-wear, there is silk organza mesh partywear; sheer fabrics have played a large part in the collection. Some prints also have abstract references to apples and pears. Within bags and accessories, I have designed leather backpacks and my debut sunglasses range.” But, heavier fabrics have returned for A/W, with beautiful, thick coats, short, wool dresses and A Line skirts, knitted skirt suits and 70s influenced belted loose jersey dresses and bell sleeves. All worn with black socks and ankle strapped shoes. Thick knit long cardigans or 60s trenches also feature, whilst the make up is subtle, allowing the deep teals, greens and light browns to take the focus. And of course promoting the simple, pretty, easy to wear, natural style of Orla Kiely.

I was transfixed by the video for a little while – the music was quite liable to do this – and then, although tempted to sit and drink more champagne on a pretty stool, I wandered off out the correct door.

Joana Faria’s Illustrations can also be found in Amelia’s Compendium of Fashion Illustration, available here.



Categories ,60s, ,70s, ,Avril Kelly, ,BBC Homes and Antiques, ,Benches, ,birds, ,Champagne, ,Helen Martin, ,Irish, ,Joanna Faria, ,lfw, ,LFW A/W 2011, ,LFW Presentation, ,lift, ,Matilde Sazio, ,Orla Kiely, ,Portico Rooms, ,Presentation, ,Pretty, ,Sheds, ,Stools, ,twigs, ,video

Similar Posts: