Friday, 29 October 2010
Tuesday, 26 October 2010
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Musings on a memory....
It’s 7:54 a.m. as the sluggish commuter train clunks and wrenches me out of the capital’s buzzing nucleus and into the sprawling suburbs, shattering any early morning reveries. Away from my adopted home, where 35m² of floor space suffices for three individuals, the nearest supermarket is a one mile stone fling away and 5€ is the going rate for a mediocre chocolat chaud.
For nine months, I found myself wrapped up like a battery hen, living and working, in this idyllic unreality - undoubtedly the most beautiful city in the world - where people live in impossible confinement and nothing comes for free.
At first, being a young person living in a bustling, foreign city is like being party to a dream, an onlooker, who is unable to participate. You find yourself rendered to an infantile state before you could speak – suddenly, startlingly voiceless; desperately urging yourself to pitch into a conversation, but the effort is futile when you don’t have the vocal fluidity of a native.
It is comparable to an underwater experience that chokes, stifles and steals your voice meanwhile you dream of resurfacing to breathe the same air as everyone else. Initially, the background chatter is white noise, a loud silence to unaccustomed ears, which I subconsciously blanked out until gradually it started to make sense as my ears fine tuned the new words and phrases.
As the days were penned off on my calendar, I began to develop my voice, albeit a slow and painful progress. I became aware of the pleasure that comes with the ability to communicate in a foreign tongue; an overwhelming sense of achievement flooding me with every painstakingly crafted and mastered phrase. I enjoyed trying out new things and surprised myself when they were met with understanding and response.
With this acquisition of a voice came a gradual acclimatisation to my foreign milieu, the ways and customs so different from the country in which I grew up. Having never lived in a place of more than 70,000 inhabitants, a capital city was daunting and alien. However, despite the 384 miles of rock and water that separated me from home, there were aspects of the city that I grew to love to hate, and hate to love. I came to find their irritating behaviour amusing and endearing, preferring the food they eat and taking up their unusual habits. I found myself greeting strangers in the street with a familiar “good morning” or an over-gracious “you’re very welcome”.
Yet, despite moments of wanting to flee the chaos of this magical city, I always felt a magnetic pull drawing me back to my adopted home and an overwhelming sense of ‘welcome back’ every time I stepped off the plane after a sporadic return trip to England. The difficulties and challenges I faced in my professional life here were reconciled by the enjoyable times I spent among friends, the positive experiences I faced and my bond with the city and its language.
To me, it will always smell like the gut-churning sulphuric iron of the RER and second-hand cigarette smoke; taste like warm, buttery croissants and mouth-wateringly bitter coffee; look like fur-festooned women, black ornate railings and impeccably smooth vanilla stone. A backing track formed from the calm hubbub of the day-to-day and punctuated by the odd comical siren or the provocative rev of a sleek moped. I find there’s an addictive electricity about the city of light that makes it feel good to be alive; an exciting, life-changing opportunity waiting around every cobalt blue-signposted street corner. A chance celebrity meeting, an opportunity to attend an industry-only show or a lingering glance from a stranger that leads to romance.
Each day, I glutted on the visual feast that was laid out for my aesthetically sheltered eyes; the impossible beauty of the city, its people and its art. I soaked up its magical history and secrets, revealed through the stories it told in my day-to-day life. A beautiful building with its history engraved on the door, the booksellers that take up their positions every day beside the river or the buskers and bohemian artists that could be centuries old.
And step by baby-like step, as though cured of deafness or blindness, I understood, communicated and lived. My memory of the year spent as a foreigner in this city is an eclectic patchwork of experiences, snapshots of moments in time, a beautiful jigsaw that came together at the end with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.
This city will always have a hold over me, like an item I’ll never let myself throw away, an addiction I’ll always fail to give up, a friend I’ll refuse to say goodbye to or a love I’ll never be able to let go of. After all, Paris, je t’aime…
(This is a piece I wrote for the Vogue Talent Contest.)
For nine months, I found myself wrapped up like a battery hen, living and working, in this idyllic unreality - undoubtedly the most beautiful city in the world - where people live in impossible confinement and nothing comes for free.
At first, being a young person living in a bustling, foreign city is like being party to a dream, an onlooker, who is unable to participate. You find yourself rendered to an infantile state before you could speak – suddenly, startlingly voiceless; desperately urging yourself to pitch into a conversation, but the effort is futile when you don’t have the vocal fluidity of a native.
It is comparable to an underwater experience that chokes, stifles and steals your voice meanwhile you dream of resurfacing to breathe the same air as everyone else. Initially, the background chatter is white noise, a loud silence to unaccustomed ears, which I subconsciously blanked out until gradually it started to make sense as my ears fine tuned the new words and phrases.
As the days were penned off on my calendar, I began to develop my voice, albeit a slow and painful progress. I became aware of the pleasure that comes with the ability to communicate in a foreign tongue; an overwhelming sense of achievement flooding me with every painstakingly crafted and mastered phrase. I enjoyed trying out new things and surprised myself when they were met with understanding and response.
With this acquisition of a voice came a gradual acclimatisation to my foreign milieu, the ways and customs so different from the country in which I grew up. Having never lived in a place of more than 70,000 inhabitants, a capital city was daunting and alien. However, despite the 384 miles of rock and water that separated me from home, there were aspects of the city that I grew to love to hate, and hate to love. I came to find their irritating behaviour amusing and endearing, preferring the food they eat and taking up their unusual habits. I found myself greeting strangers in the street with a familiar “good morning” or an over-gracious “you’re very welcome”.
Yet, despite moments of wanting to flee the chaos of this magical city, I always felt a magnetic pull drawing me back to my adopted home and an overwhelming sense of ‘welcome back’ every time I stepped off the plane after a sporadic return trip to England. The difficulties and challenges I faced in my professional life here were reconciled by the enjoyable times I spent among friends, the positive experiences I faced and my bond with the city and its language.
To me, it will always smell like the gut-churning sulphuric iron of the RER and second-hand cigarette smoke; taste like warm, buttery croissants and mouth-wateringly bitter coffee; look like fur-festooned women, black ornate railings and impeccably smooth vanilla stone. A backing track formed from the calm hubbub of the day-to-day and punctuated by the odd comical siren or the provocative rev of a sleek moped. I find there’s an addictive electricity about the city of light that makes it feel good to be alive; an exciting, life-changing opportunity waiting around every cobalt blue-signposted street corner. A chance celebrity meeting, an opportunity to attend an industry-only show or a lingering glance from a stranger that leads to romance.
Each day, I glutted on the visual feast that was laid out for my aesthetically sheltered eyes; the impossible beauty of the city, its people and its art. I soaked up its magical history and secrets, revealed through the stories it told in my day-to-day life. A beautiful building with its history engraved on the door, the booksellers that take up their positions every day beside the river or the buskers and bohemian artists that could be centuries old.
And step by baby-like step, as though cured of deafness or blindness, I understood, communicated and lived. My memory of the year spent as a foreigner in this city is an eclectic patchwork of experiences, snapshots of moments in time, a beautiful jigsaw that came together at the end with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.
This city will always have a hold over me, like an item I’ll never let myself throw away, an addiction I’ll always fail to give up, a friend I’ll refuse to say goodbye to or a love I’ll never be able to let go of. After all, Paris, je t’aime…
(This is a piece I wrote for the Vogue Talent Contest.)
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Sunday, 10 October 2010
2 ou 3 choses que je sais d'elle.
With the current 60s fever lingering in the air, I enjoyed watching this film the other day - a subscribed university film. Made in 1966, it shows the life of disillusioned and unfulfilled women in sixties Paris (the elle of the film). Block coloured clothes and distant looks, the film sums up the era.
Source: google images
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
Bobbed.
Source: Jakandjil
Gorgeous messy bobs at Proenza Schouler SS11, NY. Proof, along with many shows in London, that neon and white are going to be hot next summer.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Edge of Seventeen.
The soundtrack of Topshop Unique - canNOT get it out of my head. It was so amazing with the setting.
Monday, 20 September 2010
Into the Wilderness.
I saw this Tank editorial at work today and had to post it. I love the darkness of the images but they're still so ethereal. They remind me of images of the exotic dancer accused of spying during World War I - the femme fatale Mata Hari.
Sunday, 19 September 2010
The outfit of the day.
Source: vogue.com
This was "the" outfit for me at the Unique SS11 show, I love the angelic feel of the colours and the ethereal train was beautiful!
Saturday, 18 September 2010
Topshop Unique SS11.
What an amazing time to be involved with Topshop! The SS11 Topshop Unique show was incredible. Staged next to live train tracks with bridges connecting the Topshop Café and the catwalk, this was a show not to miss. There I spotted Olivia Palermo, Nick Grimshaw, Lily Allen, Julia Restoin Roitfeld and Nicola Roberts!
A pyschedelic blend of 70s style metallics, prints and hues, the collection was powerful and had a real nostalgic feel of summer. With a fierce backing track, Topshop did it once again!
A pyschedelic blend of 70s style metallics, prints and hues, the collection was powerful and had a real nostalgic feel of summer. With a fierce backing track, Topshop did it once again!
Source: my camera
The showspace after the show...
The wonderful invitation!
Friday, 17 September 2010
Oh Olivia.
She's so effortless, so sleek, has Fashion Week dressing down to a tee. And she's also gone for shorter hair - seems to be a real trend sweeping through the celebs. I am excited at the possibility of seeing Olivia tomorrow...
Source: Vanessa Jackman
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Mulberry Party @ Vogue's Fashion Night Out
Source: my camera
The Mulberry party in Selfridges was wonderful! We sipped Pop Champagne in mini bottles ate Mulberry printed cookies and listened to a DJ (unfortunately missed La Roux's set earlier in the evening).
A touch of French Dressing.
Source: compiled by me
There's something so untouchable, so perfect about the way the French dress themselves. Layered greys, blacks and browns form an exquisite, sharp, longline silhouette on a creamy Parisian background. Topped off with monochromatic Chanel (even les petites partake!), c'est parfait!
Top 5 cafés/restaurants in Soho.
1. Café Boheme, Old Compton Street
2. Andrew Edmunds, Lexington Street
3. Alphabet, Beak Street
4. Polpo, Beak Street
5. Ed's Diner, Old Compton Street
TOPSHOP UNIQUE LFW NEW VENUE!
I know this is yesterday's news but I have been cut off from internet for weeks!!
Topshop Unique SS11 is to show this September in the old Eurostar terminal at Waterloo station. There will also be a Topshop café supplying a wide range of snacks to keep people going through the shows, the theme of the food being the other side of the channel (and my favourite place in the world!) LA FRANCE!
So excited I'm working behind the scenes at the show this Saturday as part of my internship with Topshop Press Office!
Topshop Unique SS11 is to show this September in the old Eurostar terminal at Waterloo station. There will also be a Topshop café supplying a wide range of snacks to keep people going through the shows, the theme of the food being the other side of the channel (and my favourite place in the world!) LA FRANCE!
So excited I'm working behind the scenes at the show this Saturday as part of my internship with Topshop Press Office!
Friday, 10 September 2010
Aqua.
Aqua on Argyll Street is my new favourite place, they have delicious cocktails and thai cuisine all overlooking London's rooves and sights! Prices are steep but it's worth it for the view. They also have places in Hong Kong and Beijing.
Shoes shoes shoes.
Checked out Selfridges "The Shoe Galleries" the other day and wow, it was good. It's the perfect place to go if you need a pair and don't know where to start!
Saturday, 28 August 2010
Modern Military.
Source: elleuk.com
I think boxy is best as opposed to cropped or loose. Belted and with plenty of pocket detail is how this seems to work best.
Shoulders.
Gala's jacket is gorgeous, I love military jackets, think I may try and recreate this one with a trip to a haberdashery in London. For me this is a modern update of the last year's Balmain epaulette detail jacket. This takes things a step further and loses the shoulder pads, incorporating this season's sought-after army jacket.
Source: inside am-lul's closet
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Marchesa.
If I were to choose one designer dress to wear for an occasion - realism abandoned - I would choose a Marchesa dress, without hesitation. They are absolutely stunning and so intricate. See Fall/Winter 2010.
Source: elle.com
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