Monday, 22 September 2008
A funny old week
I emerged at 7.30pm tonight after an extremely odd weekend involving drawn-on moustaches, new shoes and new friends. Don't think me slack, but I'm wiped out, and far too tired to post all of the details now. But photographs will follow - Coco de Mer's new opening in Chelsea on Thursday with a ridiculously decadent gang of cocktail-hatted, risquely-attired revellers, and a pirate party last night beneath the murky depths of the Thames riverbed. I will hunt for my camera cable tomorrow and document all the shenanigans as soon as possible. For now, back to bed - my hangover rages, and I have only myself to blame. I just bought some beautiful new Liberty bed linen, and need to cocoon myself in it forthwith.
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Kate Moss and the House of Blue Eyes
It's been all over the papers by now - Kate's first catwalk show in 4 years.
It happened at the venue where I work now, and was the climax of a party that went off the end of the Richter scale. No-one was expecting her to walk... we thought she'd just sit back and enjoy the show.
Kate aside [well, she did look superb], it was a great party in its own right. The guests looked phenomenal - a friend of mine turned up in a coat made of stuffed toys, Bishi was there looking elegant, and I saw the most convincing drag queen I've ever witnessed - s/he was tall, very slim, with a pretty Louise Brooks face and hair, a tiny cupid mouth, and a very sharp but restrained 1930s style suit. I was admiring how pretty she looked, when she opened her mouth and out came this bellowing, unmistakeably baritone voice. Gosh! I wish I'd had my own camera on me to capture some of these wonderful creatures.
The party launched stylist Johnny Blue Eyes' label House of Blue Eyes, a punky collaboration with several designers he knows, including Giles Pearson, Carol Wiseman and others. His background is mainly in styling music videos and bands [including Scissor Sisters' 'Filthy/Gorgeous' and the amazing 1930s-swimsuit dancers in Take That's 'Shine', and that showed on the night - Ana Matronic hosted, Beth Ditto catwalked and sang, and the guestlist was longer than a life sentence.
I spent the night on four-inch heels [thankfully my own - I was offered some 1970s de Havilland shoes to wear but there's no way I could have stayed on my feet all night], helping our besieged bar staff, generally trying to control the chaos and keeping Miss Moss in alcobooze.
But my favourite bit of the whole thing wasn't so much the party as the preparation - Johnny styled me and our bar supervisor for the night, so I began the day in a dressing room in Goldhawk Road surrounded by improbably tall, thin boys and girls in various states of undress, with two hair-stylists setting about me with hairdryers. A very strange way to commence work for the day! I don't have any photos of my outfit yet - a lady did photograph me, so I'm hoping she'll send me the photos. I wore my Mango/Yousefzada dress, a little 1940s veiled hat, some black suede peep-toe platforms and an amazing necklace - a huge [fist-sized, truly] brass lion's head pendant on a metal and suede chain. Our bar supervisor looked like Jessica Rabbit in a vintage black & gold high-cut swimsuit and Brigitte Bardot hair... wonderful!
Roll on the next party...
[All photos: Lucy Johnston]
It happened at the venue where I work now, and was the climax of a party that went off the end of the Richter scale. No-one was expecting her to walk... we thought she'd just sit back and enjoy the show.
Kate aside [well, she did look superb], it was a great party in its own right. The guests looked phenomenal - a friend of mine turned up in a coat made of stuffed toys, Bishi was there looking elegant, and I saw the most convincing drag queen I've ever witnessed - s/he was tall, very slim, with a pretty Louise Brooks face and hair, a tiny cupid mouth, and a very sharp but restrained 1930s style suit. I was admiring how pretty she looked, when she opened her mouth and out came this bellowing, unmistakeably baritone voice. Gosh! I wish I'd had my own camera on me to capture some of these wonderful creatures.
The party launched stylist Johnny Blue Eyes' label House of Blue Eyes, a punky collaboration with several designers he knows, including Giles Pearson, Carol Wiseman and others. His background is mainly in styling music videos and bands [including Scissor Sisters' 'Filthy/Gorgeous' and the amazing 1930s-swimsuit dancers in Take That's 'Shine', and that showed on the night - Ana Matronic hosted, Beth Ditto catwalked and sang, and the guestlist was longer than a life sentence.
I spent the night on four-inch heels [thankfully my own - I was offered some 1970s de Havilland shoes to wear but there's no way I could have stayed on my feet all night], helping our besieged bar staff, generally trying to control the chaos and keeping Miss Moss in alcobooze.
But my favourite bit of the whole thing wasn't so much the party as the preparation - Johnny styled me and our bar supervisor for the night, so I began the day in a dressing room in Goldhawk Road surrounded by improbably tall, thin boys and girls in various states of undress, with two hair-stylists setting about me with hairdryers. A very strange way to commence work for the day! I don't have any photos of my outfit yet - a lady did photograph me, so I'm hoping she'll send me the photos. I wore my Mango/Yousefzada dress, a little 1940s veiled hat, some black suede peep-toe platforms and an amazing necklace - a huge [fist-sized, truly] brass lion's head pendant on a metal and suede chain. Our bar supervisor looked like Jessica Rabbit in a vintage black & gold high-cut swimsuit and Brigitte Bardot hair... wonderful!
Roll on the next party...
[All photos: Lucy Johnston]
Friday, 5 September 2008
Another day, another dollar
I have a long post to write about the fashion party the other night - albeit rather late, given it was all over the front page of the papers the next day, with everyone excited about Kate Moss's impromptu catwalk appearance. I'm waiting to see if I can use some photos for the post, though - so many people looked amazing it'd be a shame not to include the images.
Today, meanwhile, another catwalk show - though this is a private one, for a video shoot. A bit of a strange one - it's for a bingo advert. The models look great, though. It's all graduate fashion, and much of it is covetable. The girls are wearing stunning cream structured coat-dresses and space age pillowy white clothes with inflated shoulders and hoods by Min-Kyung Kim, a 2008 LCF graduate; here's the dress as seen in her graduate show -
[It looks better on the model today though, it sits absolutely straight on her, the effect is killer.]
...And the pillowy stuff:
[Photos: Christopher Moore]
Some of it intrigues me - it's like fencing outfits for ballerinas. Very beautiful structure.
For the final walk, the girls are in stupendous black drapery - backless dresses that gather up at the front and what looks like papery cut-out swimsuits under harem pants that are tight to the knees and extravagant at the hips. I will be making enquiries when all this is over, about where I can lay my hands on the garments. The film crew didn't mind me snapping a few shots, so this is roughly what's going on behind me...
Apologies for the awful photos, my cameraphone really is pretty unacceptable.
Today, meanwhile, another catwalk show - though this is a private one, for a video shoot. A bit of a strange one - it's for a bingo advert. The models look great, though. It's all graduate fashion, and much of it is covetable. The girls are wearing stunning cream structured coat-dresses and space age pillowy white clothes with inflated shoulders and hoods by Min-Kyung Kim, a 2008 LCF graduate; here's the dress as seen in her graduate show -
[It looks better on the model today though, it sits absolutely straight on her, the effect is killer.]
...And the pillowy stuff:
[Photos: Christopher Moore]
Some of it intrigues me - it's like fencing outfits for ballerinas. Very beautiful structure.
For the final walk, the girls are in stupendous black drapery - backless dresses that gather up at the front and what looks like papery cut-out swimsuits under harem pants that are tight to the knees and extravagant at the hips. I will be making enquiries when all this is over, about where I can lay my hands on the garments. The film crew didn't mind me snapping a few shots, so this is roughly what's going on behind me...
Apologies for the awful photos, my cameraphone really is pretty unacceptable.
Monday, 1 September 2008
A short, pictureless update
Time on my hands: none. My poor camera hasn't been out to play at all lately.
But I found a chic little navy and white Pierre Cardin handbag this weekend, hidden in the unlikely corners of a tiny second-hand stall at Offset Festival. I will photograph it shortly. I love Pierre Cardin. My favourite pair of jeans ever were Cardin, a hand-me-down from my cousin, five years older than me. I grew out of them when I was fourteen though. It is sad that my jeans ownership peaked at such an age, but perhaps it is for the best. The cult of denim is something that mystifies and depresses me a little.
Tonight I am trying on some likely very colourful Terry de Havilland heels which I am being loaned for a party tomorrow. I get first pick out of a suitcase full of vintage TdCs. This is not something that happens very often, or indeed ever. We're hosting a dizzyingly colourful, queeny party for a stylist, with a catwalk show, two very famous ladies hosting and performing, and some NYC djs playing 'bitch-house'. Our lovely bar supervisor has gamely agreed to don a vintage 70s high-cut black & gold swimsuit and gold lurex tights for the occasion [and she carries it off, too]. Me, I'm sticking to the safety of this Mango/Osman Yousefzada dress with geometric tights and the most startling rings of blue kohl I can come up with. There will be hairdressers, and they will give me Veronica Lake hair. Maybe.
It's going to be a glorious day.
But I found a chic little navy and white Pierre Cardin handbag this weekend, hidden in the unlikely corners of a tiny second-hand stall at Offset Festival. I will photograph it shortly. I love Pierre Cardin. My favourite pair of jeans ever were Cardin, a hand-me-down from my cousin, five years older than me. I grew out of them when I was fourteen though. It is sad that my jeans ownership peaked at such an age, but perhaps it is for the best. The cult of denim is something that mystifies and depresses me a little.
Tonight I am trying on some likely very colourful Terry de Havilland heels which I am being loaned for a party tomorrow. I get first pick out of a suitcase full of vintage TdCs. This is not something that happens very often, or indeed ever. We're hosting a dizzyingly colourful, queeny party for a stylist, with a catwalk show, two very famous ladies hosting and performing, and some NYC djs playing 'bitch-house'. Our lovely bar supervisor has gamely agreed to don a vintage 70s high-cut black & gold swimsuit and gold lurex tights for the occasion [and she carries it off, too]. Me, I'm sticking to the safety of this Mango/Osman Yousefzada dress with geometric tights and the most startling rings of blue kohl I can come up with. There will be hairdressers, and they will give me Veronica Lake hair. Maybe.
It's going to be a glorious day.
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