I love this excellent essay by Laurie Penny about London from underneath, and the history that gets rewritten by the victors. Evocative, beautiful and a stark reminder of things we should not forget.
London, Underground
Showing posts with label london. Show all posts
Showing posts with label london. Show all posts
Monday, 30 July 2012
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Perhaps I'm overthinking this
...is it just me that feels the impulse to dress a certain way for a certain part of town?
A lunchtime walk in south Kensington (to gaze at the Chanel, Joseph and Coco de Mer windows in Draycott Street) left me feeling distinctly shabby in my purple H&M coat and stompy brown riding boots. Particularly when a very tall young marquis (probably) strode past in a modish black jacket, floppy ginger hair and, truly, a white cravat.
When I passed two old gents on the same street in impeccable tweed and dapper silk scarves, I felt that I had really let the side down.
And I feel altogether too dull if I don't make some sort of artfully indifferent, clever effort for certain bits of east London. Constructing a look is half the fun of it.
Don't get me started on what happens when I go abroad.
Perhaps I'm too self-conscious - but as I am not the type to cultivate a monochrome capsule wardrobe or breeze through life in one pair of ripped jeans and perfectly rumpled hair (I wish), I always feel as thought I ought to give some sort of nod to my intended surroundings...
A lunchtime walk in south Kensington (to gaze at the Chanel, Joseph and Coco de Mer windows in Draycott Street) left me feeling distinctly shabby in my purple H&M coat and stompy brown riding boots. Particularly when a very tall young marquis (probably) strode past in a modish black jacket, floppy ginger hair and, truly, a white cravat.
When I passed two old gents on the same street in impeccable tweed and dapper silk scarves, I felt that I had really let the side down.
And I feel altogether too dull if I don't make some sort of artfully indifferent, clever effort for certain bits of east London. Constructing a look is half the fun of it.
Don't get me started on what happens when I go abroad.
Perhaps I'm too self-conscious - but as I am not the type to cultivate a monochrome capsule wardrobe or breeze through life in one pair of ripped jeans and perfectly rumpled hair (I wish), I always feel as thought I ought to give some sort of nod to my intended surroundings...
Friday, 9 May 2008
How to get past clipboard nazis - a tale of daring and folly
On Sunday I am doing a shoot with S/S 08 Matthew Williamson clothes. Exciting! I'm standing in for an absent model. Should be fun, my first shoot of this kind.
In less fashion-related news, rounding the corner of Soho Square tonight en route to the Everisto Club, every Londoner's favourite dive since Tattys closed, I saw two not entirely sober men trying to get into a heaving nightclub . . . by climbing into the window round the side of the building, in full view of the square. Very very funny. One was carrying out sloppy look-out/encouragement duties while the other struggled somewhat intemperately with the ground floor sash window [this gave one a view right onto the dancefloor of the club, which is actually some kind of religious organisation/homeless shelter] and tried to climb in but with scant luck. Naturally I got out my camera.
Sadly I was too slow to capture the full glory of his ungainly half-in-half-out state before he admitted defeat, arse in the air 'n' all, but perhaps you can imagine it instead.
The bouncers, a few feet away round the corner, were oblivious to the crime happening under their noses. These days you really can't get the staff.
In less fashion-related news, rounding the corner of Soho Square tonight en route to the Everisto Club, every Londoner's favourite dive since Tattys closed, I saw two not entirely sober men trying to get into a heaving nightclub . . . by climbing into the window round the side of the building, in full view of the square. Very very funny. One was carrying out sloppy look-out/encouragement duties while the other struggled somewhat intemperately with the ground floor sash window [this gave one a view right onto the dancefloor of the club, which is actually some kind of religious organisation/homeless shelter] and tried to climb in but with scant luck. Naturally I got out my camera.
Sadly I was too slow to capture the full glory of his ungainly half-in-half-out state before he admitted defeat, arse in the air 'n' all, but perhaps you can imagine it instead.
The bouncers, a few feet away round the corner, were oblivious to the crime happening under their noses. These days you really can't get the staff.
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