Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Bride Wars

As the weather turns and the days becoming darker, the nights cold and days drizzle endlessly, there is one thing that I can't help but be inspired to aspire to (that was fun wasn't it- now let's say it together 10 times really quick... ha you actually started doing it didn't you. Dumbass). Being the edge of winter, a time that no one ever thinks about getting married, I of course like to be the social contradiction and think of nothing but. Well, that's a mild exaggeration, I think of plenty of other things but take heed friends- this bitch is prowling. Prowling for lurve. Yeah, I went to that place. The sleazy 70's man who considers himself somewhat of a casanova (not at all- in reality) place. It's a place I frequent, you should come visit sometime, there's a great little bed and breakfast...
Anyway I want to get married dudes. I want to get married at like, 23, and have some disturbed love child who'll be raised by my baby-daddy and 2 lovers (sexual orientation and/or gender undecided). This is my future. I have to have a fantastical future as my reality will probably be quite different (I'll end up married to a banker. Or worse. A poor person) and therefore I need to live out my romantic non-life on the internet for strangers to read and not really give a shit about. I love that about you guys. I particularly love the amount of people who leave me comments saying how "super cute" the outfits by say, Michael Kors are, making it obvious that they never read my blog because duh- Michael Kors sucks. So this tangent has gone so far left field I need to lure it back to a place called home with a bad transitory sentence: Those peeps who don't read my blog sure AREN'T gonna get a marriage proposal from me. And we're back. Marriage. I'm going to stop writing about absolutely nothing and get on with the point of this post.
I haven't had any propositions of the marital kind in a good couple of months, I know, it shocks me too, so I've decided to get the ball rolling, plant the seed of thought into the minds of my courters (Inception style- this is a dream inside a dream type sitch doods, strap yourself in, Leo's coming WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT) and with that hopefully tease out some kind of romantic future for myself.

What does this have to do with fashion? Well just ask yourself why anyone gets married and you'll get the answer. Or why anyone watched the Sex and The City movie (other than because it's fabulous). The dress. So, in E True Hollywood style (makes me feel like you read this because I'm of celebrity status), here is my aptly named and completely unnecessarily long in title list of:
'Top Ten Most Ridiculous Wedding Dresses I'll Pay Out for Hypothetically Wearing If Money and Availability was Not an Issue' 
Which it won't be. I'm marrying one of the Packer's. 15 Mill. wedding on the French Riviera? Ah yus I am.  

His wedding ring says no but his eyes say yes yes yes. 

Top Ten Most Ridiculous Wedding Dresses I'd Pay Out for Hypothetically Wearing If Money and Availability was Not an Issue: 

10. The Not Really Appropriately Dressed Bride:
Versace Spring '10 RTW
This isn't really a bridal gown. This isn't really a gown. Hell, this isn't even really a dress. But If my soon-to-be husband was having any doubts about marrying me this minxer would quell them. Also good for if I was wanting to start a lil' summin' on the side with the best man. 

9. The Teen Angst, WTF Ever I Don't Even Care Bride:
Proenza Schouler Spring '10 RTW
You know those days when you're getting married, but you're just not into it, your hairs kinda limp, nothing is looking good, really CBF- well this is the perfect dress. Really tells your life partner that you know what? I just don't care that much about you or anything else. Now's the time that he figures out you're a complete nihilist and you should probably tell him about the portrait of Nietzsche tattooed on your ass from the hen's party. 

8. The Thought It Was a Good Idea In the Store, Damn That Chick Was A Good Saleswoman, But Now You're Just Not Wearing Any Pants Bride:
D&G Fall '12 RTW
So you were in D&G, you had one of those overzealous, probably working on commission sale assistants who talked you into feeling like everything you put on was making you look so fierce and empowered that you may as well be Naomi Campbell and you strut out of the store with full bags and a full smile. Then you get home and the lighting isn't so good, you've got a less forgiving mirror, turns out it was just a trick of your eyes and yes your upper thighs aren't really cellulite free but now it's too late and you've got a frieken floral body suite and pantaloons to wear to your wedding.

7. The Thought You Looked Pre-Raphaelean But Was More An Extra In a Period Frock Drama With Keira Knightley and No, You Didn't Get Colin Firth in the End Bride 
Oscar De La Renta Spring Bridal 2013
This really didn't work out the way you thought it would. You can see where it was meant to go, you were thinking something nymph like, a little Midsummer Night's Dream, Preferably Hermia because no one likes Helena sober, but in the end you look more like a sad new age mum who sends her kids to Montessori schools and only wears crushed velvet. 

6. The Bad Choice in Dress So Overcompensated With Make-Up Bride:
Alexander McQueen Spring 2007 RTW
 Thiiiiiis wasn't the best choice of... anything. That dress is pretty in theory, sure. On a model, sure. But you can't carry purple clouds on your feet. And the colouring is just making you looking all heppy-B. Makeup didn't help. Fake tan didn't help. You're a lost cause, I really hope your husband loves you. 

5. The Back The Fuck Up And Stop Undressing My Man With Your Eyes Bride
Givenchy Spring '11 Couture 
You did good, kid. You successfully scared off every ex-girlfriend of your Fiance who were invited to the wedding when you sent out a mass email of your headdress. Very Genghis Kahn come Viking chic. And softening with the feathers? Nice touch. Those husband thieving bitches won't see that ab stab coming. Because that's what they were doing when they congratulated the two of you, trying to get in your man's pants. "I'm so happy for you" was actually "Your ass looks damn fine let's get it on while this crazy helmed freak is finding her bra". Cos yeah, you forgot to wear one. Just sayin'. 

4. The Amy Winehouse Tribute Bride
Jean Paul Gaultier sPring '12 Couture
The dress was gorgeous. Even the hair and makeup was a casual nod to the late Winehouse, not over the top, very tasteful. But could you have served something other than whisky on the rocks? And the frequent trips to the bathroom... really? Not subtle, man. Not. Subtle. 

3.  The Not Quite There But Culturally Aware Bride
Vivienne Westwood Fall '12 RTW
When your fiance asked if you could feature his Scottish heritage somewhere in the wedding I think he meant a floral table piece or maybe some bagpipes... Not platform sandals. And his granddad wants his cap back. Stop stealing from the elderly you crazy bride. 

2. Questioning Her Sanity, Might Need To Be Committed Bride:
Alexis Mabille Spring '12 Couture
Good lord woman. What the hell are you doing? Unless you start singing opera a la the diva from the 5th Element you're just not doing marriage right. Your husband will leave you. You make no sense. 

And coming in at number one on the Young and the Cynical 'Top Ten Most Ridiculous Wedding Dresses I'd Pay Out for Hypothetically Wearing If Money and Availability was Not an Issue'

1. The Mildly Schizophrenic Anorexic Ballerina Bride
Alexander McQueen '09 RTW
We all loved Black Swan. We all secretly wanted to be Keira Knightly with her lesbian antics and hallucinations but girl, YOU WENT TOO FAR. You did it wrong. You look like a sad clown that got eaten by a goose. 

I don't think I want to get married anymore. 

Just jokes James, I still want your money. 


Tuesday, 10 April 2012

Garish Garlands and Fluorescent Floss

Sometimes what I like to do is disappear out of a person's life until they've forgotten absolutely anything memorable about me and then jump back in with such vigour and crazed enthusiasm that they never want to see me again. So, If I haven't finally killed off the stragglers that are my dwindling readership, I feel I may have successfully done so now. If anyone is still on board I commend you and if you have a European passport we should get married. If you don't then I could probably do better so forget about it. Just forget about it.

And now you ask, bleary eyed, why have I disappointed you so? Why did I leave? No note, no goodbye? Well with 3 jobs and full time uni I think you'd be disappointing me too so perhaps we'll step back out of the attitude suit and try a little understanding and forgiveness, huh kids? What's more important is that I, like every wayward mother, has come back to her tribe (definitely calling my family a 'tribe'). And without anymore delayed gratification I will bring you what your little hearts have been craving- a young and cynical post.

So recently I've been feeling the call of the wild. If by wild you mean completely unnatural, manufactured and inorganic then yes, that call has been heard. I am, of course (yeah..right..) talking about fluorescent colour schemes, or as the kids like to call it, 'fluro-eccy-fun-time' or 'fluro' for short (everyone knows that's what fluro is really short for). Now I know this isn't exactly a new trend, we all remember the not long enough ago stint of classy young lasses attending sophisticated outdoor soirees known as 'festivals', wearing denim underwear with hot 'fluro' pink bandeaus (whatever the fuck they are NOT TOPS LADIES unless you're Prada in which case rock on with the bandeau tops you amaze me) and ingesting certain energetic supplements with names like 'dragon speed' and 'pink firebolt'. As this was such a memorable and indeed proud moment in my generations history I feel I should give a nod to circa 2007 with a 'fluro' tribute post.

Of course, I'm aware this has been in that big ol' fashion world for a while now but I refused to be a part of it for quite some time. It is only now, when it is most likely on it's way out, that I have decided to lap up the dregs of the fluro jet ski (I say jet ski because I reckon it'd be a lot faster than a train and honestly, how long does fluro ever stay in fashion for anyway?). I remember my attention first being turned to fluroescent trending when my dad had a whole table of fluro gear ready to be shot and I complained to the stylist about how horrible it was and she looked like she wanted to boot my sorry ass out of the studio but of course she couldn't do that because she was working with my dad long story short I didn't like it BUT NOW dear readers OH NOW I am a born again fluro, a lover of the floz. Schlang me an obnoxious pink or sickly yellow and I'll hit you with a thumbs up and maybe even a kowabunga hand shake. And I won't leave it there, oh no, anything neon, bright, garish or offensive is now my cup of joe. The bigger the print the better, I've welcomed with open arms the sentimental, patriotic and nostalgia of Prada and D&G, dreamed of umbrella sporting cocktails with Stella McCartney and Mary Katrantzou and any kind of hot coloured pant/skirt/top/hair/sock has been turning any frown of mine upside down. Was that the lamest sentence you've ever read? Possibly, but what can I say, there is something about these horrible eyesores that makes my heart giddy-up and my vocabulary become a dad-joke inspired place of optimistic joy.

Cambridge Satchel Company The Fluro £105.00

Proenza Schouler Printed Canvas bag £578.60

Venessa Arizaga £392.44

Marc by Marc Jacobs £310.97

River Island from Asos $24.33

Fairground from Asos skirt: $89.21 and top: $68.12

Mary Katrantzou Spring 2012 RTW

Prada Spring 2012 RTW

Michael Kors Resort 2012

And of course, D&G:

Spring 2012 RTW

Who have also done one of the best add campaigns I've seen in a long time. Excluding of course anything for Prada but we all know how I feel about Prada. I think I'll make a blog purely for rating Prada against itself. No one loses in that competition.

D&G Spring 2012 campaign

This makes me want to be a spunky Italian mother who looks shockingly similar in age to her spunky Italian daughter. This, of course, being my reality when I have a child. We'll get mistaken for sisters while we rock around in our matching tomato and eggplant print skirts. Gonna be excellent my friends, can't wait to be a mother. Nor can I wait to be able to afford D&G. Yeah, that's more like it.